#i did listen to it and like two other hozier songs at that time

[chemicalarospec]

Wait why is Hozier more popular than ever and yet I haven't seen anybody mention or heard play "Arsonist's Lullabye" like, ever, since he's become popular - I just searched it up to check it WAS him bc I don't associate it with Popular Musician Hozier at all. Back in the mid 2010s there were some banger video edits to that song.

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and SA

A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)

P.S. header = pov change

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry Styles was not one for regrets.

His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.

Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.

It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.

Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.

He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.

He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.

He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.

He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.

Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.

Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.

Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.

Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.

Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.

"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."

Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.

"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:

"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."

"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.

It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.

"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.

"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"

"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.

She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?

It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.

Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.

They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.

Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.

Until a few months ago.

It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.

It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.

The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.

They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.

"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He  complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.

"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.

Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.

Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.

"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.

"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.

"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.

"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.

"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."

"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.

"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.

"I— I work on a different floor."

"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.

"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.

"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.

"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.

"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.

"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.

Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.

She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.

Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.

Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.

Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.

It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.

She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.

When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.

He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.

Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.

"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.

"Harry, this is Y/N."

For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...

She looked so... innocent?

He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.

"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.

Angel.

That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.

"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"

The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."

Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.

This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?

Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.

His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.

When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.

"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle.  Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.

"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"

Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."

"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"

Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.

"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.

Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.

"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.

"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.

"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.

"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be."  He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."

Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.

"I can teach you, if you want."

The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.

"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.

"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.

"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,

"Just think about it, alright?"

Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.

"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.

"Anytime." He winked at her.

"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.

"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.

He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.

Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.

In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.

Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[justporo]

The whisky neat and the strawberries sweet

“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Let's try again shall we? Tumblr ate this the first time. I listened to "Too Sweet" by Hozier too often and it caused this. What was only supposed to be a drabble turned into a whole thing... I hope you enjoy! With a wonderful gifted artwork by @nathaira-draws (please follow them!)

