#have a sneak preview of angst as a treat

[afewproblems]

I was tagged by @steddierthings thank you my friend, for the last sentence tag game!

Remember! Tag as many people as there are words in the last sentence you wrote (it can be from fic, an original work, song, poem, whatever you want!)

If only he had locked the door, if he had been able to hold his own with Billy, this never would have happened.

From chapter Seven of my Season Two AU!

Aaaand that is a lot of words...so I'll do my best but whoever else would like to join, please feel free!

@strangersteddierthings @spooky-brakers @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @flowercrowngods @unclewaynemunson @estrellami-1 @eriquin

[da-rulah]

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 2]

Summary: Mary has something of yours from your last encounter. You have something of his. In a standoff, Mary suggests you meet to make the trade off, so you can pay your ransom.

Little does he know, you have a secret weapon up your sleeve... or rather, his sleeve...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: Teasing, lingerie, nipple play, choking, biting, cunnilingus, oral sex (f receiving), being gagged, squirting, manhandling, contraception mentioned but raw p in v sex still, angst, hurt 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: SO listen, this was supposed to be a silly little series of smut one shots with Mary that was low priority and something to do between other fics. Then... I started plotting. And now, the plot is plotted. So here you go, heathens - more Mary filth, except now we got storyline... Huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles & @angellayercake again for beta reading!

Oh, and I now have a ko-fi if you fancy leaving me a little tip, but no pressure. Love ya!

You stared at your phone, the unread notification on your screen lighting up with each time you hit the side button. You hadn’t opened the message, only able to see the preview but it was enough.   

After two weeks of radio silence from Mary Goore, he’d finally text you late this afternoon.  

R u willing 2 pay ur ransom yet doll?  

You’d maybe stared at it for a few minutes, thinking of ways you might be able to sneak Mary in, or you could sneak out yourself. You knew your parents were home this evening; they’d invited your father’s deputy and his wife for dinner. You were not invited.   

“Just business, darling,” your father had told you. “Not for children.”  

That had pissed you off beyond belief. You weren’t a fucking child anymore; hadn’t been for a long time. But that’s daddy for you... Treating you like the same pigtailed little girl in the photo frame on your dresser, sat on her father’s shoulders at a Fourth of July parade. She looked happy, innocent.   

But that was well over a decade ago.   

And so, still simmering with a hint of anger and a flame stoked in your rebellious little soul, you decided you were indeed ready to pay your ransom.  

You were ready for round two with Mary fucking Goore.  

I have what you need. 8:30pm. I’ll leave my window open. Be quiet, daddy’s downstairs. No funny business, Goore. I’ll have my secret weapon ready if you try anything stupid.  

A few minutes went by, when the ‘sent’ turned to ‘read 5:43pm’, and the three little dots popped up on his side.  

Wouldn’t dream of it. C u l8r doll.   

You smirked at your screen, a thrill rushing through you at the thought of another night with Mary Goore...  

Mary sat in his old black van across the street from your house, staring at the only light that was on upstairs. He’d been here early, around 8pm, and seen a couple pull up in a fancy car through the ornate gates that shut your house off from the rest of the street. Your father had greeted them with a firm handshake and a cheek kiss at the porch. Some kind of work thing, he assumed, scoffing at the nature of the situation he found himself in.  

Climbing through your window in the darkness of night to fool around with the Mayor’s daughter while he conducted a formal business meal downstairs. How cliché...  

As he’d watched, he bit at his thumb nail, plotting his route to get to the window. He could climb up the trellis panels along the edge of your garage, shuffle his way along the guttering and climb in that way... First, he’d have to climb over the tall iron railings without impaling himself on the spikes around the back of the house and away from the security cameras along the porch.   

He checked the clock on his dashboard, hissing a quick ‘fuck’ realising he was out of time; it was 8:27pm. It was now or never.   

Mary scrambled his way over the fence of the back yard, carefully dodging the view of cameras and the French doors that he could see your father through, sat at the dining table with his guests. Miraculously, he hadn’t impaled himself on the railings, though he did manage to snag his already ripped jeans, but that was no real loss to him.   

Climbing up the trellis should have been easier than it was, but he hadn’t accounted for the thorns on the roses that were growing up them. He quickly learned his lesson after blindly grabbing and piercing his palm in multiple places, almost stumbling and falling a few feet off the ground.   

But eventually, Mary made it up on the garage, and shuffled his way along the guttering to your open window. With a less than graceful forward roll and a clatter of trinkets falling to the ground from the desk he’d knocked them from beside the window, Mary was in.   

“Could’a told me I’d be pulling some Top Gun shit to get up here, doll...” he grumbled, dusting himself off and sucking at the puncture wounds on his palm as he turned around to find...  

An empty room.   

“Doll?” he asked, looking around to see if he’d missed you, but you were nowhere to be found. Mary’s shoulders slumped, huffing in annoyance as he found himself in a room that frankly was the exact opposite of his personal taste.   

Patterned wallpaper from decades long since passed coated your walls, covered in pretty pink peonies. Pretty pink and white bedding draped over a large bed in the middle of the room, frills and lace neatly assembled with a well-kept collection of stuffed animals and scatter cushions against the headboard. Sparkly trinkets and polished ornaments sat on most surfaces he could see with the naked eye, clearly collected over the course of your childhood.   

It looked like a kid’s bedroom... A little princess’ dream room. Not the bedroom of a young woman of your age, and certainly not the kind to fuck a guy like him in the stall of the men’s bathroom at a dive bar.   

In your absence, Mary took the time to look closely at some of the trinkets lining your dresser; a necklace rack with pretty little pendants hanging neatly in different metals; a little gold tray filled with pretty stones and crystals you’d collected; a tiny little ornament of a pink kitten; a white half-burned candle that smelled faintly of roses.   

You really were the cliché Mary thought you were, huh? Mary was little more than a touch of excitement and rebellion in an otherwise pristine little life – he could live with that, he supposed. He too had felt a thrill in claiming you as his two weeks ago in that bar, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about doing it again ever since.   

As Mary looked around your room, flicking at the necklaces, inspecting the trinkets, he came across the photo frame of tiny little you. He picked it up, smiling to himself at the goofy grin on the little girl’s face, the pigtails tied up with pretty red ribbons that matches the dungarees she wore. He shook his head with a little laugh, noting the Mayor in the photo and how much younger he looked. Office had aged him, that was for sure.   

How he’d come to find himself in this predicament, he had no idea. How ironic that the daughter of the Mayor to the very town that loathed him had become his booty call.   

Well, you would be if he could fucking find you.  

Putting the photo frame back in its place, Mary looked around one more time, noting there were two doors in the room. He figured he’d try his luck – if he were quiet enough, he wouldn’t be caught. Your parents had no reason to be upstairs with guests over, and maybe you were in a second living room or something? This house was definitely big enough to have two.   

Mary crept over to the door closest to him, reaching for the handle. He’d just grasped it in his palm, when he heard a click behind him.   

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” your pretty little voice warned, more stern than he’d heard it before. Mary froze, a smirk playing on his lips.   

“I think you just lost, doll...” he teased, standing up straighter yet still facing the door.   

“Lost what, Goore?” you enquired, leaning up against the doorframe of the bathroom you’d just been in, hiding from him as you applied the final touches to your make up. Mary began to turn towards the sound of your voice, then.  

“Your little game of hide and see-” He stopped in his tracks, the last syllable getting caught in his throat as his eyes fell on you.   

There you were, this pristine little daddy’s girl, leaning up against the doorframe with cherry red lips so ridiculously enticing, scantily clad in pretty red lace. The matching set you’d prepared came with a garter belt, only attached to strips of elastic around your upper thigh. The straps of the bralette contoured the curve of your breasts, similar straps of elastic sitting high on your hips. The lace only covered what it needed to, the straps themselves doing most of the enticing.   

But what really got him, was the leather jacket you wore over the top of it, covered in spikes, badges, patches and chains.  

His leather jacket.  

You smirked at Mary’s silence, watching his eyes drink you in as you showed off more than he’d got to see that night at the bar... This wasn’t rushed, this wasn’t on a whim. This had been planned, specifically to scramble his brain the second he saw you. And if the way he readjusted his jeans and his jaw dragged across the floor was anything to go by, you’d succeeded.  

Mary scraped his jaw back from the floor, collecting himself and settling his gaze on your eyes, feigning a look of deviance and irritation.  

“So, this is your secret weapon, huh?” he asked, gesturing towards your outfit – or lack thereof. “I told you I wanted that back,” he said, his voice deep and vaguely threatening.   

“I propose a trade. Do you have them?” you asked, holding your open hand out towards him.   

Mary patted at his chest as if looking for something, hands travelling down to his front pockets of his jeans, then to his back, where he let out an “ah-ha!” and pulled the familiar white lace of your panties from your last encounter from one of the pockets. “You’ll see they’re completely unharmed...” he dangled them out towards you.   

“Put them on the bed and step away...” you warned, keeping up the facade of a ransom exchange just a little longer. Mary did as you asked, slowly stepping towards the end of your bed and gently laying your panties on the edge, before holding his hands up in surrender and stepping back a few paces.   

You walked to the bed, picking them up and inspecting them for any damage at all. Mary watched you from afar, amused and shoving his hands into his pockets. With a satisfied hum, you balled the panties up and threw them back down onto the end of your bed, turning on your heels to look at him.   

“See, doll? Completely unharmed. Now... your turn,” he smirked, his eyes drifting back over your body, enjoying every inch of skin he could see beneath his jacket.   

“Can’t I keep it just a little longer...? It suits me, don’t you think?” you asked innocently, twirling around for him to catch a good glimpse of your ass peeking from beneath the leather.  

Mary pinched at his chin, unashamedly watching your ass as you modelled his jacket for him. “Hmm,” he hummed, “I suppose... it does have a kind of charm on you, doll.”  

You giggled, the sound momentarily scrambling the frequencies in his brain again before he shook his head and refocussed. You stepped towards him, biting your sultry red lip as you looked him up and down with the same hunger he had shown you.  

“So... do I get to wear it a little longer?”   

“Maybe just a little, doll...” he shrugged, waiting as you slowly approached him.   

“Just a little?” you pouted, coming to stand in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept his hands to himself, tucked back into his pockets. “Why just a little longer?”  

“Because, doll... I ain’t gonna be able to stop myself ripping it off ya pretty fuckin’ soon,” he threatened. You grinned, pulling your body to rest against him, breasts pushed into his chest and hips grazing his half-hard length in his tight jeans.  

“Enough talk, Mare... You came here to fuck me, so fuck me,” you told him, hovering your lips close to his.   

But Mary just laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh, doll... Nuh-uh... You think I’m gonna rush this?” he asked, stepping either side of your feet and pushing you a step backwards simply with the force of his chest against yours. “Last time, we were in danger of gettin’ caught. Had to be quick, hm?” He took another step, forcing you back again. “But I reckon we got some time while daddy shmoozes his guests downstairs... I ain’t rushin’ this time, doll...”   

He backs you up until you can feel the frills of your bedding on the bare backs of your knees, tickling the exposed skin but he stops you there, not yet pushing you down onto the mattress. Instead, he lifts one of his hands from his pocket, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip and lightly pulling it down.  

“You wear this shade just for me, baby?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. From this close, you could see the details in his make up, the dark circles he painted on with pale skin, the fake blood dripping from his hairline. The fringe of his spiked hair tickled your nose where it came to a point, and you shivered from the tickle and his light grasp on your lip.   

“Uh-huh,” you confirmed, Mary smirking in triumph.  

“I like it... Wonder how it’d look on me,” he teased. “Let’s find out...”  

In less than a heartbeat he dropped your lip, his hand reaching for the lapel of his jacket draped over your body and pulling you to him, pressing his lips to yours. You whimpered at the contact, your mind blanking with the sensation of being able to finally kiss him again after a painful two weeks.   

Mary stayed true to his word, taking his time to mould his lips with yours, tilting his head in order to make you more pliant in his grasp. He tasted as he did the last time you met, with the exception of the beer you had pounded together that evening; the lingering taste of cigarette smoke and a vague sweetness from whatever he used as fake blood to drip down his face.   

Your fingers wound their way into the shorter hair at the back of his head, tugging at the roots while your arms tightened around his neck. Mary’s grip on his jacket fell to your hips, pulling at the elastic of the garter belt around your waist. He could feel your bare skin beneath it, driving him utterly insane with want. But no, he said he wouldn’t rush this. He wouldn’t. He wanted to savour every touch, every taste, every noise he could from you.   

But he also couldn’t bring himself to deny you when you ran your tongue along his bottom lip, a clear indication you needed to taste more of him, directly from the source. And so, he allowed you to invade, tongue meeting in a slow and deliberate show of sensuality.   

Somehow, despite being so much slower in his movements this time around, it felt all the more filthy than your encounter in the bathroom stall. Your little mewls of pleasure and his dark little chuckles and groans added something to the moment, a familiar sense of desperation for each other.  

Eventually, Mary pushed you to sit at the edge of your bed, tapping the steel toecap of his boots at your inner ankles to spread your knees for him to stand in the space you created. You did so without a fight, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes and curving your back to give him a nice view of your ass over your shoulder. He pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, smirking down at you with a smudge of red across his lips.  

“Well...? How does your lipstick look on me, doll?” he asked, pouting for added effect.   

“Suits you...” you giggled, “but I’m wondering...” You reached for his belt, unbuckling the leather from the oversized skull buckle, “how it’d look smothered along your cock...”   

“Fuck, you’re filthy, doll...” he praised, but he gripped your wrists and paused your movements. “But as my memory serves me, you’ve taken my cock in that pretty mouth before, hm? And as fucking good as that was, I wanna try something new tonight. That alright with you?” he asked, a genuine tenderness in his eyes that let you know it was alright to tell him no, that you could back out any second if you wanted.   

But the sparkle that said Mary had a plan was still very much prevalent, and you let your curiosity get the better of you. You wanted whatever he planned. You wanted anything Mary was willing to give.  

“Whatever you want, Mare,” you smirked, fluttering your eyelashes up at him as you loosened your grip on his belt.   

Mary whistled with a smirk and a shake of his head, “Careful sweetheart... That’s a real dangerous door to open.”  

Before you could think of a witty response, his hand wrapped itself around your exposed neck, the cool feel of his silver rings contrasting with the heat of arousal that emanated from your skin. With his thumb, he titled your chin up a little more, before he dipped his head to attach his teeth to the space under your ear, nibbling, suckling, licking over the skin as he travelled down your neck, holding you in place while he bent over you.  

Because he was stood between your thighs, you couldn’t help but widen them to accommodate him, his body slotting itself in and crowded your senses. You could smell a cologne on him – not one he’d worn last time... was he try to impress you? - that was musky and woody, only complimented by the faint smell of cigarette smoke.   

Mary made his way down your neck, holding you tightly as he moved to your chest, paying close attention to the sounds of your laboured breaths and little whimpers as he got closer to the curve of your breasts. To aid his descent, Mary got down onto one knee, his free hand gripping your thigh for stability just as tightly as he held your neck. To your disappointment, he moved back just as he was getting close to the red elastic that sat above the cup of your bra, still holding you in place.  

“Look at me, doll...” he commanded, and you did so without question – a little difficult, with the way he was holding your chin higher than it naturally sat. But he held eye contact with you, even as he moved in to lick a wide stripe between your breasts from your sternum, right up to where his hand grasped your neck. Your hips bucked just a little in arousal, but he noticed. Mary didn’t miss a trick.   

“Fuckin’ needy little thing, you are. What, you want me to touch you?” His hand on your neck slid up to cup your jaw, two of his fingertips forcing their way past your lips and holding you tight. “Want my tongue? My fingers? My cock?”   

You couldn’t answer if you tried, his hand locked in place, keeping you silent save for the pleading whine you let out. Mary laughed, reattaching his lips to your chest and trailing open mouthed kisses down to the curve of your breast, finally mouthing at flesh instead of skin and bone. He bit down on you, digging his nails into your thigh as he did to spread the light pain further across your body. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out, hips rolling on the bed in search of something more.   

“Undo this bra for me, doll. My hands are busy,” he told you. You did as you were told, reaching behind you and unclasping the hooks, letting it fall loose on your shoulders underneath Mary’s jacket. With the tension removed from the elastic, he could move the flimsy cups out of the way, nudging them with that delectable nose of his to finally reach the nipples that had hardened for him long ago.   

His tongue laved over the bud, heavy breaths flooding from his nose while his mouth was preoccupied with your tits. By the noise he was making, Mary seemed to be enjoying himself, fingertips digging into your thigh against, his rings imprinting on your flesh.   

With Mary distracted, you shimmied out of his jacket, wanting to take the bra off completely. When you’d thrown the thin little thing to the side, Mary’s eyes looked up at you with a darkness, a hint of distaste in them.   

“Put that fucking jacket back on,” he growled against your breast. “Ain’t nothin’ prettier than tits and leather.” You giggled around the fingers in your mouth and reached for the jacket that lay around you, shuffling until you had it back on. “Good girl,” he mumbled against your breast again, suckling at your nipple while he slid the hand from your mouth down to cup the other breast, pinching in time with his teeth nipping at the other.   

Your hands found his hair again, messing with the way he’d styled it and scratching at his scalp as you pulled his head closer to you. You rolled your hips again where you sat, trying desperately to grind against his chest but you simply couldn’t reach from here, and you whimpered at the lack of contact to where you really needed him.  

With a popping sound, Mary pulled back from your breast and levelled his face with yours, demanding eye contact.  

“Needy little girl wants me to touch her cunt, huh?” he asked, no hint of shame or shyness to him at all. It made your core burn for him.   

“Please, Mare...” you whined.   

“Said I was gonna take my time, doll. You gettin’ impatient?” He arched an eyebrow, testing you. You were in no mood to hide your lust.  

“Mhm...”  

“You want my cock that badly?” he asked, a cocky smile playing on his lips. You nodded, giving him your best pathetically needy puppy-dog eyes. He just laughed.   

“Tough shit, doll. I’m sure you’re used to gettin’ what you want, but I wanna enjoy this. And frankly, baby, I’m thirsty. I’ve been here all this time, and you haven’t even offered your guest a drink?” he accused, acting insulted. “Just rude, that. Guess I’ll have to get my own...”  

A swell of panic rose in your chest, your eyes widening as your eyes darted towards the door to the hallway. He couldn’t... Your father would go nuts, throw Mary out by the collar of his band shirt and ground you for the rest of eternity – even if you were a fucking adult.  

Mary followed your gaze and laughed. “Not from there, doll. I got what I need right here.”  