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with feelings, blood drinking, vaginal sex, creampie, foodplay, aftercare Wordcount: 4,7k Song: Too Sweet - Hozier

~~~

You didn't really know how you always ended up in positions like this one.

But by all the gods, you for sure didn't mind that you did.

Comfortable. You were comfortable in the way you sat on Astarion's lap, straddling him, clad in nothing but a sheer nightgown. The fabric huddled along your body, leaving very little to the imagination. From the clearly visible stiff peaks of your breasts it flowed down in soft lines to where it cascaded into a bunched up mess around your eagerly and widely spread legs.

Astarion in his usual camp outfit, albeit with his shirt possibly open wider than usual, was much more clothed still. But he surely seemed comfortable too.

And if his promising smirk and playfully raised eyebrow as he looked at you wasn't proof enough? Then maybe the way he was pleasantly, almost achingly hard and pressed directly against your heated, throbbing core between your legs was.

And yet you weren't even primarily engaging In anything overtly lewd, at least this far. The two of you were simply talking. Astarion was having a glass of neat whisky while you were indulging in a bowl of perfectly sweet strawberries.

You talked about every- and anything, whatever came to each of your minds. While Astarion kept sipping on the liquor out of his fancy crystal glass and you popped deliciously sweet fruit into your mouth.

Or, occasionally bucking your hips to get a little rise out of the other - a gasp, a groan, a telltale involuntary twitch - or a bottom lip caught on a fang with crimson eyes shortly rolling back into the skull and then a blissful smile.

The two of you played that little game. Trying to get the better of the other, all while trying to maintain a somewhat civil conversation.

As civil as any conversation could be when your slick cunt was pressed against your vampire’s dick. And you could barely keep yourself from rubbing yourself against him until you would either see stars explode before your eyes - or Astarion would remember he was a predator after all.

Either end was equally titillating in your eyes.

This little back and forth went on until you eventually proverbially poked the vampire a little too hard. You ground yourself against him as he was just answering a question you had asked him a moment ago, about what his favourite places around Baldur’s Gate were. The snap of your hips was so forceful, your by now obscenely slick core rubbed against Astarion’s hardened length in an almost painful way. You made yourself moan from the friction rolling through you, coiling in your stomach.

The vampire groaned loudly, almost a growl and mid-word, head falling back. He grabbed the wooden armrest with the hand not currently holding liquor filled crystal, until his knuckles showed white even through his already pale skin. It was almost a wonder the wood didn’t crack.

His length throbbed violently. Your clit eagerly echoed it.

You bit your lip as you focused on the feeling, a lewd, wishful sigh left you. The tension was oh so delicious.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Astarion almost hissed at you, a bit breathless. His head had snapped back, staring at you from deep under his drawn together brows.  “Because if you are, you are not being very subtle about it, love.”

His tone was slightly angry and a little high-pitched. He was immediately trying to walk it off but you had obviously irked him. But he was merely teasing you. You saw the way the corners of his mouth twitched unwillingly as he took another swig of whisky. And if his attempts at deflections wouldn’t have told you the truth, something else you clearly felt yearning for more of that friction, would have surely done the trick.

You grinned at him with fiendish delight as Astarion tried to somewhat awkwardly rearrange himself in his seat. But with you pressing yourself against him he hadn’t really any room to wriggle.

His ruby eyes narrowed at you as your grin grew broader. Oh, how you enjoyed being on top of things for once - quite literally so.

“Also it is very rude to interrupt someone like thi-” Astarion tried to utter in an offended tone. But interrupted himself once more with a groan when you rolled your hips against him once more. Even more forceful than before.

Astarion’s moan almost became a whimper this time. Long slender fingers darted over and now gripped onto your naked thigh. Not pulling you closer - for now - but also definitely not pushing you off. Astarion’s cock helplessly and desperately jerked from the friction where it was nestled between your legs.

It was a piece of work to keep yourself from huffing and moaning as you were continuously trying to push Astarion into the deep end without being dragged under as well.

The vampire’s head lolled back again for a moment. Then it rolled back around, his expression a challenge now. The vampire licked over his lips lasciviously: eyes glittering like garnets and fangs shining like ivory as he observed you. Precious in any kind of way.

Playtime was over now. Time to face the consequences.

“You vicious little vixen,” Astarion whispered, fingers digging into your flesh until the twinge of it had you throw your head back this time and gasp. The way your back thereby arched drew your vampire’s attention to the way your breasts were now perfectly presented to him. To either behold them like a connoisseur would an impactful piece of art or to devour them like a doomed man would his last meal.

The pale elf’s equally pale eyebrow twitched - as did your clit still drawing pleasure from his fingertips almost clawing into your thigh. If only… a little more…

Quick flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue over the sensitive buds at the crest of your breasts made either of them perk up even more. Until your nightgown was dangling off them even more, creating soft lines draping down, surely drawing the observer’s eye to them and your now heaving breasts, heavy from lust.

Your hands immediately went to cup Astarion’s head, cradling it as his tongue swirled around the tip of your tits, not even bothered by the thin fabric between you and him. The way your hips started moving came naturally. Just like how you bowed your back even more for your lover. You closed your eyes, easily getting lost in the sensation.

Then, suddenly, sharp teeth dug into your breast, lips shortly closing down around the hardened nipple.

“Oww,” you yelped and immediately resorted to slapping Astarion’s arm in response, pushing him away. Your head snapped back to stare at him.

The vampire just laughed haughtily as he withdrew again, leaning back. He licked just a drop of blood of his lips as he did so.

When you looked down your own body you saw twin pricks that had pierced through the translucent fabric. And beneath it a tiny trickle of blood running down your chest.

In your moment of inattentiveness Astarion had shifted slightly in his seat: now sitting with his legs spread even further, the bulge between them so painfully obvious and palpable for either of you. He was leaning back, arms draped over the backrest. In one hand he was still holding the whisky glass and idly swirling it around while holding it by its rim.

By default your legs were also spread even further now, making it hard to move. And suddenly you were the one feeling a little caught. Good for you, you had found quite the pleasure in being caught by the vampire time and again.

Although that certainly didn’t stop you from leaning forward as much as possible and catching the pale elf’s chin between your fingers, trying to stare him down.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to bite someone without asking?”

Astarion pouted. “Can you really blame me for not being able to resist, darling? It was… low hanging fruit after all,” he mused with a grin.

Your eyes narrowed - considering if you should be insulted by that or not.

Astarion eyed the lonely drop of blood he left behind slowly rounding the curve of your boobs. He angled his head observing its journey. A single strand of white hair fell into the vampire’s face as he was entranced - by your tits and the trickle of your fine red alike. 

Lost in thought and the view he lifted the crystal to his lips again. As if unconsciously trying to substitute for what he obviously craved much more than liquor right this moment.

The whisky would have to do.

But before he could take a sip, your fingers wrapped around his and wrung the glass out of them. Inattentiveness really made either of you prone to be taken advantage of. But not to either of your damage.

Before Astarion could protest you took a generous swig of his liquor and slightly shuddered as it burned down your throat. You licked your lips with a grin as you felt the burn leave behind a delicious warmth.

The pale elf’s mouth fell open slightly, eyebrows jumping up. His eyes darkened and twinkled at you as if asking you how you even dared and simultaneously promising you he’d get you back for that one - in that kind of way that would leave you desperately begging for more.

It made your lower body clench as another kind of heat washed through your body. Adding to the throbbing sensation between your legs, lashing it on.

And yet the most you had done was sit there.

Closing your eyes, you tried to regain just a fraction of composure. You had been doing so good in your little game of teasing. How did this godsdamned vampire hold that much power over you that he almost broke you with barely more than a glance?

Astarion in the meantime smiled in content as he took note of how you had to consciously concentrate to keep your wits about you. And also he had located the rest of your strawberries still sitting in the bowl on a small table next to the chair you were both wrapped up on.

Your head snapped back as you felt the vampire’s weight slightly shift below you. With his roguishly quick reflexes you only just saw how your lover had started chewing something. Then he was popping another strawberry into his mouth. And another-

“Hey,” you wailed at him as your eyes darted to the little bowl that was now almost yawningly empty. “Hey stop, that’s the last one!” you continued, grabbing for Astarion’s wrist with your free hand as he was about to devour the last piece of your sweet treat.

“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.

His hands wandered to either of your thighs, pushing into them and pulling you closer to him at the same time, spreading your legs even more for him. With your hand not holding the crystal glass you grabbed for his shoulder to try and keep your balance.

Lightning jolts shot through your body at the sight of your lover. Finding their target in between your legs. Making you involuntarily rub yourself against Astarion’s hard dick again, still comfortably pressed there. Trying to keep the electric energy going. Hoping to turn it into a constant current.

Heat was pooling everywhere in your body now at the promise Astarion’s eyes made you.

He didn’t need to be able to speak to lure you to him. Astarion leaned in a little closer, the delicate lines around his mouth deepening when his smile grew predatory. And you leaned to him, your cheeks and whole body flushed, keen to accept what he offered: the lamb willingly falling for the wolf.

But then an idea flashed through you. Acting quickly, so you wouldn’t second guess yourself, you took a small sip of whisky, keeping it in your mouth.