Without warning, Mary pulled the feeble lace of your panties to one side, exposing your dripping centre to him and launching himself between your thighs. His lips encircled your clit and with a loud slurp, and he took enough of your arousal onto his tongue to coat the appendage completely. You couldn’t help the loud gasp that forced its way up your throat, Mary’s hand slapping over your open mouth to cut it off.   

Now silenced, you allowed the moans to spill freely against his palm as he dove into your core, lapping at your clit, your lips and your entrance like he already knew what you liked, where you needed him. True to his word, Mary drank from you every drop of arousal you produced as if he hadn’t hydrated in days. His make up smeared all over you, a mixture of fake blood and whatever black and white paints he’d used for his dull skull make up. You could see the pink tinge of your lipstick still around his lips, getting messier by the second.   

As he focussed on your clit, you howled against his palm, prompting him to remove himself from your core and shush you just inches from your face, warning you with darkened eyes to keep quiet, or he’d stop everything. You may have a big house, but Mary was still very aware of the dinner going on downstairs; he was not about to get thrown out of your house with a raging boner and smeared pussy juice all over his fucking face.   

“Seems I can’t keep you quiet, doll... How do I shut you up, hm?” he asked, pressing his hand harder against your lips as he looked around your room for something to aid him. His eyes landed on the white lace beside you, draped over the corner of your bed, and his eyes glimmered with mischief.   

With his free hand, he grabbed at your used panties, balling them up and stuffing them into your mouth until he was sure he’d plugged up the source of the noise.  

“There. Now do me a favour, pretty girl...” he leaned in to whisper in your ear, the faint scent of your juices hitting your nose from the mess over his mouth and chin, “ shut the fuck up...”   

You moaned into the lace in your mouth, muffled well enough that only Mary would be able to hear. The way he spoke to you, took command and degraded you made you so damn weak for him; because you had a weird feeling you were safe with Mary.   

Absolutely, he was a son of a bitch, a fucking asshole, a total whore and the filthiest guy you had yet to meet but there was always an air of safety with him, of comfort and a mutual respect you didn’t seem to get with any of the assholes you’d fooled around with in the past. Mary wasn’t exactly your usual type – unwillingly a cliché, you only seemed to fool around with jocks or preppy guys – but that was because you had always, always lived up to daddy’s expectations. You fooled around with the guys your father would approve of, in the hope that someday he may approve of you in the same way.   

Mary was the opposite of that and truthfully, the first guy you’d slept with that made you feel anything other than a dull buzz. For starters, he knew where the clit was and what to fucking do with it – but there was an electricity there, the spark of a passion you’d not yet felt with anyone else. Mary knew what buttons to press, how far he could go; he was running off pure instinct, listening to you, feeling you, understanding you.   

He dove back between your legs, the jolt of pleasure as his tongue swept over your clit forcing your legs to clamp down around his head. His hands gripped onto your thighs, nails digging into the flesh as if encouraging you, taunting you to try and squeeze until you crushed him. Your moans were caught by the lace in your mouth, muffled but still as desperate as they had always been under Mary’s spell.  

You had always thought there was no way a man could make you cum with just his tongue, but you thought the same thing of men in general, having been left unsatisfied without your own intervention during every sexual encounter with a man previously. But Mary had already proved you wrong when he’d made you squirt on his cock – you hadn’t even realised you could do that.  

He was determined to make you do the same again, still feeling particularly thirsty for you. He persevered, swiping his tongue over your most sensitive of nerves, winding the coil in your abdomen tighter and tighter... The only warning you gave him was your hands gripping the roots of his hair, your hips shoving themselves against his face right before you squealed against the lace, biting down and once again, squirting as you came from Mary’s ministrations.   

Mary growled with hunger as he caught as much as he could, drinking every drop he could reach, rutting against the tightness in his jeans for some kind of friction for himself, now too turned on to hold back. He didn’t stop for air, never pulled away from you until you were physically pushing at his head, overstimulated and in need of a reprieve.   

Mary fell back, his hands catching himself on your carpet as he gasped for air, your cum dripping from his chin mixed with fake blood, white paints and your smeared lipsticks. You fell back against the mattress, pressing your fingertips into your eyes in a hope it might ground you as you came down. You made no move to remove the lace from your mouth; it served to still silence the whimpers of aftershocks that rippled through you, your limbs convulsing every few seconds after brief pauses of stillness.  

You missed the smugness on Mary’s face as he licked what he could reach from around his mouth, smearing the rest on the back of his palm. Slowly, he crawled back to his knees, slinking his way over your chest and hovering above you like a serpent ready to wrap himself around you and squeeze your life essence from your body. His eyes looked predatory, and your heart rate that had begun to stabilise shot through the roof again.   

Mary wasn’t finished.  

“Think that’s my thirst quenched, doll...” he smirked, running his thumb along your stained bottom lip, noting how the red had transferred to the white lace gag. “Fuckin’ love that you can do that for me.”  

You did your best to smile around the intrusion in your mouth, your eyes doing most of the emoting.  

“But y’know what?” he teased, pressing kisses under your ear lobe as his hands travelled down to your breasts again, lightly tracing around your nipple and back up to your throat. “I’m fuckin’ hungry, now.”  

With a strength you didn’t know he possessed judging by his scrawny little frame, he gripped the edges of his open leather jacket in one fist, lifted it with enough force that he could throw you backwards, back hitting the piles of stuffed animals and pillows. You yelped, again muffled by the cotton lace.  

Mary just laughed. He stood up at the end of the bed, reaching to the back collar of his cut-off band tee and dragging it over his head until it fell to the ground.   

“You want my cock, didn’t you doll?” he asked, keeping his voice relatively low so as not to raise suspicion from downstairs. You may have been gagged, but he wasn’t. He had to still be careful. But you nodded at him frantically, squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.   

His hands worked the button and fly of his skinny jeans, shoving the tight material down his thighs until he could stand on them to pull one leg out, then the other. He whipped his briefs off pretty quickly too, freeing himself completely. You watched in delight as he fisted his length a couple of times – this was the first time you’d seen him bared to you like this, and frankly, you couldn’t seem to get enough...   

His subtle definition over his skinny form had you drooling, eyes following the trail of hair from his stomach to his well-kept pubic hair. You whimpered at the sight of his cock, completely free from confinement, and his thighs that tensed as his fist squeezed at the head of his cock.   

Without another word, Mary knelt on the bed, pulling your ankles apart to give him space to shuffle between them. He wanted unrestricted access to your core, and so began pulling the garter belt from your waist along with the garters themselves, so he would finally make progress and get to the waistband of your panties underneath.   

This pretty red shade was gonna haunt him at night, he just knew it. He couldn’t get away with keeping it this time; his memory would have to do.  

Now fully undressed, Mary had you right where he wanted you – naked and beneath him, with only his leather jacket on. You were the sexiest god damned thing he’d ever fucking seen.  

He hovered above you, trailing his fingertips from your neck, down over your breasts and to your thigh, where he hooked his hand under your knee and hiked it up to his hip. He lowered himself, his bare cock sliding against the mess between your legs. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment he seemed to falter, as if looking for some kind of anomaly in your irises. Suddenly, Mary was pulling the panties from your mouth and instead, pushing his lips to yours for another engulfing kiss.  

You held his head in place, raising from the pillows to meet him and move so effortlessly with him. You could taste yourself faintly on his lips, and eagerly you swiped your tongue over his for more of it.   

Mary pressed his forehead to yours as he let the kiss fade out, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself as he lined the head of his cock up with your dripping centre. He hadn’t prepped you at all, and so he knew that first push he had to go slowly, he had to be careful – but he also knew you’d be tighter than last time, his fingers not yet working you open.   

“Tell me you want me, baby...” he whispered to you, nuzzling his nose against yours, lost in bliss.  

“I want you, Mare...” You didn’t even hesitate, whispering back. “Please...”   

Mary kissed you again, using your lips to try and distract him from the squeeze of his cock pushing into you, slowly filling you so deliciously, so completely... With the strain of keeping his composure, his lips pressed harder against yours. Your fingernails dug into his head as you held him in place, whimpering into your kiss.   

When he’d completely filled you, his hips flush against yours, he stilled for a moment and parted his lips from yours.  

“You good, doll?” he asked, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. He found none, but he needed confirmation. This felt different to last time, more intimate than the bathroom encounter. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by your childhood bedroom and very aware of how vulnerable that made you to him. Maybe it was because he was able to actually see you this time. Maybe it was because he was pressed up against you, held by you in such a way that he hadn’t had in quite some time, his usual encounters with women fleeting and rushed.  

But like Mary had said in the beginning; tonight, he wasn’t rushing.   

“I’m good, Mare. Please, move,” you begged, rolling your hips beneath him for the slightest friction.  

He obliged without hesitation now he had the green light, slowly rolling his hips to drag his length back through your sopping heat until he could push himself back in with a more deliberate and angled thrust. You gasped beneath him, his hand once again coming to slap over your lips to silence you.  

“Careful, baby. Don’t make me gag you again, hm?” You nodded from underneath his palm as he found his pace, filling you over and over and deliciously hitting that same pressure point he’d found last time. “Good girl... You know I love the pretty noises you make for me, but they’re just for me, you hear?” he warned. You nodded again, slamming your head back down into the pillows beneath you, your hands running down to his shoulders to hold onto him.   

His hand drifted from your mouth, instead finding purchase on your hip bone to hold you down against the mattress while he drove his cock deep inside you over and over again. Although a struggle, you managed to contain your moans for the time being, biting down on your bottom lip and squeezing his shoulders.   

Mary, too, was struggling to keep quiet. He wanted nothing more than to roar in his bliss, to grunt and growl and lose his fucking mind between your legs but he held back, gritting his teeth around the noises he let escape. You saw his struggle, and figured now was as good a time as any to mess with him...  

“You feel so good, Mare...” you whispered breathlessly. His brow visibly creased, his eyes boring into yours. “Filling me so perfectly. C-can feel you... in my fucking... stomach,” your sentence broke apart as his thrusts got harder and harder with each of your words, spurred on by your filth.  

“ Fuck , baby girl... You tryna make me lose it, huh?” You just giggled beneath him, riling him up further.   

“C’mon Mare, fuck me... Gag me if you gotta, but fuck, just lose it. Fuck me, Goore...” You begged.   

Mary buried himself in your neck and growled against it, biting at the flesh and ramming his hips into you harder and harder. Your own whimpers slipped from within, and again, Mary had to cover your mouth with his hand to stop them getting any louder, drawing attention to you both.   

Between his hand on your mouth and jaw and the other pinning your hips to the bed, you were stuck beneath him, unable to writhe and move much at all below the unforgiving Mary, who – like you had told him to – had lost it. The sight of him was maddening, intoxicating. It had you clenching your walls around him, earning muffled groans and huffs from above you.   

“Fuckin’ love the way this pussy grips me, baby. Like you never wanna let me go...” he chuckled, gritting his teeth.   

You were so close, that familiar tingle growing desperately by the second, heat pooling and spreading from your core through every limb, like magma spilling from a crater and coating everything in its path.   

“M-Mary...” you whispered, nails digging into his back and dragging across the pale skin, leaving red scrapes in their path. He fucking loved that shit.  

“What is it, baby? You gonna cum again for me? I get two outta you, this time?” he teased. “Go ahead, cream on my cock. I got you,” he promised; and you believed him.   

Even with the grip on your body he had, Mary couldn’t stop you from curling in on yourself, that coil inside you seeming to wind you up like a clockwork toy until you eventually broke, pulling Mary against your chest and ripping his hand from your lips so you could kiss him, releasing all of your energy into a scream that was swallowed by his lips and tongue.   

Mary’s hips never faltered, but he felt the way your pussy gripped him, the drag of each thrust so much harder between that and your hands pulling his body taught against your own. His resolve crumbled quickly, hips frantically smacking into yours until he could feel himself on the edge.   

Mary hadn’t cum inside last time, and in the absence of a condom, he wasn’t sure you’d allow him. He’d understand, but with your lips trapping his from asking permission, he was beginning to panic, his end rushing towards him like a freight train.   

He held off, somehow managing to keep himself from climaxing until your climax had dulled enough for him to pry you from his lips, smacking his forehead to yours as he grunted and took a breath.  

“Doll, g-gonna cum... W-where?” he could barely ask a full sentence in the state he was in, but you understood despite the haze of a ridiculously powerful second orgasm.   

“On... the pill...” you’d said between breathless gasps, still reeling from more aftershocks and surrounded by the suffocating heat of both your bodies entwined in each other. “Inside, Mare. Fill me,” you told him.  

That was the spark to a puddle of gasoline... it ignited him instantly, barrelling headfirst into an orgasm he felt in every single nerve in his body.   

You held him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as his forehead bruisingly pressed into yours, his jaw dropping as a loud moan began to rip from his chest. This time, it was you stuffing your white panties into his mouth, just in time to stop the noise reverberating on the walls and causing one hell of a scene for your parents to rush in on.   

He didn’t still his hips, rather slowed them to savour the feeling of his spend filling you up, warming both your insides and his shaft. His cock was so damn sensitive now, every slow drag through his mess inside you having him jolt against you in overstimulation until finally, he’d calmed himself enough to be able to pull out and collapse into your chest, his leather jacket sticking to the both of you.   

For a while, you lay like that; catching your breath and laying in the afterglow of a damn good fuck. It wasn’t until Mary rolled onto his side next to you and spat your panties out that you felt the relief of a cool breeze caused by his movement.  

“I got no idea where you got that mouth of yours, darlin’, but it’s gonna get me in a lot of trouble...” he chuckled, running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair, pushing it from his forehead.   

“Oh, my mouth? Seems to me, you’re the talker of the two of us, Goore,” you prodded an accusatory finger into his peck. Mary made a “meh” noise, falling into his back and rubbing his hands over his face, only to look at them and notice the mess of colours that transferred to his palms.   

“Shit, was that a bathroom you popped out from earlier? I uh... could do with a hose down.” You laughed at him, nodding as you sat up.   

“Me first, though. Heard a girl should always pee after sex,” you shrugged. “Helps... something? Whatever.” You stood, clenching your thighs together when you felt the mess that threatened to drip from you. Ah, that’s why.  

Mary just chuckled at the way you waddled into your little en suite and waited patiently for his turn to spruce himself up in your shower, teasing you when he’d seen you emerge in a towel with your hair thrown up and out of the way.   

Truthfully, he’d hoped maybe you’d have joined him – but perhaps you felt like that was a little too intimate. He had to remember his place, after all. Just a booty call, and booty calls don’t wash each other’s bodies and shampoo each other’s hair.   

Now clean, Mary emerged in a towel with his hair still dripping. You hadn’t seen him without his signature face paint since he’d dropped out of school at 15, and he seemed somewhat vulnerable without it; like he’d stripped himself of a protective layer between him and the rest of the world.   

Nevertheless, Mary dressed himself again and sat down at the edge of your bed, where you’d sat waiting for him in a fresh pair of sweatpants and a cami top – topped off, of course, by his leather jacket. Mary laughed at the sight.  

“Am I not gonna get that back, doll?” he asked, nodding at the jacket as he buckled his belt back up.  

“Not yet... Gonna need it, it’s cold out tonight,” you shrugged.  

“Oh? We goin’ somewhere?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he dug into his back pocket for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one from the box and shoving it between his teeth.  

You stood and took a step towards him, plucking the cigarette from his teeth and instead pushing it between your lips. “Can’t smoke inside, daddy will smell it.”  

Mary’s lips curled into a wicked smile. You really were the hottest little minx he’d had the pleasure of fucking.   

You strode over to the open window Mary had climbed in through, climbing out onto the roof and heading for the edge of the apex, climbing down it to the flat platform of the garage roof, safely tucked to the side of the house. Up there sat a little flowerpot filled with sand that you’d put there over two years ago – a makeshift ashtray for your little sneaky smokes.   

Mary followed you, both of you taking a seat to the back of the garage roof, overlooking the street shrouded in dim streetlights.  

“Little more rebellious than I thought, huh?” he joked, tapping the flowerpot with his foot. He reached over and took the cigarette from your lips, plucking another fresh one from his pack and pushing them both between his teeth. With a zippo lighter engraved with a bat, he lit them both and passed one to you.   

“Thanks,” you smiled, taking your first lungful of nicotine. You sighed, content and relaxed.  

“Ain’t nothin’ like a cigarette after an orgasm, is there?” Mary chuckled, the cigarette bobbing between his lips as he spoke around it.   

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ for dramatic effect.   

As you took another drag, you caught sight from the corner of your eye your parents shaking the hands and kissing the cheeks of his deputy mayor and wife. Their meal must be over, the goodbye pleasantries exchanged as your parents wave off the car pulling out of your driveway. You watch quietly as they turn and head back to the porch beneath you, out of sight from where you sat.   

But Mary isn’t watching them. He’s watching you , with a creased brow and a million questions swarming around his mind. It’s not until you turn to look back at him that you notice, and you feel like you’ve somehow been caught doing something you shouldn’t.  

“Alright, I gotta ask ‘cause this is killin’ me,” he said, taking another drag of his cigarette and mulling over how to word this without causing any kind of offense – something Mary usually got wrong. “What is it about me that you seem so attracted to?”  

His question caught you off guard, your brow creasing in confusion. “What do you mean?”  

“Well... I assume that in order to sleep with me – twice – you'd have to be somewhat attracted to me, right?” he shrugged. You nodded, urging him to continue, as if you still didn’t understand his question. “So, I guess what I’m asking is... what does a girl like you see in a guy like me?”  

Your expression darkened, an anger and defensiveness bubbling away inside you. This was exactly the kind of shit you expected; Mary had stereotyped you, just like the rest of them. You thought he might be different, that as an outcast himself who was stereotyped by the entire fucking town he might have given you the same leeway you had him. But no, here he was, putting you back in your neat little box.  

“What do you mean... a girl like me?”  

Mary noticed the change in your demeanour, but he was just being honest. He didn’t want to upset you, why would he? But he was overcurious, and perhaps, just a little too honest.  

“Oh, come on, doll... First night I met you, you were wearing that pretty little sundress and out with your ‘girlfriends’. Then tonight, I climb in through your window like some shitty high school movie and find your bedroom is covered in lace and frills and pink. You’ve got the trinkets and the pretty little ornaments... and your bed is covered in stuffed animals, like you’ve had that collection since you were a kid. You and I ain’t the same, we’re so polar opposite so logically, it doesn’t make sense,” he rambled. All the while, your blood boiled hotter and hotter, anger turning to rage.  

“I mean, you’re daddy’s little girl, so sweet and pretty and the town loves you. You’re too damn good for a ‘shit for brains’, ‘punk-ass kid’ like me.” Those had been direct quotes from a couple of cops who’d gotten to know Mary’s face over the years.   

“I am not ‘ daddy’s little girl’,” you seethed, “And you don’t know a fucking thing about me, Goore. You’re just like all of them, treating me like some fucking kid who can’t think for herself.”  

“I never said that, I just don’t understand why-” he started, but you cut him off.  

“No that’s just it, you don’t understand. That’s all people see of me, being his daughter...” you stood, shoving the cigarette between your teeth and walking to the edge of the roof, sitting there and dangling your feet over the edge. Mary stayed put for a second, bewildered and letting you cool off for a moment. Clearly, he’d struck a nerve. Guilt wracks through him, and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head, his hair still damp but now chilled in the night air.   

With a sigh, he holds his cigarette between his teeth and gets up, coming to sit down beside you without a word. He notes your scowl, and the way you avert your eyes from him.   

“So, go on... what’s the deal with your dad, then?” he asked, looking out ahead of him as he took another drag. He watches you fold your arms over your chest, the leather of his jacket squeaking as it rubs over itself.   

“Treats me like a kid, like I’m not a grown-ass woman with her own brain,” you sighed, looking down at your feet swinging over the edge of the garage. “I gotta be this perfect girl all the time, because that’s the image he created for me; the all-American, perfect family. It’s just part of his fucking political career. I don’t get a say, I never have.”  

Mary’s nose wrinkles as he thinks to himself, not quite understanding. Surely you were old enough to have your own mind, or at the very least, to redecorate.  

“Well, if you think that’s not you, why do you go along with it? You play the part very well...” he says, watching you from beside you.   

Your head snaps to look at him, a fresh anger brewing again, like someone had turned the heat right up on the stove.   

“You think so? Gee, thanks, Goore,” you mocked him in your best girl-ish, high-pitched bimbo voice.  

“I just meant-”   

“You don’t get it. Whatever. Why would you? I never asked you to give a fuck about my shit anyway.”  

Now Mary was getting pissed off, his mind working its way into overdrive as he looked at you and your little temper tantrum, thought about your life of privilege – something he’d never had. You had money, a big house, nice clothes, fucking bodyguards at the drop of a hat. And he’d had an alcoholic mother, a deadbeat father and a lifetime of people hating him for his love of metal and macabre. Your lives were total fucking parallels, and he couldn’t understand why you got so angry at your life when you had it all.  

So, he scoffed at you. “’Your shit’, huh? Sure, your struggle sound real tough, Barbie.”  

“Barbie?!” you shrieked, uncaring if someone had heard. “I’m fucking Barbie, now?”  

“Just seems to me like you don’t know privilege when you see it, doll. Even when it’s right under your nose.” He could hear it in his voice; he was being an asshole, he had no idea what your life was truly like, but he was so defensive of his own upbringing, his own issues that he wasn’t willing to see that you had any. To him, your life was perfect, and you were just being a brat.  

“Fuck you, Goore,” you spat through gritted teeth. Mary smacked his lips, nodding in anger.   

“Yep,” he said, shoving his cigarette between his teeth again, now burnt over halfway down. “Y’know what? I’m gonna go. This was fun, Barbie, but this Ken’s gotta split.” He slapped his hands against his thighs before swinging his legs up to the rooftop and standing, dusting himself off.   

“Yeah, maybe you should. Don’t think we’re exactly compatible...” you scowled, pulling your knees up to your chest as you smoked, refusing to look at him.   

He waits a moment, chewing over whether he should say anything else, try and fix this animosity and maybe even apologise. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words... Not when he didn’t see what he’d done wrong. Instead, he crouched down beside you, holding his hand out. You turned to stare at it for a moment, wondering what on earth he wanted you to do. Did he expect you to hold it? To say sorry? To go with him?  

No, none of those.  

“My jacket, Barbie,” he deadpanned, curling his fingers in a ‘gimme’ motion.   

You didn’t speak, instead holding your cigarette between your teeth and pulling the leather from your body. The chill hit your skin immediately, but your stubbornness refused to let it show. Instead, you slammed the jacket back in his hand, and turned away from him.   

“There, we both got our shit back. Now you’ve got no reason to come back,” you told him.   

Mary shook his head, smacking his lips one more time before he headed over to the trellis he’d climbed up, and made his way back down, avoiding the windows and making sure he wouldn’t be caught when he climbed back over the fence.   

Just as he got to his van, he turned back around to see you climbing back through your window, shoving the frame closed and storming off into your room where he couldn’t see you. Mary shook his head with an eye roll, yanking his van door open and throwing his jacket into the passenger side before he climbed in and settled into his seat. He was about to turn the key in the ignition, to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible, but he stopped himself.  

Instead, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel, cursing himself out.  

“Fucking idiot, man...” he chastised, throwing his head back against the battered headrest of his seat. He sat there for a while, replaying your conversation in his head. He thought of every single way that could have gone differently, how he could have handled that better rather than resorting to his usual defensive self.   

After about ten minutes of self-reflection – and frankly, self-loathing – he turned to look back at the bedroom window he’d climbed through that night, just in time to see your light switch off.  

What he didn’t know, was that you were still watching him from the darkness of your bedroom... or, at least, his van; parked where it had been all evening. He hadn’t even made a move to turn on his engine, sitting in the street in silence.   

But now, seeing your light switch off, Mary sighed to himself and found his keys to switch on the ignition. His engine roared to life, as did his stereo that was tuned to some kind of heavy metal. His headlights switched on, and you watched from your window as his van drove off into the night. Tears streaked down your face, and you became overwhelmed by that suffocating feeling of your only morsel of freedom running away from you, after you’d managed to push him away.   

You’d never felt more trapped in your all-American dream-life than you did now.  

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

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[readychilledwine]

Long post ahead lovelies!

We hit ✨️100✨️ friends!

Thank you to all of the beautiful humans who've taken the time to interact with my posts, with me, and to follow me.

In celebration- Part 2 of Slow Hands will be posted soon. Here's a little preview of that:

Lyria sighed softly as Azriel's hands ran along her back. He was being so gentle with her, and she appreciated this, even if it was clear he didn't exactly know what he was doing. She moaned as he applied more pressure to a tighter area, causing the male to grin with satisfaction. "Like that, little fox?"

"Just like that," her voice had become breathy, eyes fluttering shut. He was doing the best he could to remember her motions from the week before, copying them as closely as possible.

Azriel was almost desperate to see her fall apart the way he had. He was desperate to repay that favor. He allowed his shadows to begin exploring. Watching as they played in her hair, down her back, over the perfect ass he'd been dreaming about. His goal was set as she moaned again. Lyria was going to cum for him tonight, and he honestly did not care how.

I have a dark Eris piece I am working on, along with other Eris week pieces. I do not want to preview it yet since I am still in what I call my rough write process. I am going to try to get it ready by the time I am posting all of my "Here's to 100" pieces, though!

And, as promised, here's a sneaky-sneak at 5 little pieces I have written. Take a vote below on which one you'd like to see. The top 2 will be posted in celebration of 100+ people taking a shot following me for their entertainment 💜

Option A - Cassian x Illyrian Female OC - (domestic Cassian Fluff) - Cassian, ever the morning person, found himself madly in love and mated to a female who hates the world before her morning coffee

Cassian adored mornings. He loved watching the sun as it began its ascend over the mountains. He loved the crisp chilled air. He loved breakfast. Early morning training. Cassian was an early bird.  His mate, however, adored their nightlife. She was the last to rise out of bed. The last to leave the table at Rita's with Mor. The last to bed. She loved dinners, the stars reflecting on the Sindra. She worshiped the moon, and he, the sun. 

The one thing the two truly shared in common, though, was their love and need for coffee. Cass was approachable before his first cup, chipper even. He glanced over his shoulder where his mate sat, her wings wrapped tight around her. Her hands held her head. Her long dark hair was falling over her shoulders. "Almost done, babe."

"Fuck. Off." His mate? Not so much.

Option B - Lucien Vanserra x Archeron reader - pure smut set during ACOTAR. Takes place the morning after Calanmai. Y/N is set for an interesting morning after breaking Lucien's rules regarding fire night.

"Lucien," I whispered softly. "Please, bed."

He chuckled darkly against me before pulling away enough to speak to me, "Such a picky demanding little human." He tutted me, squeezing my ass tighter in his grip. "After your little slip up last night, you will take what I give you. Shut your mouth like a good little girl, and let me enjoy my early morning treat."

Option C - Rhys x Night Court OC - angst, angst, angst - post UTM - Rhys and Aelia are married and when he arrives home, the first thing he tells his wife is he found his mate. (Very much the opposite of my previous multi part fic)

"You found your mate, Rhys. That's going to change."

His eyes were squeezed shut as he forced her into his chest. "No, it won't. I'll reject the bond." She shook her head softly. Azriel would murder her if she asked this of Rhysand. Azriel had dreamed of finding his mate. He had begged them to think getting married through, but they impulsively had. And Rhys had sworn her in as High Lady. And now they had a son together. A son who was 60 and would understand exactly what all of this meant. 

Option D - Eris Vanserra x Winter Court Reader - Autumn Equinox themed due to having extra Eris Week Pieces - NSFW at all - sex pollen/magic - 4some with 2 Autumn Court Ocs - takes place during an orgy - Reader is a Winter Court Emissary invited to the Autumn Court during their equinox celebration. Little did she know, Eris had other hopes when he brought her here.

"What happens during the hunt?" Eris kissed below your ear, causing a haze to set in as you relaxed and sighed.

"My father will shift into something different and more animalistic. He will go through the forest to find his fawn for the night and bring her here. They begin coupling, and we all will as well. It helps us thank the land for a successful harvest and keeps the population of Autumn higher than other courts."

"So this is a breeding festival?"

"Yes, little moth, it is." You watched as his friend smirked, repositioning the pretty female in his lap so she was straddling him and facing him before kissing her deeply. Eris began to roam his fingers along the neckline of your dress. "And we can just watch them all if you'd like, we can play if you'd like, or I can winnow you to the Forest House and find myself a new little moth. It is all your choice."

Option E - Azriel x Archeron Sister OC - set before they are made by hybern - NSFW - Body Worship, Dom/sub dynamics - ends with angst - Kaylee is the youngest of the Archeron sisters. After her older sister returns home with 3 attractive men, everything changes for her.

Her skin was on fire with every touch of his hand, only to be instantly cooled by his shadows. "So fucking beautiful," Azriel groaned into her neck. "Look at yourself in the mirror and say you're beautiful." 

His hands roamed lower and lower, finger tips leaving goosebumps in their wake as he continued to kiss her neck. "Az-"

"I gave you an order, little one," he bit harshly at her pulse point, soaking in her gasp and moan. "I expect you to follow it."

[dbnightingale24]

Sneak Peek to ‘Pavlov’s Dog’

A Ransom love story

~~

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+), swearing, cheating, drinking, angst, Ransom being Ransom...uhhh, that’s all you have to worry about...for the preview.

“Welcome to Fish, my name is Jonathan and I’ll be your server tonight,” the waiter smiles at the both of you as he approaches the table, “can I start you both off with drinks?

“I’ll have a water-”

“She’ll have a Mai Tai and I’ll have a bourbon on the rocks,” Ransom interrupts with an irritated sigh.

“Coming right up,” the waiter smiles before walking off.

“Ya know, we’re not going to get anywhere if you’re tense the entire time,” he mutters as he looks over his menu.

“I don’t know exactly know what it is that you want from me.”

“Would it helped if I fucked you in the bathroom?”

“Stop it, Ransom!” you snap quietly as he lets out a full bodied laugh.

“Jesus, it’s just drinks, food, and conversation. Relax.”

“Says the one who isn’t married. How the fuck do you even know you like me?”

“I’ve liked you for a while.”

“Yeah okay.”

“I mean it.”

“How long is a while, Ransom?”

“Remember in first grade? When Tommy Smotts was picking on me about my clothes?”

“You...you remember that?”

“I think about it every day.”

“You never said anything...you never spoke to me.”

“Why would I? You were nice and, in the world we live in, there’s no room for nice people. I kept waiting for you to turn into this bitchy party girl, like every other girl did, but you just kept being sweet and kind. Then you met Jack.”

“If you liked me, why didn’t you say anything? Why’d you let Jack scoop me up?”

“Why not? It wasn’t my business or concern. You’re both adults and capable of making your own choices-”

“But you wanted me and, from what I’ve heard, you’re the king of getting what you want.”

“You’re different.”

“How so?” you ask as the waiter places your drinks down.

“Can I start you two off with some appetizers?”

“No, but keep the drinks coming. We’ll be here for a while,” Ransom smirks, his eyes never leaving you.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into now?

**

“He’s such a liar! That’s not what happened at all!” you laugh as your next round of drinks are brought out.

“That’s what Jack said!” Ransom laughs.

“He’s a fucking liar! That’s not what happened at all! He locked us out of the Air BnB because he’s hard headed, then talked me into scaling the side of the house because he was afraid he’d fall and break something.”

“You scaled the side of a house for him even though it was his fault?”

“In my defense, I was in love,” you shrug as you take a sip of your drink.

“So, what do you know about me?” Ransom asks as he sits back a little, signature smirk playing on his lips.

“I don’t know anything about except that you like to fuck.”

“What have you heard about me?” he chuckles.

“A lot of unkind things.”

“I can take it.”

“You’re a scumbag, you only lookout for yourself, you’re a cheater, a liar, you have a terrible temper, you had a hand in Harlan’s murder, you treat women like trash....the list goes on.”

“Yet, you chose to start this relationship with me.”

“It’s not a relationship, Ransom. We fuck and that’s it.”

“Then why do you stay whenever I tell you to?”

“I’ve been asking myself that for the last few months.”

“Because you like me too.”

“I like the way you fuck me.”

“You’re still gonna hide behind that after everything?”

“I’m not hiding from anything, Ransom. I’m married to someone else, and in all honesty, this shouldn’t have ever started.”

“Then why did you let it start?”

“You caught me in a vulnerable state.”

“And the second time?”

“You caught me in a vulnerable state,” you smirk and he laughs.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“Why you want me.”

“I like you.”

“Ransom, that’s not a fucking reason.”

“It is for me. I’ve never been infatuated with someone for this long, it only makes sense that I should act on it, don’t you agree?”

“It wasn’t enough for you to stop the wedding.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Ransom-”

“I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot and more than I should. I’m not going to tell you to leave him, because it’s not enough for you is it? I don’t want to commit and you don’t wanna commit to me because you have no reason to.”

“Ransom-”

“But you’re still here though, aren’t you?”

“So what?”

“You want to explore this as much as I do.”

“I don’t want to explore anything with you, Ransom,” you sigh as your phone starts going off. “Jesus Christ.”

“You can answer him.”

“I don’t want to answer him. God, how is this my life now?”

“You can always come with me.”

“Ha ha,” you mumble before taking a long sip of your drink. “It’s late, I have to get back.”

“We haven’t eaten yet.”

“What is this Ransom? Why are you fucking with me?”

“I’m not, I told you; I like you.”

“You don’t-”

“You love to dance around while you cook, you think pants are ridiculous and that’s why you’re always wearing dresses and skirts, you love horror movies but have to watch something funny after or you can’t sleep, you love football and baseball, you’ll listen to anything but you favor 90’s grunge, you spend the first half of your Saturdays watching cartoons, you spend most of your holiday time volunteering at shelters, should I go on?”

“...how...”

“I pay more attention than you think, sweetheart. That crystal blue earring and necklace dragonfly set Jack got you for your two year anniversary? That was my idea because he doesn’t pay any fucking attention to you and doesn’t have a fucking clue what you like,” he mutters, frustration very apparent.

“Then why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“I told you why.”

“And I don’t believe you.”

“Y/N-”

“You’re the one that wanted to do this. Answer the question.”

“I just...”

“You just what?”

“You were never gonna give me a chance, Y/N. Between my reputation, my shitty family...you have more reasons to say no than yes.”

“You didn’t even try.”

“What would you have said?”

“Then? I honestly don’t know. Now? No.”

“Why no now?!”

“Ransom, that can’t be a serious question.”

“You like me-”

“I don’t know you! I just...you just...it’s complicated, Ransom. All of this is so complicated. I just wanna go away.”

“Lets go away together,” he suggests as if it’s not a big deal.

“You’re hilarious, truly. You could be a fucking comedian.”

“Lets fucking go. It’s not like Jack will notice. He barely pays attention to you now,” he mutters.

“Thanks for that,” you snap as your phone goes off again. “Fuck, let me just...hello?”

“I’ve been calling you for over an hour!” Jack snaps. “Where have you been?!”

“I do have a job, ya know. I decided to treat myself to dinner.”

“You haven’t been home-”

“Can we not do this? I put up with your shit last night and I don’t fucking feel like dealing with it again tonight.”

“Y/N...I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t want it to happen that way. I really...I wanted to get it right.”

“Funny how you always want to get it right and still fuck it up every single time.”

“Just come home, please? I’ll make it up to you-”

“It was our fucking anniversary and you embarrassed me, yet again, in front of the people you insisted we have over. There’s no way can make it up to me. It’s done. Four years of this shit-”

“Stop it. You know I love and would do anything for you-”

“No, I don’t know any of that, because you’ve never shown or proved any of that.”

“Just come tonight and I’ll-”

“Why should I, Jack? Give me a good fucking reason.”

“Because I love you,” he sighs and you can tell that he’s tired.

Yeah well, you’re tired too.

“I don’t feel like doing this with you, Jack. Not today.”

“Please just come home-”

“What for?”

“You’re my wife, Y/N. You should already be-”

“Me being your wife doesn’t seem to stop you from all of the shady shit you always fucking do.”

“Please-”

“I don’t know, I might stay at Daisy’s again.”

“I don’t like you staying over there! She stays out all night and-”

“So do you,” you laugh incredulously, “at least she pays attention to me.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later,” you sigh before hanging up.

“Ya know, he’s gonna text me soon. Should I tell him I have plans or...”

“I can’t keep doing this with you, Ransom. I-”

“Why not? It’s not like he’s being faithful to you, so what’s the big deal?”

“Because this isn’t who I am, Ransom. This is never the life I wanted! It’s not...it’s not the life I thought I’d....” you sigh as you wipe away a lone tear.

Why can’t you be more selfish? Why can’t you jus walk away from all of this?

“Lets go away together, just you and me,” Ransom suggests again.

“That’s not funny-”

“I’m not joking.”