The vampire’s eyes sparked at you, immediately catching onto your plan. A small strained gasp worked its way around the strawberry still in between his teeth to get past his lips. The fangs dug into the flesh of the fruit ever so slightly at the strained sound. And at your core you felt his dick twitch once more.

You were both in for a treat.

With a chuckle and the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one holding power you leaned in to kiss your vampire. You slowly wrapped your mouth around the strawberry, lips brushing Astarion’s like a feather in passing - all while your gaze burned into his.

The fruit was crushed between your mouths in an instance. Its red, wet juice ran over both your chins, leaving trails that almost looked like freshly spilled blood. The flesh of the sweet treat was quickly torn and devoured between pointy fangs and more sharp teeth as your mouths worked impatiently to get around it. To get to each other - to the real treat.

The whisky had immediately spilled over your lips, down your chin. Only a few drops had actually made it to Astarion’s lips. But it was enough. The rest he could easily taste directly on your lips and tongue, in your mouth. His tongue made sure to get every last bit of it as it slipped between your lips.

The vampire tensed beneath you, his length somehow hardening more, as you melted into him while kissing him; moulding yourself to him as you slowly felt yourself get lost.

Tart sweetness mixed with smoky burning as did tongues and teeth. Remains of strawberry and whisky were already staining your faces and throats, even clothes.

One of Astarion’s hands moved from your legs to the nape of your neck as your mouths moved against each other. He pulled you closer, trying to taste more of you as you let it happen with a yearning moan.

His other hand moved to yours still clenching the crystal glass in its fingers and swiftly took it away, placing it down to free you from it. And when you were, your hands immediately grabbed the vampire’s face. You let your fingertips stroke along his pointy ears, wandering into his curls, deepening the kiss even more. Closing your eyes as Astarion’s rolled into the back of his head.

His other hand sneakily went to your ass and with a gentle push made you grind against him once more. And then again, until you took up the rhythm on your own. All while you kept kissing, now exchanging moans, gasps and other lewd sounds spilling from your lips. Passing them back and forth between you.

And when only traces of strawberry and whisky remained on your tongues, you broke away from each other. You were both panting and worked up to the point where it had become almost painful.

You stared into each other’s eyes that were void of anything playful now. The need in them was real.

Your hands cradled your lover’s face as his gaze was almost glassed over - from lust. Different from other times where his eyes had betrayed to you that he was a thousand planes of existence away.

But now he was here with you, almost violently so. The only thing Astarion was dreaming of was you and how your body seemed made to be squeezed against his. And the electricity between you was so strong you knew lightning would inevitably strike both of you.

The fruit had left Astarion messy, red stains smeared all around his chin and throat. You were used to the sight by now although it usually were less tame things than strawberry that left him in disarray. And as the yearning inside you reached a boiling point you felt the urgent desire to offer your vampire the real thing. Turning him into a whole mess in the process - in every kind of way possible.

You bowed down to him, seeing his eyes sharpen at you closing in. And nothing but a hair breadth away from his lips you stilled, reining in your boundless desire for Astarion.

“I need you, Astarion,” you whispered to him, your quivering lips brushing his as you spoke. Your breath caressed his face making his eyes lose focus as they rolled widly once more at your confession and your closeness alike. “And I want you.”

“Incidentally,” he murmured, voice raspy and promising, reminiscent of strawberries mixed with whisky, “I want you too, my heart.” His hands on your behind, fingers spread wide, squeezed hard. “And I need you even more.”

And so you let the reins slip from your hands. Your lips crushed with his again as four hands were busy to grab hold and get rid of what was still in the way.

Astarion fumbled with your already ruined nightgown. Trying to pull it up but getting distracted by how soft your skin felt along his fingertips or how your curves shifted lazily with the roll of your hips or how your fingers felt beneath the hem of his shirt.

After a few unsuccessful tries his already short tempered patience got the better of him. He just clawed at the damned fabric and tore it apart, tossed it away with a growl, breaking your passionate kiss shortly.

His short-circuit action shortly took your breath away as you felt the garment ripped off your body.

You stared at him, now fully bared before him. Crimson predator eyes took you in and couldn’t stay harsh at your softness. The moment drew out as he lovingly gazed upon you and you used it to let your hand flutter to the top of your breasts then along the curves of them, drawing a line with your fingertips. Astarion watched carefully, an almost unwilling gasp escaping him.

Then another roll of your hips, rubbing yourself against him with a moan. You threw your back into an arch, repeating the motion more vigorously, grinding yourself against Astarion’s still fully clothed but not less needy body. His pants were already a mess, you knew, caused by your slickness and his yearning cock alike.