“We can’t just go away-”

“He isn’t going to notice, baby. I know you don’t want to face that fact, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s just that: a fact. Tell him it’s for work, and we’ll go wherever you want.”

“Ransom...this isn’t a relationship.”

“It can be.”

“No, it really can’t. We can’t keep-”

“You like me, babe.”

“Whether I do or not-”

“You do.”

“Ransom, I’m married. It doesn’t matter that Jack is an asshole, this isn’t me. Sleeping around and having a “relationship” on the side...God, what the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“You’re unhappy.”

“You’re never going to commit to me-”

“You don’t know that.

“Well would you? Would you walk away from all of it just for me?”

“Would you?”

“I’m not the one with something to prove, Ransom. You have reputation, I don’t.”

“That’s fair,” he sighs as he leans back.

“I need to get home.”

“You need to eat.”

“Ransom-”

“Another round of drinks?” the waiter asks with a smile.

Before you can even think, Ransom is answering, “she’ll have the crab-stuffed lobster and I’ll take the surf and turf, and yeah, we’ll take another round of drinks.”

The waiter just smiles and nods before walking off.

~~

taglist: @maroonsunrise83, @emerald-evans, @whxre4cevans, @companionjones, @fuckingbye, @autumnrose40, @pono-pura-vida, @nomadstucky, @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

[gingerparker]

LOVE IS BLIND - SNEAK PEEK

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: 38 days. 15 men. 15 women. Do feelings grow best without seeing each other before a proposal? Can you fall in love in such little time? Will they say yes at the wedding? Welcome to Love Is Blind!

Warnings: swearing, angst, short since it's a preview and dw the other parts are filled with fluff and smut it's not just angst :)

Word count: 476

A/N: Sooooo hopefully at least one person out here has watched Love Is Blind on Netflix. I binged to show so quickly and I couldn't get it out of my head! So here's my binge-watching baby. My first series, hope y'all enjoy it! Gonna try and post a new part every one or two weeks, hope y'all like this sneak peek!

Good luck at finding love ;)

Series Masterlist - Next Part

You're not ready. Fuck, you're not ready. How are you supposed to be ready it's only been 38 days? Is that really enough time to get to know someone? Really get to know them… You could say no but then your relationship with him would be over, you'd be heartbroken, and he would absolutely loathe you. He's told you that he's convinced, that he wants you forever.

“Come on, Y/N” your maid of honour loops your arm with hers and pulls you out of the dressing room.

This is it. The happiest day of your life. Or the day that's supposed to be the happiest. You're stressed, terrified, on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“I've gone insane for ever signing up to do this haven't I?” you look at her with panicked eyes, “This isn't going to end well”

“Guess you'll know when you're up there, babe,” she says leaving you alone at your designed place to walk down the aisle. She locks arms with the best man and the music begins.

The line of people before you start moving, you move with them at a robotic pace. The room is gorgeous, everything perfect and exactly how you envisioned it. Both your families and your entourages are looking at you walk down to your fiancé.

It’s 100% nerve-wracking. You felt so sure just a few hours ago, but now in this dress, makeup on and in the venue. You’re questioning it all. Should you be sweating this much?

You lock eyes with him. He seems so happy, in a clean-cut suit, looking as good as ever. He doesn’t look conflicted, he’s certain you’re the one, you. He wants the future you’ve discussed; the house, the kids, the pets, the trips, growing old, everything.

You’re in front of him now. Your hands in his and bodies barely at forearms length. You look at your guests, some of them are shedding a few tears already and all you’ve done was walk by them. Most of these people don’t even know your middle name, fuck. Can he see? Can he make out the uneasiness in your face? Does he know that all you want to do right now is run? Run for your life and never ever look back. That would be incredibly selfish, and you’ve spent too much money on this day to just leave. Divorce isn’t appealing though, no one gets married to get divorced. At least you hope not.

It’s not like you don’t love him. You’ve fallen in love with him so much quicker than you ever thought you would. You didn’t even truly believe that this would ever happen. He seems too good to be true and that absolutely terrifies you. These feelings you have for him can’t be fake, there’s no way. You feel so much for him, he feels probably even more towards you. He'd treat you so well. Maybe you should say yes…

“Let’s begin shall we!”

Fuck.

-

Let me know if any of you want to be tagged and if you're interested!

[englishrosewritings]

Title: Three Out Of Six Ain’t Bad

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40261737/chapters/100846323

Current Completed Chapter Count: 1 / ? 

Current Chapter: 2 / ? (work in progress)

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Steve Harrington/Original Female Character(s) Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Robin Buckley/Vickie, Argyle/Jonathan Byers, Dustin Henderson/Erica Sinclair Additional Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Past Relationship(s), Fix-It, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Flashbacks, Gay Eddie Munson, Kissing, Sex, Post Mpreg, Angst, Maxine "Max" Mayfield Deserves Better, Steve Is The Best Parent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Blind Character, I Love Joyce and Hopper being the best extra parents to everyone okay, ratings will go up, Aged-Up Character(s) No beta we die like Barb

Notes: currently 3300 words in to the second chapter with promise to upload later on today. we’re going to be bouncing between the past and present this time around with eddie’s pov and whereabouts. but as a treat, here’s a sneak preview of the past:

"Why did you call me that?" Eddie looked up from the sofa he was sat on, hands fiddling with the bandana he was currently trying to refold to wrap around his hair. 

Steve was stood in the doorway of the RV, arms crossed on his chest as he surveyed the rocker with a look of curiosity and bemusement.  

"Call you what?" he asked, lips twitching just a little as he broke away his gaze out of fear of staring too long. 

He couldn't help it, even with his new gear Steve looked like a God. The blood still on his face and his hair in a very messy array and scratches and cuts adorning him, it was hard not to admire how badass Harrington looked. And attractive. 

But Eddie knew what he was asking, knew he had to have caught on a little to Eddie's teasing and flirting. 

And jealousy. 

But that was for later. 

"You know what." he saw in his peripheral Steve look out towards the group before stepping further in and closing the door behind him. He walked closer to Eddie, arms still crossed in a defensive stance. "Big boy." he whispered, as if it were a curse word or insult and that someone was ready to step out and bash him a new one for even daring say it. 

Eddie paused in his mission of tying the bandana and he fixed his wide eyes upon Steve's questioning ones. He remained silent for a moment, before a light smirk graced his lips."Because you're fun to wind up. I like seeing King Steve flustered and unsure of himself. You're also pretty when you blush." it was truthful, perhaps a little too truthful. 

There was a fine line between a funny pet name and admitting you liked a trait. And there it was, blooming across the slightly younger boys cheeks. Dusky, pale rose like the early morning sun rise. "Besides, we're all about to die a particularly awful death and I'm determined to enjoy my last moments- because it's not every day you get a chance to flirt with Steve Harrington. Is that what you want to hear, pretty boy?" 

It was true. If they were about to go down one by one, Eddie certainly was going to enjoy the last couple of hours of his life. A punch from Steve for over stepping the line was nothing compared to what was waiting for them. 

Sinless eyes looked at him with further bewilderment and the glow of rose across his skin had grown more. "You think I'm pretty?" he spoke, his arms uncrossing as one came up to rub the back of his neck. 

Eddie let out a scoff of laughter, rolling his eyes. "Of course the only thing you take out of that is the pretty remark. I'm not even surprised. You know you are, you literally oozed sex all over the halls of Hawkins High. If they didn't want to bang you, they wanted to be you. Stop fishing, now that shit ain't attractive." he replied, a little bit snappier than he intended. 

But people like him lived off compliments. Like Tinkerbell needed applause, King Steve needed compliments. 

Steve stepped closer, he was almost standing in front of him and Eddie had to force himself to tip his head to look up at the man. "No one's ever called me pretty before." he admitted. "Hot, attractive, sexy, handsome- that list could go on. But never pretty." he added, tone lower. 

"You want a medal or something, Harrington? Get to cross another name off the list?" He was getting defensive. A mechanism he had adapted when those who flirted with began questioning his actions. It was all fun and games teasing someone, until they called you out on your bullshit and suddenly things were real. What did Steve even want from this? 

"I don't get you Munson, I don't. For so long I thought you were just another overgrown man child weirdo with an obsession for make believe. But the past few days I've seen more behind the so called high school freak. You owed me nothing, yet you helped save my life. Without you, I'd be bat fodder and I guess- well, I don't really know what I guess. All I know is, I like you." 

It felt almost like they were in middle school, admitting crushes for the first time. At least, that is what Eddie was taking away from this conversation.

"And Robin said that she doesn't feel it's going to work out for us this time. Which in itself is extremely dark and panic inducing but what if she and you are right? I mean, what are we really doing here?" 

The energy had shifted into something indescribable, Eddie hadn't expected to see Steve look so vulnerable and scared. So used to the confident arrogance and strength he radiated to the group. Each moment he had found himself in the presence of Steve since Chrissy's traumatising end had surprised him. So many layers were unfolding each minute and Eddie found himself reaching up to take Steve's hand in his......

[kittenofdoomage]

Early Access Stories!!

All of these fics are available now on my Patreon!

Subscribe today and you will get access to:

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Now Available:

Trick Or Treat (Oneshot)

You never expected Bucky to enjoy Halloween, but he’s certainly getting all the treats (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - 3263 words - fluff/smut)

Anywhere But The Bed Drabbles

The Contract (Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four)

The world has changed. You were naive to how much it had changed until your safe life crumbles around you. Now you’re faced with a decision that might save your life… or condemn you forever (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader x Steve Rogers - 19000 words - angst/dark!fic/smut/fluff)

Gentle Nudges (Oneshot)

They just needed a little push in the right direction, that’s all (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - 7970 words - smut/fluff)

After Hours (Oneshot)

You’re a thrillseeker, and sometimes, you have to take a gamble with a bottle of scotch and two hot strangers (Dean Winchester x fem!reader x Sam Winchester - 2893 words - smut)

Another Year Of Us (Oneshot)

It’s date night, and they’re keeping everything under wraps (Steve Rogers x fem!reader x Bucky Barnes - 2746 words - fluff)

Bound In Darkness (Oneshot)

You run an errand for your boss, only to find out that it’s much, much more (Priest!Otherworldly!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - 4456 words - smut)

Please... (Oneshot)

Some things are more fun when they get out of hand (Billy Butcher x fem!reader x John Winchester - 2153 words - smut)

A Lifetime Ahead and A Lifetime Later (Two Parter)

They planned for a life together, but things don't always work out (Alpha!Soldier Boy/Ben x fem!Omega!supe!reader - 4700 words - angst/A/B/O/smut/fluff)

Daddy's Home (Oneshot)

He comes home in the dead of night and can’t resist you (John Winchester x fem!reader - 1825 words - smut)

The Fine Print (Oneshot)

What if you could actually live out your fantasies? (Demon!Dean Winchester x fem!reader x Spike (BTVS) - 2109 words - smut)

Room Service (Oneshot)

You’re used to dealing with your own problems, but this isn’t something that’s going to go away without help (Billy Butcher x fem!reader - 3145 words - fluff/angst/smut)

Winner Takes All (Oneshot)

Sequel to “Friendly Competition”; The filth continues back in John’s hotel room (John Winchester x fem!reader x Billy Butcher - 2643 words - smut)

In The Air Tonight (Oneshot)

You know what they say about sex when camping - it’s intense ba dum hiss (Dean Winchester x fem!reader - 4479 words - fluff/smut)

Running On Empty (Oneshot)

You had sexy intentions… they don’t quite pan out (Sam Winchester x fem!reader - 1267 words - fluff/smut)

Friendly Competition (Oneshot)

The Boys/SPN Crossover. Set pre-S1 of The Boys and inspired by the recent posters for S4. AU where John hunts rogue supes. When recruited for a case, he meets Y/N and her on-off lover, and a night of celebratory drinking turns dirty (John Winchester x fem!reader x Billy Butcher - 4337 words - smut)

Six Thousand Miles (And A Whole Ton Of Questions) (Oneshot)

What are the chances of seeing him again, six thousand miles from home and fifteen years since she last laid eyes on him? Probably less likely than being stalked by a werewolf (Sam Winchester x fem!reader - 6339 words - fluff/angst/smut)

Can't Let It Lie (Oneshot)

An attempt to comfort you takes an unexpected direction (Dean Winchester x fem!reader x Sam Winchester - 2382 words - smut/fluff)

Coincidental Wishes (Oneshot)

Wishing wells aren’t actually real though, right? (Bucky Barnes x fem!plus size!reader, alternate!Bucky x fem!plus size!reader - 4802 words - fluff/angst/smut)

Promise Kept (Oneshot)

Sequel to “In A Dive Bar” set eighteen months later. She’s tried to move on, but he’s still in her head (Spike x fem!Slayer!reader - 1856 words - angst/fluff/smut)

Waiting Up (Oneshot)

He always seems to know exactly what you want (Billy Butcher x fem!reader - 2019 words - smut)

Detour Into Destiny (Oneshot)

She’s been dreading this wedding for months. Maybe fate can lend a hand (Alpha!Sam Winchester x fem!Omega!reader x Alpha!Dean Winchester - 8735 words - A/B/O/fluff/angst/smut)

Just A Taste (Oneshot)

Your guilty little pleasure is rumbled, but it doesn’t turn out as badly as you expect (Sam Winchester x fem!reader - 3035 words - fluff/smut)

A Little While Longer (Oneshot)

She is more than ready to make the change, but he’s reluctant to give her what she wants (Vampire!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - 1752 words - fluff/smut)

Starved (Oneshot)

She’s feeling much better, there’s just one thing she needs… (Geralt Of Rivia x fem!reader - 1492 words - fluff/smut)

Doppelganger (Oneshot)

You take a break from constant work to remind yourself what you’re fighting for, and end up reminding yourself of what you might regret (HunterCorp!Sam Winchester x fem!plus-size!reader - 5098 words - smut/fluff/slight angst)

Take Charge (Oneshot)

You want to try something new, and your Alpha is more than willing to let you (Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!fem!reader - 1517 words - smut/A/B/O/fluff)

Haunted (Oneshot)

Set immediately post-Civil War. Bucky can’t leave the Siberian facility without seeing if she’s still there (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - 4655 words - angst/fluff/dark fic/smut)

At The End Of The Line (Oneshot)

You weren’t expecting your trip to be so eventful so soon (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - 2428 words - fluff/smut)

No More Wasting Time (Oneshot)

Sometimes, you just have to go for it (Clark Kent x fem!reader - 4555 words - fluff/smut)

Loaner (Oneshot)

Your car has been in the shop for days… that’s not a bad thing. Not when the mechanic looks like that (Mechanic!Sam Winchester x fem!reader - 3362 words - fluff/smut)

Destiny's Quest (Oneshot)

You strike an unusual bargain, then fulfill it in an unusual way (dragon!John Winchester x fem!reader - 6870 words - fluff/smut)

Little Rabbit (Oneshot)

No one’s ever actually seen anything in the woods. No one’s dumb enough to go in there. But what if it’s the only escape? (Alpha!Werewolf!Bucky x fem!plus-size!reader - 8917 words - angst/smut/fluff)

The Little Things (Oneshot)

A traumatic encounter with doppelgangers leaves you unable to face the two men you love most (Alpha!Dean Winchester x fem!Omega!reader x Alpha!Sam Winchester - 5112 words - angst/fluff/smut/comfort)

The Lake (Oneshot)

She’s never had much reason to interact with humans beyond protecting her home, but this human is different from any other she’s met (Sam Winchester x nymph!fem!reader - 5236 words - fluff/angst)

Pink (Oneshot)

Sometimes there are consequences. Hilarious consequences (Dean Winchester x fem!reader - 1438 words - smut)

Rumble Of Ecstasy (Oneshot)

A chance encounter leads to a night you won’t soon forget (JDM x fem!reader - 4070 words - fluff/smut)

I Got You (Under My Skin) (Oneshot)

She knows her time with them is limited, because they’re Alphas, and they need the one thing a Beta can’t give them (Alpha!Dean Winchester x fem!reader, Alpha!Sam Winchester x fem!reader - 6173 words - angst/fluff/smut)

All Of You (Oneshot)

Sometimes, you just need a little reassurance (Sam Winchester x fem!plus-size!reader - 3257 words - angst/fluff/smut)

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You receive your first unexpected guest not long after moving into a new neighborhood (Bucky Barnes x fem!plus-size!reader feat. Alpine the cat - 2723 words - fluff)

At The Car Wash (Oneshot)

You’re a photographer for a local newspaper, assigned to cover a charity event at the town firehouse, and it leads to a night you won’t soon forget (Sam Winchester x fem!reader x Dean Winchester x John Winchester - 6105 words - smut)

Anti-Social (Oneshot)

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Air Tight (Oneshot)

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Silver And Gold (Ongoing Series on Hiatus)

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Halloween Celebration Masterlist*

31 days, 31 fics, a Patreon exclusive (you won't be able to read these anywhere else!). Warnings apply to individual drabbles, characters as voted by Patrons. Patreon Exclusive.

Unbroken (Complete*)

Summary: S.H.I.E.L.D has fallen. Y/N is confronted with a sudden change in her life and no control (Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!reader - 15k words) Patreon Exclusive.

[joontopia]

Find You Now | KSJ Oneshot - Preview

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader

genre: smut, angst, dashes of fluff

au: ex childhood friends to lovers, college drop out

rating: explicit, nsfw, 18+

current word count: 7K and growing

preview word count: 1.5K (unedited)

fic warnings: TBD

preview warnings: slight angst, slight pining

summary:  It’s been 4 years since the last time Seokjin has seen you. Four long years since he has seen your face, since he’s heard your voice, since he left you behind in your small hometown to find himself. But the only thing he found was how empty his life was without you. Following the downfall of his most recent relationship and the news of his brother’s engagement, Seokjin’s back home looking to fix the mistakes he tried to escape. To fix the friendship he lost, the pain he caused, and to find his happiness again. If only he could find you now.

This is a part of the Not A Phase Collab hosted by @suhdays​ - Inspired by the song Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard

Release Date: By Monday May 31st, 2021

It’s just past midnight as Jin pulls into his mom’s driveway, softly closing every door of his car as he gets out and retrieves his suitcase from the trunk. He turns slowly, taking in the stillness and quiet of the street he grew up on, stopping the moment his eyes fall on your house across the road. Not much has changed about your house, save for the vacancy of your car. Your typical parking spot in your parent’s driveway is empty, leaving Jin to wonder if you’re not home or if your father finally cleaned out the other half of the garage, allowing you to park inside.

From the faint illuminance of the street lights, he’s able to see the hibiscus bushes that line the outside of your home. The flowers not yet in bloom due to the time of year. His eyes shift over to the cherry blossom tree at the corner of your yard, sight trailing up its growth until his gaze ends at the highest point. The top of the tree still reaches just above your bedroom window on the second floor. Jin’s lips twitch up into a smile as a memory surfaces in his mind.

6 years earlier

“It was intentional. I’m telling you!” You rant, pouting as you stab your spoon into the cup of ice cream in Jin’s hand.

You’re sitting next to each other outside of the local ice cream shop, sharing two big scoops of chocolate and strawberry that had cost Jin the last of his weekly allowance. You had begged him to take you out for a treat, having just endured one of the most awkward conversations with your parents, promising him that he could choose the flavor as a form of sweet talk to get him to agree. He ended up getting a scoop each of both you and his favorites, his heart fluttering at the sight of your bright smile when he joined you outside on the park bench. The moment Jin handed you a spoon, you immediately dived in, a mixture of the two flavors disappearing into your mouth in a flash. A subtle hum of satisfaction slips past your lips from the taste. Jin shakes his head as he smiles, dipping his own spoon in for a scoop. “Chocolate and Strawberry is a match made in heaven. Two favors that go together perfectly. Like best friends, just like us,” you would say each time Jin asked you about your favorite indulgence.

You remove the spoon from your mouth, waving it around in the air as you share with Jin the scarring conversation with your parents that led to this impromptu outing. They finally decided it was time you had ‘the talk.’ If the topic at hand wasn’t bad enough, your dad even shared with you how he used to sneak out his childhood bedroom, your current bedroom, to meet up with your mom. Information that you stated you’d be better off never knowing.

“Did you know there used to be a big oak tree there? Branches so thick, dad brags about how easily they held his weight as he climbed down them,” you grumble. Jin’s eyes are on you, nodding along to your story as he listens. His attention is slightly distracted the moment he feels your hand cover his causing the both of you to hold the ice cream bowl together as you try to steady it, scooping up a generous portion of the treat with your spoon. The subtle touch redirects his mind from your words to his surroundings, suddenly aware of how closely you two were sitting next to each other on the bench.

It’s not unusual for the two of you to be this close to each other, having known one another since you were in diapers. But now at the age of 16, Jin can only blame it on teenage hormones. What else would explain his rise in blood pressure being this close to his best friend? Surely not the intoxicating scent of your perfume. The one he quickly recognizes as the very brand he got you for your birthday last year. Nor the change in how you do your makeup, the natural tones and faux bare minimum style accentuating your facial features. Allowing your natural beauty to shine.

Jin observes as you bring the plastic utensil up to your mouth again, turning the spoon upside down at the last second before placing it on your tongue, your glossed, plush lips closing before pulling the now clean spoon from between them. He watches as the tip of your tongue peeks out, swiping at a rogue drop of melted chocolate ice cream on your bottom lip and he’s momentarily mesmerized. Lost in wonderment at how his favorite flavor would taste from your lips. He’s brought back to reality from a painful thump on his forehead, the result from where you flicked him with your fingers.

“Yah! Are you even listening?” you scold him, doing a terrible job at stifling your giggle from the pout that forms on Jin’s lips as he rubs his wound. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What’s the big deal? I thought you liked the Cherry Blossom tree,” Jin asks, ears turning red as he looks away from you. Scooping a hefty amount of ice cream into his own mouth to avoid answering the second part of your question. You roll your eyes at him and continue in your rant. Jin quietly lets out a small sigh of relief at you letting his obvious avoidance go.

“I did like it. LOVED it even. My dad said he had the old oak tree removed and the new tree planted shortly after learning I was going to be a girl. But now I just see it as a traitor tree. With branches not thick enough to let me sneak out.” You’re back to pouting, Jin catching the down turn of your lips from his peripherals. How badly he wants to kiss that frown away, the sudden urge to see you smile filling his thoughts.

He hadn’t realized he turned towards you, fully facing you with his spoon in his mouth until you were speaking to him through a fit of giggles, the sound of your amusement like music to his ears. “What are you thinking about, Jinnie?”

Jin is at a loss of words the moment his gaze meets yours. Your eyes full of genuine curiosity as you look up at him, a soft smile one your lips as you wait for him to answer. A slight breeze picks up, causing loose strands of your hair to blow into your face. On instinct, Jin reaches with his free hand, moving your hair back and tucking it behind your ear. Not missing your tiny gasp as your cheeks turn a soft pink from the intimate action. “Have you always been this beautiful?” he thinks to himself as he lets his fingers linger on your cheek. Unsure if it’s just wishful thinking, he swears your face is getting closer to his. Not able to tell if it was from him leaning in or you or both. The moment is suddenly broken by the sound of a car horn blaring from somewhere behind you, causing the two of you to jump slightly back from each other as Jin drops his hand from your face. Clearing his throat, Jin spoons another helping of ice cream into his mouth before passing the bowl towards you.

“Well,” he says, breaking the tension between you two as you take the ice cream from him, “Guess we’ll just have to think of another way for you to sneak out then.”

The smile you award him knocks the breath right out of lunges. The beauty of your happy expression being the most wonderful thing Jin has seen all day. A similar smile reactively graces his face, telling himself then and there that he wants to only ever make you look at him that way all the time.

A somber feeling takes over Jin as he brings himself out of his memory. Turning back towards his house, he walks up to the front door, quietly turning the key and going inside. Locking the door behind him, he carries his suitcase up the stairs, his head turned down the whole way to his old bedroom. He hadn’t kept his promise to himself, so easily breaking it only two years after making it. Entering his room, Jin drops his suitcase on the ground and closes his door. Falling onto his bed, he hopes that once he is able to find you, you will grant him the mercy and honor for him to redeem himself. Allowing him to see that beautiful smile once again.

[theouterbankpogues]

after sarah doesn’t invite kiara to her birthday party (a jj x kiara fic)

author : theouterbankpogues aka vi

fandom : jj x kie, jiara | outer banks on netflix

tags : the angst, the fluff, the hurt, the comfort y’know!!

warnings : none

i love writing for this ship bc it has a chokehold on me and i just... i’m so helpless lmao. i read this hc set by @lemon-patches​ (which you should definitely go and read bc it’s amazing and all the feelings) and it talked about how jj and ki were each other’s first kiss and no one else knows. this is basically how i imagine it happened. enjoy!! as always the validation feeds me so yeah if you like it pls share it and stuff (i love reading tags on reblogs so lmao do with that what u will). i imagine they are 15/16, about 6-8 months before s1 idk if that adds up but lol thats what i went with. sorry for any errors u may find xx

a little preview so u know what you’re getting into hehe: “They stood like that for a while, long and quiet breaths synced, arms entangled in waist and shoulders, hearts rhythmically beating, just enjoying the warmth of the best friend they dearly missed.”

Tears streamed down Kiara’s face. She knew that calling the cops was petty, she knew it was the worst of her manifesting itself, but tonight Ki couldn’t bring herself to care. She found herself toppling some books off of her bookshelf. She had always known that she wasn’t good enough for Sarah. The Sarah Cameron. God, she felt so stupid.

Another wave of regret coursed through her. The pit of her stomach hollowed when she re-remembered that she’d actually listened to her parents and decided to give her kook year a genuine try. She had distanced herself from the cut and the pogues, her best friends, the people that she could always count on, the people who always cared. She gave it all up for the superficial bullshit she knew would eventually fall apart.

That entire evening, the anger and regret approached her in harsh and unforgiving turns. She couldn’t escape her own thoughts, she was so mad at herself. She had let herself become vulnerable, given herself up for someone to use and dispose. She felt so weak. All she really wanted to do was fit in, to have a normal year where she wasn’t disappointing her parents, where she wasn’t out at unreasonable hours getting her friends out of messes, watching their string of luck grow thinner and thinner with every prank and practical joke. She was tired of being the middle between the kooks and pogues, she loved the latter and she could’t escape the part of her that was the former. She just wanted to resign to one side, she just wanted things to get easier. Kiara had decided to leave everything for some peace of mind, and now she knew she’d made a mistake. She hadn’t even checked in with John B, his dad was missing and she hadn’t even checked in with him. God, she felt so stupid. Her sobs overtook her as she sat at her bed.

She was so exhausted from the crying she could scream, it had been a few long hours. And Ki, in a moment of clarity, convinced herself that she was too strong for that. Even though she felt horrible, she reminded herself that she was too careful to let this anger get the best of her. Instead, she resorted to taking a few deep breaths and cleaning up the various books and stationary strewn across her bedroom floor as a remnant of her anger. What had happened had happened, she was just going to have to figure out how to cope on her own.

Yeah, I just have to figure it out on my own. I’ll be fine.

That’s when she heard it.

Thud.

Thud. Thud.

Thud.

‘What the-’

She realised that the sound was coming from her window. Stepping toward the side of her room facing the balcony, she realised that pebbles were currently being thrown at her window by a silhouette below it. She couldn’t tell who it was because the backdoor lights had been switched off for the night. It was well past midnight and her parents were soundly sleeping in the next room, she swore she would never forgive the person currently trying to break her window if they woke up. She didn’t want anyone to see her as the mess she was right now. So as quickly and as safely as Kiara could, she opened the balcony window, “What the actual— JJ? JJ is that you?” Kiara couldn’t really understand what was going on, she had stopped talking to the pogues months ago.

“Yeah, hey Ki! Come down!”

“What?”

“You heard me bro, get dressed and come down!”

After a curt nod, she went back into her room, changed out of her PJ’s into some joggers and a hoodie and found herself sneaking out the back door out of genuine curiosity. When she was outside, she realised that neither Pope nor John B were with JJ. Along with that, she realised that he had two boxes of pizza and some beer cans set down on the grass next to him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was scrolling through Instagram, realised you weren’t at the party, thought you might need a pick me up,” He seemed to register her tired face and puffy eyes under the dim starlight because he continued, “guess I was right!”

And that’s how, twenty minutes later, JJ and Ki found themselves in a clearing near her house. They sat down opposite each other, the pizza boxes separating them.

“Got your favourite, double cheese, double pepperoni and half the jalapeño.”

Except for the occasional direction here and there, Ki had been quite their entire walk. She couldn’t really even process what was happening. How was JJ here? Why was he talking to her after she’d treated them him like shit the past few months? None of it made sense to her, least of all why this was all from JJ. With all of it perplexing her, the only thing she managed to say was, “You remembered.”

‘Yeah of course I did Ki, just because you stopped talking to us doesn’t mean we stopped caring about you. Come on, dig in, it’s getting cold.”

She didn’t know how to respond to him so she just followed him in picking up a slice from the box. Warm pizza , cold beer and melted cheese heavily complemented the gentle breeze that surrounded them. They fell into a comfortable silence as they ate.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know Ki-”

“No, everything I did these past few months, the way I cut you guys off, the way I left y’all when you needed me I-”

“Ki we know-”

“God, I’ve been so stupid, I left you guys, like y’all were nothing, y’all needed me and I-”

“Ki, Ki-” Ki just continued, she felt horrible, “KIARA!” JJ saying her full name was so foreign to her, especially since he hadn’t even call her by her nickname these past few months, it undoubtably got her to stop talking.

“I know the pressure your parents put on you to start at that kook academy. Look we all know how hard it is for you to manage these two parts of your life. I know Ki, you don’t have to keep apologising, I know. We know! Why do you think we didn’t try to talk to you when you told us last summer? We want you to do what’s best for you Ki, you are better than us.” At that, Kiara got up and paced back and forth a few steps, remorse hitting her unbearably. 

“I’m not better than any of you. A part of me wanted to leave you all behind.”

JJ’s response was almost instantaneous, “I don’t blame you for it!”

“Well you should! I left you and Pope. I left John B for god’s sake. His dad is most probably dead and I wasn’t theRE.... I-I’m not there.”

At this point the tears had returned to her and she broke on her last word. Her voice wasn’t steady anymore. “I left all of you... I left you.”

JJ couldn’t stand hearing Ki like this, there’s nothing he hated more than having to let down his guard and get real. But JJ, when she said that, realised that this wasn’t about him. 

“Yeah Ki you did, but fuck that. We know you love us, we know that it was a difficult call! You have to forgive yourself. The reason I came tonight was to let you know that you have the people that care about you Ki.”

He stepped toward her and looked her right in the eye, Ki had never seen someone so determined with compassion before, “Whatever you do Ki - if you wanna go to the kook academy, if you wanna be friends with Sarah Cameron, if you wanna cry about how horribly she treated you, if you wanna listen to your parents and not talk to us, if you wanna leave the cut- we’re never not going to have your back. You’re a pogue. You’re our pogue! And if Sarah Cameron can’t see how kickass you are, she doesn’t deserve you and she never did. You got us Ki, we’re always right here. No matter what.”

And throughout all of that, he hadn’t stopped looking directly at her. She was enamoured to say the least, she couldn’t remember the last time JJ talked about something that real, let alone carry an entire conversation himself. Knowing her words wouldn’t suffice, she hugged him. She smelt the sea salt in his hair and pizza grease on his shirt and it was the epitome of comfort to her. JJ hugged her right back, it meant the world to him that he could make her feel at least a bit better. They stood like that for a while, long and quiet breaths synced, arms entangled in waist and shoulders, hearts rhythmically beating, just enjoying the warmth of the best friend they dearly missed. 

Before they could completely untangle from the other, Ki looked back at JJ, god, how did she get so lucky to have someone like him in her life? The air lightened around them as she looked at him, his eyes regained the mischievous glint they always had. It might’ve been because she was slightly tipsy, or because he was staring so intently at her, but for some reason, it felt right. There was no waiting or thinking, she rested her hands on either side of JJ’s face and kissed him. His lips were chapped and they tasted like beer but she loved it. A rush of adrenaline ran through her, it was new and exciting. 

When JJ processed her soft lips on his, and her hands caressing his face, he pulled back. Along with confusion and surprise, there was something in his eyes that Ki couldn’t recognise. But before she decided on asking him what it was about, he was already kissing her again. 

And this time there seemed to be nothing holding him back. His hands were wrapped around her waist, she was grabbing fistfuls of his hair in reciprocation. They knew that they would never be able to do it again so they just gave in. His hands travelled to the small of her back and her neck and she swore that she had never felt something more intoxicating. 

Ki had forgotten where they even were when they broke for air. They were both just breathing, eyes closed and foreheads touching, it was the closest thing to perfect the either of them had ever felt.

When they opened their eyes and looked back at one and other, they were surprised at how comfortable it felt. How... un-awkward, it oddly felt right. But they knew what the rules were, they knew that when Ki got home, they would never talk about it again, and they were fine with that too.

As they approached her doorstep, JJ couldn’t help himself but ask, “Was that your first-” “Yeah.” “Yeah, mine too.” “What?” Kie thought he was joking, JJ had flirted with every other tourist at the boneyard since they were like ten, “Mine, too.” He repeated. There was an honesty to his response that stopped Ki from asking any further. 

She hugged him again. “Thank you for this. I missed you.” He hugged her right back.

“I missed you too. When you come back to us, more beer will be waiting for you no questions asked, don’t ever doubt it.” With that, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead and left. 

Ki had a small smile playing on her lips; she had never felt lighter in her life. 

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 11)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 5,570    

Section Content: fluff, flirting, angst, R-rated language, show level violence

~~~~~

Dean sipped slow at the steaming black coffee he’d picked up on his way to Cas’s house. Way too fuckin’ early. A dude in his sixties, walking a yippy Yorkshire, squinted hard at Dean biding time in Baby outside the tiny two bedroom cottage belonging to Castiel Novak. Tempted to give him the middle finger, Dean instead opted for a two finger friendly salute with a grin. The elder man continued down the sidewalk, his reflection eventually caught by Dean in the rearview mirror. He passed behind the Impala, stopped right at the tailpipe, and took a mental note of the license plate.

“Come on, man.” Dean mumbled to himself. “I can only handle so much stupid this early. The POS dog saved its owner, pulling him across the street and yapping the whole damn way.

He yawned and leaned back in his seat. The time on his watch confirmed it was way too early to be up and out of the house on a Saturday morning. Especially when he wasn’t on a job. Especially when, if Cas hadn’t shown up, he’d probably be in Julie’s bed sleeping. He grinned. Probably not sleeping.

No, Dean was pretty sure he would have woken Julie up very early to do more of what he wished they’d done last night. When he’d gotten back to his house after saying goodbye, he’d attempted to explain the term cockblocking to Cas. Cas had sat on the couch with perfect posture. He listened, as he always did when Dean explained something, with that dazed and confused expression. Dean paced back and forth in a state of irritability and arousal. “Do you know how long it’s been, Cas, since I’ve had a piece of ass?”

“I believe you’ve gotten pieces of ass more recently than I have, Dean. My last sexual encounter was with the reaper, April.” Cas had experienced much in his human form, but he still felt like an innocent, humorless child to Dean in moments like this.

“Piece of…” Dean shook his head. “Nevermind. Look, it’s been a long fuckin’ time, okay?”

Cas stared at the cushion between his open legs, processing. “My intrusion prevented you from reaching orgasm with Julie.” He stared back at Dean with a head tilt and puppy dog eyes. “I am sorry.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Whatever.”

Cas had then gone on about the troubles he was having with Jack. Dean took it all in and promised he’d come over bright and early the next morning to try and talk to the kid. Cas still looked perplexed as Dean scooted him out of the house, explaining they wouldn’t be playing cards that night.

The grass in front of Cas’s house was drenched in dew. A thin film of grey fog hung low in the air. Dean sipped hard and long at the coffee. He let the strong brew settle on his tongue and inhaled the dark roast aroma he craved. He needed the caffeine to do its job this morning. He’d only clocked a couple hours of sleep. It was nothing new. But he could usually catch up on the insomnia in the late morning when he was home. Not today. There were things on his agenda after he took care of this unpleasant family business. They would require way more energy than what he currently had to expend with Jack and Cas.

Julie is number one on my to do list. The other items being all the things I want to do to Julie.

His cock had begged for attention all night and morning. Even now, sitting in the driver’s seat, he could feel his semi press with insistence against the denim. But he’d refrained. It wasn’t like he hadn’t beat off to thoughts of Julie before. It had become a daily, sometimes multiple times a day, occurrence since that first night after he tasted her cobbler. He’d dropped the phone immediately after the text conversation had ended, letting her know how good her sweet treat had been, and jerked off imagining how sweet she tasted.

After getting a hint of what she tasted like last night, he was hell bent on having her wrapped around him the next time he came. He leaned back in his seat and tilted the rearview mirror to confirm he had that cheesy ass grin on his face from his thoughts of her. This is bad. The dissatisfaction of how Julie was getting under his skin battled with the want to experience this other feeling fully. You’re just gonna fuck it up. Can’t do normal. Tried it once and it didn’t stick. And, she’s too sweet to hurt.

Lisa had been sweet, too. But Lisa had a streetsmart edge that made her a kickass single mom long before Dean came into the picture. Plus, Lisa and Ben had the benefit of having their minds erased - thanks, Cas - of Dean’s existence after he’d put their lives in danger from being a part of his. If Dean tried the experiment again with Julie, there’d be no “Men in Black” take-it-back wipe. The once angel, now human, had lost his power after the final battle that had righted this world back on its axis two years ago. Jack was all human now, too.

The lack of celestial backup had been the hardest adjustment after over a decade of relying on it as a fail-safe. Dean could only imagine how it was for Cas. They’d had a few heart to hearts over whiskey, which now knocked Cas on his ass after one shot. The brother from another father had been to the mat for him and Sam more times than Dean could count. Helping save the world and giving up everything that made him special dropped Cas into a world of trivial every day that he would never snap out of. Not until he died. Which was another mindfuck for Cas. After centuries, he would die. There would be a finality to all of it. But, I’ll have my own version of heaven to look forward too, Dean. That’s something. I won’t be swallowed up by the empty and cease to be. My soul will be at peace. Dean had clapped his friend’s shoulder as he cried, realizing the same would happen to Jack. Someday.

After two years of keeping your nose as far out of normal as possible, you’ve got to go and mess with this sweet woman.

Dean tilted his head and started that inner debate he’d done too many times lately. To be fair, she started sniffing around me first.

Get off your high horse, asshole. You’ve been sniffed around dozens of times before and steered clear. You’re lonely and she’s so far from what you deserve that you’re curious. You wanna see if you can make something stick. Like Sammy has with Eileen.

Sammy’s moved on and is trying to build a life. Why shouldn’t I?

Because you’re a speeding train with non-existent brakes heading straight towards the edge of a cliff, that’s why. Fucking train wreck on bow legs.

The phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. Julie was calling. It was 7:30 am. The emotional lashing removed from his psyche, swiped away with Baby’s windshield wipers. It was replaced by that feeling she’d been stirring up within him more lately. It was more than arousal. He denied himself to define it. If he did, it might disappear.

He accepted the call on the fourth ring while clearing his throat. “Well, good morning, beautiful.”

“Hey, Dean.” Her voice was lighter this morning, more like the tone he was used to hearing. Not that he at all minded the lower, commanding pitch of the indecent woman he got a preview of last night. Shit. His erection was growing. He shifted in his seat.

“Couldn’t wait for me to check in first, huh?”

She laughed. “Guess not. I didn’t see your car when I got up this morning. Things okay?”

“Yeah. Things are good.” He grinned and tapped a button on his phone.

“Are you trying to FaceTime me?”

“Sounds dirty.”

She laughed again. “Everything sounds dirty to you.” She sighed trying to sound done with him, but he knew she wasn’t. “Hold on.” He held the phone back. His screen only provided a quick preview of his own state. Bags under his eyes and unshaven, he didn’t look as put together as the night before.

The screen switched to a view of Julie. Her brown hair was up in a bun. The hair looked freshly washed as did the rest of her enticing olive colored skin. When I make her blush it’s got splotches of cotton candy pink all over it. He appreciated the slope and curve of her neck. Big, brown almond-shaped eyes stared him down, studying him, from behind glasses. He’d put her in the role of hot librarian in a few of his release sessions. He particularly liked the one where she was bent over a desk and he was fucking her from behind hard enough to knock books off nearby shelves. He had a sneaking suspicion she’d be up for that kind of roleplaying. He really liked her in those tight button up shirts she wore to work a lot.

Her voice brought him out of his erotic daydreaming. “You’re lucky I’m presentable. Or, I would have denied you.” She quipped. There it was, that little hint of dominance. It came out on occasion and thrilled him with the facets and possibilities of this seemingly normal, but very interesting, woman. “Where are you?”

“Outside Cas’s house.”

“You’re over Cas’s already?”

“Yeah. He asked if I’d talk to the kid. I had to get here early.” She sipped at her large mug of coffee and sat at her kitchen table. “Jack’s apparently planning a trip to visit a girl he met online. Was going to buy a plane ticket and leave today.”

Julie’s already big eyes widened farther. “Wow. When you say kid…”

Dean scratched at the stubble. “He’s twenty. Kid to me. Plus, Jack’s also…” He opened his mouth to attempt a description but shook his head instead.

Julie grinned. “Special?”

Dean nodded. “Must be hereditary.” Or a common “I was once an angel and I’m trying to figure out how to be human” thing. Fuck my life. How would this woman ever understand and be okay with even an ounce of this insanity?

“Still there? I think you froze.���

Dean had gone into his thoughts long enough for Julie to think the connection had been lost. “I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “It’s been tough. Cas tried to shelter him from a lot of things. Can’t control him anymore.”

Julie shrugged. “Well, no, of course not. He’s his own person. He’s going to have to make mistakes and learn from them.”

“Yeah. This might end up being more of an intervention for Cas, I think.”

She gave him a slight smile. “I hope things go well.”

“Thanks.” His mouth perked up. “What are you doing later?”

Julie grinned. “Wasn’t planning on much today. Run some errands after breakfast. Lazy Saturday.”

“Can I come by?”

Her eyes lit up. “Of course. But you might want to rest up first. You look tired.”

He puckered his lips together in thought before he asked, “are you planning to wear me out?”

She nodded. “Lots of pent up frustration I need to get out.”

His tongue swiped over his top lip. “Can’t wait.”

That produced a giggle and shake of her head. “Bye, Dean.” She waved a few fingers in front of her face.

“Bye, Jules.” She ended the call first. He didn’t think he would have been able to. He much rather preferred hiding in his car, staring at that pretty face, than having to go and do something even close to parenting with Jack. Hell, I’ll be parenting Cas today, too.

He groaned along with the hinges of Baby’s driver side door as he got out.

~~~~~

Dean drove back into his neighborhood and past Julie’s house around two o’clock. Her little blue compact wasn’t under the carport. Damn toy car. He shook his head. At least it’s a Chevy.

Dean had taken a sensible approach with Jack. When he got down to the nuts and bolts of it all, the kid was bored and looking for an adventure. And horny as hell. Something Dean could easily relate to at that particular moment. It took some time, but Dean convinced him to save up his earnings from his upcoming summer job. If things were still hot and heavy long distance with this girl, he should take a trip to see her in Texas during Winter break. For now, Dean enlightened him to the beauty and intricacies of sexting and phone sex. Jack was all smiles by the time Dean had left Cas’s house.

Once Dean pulled into his own driveway, he texted Julie. Just got home. Going to pass out. Call when you get home. I’ll jump the fence and be right over. He smirked, happy with the blend of eagerness and cheese in his composition. A decision to shower before his nap set him back fifteen minutes. The warm water relaxed and the steam released the residual alcohol from his pores. Sleep was merciful and came as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He stirred and was half-woken up to Wes’s voice drifting in from his open bedroom window. A pillow was about to be used to muffle the disruption when he identified another voice and cocked his head to listen.

Brigida? What the hell is she doing here? Dean moaned. Ugh, am I gonna get cockblocked by the feisty little Italian mother, too?

“It’s not like Giulia. I told her to come by and pick up some sausage and peppers I made. She said she’d be by around 11:00. And, now, she’s not picking up her phone. It doesn’t even ring, Wes. Just goes to that voicemail. And the map thingy says she’s here still. What does that mean?”

Wes mumbled something Dean couldn’t quite make out. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and checked the screen. No notifications appeared. He tapped his messages to make sure he hadn’t missed a reply from Julie. Nothing. His lips pursed. He tried to call her. Straight to voicemail. His heart sped up when he noticed the time. Six o’clock.

Dean shot up in bed, already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He pulled on some sneakers and hurried out to the backyard.

Brigida stood near the divide between Julie and Wes’s backyard. A large aluminum tray rested on her forearms and her purse dangled at the elbow. Wes was at his grill down near the edge of his own driveway. She and Wes both turned to Dean at his approach toward the fenceline.

“Dean-ah. Have you seen Giulia today?” There was no smile on her face in the greeting. The little lady was on a mission.

“I haven’t, Brigida.” His hands gripped the fence. “Everything alright?”

She shook her head. Her mouth opened and shut. “I- it’s not like her.” Her lips began to quiver.

Aw, hell. Dean jumped over the fence and rushed to Brigida. He pulled one of the patio chairs close to her short, stocky frame. Easing her to sit, he removed the warm tray from her grip and placed it on the table.

Wes came to her side with a pair of greasy tongs in hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing and Julie’s alright, Mamma.” Wes bumbled out the soothing statement. A stale stench of alcohol and pot emanated from the hippie.

Dean knelt down to talk to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Did you knock on her door, ring the doorbell, Brigida?”

She nodded.

He pressed further. “Don’t you have a key? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you let yourself in to check on her.”

“Wes told me he saw her leave earlier. And, I didn’t want to go in there by myself.” Her eyes darted to Wes and back to Dean. She leaned in and tried her best to whisper. “I thought, if she was home, she might be busy and didn’t want to walk in on… well, now that I know you were at your house and alone…”

Dean waited for more clarification. Someone else might have missed the tiniest of smiles on her aging lips. But, not Dean. “When I talked to her this morning, she said she might be seeing you later. Told me she had a nice time on your date last night.”

Wes tapped his tongs together at that bit of information. Dean smiled. Warmth shot over his cheeks. “Ah. Well, when I got home this afternoon her car wasn’t here.”

“When was that?” Brigida asked.

“About two.”

“Should we call the police?” Brigida pulled her phone out of her purse.

Dean shook his head. “Police won’t do anything. They’ll say it’s only been a few hours, really, since anyone’s heard…”

“It’s not like her.” Brigida repeated. “Something’s wrong.”

Dean nodded and patted her shoulder again. He’d only known Julie for a few weeks but even he knew something wasn’t right. From their texts and conversations, he’d found out a lot about the relationship she had with her mother. They were extraordinarily close. Their communications were daily.

Brigida wouldn’t be left waiting around without an explanation. Julie would have known it would result in a car ride over to check to see what happened. It made no difference that her adult daughter was competent and independent. Even if there was some possible hanky panky going on with Dean, Brigida made it abundantly clear she’d knock on doors and ring doorbells and wait in a backyard until her daughter told her everything was fine. This woman, who immigrated from Italy with no more than an elementary school education, was a fierce protector who would not be ignored. Dean made a mental note to not get on her bad side.

But first, they had to find Julie.

“I saw Julie leave around ten. I was working on the garden.” Wes piped in.

By now, Samuel had come out of the house and wandered over to the discussion. “What’s wrong?”

“Julie’s missing.” Wes stated.

“Missing?” Samuel’s eyes bugged out in alarm.

Dean stood up, his hand still on Brigida’s shoulder. He could feel her beginning to shake. “She’s not missing.” He attempted to defuse the escalation and nodded down to Brigida. “We’re just trying to figure out what might be keeping her out this long. She hasn’t been in contact with anyone.”

Samuel nodded back at Dean and placed a hand on Wes’s shoulder as well. Dean knew Samuel would try to redirect his partner with the phrasing of his words. “She did leave around ten. I was taking care of the flower beds out front.” Samuel snapped a finger. “She talked to that woman passing out those flyers, Wes.”

“Flyers?”

Samuel clarified. “Missing dog. She came by our porch and asked if we’d keep an eye out, right before she went over to Julie’s.”

“Pretty chocolate lab.” The expression on Wes’s face about the dog matched Brigida’s, thinking about Julie. “Where’s that flyer?” Wes slipped from under Samuel’s grip and went towards the direction of the grill. Man needs a leash. Dean shook his head.

Samuel sighed. “Julie seemed to know her. They talked for a few minutes at the end of her driveway. I’d gone back into the house for something. I saw Julie’s car driving up the lane when I came back out.”

“But, you’ve never seen that woman before?”

Samuel shook his head.

Wes shot back with the flyer and handed it to Dean. Aside from a picture and the name of the dog, there was only a number to call if someone could provide information. Dean turned the paper over but there was nothing on the back. A detail about Wes and Samuel’s house popped into his head. “You guys have one of those doorbell cameras, don’t you?”

Samuel smiled. “Yep.” He pulled out his phone, already going into the app to pull up the time in question.

“How about I get you something to eat, Mamma?” Wes asked Brigida.

She waved a hand in silence.

“Here it is.” Samuel passed his phone over to Dean.

He squinted at the video, impressed with the image’s clarity. His eyes widened in recognition. “Son of a bitch.”

“What?” Brigida, Wes, and Samuel asked in unison.

“I’ve seen Cocoa’s owner before. Last night, actually. At the restaurant we went to. She did know Julie.” Dean’s mind started putting puzzle pieces together.

“Maybe she’ll know where she was going.” Brigida exclaimed.

Dean raised a finger and pulled out his phone. He copied the number from the flyer into his keypad and dialed. His mouth pursed when it went straight to voicemail and he listened to the generic robot voice repeating the number. He waited for the beep. "Hi, I've got some info on your lost dog, Cocoa. You can reach me at the following number." After leaving his cell contact he hung up. He turned to Brigida. "I'll see what I can get out of her when she calls back."

"But, she'll be all hopeful about Cocoa," Wes began.

“What restaurant?” Brigida stood up. “We should go over there and talk to her.”

Dean nodded with caution. “Absolutely, Brigida. I’m going to go and do that right now.” He forced her to stare at him. “You’re going to stay here, with Wes and Samuel, in case Julie comes back home. Alright? I promise, I’ll let you know if I find out anything. With your permission, can I go into Julie's house with you and take a quick look around before I head out?”

“Of course.” She patted his cheek. “Such a good man.” She fished the key out of her purse, ready to walk up to the sliding door.

He shot Brigida a smile, attempting to hide his own worry. “Let’s get you inside so you can wait for your daughter to come home.”

~~~~~

Dean had inspected every room in Julie’s home. His inner radar picked up nothing weird or unusual. He wished he had his EMF meter with him. Next time I’m here I’ll do a proper sweep for her. When Julie’s back. Just to make sure she won’t have an unruly specter to contend with after this is over. And she’s back.

All he deduced was proof of a life being unpacked, reorganized, and put back together again. He’d stolen a few seconds in her office to stare at the picture of a teenage Julie with her awkward prom date. In her bedroom, he sniffed at the perfume bottle holding the scent she’d worn last night. Though nothing was amiss, the tangible remnants of her existence filled Dean with dread. Here. Then gone. In an instant. So many people in his life had disappeared like that. Not Julie, too.

He refused to rile up Julie’s mother with any more fear than she was already producing. She gave him an unexpected, long, and strong hug for a woman of her diminutive stature. “Find her, please.” He gave her a slight smile and rushed out into the backyard only to freeze on the lawn, unsure of his next step.

Possible ways to track her down ticked through Dean’s head. I could call in that favor.

A scroll through his phone’s contacts skidded to a stop. “Detective Tullman.” The thick southern accent answered.

“Marty. Dean Winchester.”

“Ah, Dean.” Dean had heard that particular phrase with that hesitant inflection countless times by a select group of people. These individuals crossed paths with Dean in his other line of work. Everything they knew of the world had been upended in an instant; usually the instant when Dean showed up on their doorstep. An encounter pulled them into the nastiness that lived under the translucent veil of normality.

“What can I do ya for? Aren’t in a jail cell sleepin’ off a bender, are ya?” The detective’s tone changed as Dean knew it would. What had started out a year back as a collaborative and mutually beneficial meeting on a standard bail enforcement job escalated into something much worse. Marty called Dean to relay his skip had been found; shot by a security guard after a bank robbery attempt in Newark. He was in an ambulance headed to the trauma center at the nearest hospital. His accomplice had escaped and was on the loose.

Only problem was, Dean was staring at his skip in a backyard that belonged to an apparent girlfriend. Was he sure they had the right guy? Dean sent Marty a picture of the person he was watching. The detective high-tailed it to the house a mile from the crime scene. The fucking thing shed its skin in the tiny yard while he and Marty looked on in bewilderment over the top of the wooden fence.

A chase ensued near abandoned train tracks. Marty bum rushed it to the ground but got overpowered. The monster pulled a knife from its boot and raised it over its head. Sunshine glinted off the blade as it readied to sink the tip into the detective’s chest. Dean shot the knife out of its grip. He followed by firing two silver bullets into its heart. What he was pretty certain was the dead body of a shapeshifter slumped on top of Marty.      

Thoughts and details came together in Marty’s head once the shock wore off. The body in front of him was the other bank robber. He, or it, had known the skip for a while and were low level partners in crime. Dean suggested the shifter may have had a hard on for the other guy’s girl, who thankfully wasn’t home. Most monsters also battled human vices. Lust and greed were a common denominator.

The detective came up with a story to cover their combined asses. They both spent a couple hours at the shootout location rehashing it over and over. Dean watched Marty hold his shit together quite well with a ton of law enforcement, CSI, and emergency personnel swarming like bees for evidence and details.

Dean and Marty bonded over cold beers at the closest bar. Dean found out Marty had been deployed to Iraq back in 2003. He’d been on the frontline of war for two years. He was a reliable, steadfast soldier. Nervous before a battle, but willing to put his life on the line for the greater good. They had a lot of commonality when it came to bloodshed. The nightmares that collided and crept into their days without warning simply involved different enemies.

“I need some help.”

Marty chuckled. “Ain’t gonna cost me my badge is it? I know I owe you my life, but I still got a wife and kids to feed.”

“Shouldn’t. Friend’s gone missing. It’s only been half a day, but it’s not adding up.”

“Local friend?”

“Yeah. Pike Creek.”

“Whaddya got for me?”

He smiled and rattled off Julie’s full name and the license plate he’d committed to memory. “Drives a blue, compact Chevy,” He added. “Five foot five. Long brown hair, probably in a ponytail, brown eyes, wears glasses. Italian, if that helps.”

“She cute?” Marty asked.

“Very.”

“Alrighty, I’ll have some guys keep an eye out in the area.”

“I’m gonna do my own investigating. Appreciate it, man. Thanks.”

“Thank me if I find ya somethin’.” He hung up.

Samuel popped into Dean’s view from under Julie’s covered patio. “What are you going to do when you get to the restaurant?” The balding man folded up his glasses and hung them from the collar of his t-shirt. Dean had learned from interactions over the past two years that Samuel was sharp and much harder to misdirect than Wes.

“Just ask this woman some questions.” Dean began his cut through their backyard to shorten the walk back to the house. He wasn’t keen on hopping the fence again.

Samuel kept pace with his quick steps. “Why would she answer any of your questions?”

“She saw me with Julie last night. I’m not some random stalker.” He tapped Samuel’s elbow. “Don’t you worry. I have some other tricks up my sleeve.”

“I’m sure you do.” His tone was hopeful.

Are you really flirting with me, dude? Now? “Listen, Samuel. Would you sit with her? I’d ask Wes, but…”

“Brigida doesn’t need unintentional, emotional triggering.” Samuel nodded. “You’ve got my and Wes’s number, right? Call one of us with good news.”

When Dean slid into Baby’s driver seat fifteen minutes later, he’d donned a suit that had been hanging in his closet, unworn, for over six months. That was the last time he had impersonated an FBI agent. The badge was still in the jacket’s inside pocket.

His hunting trips, the ones that had always really mattered, were few and far between now. Six months ago, he’d introduced himself as agent Agent Barrow on that excursion near Atlantic City. The four-day ghost investigation ended with a salt and burn. The corpse was found buried on the grounds of an abandoned chemical plant.

Noxious fumes had permeated the air around him with each shovel full of earth. The stench seeped into and clung to the well-creased suit pants. He should have changed before the dig; that is, if he’d remembered to bring a change of clothes from the motel to start. He was getting rusty from a lack of daily discipline, forgetting what had become rote for decades.

He remembered hiking back to Baby around two am, exhausted, after exhuming the remains. There was no way he was contaminating the car’s interior with that smell. So he drove back to the motel wearing only his boxers, dress shoes, socks, and his watch. The stinky clothes were stuffed in a garbage bag. After he helped the soul find peace, his reward was walking through the motel parking lot, up a flight of stairs, to his second floor room in only his skivvies. Had to get the damn suit dry cleaned, too.

Dean caught a light whiff of the chemicals, hopelessly embedded in the suit threads forever. His mind raced with a million thoughts driving to Makenzie’s steakhouse. But Julie was at the forefront of them. It was a long twenty minute drive.

Find her, please. How many times had he heard similar distressing requests? Hundreds, maybe. All of them had a missing loved one they were desperate to track down and bring home safe. How many times had he not been able to do that? Not today. He shook his head and tried to smile. She’s not done with me yet.

Julie’s voice bubbled up into his mind when he glanced at the passenger seat.

“So, Baby belonged to your Dad?” She attempted some conversation as Dean raced to beat the reservation.

“Yep.” He responded, eyes on the road swerving in and out of traffic. Once he was happy with his spot in the fast lane, no one in front of him for a good stretch, he cocked his head in her direction. Her eyes, big and brown, inspected the interior while her hand clamped on the door handle. “Pretty, isn’t she?” Dean smirked, proud.

“She is. Almost as pretty as her owner.” Her gaze locked onto his lips.

“Hey now.” He put on the show he knew she wanted and licked them nice and slow. “She’ll get offended, you thinking I’m prettier.”

“I’m sorry, Baby.” She stroked the dash. “It’s true, though.”

Dean laughed. “I’m pretty, huh?” He shot back at Julie and glanced in the rearview mirror before crossing over three lanes of traffic to get off the interstate.

Julie gasped. “Going to kill us before our date even gets started. If you’re going to drive like a maniac, you should at least be wearing a seatbelt.”

Baby careened down the ramp. When he got onto the avenue, his grip lifted off the wheel to fasten his lap belt. Both hands raised up in the air and he used his knee to steer. “Happy?” He reveled in her surprised reaction. The combo of scared and pissed off made her look even cuter.

“Okay, show-off.” She pointed at the wheel. “Hands at ten and two. Now.”

“Bossy.” He mumbled, returned his hands to the correct placement on the wheel, and pretended he wasn’t turned on by her commanding behavior. Slowing down in traffic, he shot her a sassy grin. “You done?”

“Done? “With you?” She tossed back with an equal amount of sass. “Just getting started.”

His ringing phone shot him out of his recollection. A glimmer of hope filled his voice as he answered. “Got something for me, detective?”

“Not sure if it’s anything good, my friend.” Marty was a straight shooter. “Officer found her car in a shopping center parking lot. Mile down the road from her house, in your neighborhood.” Marty was very good at his job. He didn’t miss a detail and double checked every bit of info. “No one in the vehicle. I’ve asked my guy to go into the stores and ask around. Have her paged, if needed. As long as we don’t get another emergency that takes him away, he’s on it for the next hour.”

It wasn’t bad news. Yet.

Part 12

Series Page

[sakuurae]

wonder years; preview

» summary: Two years passed since Taeyong made it to a celebrity status. As time flew by, so did the distance between you two, marking the relationship with each other as good as strangers. Before he left, a promise was made when you were both young, and after those two long years he came back with intentions to fulfill it.

❀ pairing: celebrity!taeyong & reader insert || childhood friends!au

❀ includes: fluff, light angst

❀ wc: 2.2k for this preview !

❀ note: This fic will be complete fluff except for some ... minor angsty parts, hahaha. I havent written something like this (a hearty fic) on this current blog, so itll be a little different and i hope the finished product will be as enjoyable for you all as it was for me : ) The final product is estimating to be 20k~ words, give or take ... hahaha.

But heres a small preview for now ! It might seem abruptly cut off but i had to do it there since the rest would reveal how the rest of the story will probably go ! Haha. I also havent written anything in a while ... so forgive me if this isnt my prime adfgfkhgl

Im also still not used to putting ‘sakuurae’ on covers hah this is a sign to go back to ‘honeytaeyong’ huh ... lmaooo

Lee Taeyong was the cynosure of attention these days—well, months to be exact. He had risen to stardom expeditiously, and even the media was barely able to keep up alongside his worldwide activities. From country to country he had partnerships and photoshoots; filmings for commercials and parties by other celebrities on the top of the unspoken hierarchy. Deeming him as a busy man was an understatement, and honestly he strongly despised it. Taeyong missed his old, placid life more often than he should, almost as if he never had a peaceful life when he was young and the thought of a calm way of living was a dream he longed for. In fact, his past was seemingly clouded by a grey haze, for he could no longer remember what the sweet taste of fast food was like or even the feeling of spare time in his hands. Rather, the world was entering his grasp as power and fame creeped into his hands, but, of course, great power and fame came little choices—and it was far too late for Taeyong to escape.

Believe it or not, you had known the rising star Taeyong longer than anyone in the showbiz world had ever. Since you were six, and you had film photos as concrete evidence. Every time you saw his face on the screen and not on your hung picture frames you felt proud, happy for your friend; however, there was another sentiment that loomed desolation upon you. Due to Taeyong’s newfound hustle and bustle lifestyle, the messages and calls he would give you became rare—almost as if you were a fan whose luck was tested for a surprise call from his or her favourite celebrity. Needless to say, that disrupted the friendship and you were unsure if Taeyong and you were still as close as before. And the term “close” to describe your old friendship was too subtle.

Recalling the way you met Taeyong was easy, especially since the encounter was unforgettable. During recess when you were six years old you were on the field picking at dandelions to take home, in the distance you heard a boy yell incomprehensible words towards you. Once you looked up, a soccer ball went straight at your face, knocking you over to the grass. As ugly sobs spilled, a teacher accompanied you to the nurse’s office who only gave you a frozen bag of ice and the two empty words of “It’s okay.” The bump that formed on your head was sticking out protrudently so that the slightest touch made you wince in pain. Thinking about the rude boy at the time, you were furious, telling yourself you will never forgive him. But those silent swears were kept to yourself once the same young child that accidentally kicked the soccer ball to your face sneaked into the nurse’s office to release a string of apologies. Tears were prickling at his eyes as if he was the one who got physically hurt and not you, sniffles were not enough to prevent the upcoming sobs, and he was a nervous wreck. You glared at him in annoyance, aching to push him out of the office—maybe even punch—but before you committed to any actions he mumbled, “I’m really sorry.”

Those three words caught your attention; they were more genuine than the nurse who told you your injury was not as bad as you believed, as a result you stared at the flustered kid who kept on saying sorry. Each time you remained silent, tension thickened in the room. Silence ensued as you remained angry, and caused the boy to spit out, “Can I make this up to you somehow?”

Puffing your cheeks out, you declined and left the nurse’s office to sit in the front. That day you thought it was the last you would ever see Taeyong, but the next day he came into your class before lunch break with a can of soda in hand and another apology. Taeyong trailed you for a couple of minutes once lunch started; he took a seat next to you and offered you some carrots as if the item was a token of forgiveness, and you smiled at his gesture. That day you forgave him, and a friendship had formed. Instead of lingering around his friends, Taeyong spent time lingering by you around the slides of the play structure daily. That continued for a long while until junior high, where you would sit at the same table and chat the respite away childish drama.

You used to patronize his home when you were still young, accepting the love and affection from his family as if you were one of their own from day one, and he committed to the same—given the rare times your parents were both home. Since elementary to junior high, all throughout high school, you and Taeyong attended the same school and spent practically everyday pestering one another for fun. After racing to the nearby park where the loser would have to purchase an icy treat, the two of you always sat down on neighboring slides in the play structure and informed each other about the boring day. The closeness was perceptible to everyone: students, teachers, and strangers. Many assumed the guy named Taeyong was your boyfriend, and subsequently raw shock was their reaction when you both denied the claims.

The thought of you dating Taeyong never crossed your mind until he started to drift away from you after high school graduation. There had to be something more than those races and hang outs that were able to be passed off as dates. Half a day was spent next to him typically, which made the week incomplete if failed to do so. You spent an incredible amount of time by his side, and you wondered why Taeyong and you never became an official item. Of course there was something more than a friendship—even if it was never spoken of, an attraction was active. But nothing changed. Often, you wondered if there was such thing as being too close to the point dating was out of the spectrum?

With his burst of fame, gone were the days of you and Taeyong constantly visiting each other’s houses and eating meals together as a complete family, sneaking into his bedroom through his window to finish one new series on Netflix, and subsequently crawling out through the artful entrance to spend the night out in the town. Once Taeyong was able to drive the nights became longer, and rather than freezing in the cold, situated on the park swings struggling to stutter words through the gelid air, you and Taeyong rested in the back seat of his vehicle and talked about all the stupid things in life. Annoying teachers, petulant drama, and words that reflected a broken heart poured from the lips and strengthened the bond. And sometimes when life became too much, a silence by him was all you needed.

Whenever you gawked at Taeyong at three in the morning, tired eyes fighting to remain open, you recalled how he used to be: physically and mentally. The boy who used to have black hair longer than most, a frown etched on his face to convince the universe he was tough, and an array of flannels had transformed into a man that flaunted an extended quiff and a sparkling smile by senior year. Of course you were not the only being who noticed the distinct change; that was how he was scouted to become the successful man he was today.

The night Taeyong told you he had a couple of auditions for minor roles in movies surprised you; in fact, you never suspected such a day would come so soon. You see, Taeyong was always partaking in theatre activities on-campus and off-campus. He earned thespian awards since he began acting extremely merituous, and soon his name was featured on articles and local news. He was the best of the best, and everyone knew. So once he booked a flight out of the country to fulfill his dream, not many were surprised.

However, before Taeyong had left to fulfill his dreams, he made a promise to you: to be able to make you the happiest in the future. It wasn’t like he pledged to marry you in the future or take your hand accompanied by all the love he could spill; he wanted you to be happy alongside him as friends because life at the time was rough. Stress arrived like no other due to testing and college applications. The struggle to maintain nonpareil grades became a competition—the factor that determined the winner of a four year battle to gain valedictorian. Not only, but you and Taeyong were active participants in on-campus and off-campus theatre. Needless to say, you were both incredibly busy—and as all the stress from family and school accumulated, and so much more, the light that was joy had dissipated throughout the years. With parents kept entirely busy committing to their own service, you never had time to see them, which resulted in the element of trust falling short to speak to them about your issues. Taeyong was the only friend you trusted entirely—your heart and mind craved to vent to him whenever something went wrong—and he felt your pain the more you cried out to him in the middle of the night.

To the insane degree that Taeyong cared for you, everything was given to why he promised to make you happy.

His journey to fame was a long process sprawled throughout two years; nonetheless, Taeyong’s name was finally circulating the world like wildfire. Media wanted to feed off his fresh talents and looks, and other celebrities obtained an interest in the dashing man. Event after event, Taeyong was the name that hopped off everyone’s tongue. Acting modernly in prominence, he became closer to fans and created bonds with strangers, and despite Taeyong becoming closer to the whole entire world, the distance was growing rapidly between you two.

⭒ ⭒

The morning was busier than normal at the corner coffee shop you worked at—especially for a Tuesday morning. Most customers tended to be among the range of adults to elderly, but on this specific day there seemed to be clusters of young teenagers, each ordering the most aesthetic drinks from the menu. There was definitely going to be a boost in sales thanks to the younger group, so there had to be a reason for their spontaneous visit. The shop was extremely packed to the point you had no room to think of extra thoughts like those; all you were able to do was focus on drinks. Since the shop is on the compact side and cozier than most, gossip was simple to overhear.

“Did you see him yet?” said an excited girl who was balancing herself on her tiptoes.

Her friend seemed to shake her head, replying, “No, are you sure the tweet was true?”

“It had to be,” said another girl who was a stranger to the two. “It’s from an official news source.”

“Then where is he?” mumbled someone else.

Holding the tea shaker in hand, you stared at the cluster of curious girls, wondering who and what exactly they were referring to. A bump came to your hips from a fellow co-worker who wanted to snap you back to work, your trail of thought ended. “Focus, (y/n),” he ordered.

“Sorry, Ten,” you muttered, continuing to align the cup for the proper order. “Focusing is hard when there’s a bunch of loud customers.”

Ten laughed in agreement. “Apparently it’s because some celebrity is in town.”

“Did you read that from the tweet as well?” you jested, pouring the iced tea into the clear cup.

“Maybe.” He grinned while topping off his order with whipped cream. “I don’t even know what celebrity would have any business here. This town’s tiny, dingy, and quiet. The person’s changing everything.”

Chuckling, you capped the tea and went to the opposite end of the counter. “Kick the person out your town, Ten.” Reading the side of the cup, you read the black marker aloud, “Two large passion fruit iced teas for Johnny!”

The customer approached the counter and grabbed the drinks and grinned at you before reaching onto two straws. Before you were able to offer him a cup holder, he answered a call on his bluetooth and continued onto his day. “Hello, Tae?” said Johnny, who was clad in a casual outfit consisting of a white shirt tucked into black jeans. “Where are you?”

You stared at the man for a short while, the name that left his mouth lingering in your mind. “Tae,” you whispered. “God, the name reminds me of Taeyong.”

“Everything reminds you of Taeyong,” Ten poked fun, raising an eyebrow in a suggestive manner. “You sure the two of you weren’t some item or anything?”

Annoyed, you scoffed and brushed him aside to continue your busy morning at work. “Very funny.”

“Thanks.” Ten smiled. “My second job should probably be a stand-up comedian.”

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 30 - 31

We got a special treat for y’all today; a double update! Mostly ‘cause the next few chapters are gonna be massive fish to boil, and ‘cause I love you guys.

After two weeks of inching across the muddy open plains, Elide was tired of using her mother’s name.

Christ, I completely forgot about this subplot. Bad pacing who?

Elide says she’s barely interacted with Lorcan or slept by him which is. What. I thought you were supposed to be smart, Elide! You’re pretending he is your husband, if you two act all distant someone is gonna get suspicious. I thought you were better than this....

Lorcan stalked ahead and said without looking back, “We finished at the three dungeons and their entrances yesterday night. Tell me about what’s inside them.”

Elide gets all nervous and Lorcan points out her scent has changed, which is just, ah.... oof. SJM you uh, you got something you wanna tell the class? Something about a werewolf kink, perhaps?

Elide refuses to spill the beans and Lorcan gets all pissy.

We have a bargain, girl.” Elide met that depthless gaze. “You did not specify when I had to tell you. So I may take as much time as I wish to recall details, if you desire to wring every last one of them from me.”

There’s the Elide I know! Finally, a character doesn’t have to be all powerful and magical to succeed and be an actual force.

“What are you,” [Lorcan] said quietly. “I am nothing,” [Elide] said, voice hollow. Maybe once she found Aelin and Aedion, she’d find some purpose, some way to be of use to the world.

Aaaaand take it back. Unless you’re serving Aelin, you’re useless and have no purpose! Or you’re an evil slutty bitch who should be put down. I am so fucking tired.

They finally finish their bickering session and return to the others, then we switch to Lorcan’s POV. They’re setting up tents for everyone, including one for Elide/Lorcan.

Ombriel came forward, throwing her usual wary glance his way, and slyly informed Elide they’d finally have a night alone together. Arms full of logs, Lorcan could only watch as that pale face of sorrow and despair transformed into youth and mischief, into blushing anticipation, as easily as if Marion had held up a mask.

Finally. It’s like you two want this plan to fail or something.

“I’ll sleep on the ground,” [Lorcan] offered blandly. “You take the roll.” “What if someone comes in?” “Then you’ll say we got into a fight.” “Every night?” Marion pivoted, her rich eyes meeting his. The cold, weary face was back.

zzzzzzzz this drama is so boring please progress the plot or do something of interest

They bicker more about Lorcan getting a bath and he asks her how badly her leg hurts. Such riveting dialogue.

Lorcan’s thoughts drifted toward Rowan and his bitch-queen.

Jfc. At least we’re spared Lorcan splooging over them, instead thinking about how much he hates them and how Rowboat was an idiot for falling in love with Alien. Damn, you know it’s bad when I agree with Lorcan.

Lorcan was about to leave when [Elide] said, “My uncle … He is a commander at Morath.”

So Elide drops that bomb, and Lorcan offers to kill her uncle. Not much else happens. This subplot is so mind numbingly boring and dumb. Next!

Well, on the one hand, at least Rolfe’s map worked. It had been Rowan’s idea, actually. And she might have felt slightly guilty for letting Aedion and Lysandra believe the Pirate Lord had only gone after the Amulet of Orynth, but … at least they now knew his unholy map functioned.

This is the first paragraph + sentence of chapter 31. Who is she? Use names when switching to a new POV gdi!!! Alien doesn’t get name dropped until the bottom half of this page.

As for the rest of it … It was just past midnight when Aelin wondered how the hell she and Rowan would ever go back to normalcy if they survived this war.

I’m imagining it’ll be something akin to the A Court of Wings and Ruin; where you guys will angst about how much the war cost you and how everything is different, but in actuality nobody you cared about died and no one important was even permanently injured, and the supposed trauma was just an excuse for porn.

Alien and Rowboat dramatically sneak into a room through the window, using Rowboat’s magic to close it. Gav and Fenrys are waiting inside.

“You could have used the door,” Fenrys said, arms crossed—a bit too casually. “Why bother when a dramatic entrance is so much more fun?” Aelin countered.

Because this isn’t a video game and you’re a princess who is supposed to be a good diplomat and ruler? I’ll forgive SJM if Alien becomes queen, pulls dramatic shit like this, and is instantly banished from the kingdom and Darrow is crowned king. I’d pay extra to read that.

Gavriel’s tattooed hands closed into loose fists. “You deny me the right to see my son and yet you barge into our room in the dead of the night to demand we divulge information about our blood-sworn queen.” “One, I did not deny you anything, kitty-cat.”

Gav deserves better than to have to put up with Alien’s edgy teenager bullshit. She sounds straight out of the 2012 internet phase.

Fenrys asks if Alien has Settled yet for.... some reason. It’s explained here;

She knew enough about it—the transition pureblooded Fae, and some demi-Fae, went through once their bodies locked into immortal youth. It was a rough process, their bodies and magic needing months to adjust to the sudden freezing and reordering of their aging process. Some Fae had no control over their power—some lost it entirely during the time it took to Settle.

Basically it’s an excuse for SJM’s character to stay young appearing and beautiful forever. Because if you’re old in a SJM book you’re instantly not hot and therefore, not good enough for porn.

“How does she do it?” Aelin asked baldly. “With Rowan, it’s not … Every order I give him, even casual ones, are his to decide what to do with. Only when I actively pull on the bond can I get him to … yield. And even then it’s more of a suggestion.” “It is different with her,” Gavriel said softly. “Dependent on the ruler it is sworn to. You two took the oath to each other with love in your hearts. You had no desire to own or rule him.”

Are we really out here praising and kissing Alien’s ass for not treating her boyfriend like a slave? Are you fucking kidding me???? Next we’ll have them weeping in joy at Alien wiping her ass after taking a shit.

She gave him a little smile that she knew drove Rowan and Aedion insane, and—yes. It seemed it was a surefire way to piss off any Fae male, because ire flashed across Fenrys’s stupidly perfect face.

I fucking hate Alien. Also we get it, Fenrys is drop dead gorgeous like everyone else, you can stop now.

Fenrys’s edged smile flashed. “Oh, the losses of Fae lives would be of little concern to [Maeve]. It likely just increases her excitement about it.” “Careful,” Gavriel said. Gods, he nearly sounded identical to Aedion with that tone.

Hhhhhh stop I hate Assdion.... stop making me fucking have feelings over how much he resembles Gav....

“If we say she gave us the order to take everything,” Fenrys drawled, bracing his hands behind him on the bed, “will you kill us, Heir of Fire?” “It’ll depend on how useful you prove to be as an ally,” Aelin simply said. The weight hanging between her breasts beneath her shirt rumbled as if in answer.

“That’s it?” Fenrys demanded. “Do we get to know what you plan to do with this information, or are we just your lackeys, too?”

Sorry Fenrys, them’s the rules. You either bow down to SJM’s perfect snowflake protagonist or you’re a villain who deserves to be slut shammed and killed off.

Rowboat and Alien start making out. Skip!

Oh, gods—this. This was what drove her out of her mind—this fire between them. They could burn the entire world to ashes with it. He was hers and she was his, and they had found each other across centuries of bloodshed and loss, across oceans and kingdoms and war.

You’re just making out, it is literally not that deep. I hate SJM trying to sell her romances as epic world stoppers. No, you two are not Aragorn and Arwen. You both are just horny assholes who deserve to rot.

“Even when you’re in another kingdom, Aelin, your fire is still in my blood, my mouth.” She let out a soft moan, arching into him as his hand grazed her backside, not caring if anyone spotted them in the streets below.

JESUS CHRIST HAVE SOME RESTRAINT YOU SHAMELESS FUCKERS. And no, they don’t actually have sex here. Just you wait, SJM has something special in store for that.

Thank god this chapter is over. But it is only a preview into the madness SJM has in store for us several chapters down the road......

[liberifatalis]

Firsts (Noctis Lucis Caelum x Ignis Scientia)

WORDS: 3026 RATING: SFW PAIRING: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia SUMMARY: He remembers the first time he met him, the first time he held him…the first time he kissed him. Ignis remembers a lot of their firsts, but he never thought there would be a first time where he had to say goodbye. NOTES: Ignis POV (third person), Heavy Angst, Major Character Death, Friends to Lovers, slight Episode Ignis spoilers.

[read on Ao3 here]

PREVIEW:

A Crownsguard should not be doing this. He was the royal advisor to the Prince; his job was to look over and care after him, and not to litter chaste kisses down his neck and all the way to his collarbone.

|one| the first time green eyes gazed into blue

He was not dressed like a Prince, that was certainly evident.

Although he was donned in the Royal colours, he almost looked like an Insomnian citizen. His father, on the other hand, was quite the opposite; he exuded regality, and he looked exactly like Ignis had pictured him (minus the angry glare and extremely arched eyebrows).

Outstretching his hand towards the Prince, he met his eyes for the first time. Bright, and blue. They were much more childlike compared to his own green eyes, which were slightly hardened from all the strenuous training and skill-building he had gone through growing up.

The Prince looked hesitant at first, but he smiles and takes Ignis’ hand in both his smaller palms.

“I’m Noctis,” he said. I know. “What’s your name?”

“Ignis Scientia. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Prince Noctis.”

|two| the first time he showed him how to be a child

“Prince Noctis, you must be careful.”

Even though he was facing Noctis’ back, he knew he was rolling his eyes at him. He understands. He is ten, and will only grow more rebellious as he ages. Being the Prince of Lucis definitely adds more fuel to the fire.

Noctis stops, and turns slightly, balancing on the railing beneath the soles of his feet. “I’ll try…” he says, walking towards the direction of Ignis, ignoring his worried look. “…Mom.”

Ah, His Highness’ sarcasm is finally making an appearance for today. Ignis had thought that today must have been an awfully lucky day, blessed by the Six themselves, if the Prince wasn’t speaking back as usual. He did enjoy the sarcasm, though, for whatever reason, and he supposes it could be worse; he had heard stories of the lives of other royal advisors, and they were not something he liked to think about. He thought that maybe they were just stories, told to people like himself to scare them into always being prim and proper, but that was something he would never truly know.

“If you scrape your knees again, I’ll have to use that ointment that you loathe.”

That seemed to work. Noctis stood still on the railing, looking towards Ignis with curious eyes. He was weighing the options over, it seemed. And with a shrug of his shoulders, it seemed that the short-lived fun outweighed the inevitable tear stained cheeks and bloody knees.

Walking closer to Ignis with cautious steps, Noctis began to hum a tune that Ignis recognised instantly. It was one of his favourite piano pieces, and he played it on the grand piano in the Citadel’s music room various times throughout his stay there. Was the Prince sneaking around, watching him in secret?

“Y’know, you’re a lot older than you look,” Noctis says.

“How so?”

“You just…you’re meant to be a kid. I thought I could have fun with you, or somethin’.”

You could—can—but other, less dangerous kinds of fun. “Well, I am your advisor. My job is to take care of you, and look over you. I was told nothing of your ideas of fun.”

“Oh. I didn’t know there was a how-to-be-an-advisor booklet,” he retorts.

“There is not.” Ignis walks over to the railing and leans against it, looking up to Noctis with narrowed eyes. “It’s just…an unspoken rule, followed by all.”

He jumps off the railing, much more reckless than Ignis appreciates, and points to his knees. “See!” He says with a grin. “I didn’t fall this time.”

Yes, but he had fallen more than ten times before that, and that left some fairly noticeable scars. The blood was not fun to clean up, and Ignis could not for the life of him understand why the Prince kept balancing on the railings. He knew he would keep falling, hurting himself, and the tears had shown that he did not enjoy being hurt. So why?

Ignis clears his throat, and cocks his head to the side in confusion. “That was the first time you have not hurt yourself. Why do you continue to do this?”

Noctis shrugs his shoulders again, and leans against the railing beside Ignis. “I dunno.” He leans his head back and looks up towards the sky, glancing at the various shapes of the clouds above and humming in contentment. “Hey, look!” Noctis says, pointing towards a particularly odd-shaped cloud, one that looked almost like a—“It looks like a fat chocobo.”

“Yes, indeed. It, uh…” He clears his throat. He isn’t good at this, this…spontaneous rambling of sorts. It seemed so informal, not something you would engage in with a Prince. “It looks like a rotund chocobo has just finished eating its fifth meal of the day.”

Noctis laughs at that, eyes shut and mouth wide. His laugh suits him, it is joyous and pure and spontaneous. He turns to the advisor, and glances at him, smile still evident. They give each other a slight nod.

Friends? Friends.

|three| the first time he actually talks to him

Walking into his apartment, he noticed the blazer thrown nonchalantly on the floor and Noctis’ bag draped on the arm of the couch. He sighed, and walked over to where he was lounging and sat across him.

The Prince still had his eyes shut and arms behind his head, head facing the ceiling. Ignis could see he was in deep thought from the slight furrowing of his brow and clenching jaw. “Everything alright?” He asks, leaning back against the couch and getting comfortable.

He was expecting a groan, but he did not receive one. Noctis lifts himself up and replicates his position, albeit a lot more comfortably. “I guess,” he says, resting an arm loosely on his thigh and chewing at his bottom lip. “School is just…I dunno , worse, somehow.”

“Are you still friends with Prompto?”

He nods, eyes downcast. “He’s my best friend, it’s just that…” he trails off, hand lifting up to rest behind his neck. “Nobody else is my friend, at least not in the way he is. And Prompto is enough, he’s more than I could ever ask for. I just don’t understand why he’s the only one to treat me so normally.”

“I see.” He brings up his index finger and pushes his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. He expected this, of course. Even though his father had enrolled him in a public school, nothing could change the fact that Noctis was the Prince of Lucis. Everyone would have seen him at least once in the papers, on the television, or online. Everyone knew what he looked like, and where he resided, and his birth date. Privacy and normalcy would be considered a privilege for somebody like Noctis, and unfortunately, he did not have that privilege.

Before he could continue on—give some words of consolation—he was cut off. “Do you like being my advisor, Specs?” Noctis asks, looking at him directly now, with hardened eyes.

“It can be difficult at times…” He exhales, crossing one leg over the other. “But I thoroughly enjoy it.”

|four| the first time his lips graced his own

He found him, in his room, feet tucked underneath his arms and tears staining his cheeks. He was trying to muffle the sounds of his cries by biting the inside of his cheek with his teeth. It did not work. Ignis could hear his cries as soon as he opened the front door.

Walking towards him with cautious steps, he sat next to him. The mattress shifted with his weight and Noctis turned around to face him with wide eyes, not realising that he had walked into the room. He couldn’t cover up that he was upset, and just lowered his eyes to his feet, fiddling with his fingers.

“I, uh—” his voice cracks. “Did you hear?”

Ignis nods. He did hear. Of course he did. It wasn’t pleasant news; no one would like to be informed that they were to be married for politics. Not only that, but to be told you could not even choose who you were to marry was not something anyone, especially a young man, would want to hear.

“I can’t believe this is happening to me, and Luna. She’s my friend, Ignis. I don’t see her in that way at all. I just—”

Ignis places a firm hand on his shoulder, turning him towards his own frame and looking at him in the eye. “It will be fine, Noctis.” His thumb rubs circles over the Prince’s clothed shoulder in comfort. “Things can still change. When will the wedding take place?”

“In two years.”

“When you are twenty, then.”

In all his years of being an advisor, Ignis had never acted out of impulse. Never. Until today. All he had to do was look into his blue eyes—that used to be so bright and full of life—which were now holding hundreds of untold emotions and pain, and he felt his resolve crumble into tiny, little pieces. He hated seeing Noctis like this…so fragile, and lacking hope. Pulling the Prince into his embrace, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders tightly, not wanting to let go.

He could feel his heartbeat against his chest, rapidly increasing and unsteady. His hands traveled up to the soft, black locks he had always wanted to touch, but never dared to, and lightly caressed the strands between his fingertips. He felt the younger man nuzzle into his neck, and his heartbeat had slowed down just slightly.

“I am sorry, Noct,” he whispers into his ear.

Noctis pulls away from him and looks up into his green eyes, face now confused. The corners of his mouth rise slightly, and he leans in—too close for comfort—inches away from Ignis’ lips. “Don’t be.” Before was able to voice his concern on what he was sure was going to happen, it happened.

Noctis pressed his lips onto his own, and his palms cupped Ignis’ face, tracing his thumbs over the line of his jaw; relishing the way his skin felt under his own fingertips.

Graceful hands trailed to the Prince’s chin, tilting his head upwards so he could taste more of him—kiss him deeper. He tasted unbelievably sweet, even sweeter than anything he had concocted before. But he wished he wouldn’t have tasted so sweet, so much like he imagined he would taste. Because a Crownsguard should not be doing this. He was the royal advisor to the Prince; his job was to look over and care after him, and not to litter chaste kisses down his neck and all the way to his collarbone.

|five| the first time he lied to him

“You alright, Specs?”

No.

He nods at the concerned Prince, avoiding eye contact.

He cannot bear to say it out loud. He saw it. Everything. What was going to happen to Noctis. And he should tell him, but he can’t. If he tells him—says it out loud—then that makes it real. And he does not want it to be real. It cannot be real, it should not be. But Ignis knows that it is inevitable, as Noctis is a good man…and a good King, just like his father.

Ignis hopes, silently, in the darkness of the night, that it will not happen.

|six| the first time he said ‘I love you’ without actually saying it

He knew he would awake from his decade long slumber, but he wished he didn’t—that meant that he would soon leave, for eternity.

But he couldn’t think about that, at least not focus on it, as he was finally back, within arms reach. Ignis could finally hear him again, smell him. He wishes he could see him. But hearing him, feeling the warmth of his skin is more than enough.

The smell of the salty water beneath the cliffside, and Noctis’ finely tailored suit engulf his senses. He can hear the fire crackling behind him, and the waves softly hitting against the rocky shores. He loves this sound, and the smell. It always calmed him, somehow. It felt homely, and warm, and safe. Sometimes, it made everything feel normal—as if his dear friend wasn’t going to pass shortly. It made him forget. Only sometimes.

“No,” Ignis says. “You won’t be going alone, I’ll—”

“No, you’re right.” He can hear Noctis turning towards him, leather shoes slightly scraping against the rocks beneath their feet. “I mean, I wouldn’t have made it all this way without you guys. Why stop now?” He can hear him walking closer to him now, and a warm hand is placed gently on his shoulder. “In the end, I might not have you at my side, but I’ll always have you in my heart.”

I love you.

Noctis’ hands trail down his arm and make their way to his gloved palms, and intertwines his fingers loosely in his own. Ignis can feel him leaning closer, just like before, and a chaste kiss is placed just underneath his most prominent scar. “Thanks…” Noctis says, lingering, breath fluttering against his cheek. “Thanks for everything, Iggy.”

Outstretching his hand towards the Prince, he met his eyes for the first time. Bright, and blue. They were much more childlike compared to his own green eyes, which were slightly hardened from all the strenuous training and skill-building he had gone through growing up.

The Prince looked hesitant at first, but he smiled and took Ignis’ hand in both his smaller palms.

“I’m Noctis,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Ignis Scientia. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Prince Noctis.”

Before he can stop himself, and not that he wanted to, a tear ran down his cheek, and he hears Noctis chuckle slightly, bringing his hand up and wiping away the tear with his thumb. He wishes this moment could last forever. He wishes it was ten years ago, when he had to wake up a grumpy Prince in the tent, or lecture him to eat more of his vegetables.

No. Thank you for everything, Noct.

|seven| the first time he said goodbye

When he sat on the throne—his throne—matured and ready, ready to enact his fate and save his people, Ignis was proud. So, so proud. Although Noctis had awoken from his decade-long slumber with a very similar attitude to his younger self, there were things that had changed; he was quieter, much more solemn. His appearance had changed, too, of course. From what he could feel beneath the tips of his fingers, he now had a beard, one that Ignis would have never believed he was capable of growing, and his hair was styled in a more suitable fashion for a thirty-year-old King.

Noctis had grown up.

Truthfully, Ignis had waited for this day. It was not that he disliked Noctis before, no, quite the contrary—it was just that Ignis had always believed that Noctis could become someone that was fit to rule over his people, and to see that now he had believed in himself, too, made the royal advisor feel a range of things that could not be described with words.

And Ignis thought that he was part of the reason for that, and that made him happy, but he was even happier knowing that most of it was because of Noctis himself.

But when Ignis walked up to the throne one last time, just feel His Highness’ decaying body and somehow comprehend and accept that he was really gone, he found himself struggling to do just that. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t. The world took away his best friend, his would-have-been lover, his King.

It was stupid, he knew that. He knows that if Noctis was here, and he was telling him how he felt, he would shake his head and tell him to snap out of it. But he couldn’t help it. He felt as if he had no purpose. Without Noctis, what was there left for him?

Without Noctis…

…without Noctis.

|eight| the first time he is without him

He has lived for longer than half a century now.

It should not have turned out like this, he thinks to himself every day. But thinking about it brings back the pain. He supposes he should have moved on by now, but how can he? He knows the others haven’t, either. The Shield is all smiles and laughter with his wife and three children, now making their way into adulthood, and he hasn’t heard from the blonde in a while, either; probably out on some hike again, with his camera and some friends, a companion, too, most likely. But he knows that they still think about him, and everything that happened once they rest for the night. And he knows that they are hurting just like he is.

It has been more than twenty years since the world took Noctis away, and every day, Ignis thinks of the years he spent beside him. The awkward first encounter, scolding him almost constantly for not eating his vegetables, the road trip which turned out to be their last moments together, and all the tiny things that happened in-between.

He hates that he has forgotten what he looks like. He can only remember tiny details, like how his hair was dark and had an almost-sapphire tint, and his bright, blue eyes. And the tiny mole on the right side of his face. He remembers the sound of his voice, the lilt in his tone whenever he talked about the constellations or pastimes. He remembers the words of affection spoken to him, and the saccharine taste of his lips.

He remembers the way it felt to have a hand on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothing circles across his soft skin. He remembers the first time he told him he loved him, without actually saying the words. And he remembers the first time he cried for him.

Most of all, he remembers that he didn’t die with him. And that above all else, that he wished he had gone instead.