Astarion kept eagerly staring at you as you worked yourself against him. His long fingers wandered over creamy soft thighs, wrapped almost fully around your delicate waist and then up your sides, sliding over your back as you threw yourself into them. You were melting for him while you felt the tension inside you grow. And your lover kept observing you, how your body moved like light waves hitting a sunbathed beach. His lips curled up further into a sinful grin as he felt you come closer to the peak: the shift of your hips becoming more ragged, your breaths heavy and raw.

Meanwhile your hands toyed with the hem of his already wide open shirt, tugging on the strings, wandering beneath the hem, caressing his chest as he had become almost a statue beneath you. But his stillness only betrayed that tension within him grew as well.

But then you wanted more. Without halting the movements of your body against his you urged him to draw his shirt over his head. And when he enthusiastically obliged you immediately thanked him by pressing your soft, warm tits against him.

Astarion couldn’t remain still anymore. Eyes glossed over again as he delighted in your body dragging against his naked, smooth skin now. Your hands were in his hair. And as if you weren’t already treating him enough you let your head loll back and dragged the vampire’s already parted lips to where they could immediately pick up the rhythm of your racing heart.

His fangs pressed cooly against your skin making you shudder from the sensation. Gasps filled the air. You felt Astarion’s lips press a kiss to your exposed throat. And a moment later the sharp pain of his fangs breaking your skin made left you breathless and made claw your hands into his curls.

He drank from you and you stilled. You needed to feel how with every swallow he took of you, his dick moved in unison.

And it made you both yearn to finally feel it in an even more intimate way.

Your fingers moved to unlace Astarion’s pants, making quick work of it. The sensation of his erection being freed and immediately being caressed by your deft hands made the vampire quiver. His focus was shortly broken and you felt some hot blood run down your throat. But who could blame him when you began stroking his aching cock like this. You saw how wetly his length was already glistening and felt how generous amounts of precum spread all over it beneath your hands. He really did need you.

Astarion groaned as he tried to pull himself together, licking up the spilled blood. But two different beasts were battling within him right this moment, each eager to get their fill. And both needed to be sated.

“Darling,” Astarion murmured against your throat, “you’re killing me for good.” His hands were on your ass now, squeezing it with spread fingers and urging you to move up on him.

You kept working his cock harder and you pressed yourself up on his lap slightly, obeying his silent plea.

“Good,” you replied, catching his eyes for a moment as his lips still remained lightly on your throat. “I hope it’s a pleasant way to go.”

And Astarion groaned, confirming it.

With your fingers still wrapped around his length you positioned him against your obscenely wet core. You moved your hips, making his head drag along your hot, slick folds, but not allowing him to enter you just yet.

You did it once, twice, feeling your clit and his cock in your hands throb each time. Then Astarion had enough of you teasing him. With his hands firmly holding onto your ass he pushed you down on him until he was buried inside of you to the hilt.

He began fucking you while you still tried to get used to the sensation.

Astarion started a relentless rhythm, aiding you riding him by dragging up your hips and letting them slam into him with his hands digging into your ass. All while he thrust up into you, hitting deep every single time. He praised you, whipping you on with words almost as sweet as strawberries. And the burning warmth inside you was even greater and more deliciously numbing than a sip of neat whisky.

Oh, this wouldn’t take long. The long, lascivious build-up had made sure of that.

You felt the waves grow higher while your moans grew increasingly unhinged. Already you were bracing yourself to be dragged under as you felt Astarion’s sweet nothings dissolve into senseless groans of pleasure.

But then suddenly, you felt Astarion’s hot mouth wrap around your hard nipple again - the one he had teased before. While your orgasm was already on the horizon and rushing towards you quickly, you felt another sting of pain as the vampire’s fangs broke the sensitive skin of your breast a second time.

In the meantime, a hand had wandered up your back and you felt how Astarion wrapped strands of your hair around his fingers before starting to tug on them.

He began eagerly sucking on your boob, striving to get more of the aphrodisiac that was your blood. Meanwhile his skilled tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, swirling around it.

He kept pulling on your hair, having you bow back while riding him and Astarion kept drinking from you.

The continuous jolts this sensation sent through your already helplessly writhing body pushed you even beyond what you had expected.

With Astarion’s mouth closed around your tit and his dick hitting you particularly hard and deep you dissipated fully in his hands. The vampire pushed you far further over the edge than you'd ever thought possible.

As if drifting out of your body for a while as your orgasm shook through you violently, your core clenched around the vampire buried as deep inside of you as anyone ever was.

With an obscenely wet sound he had to let go of your nipple as Astarion came just as forcefully, balls tightening before he spilled inside of you. Your bodies worked eagerly - clenching, jerking, giving, taking - to make the most out of it.

The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths as you both rode out the waves of your orgasm.

After, you collapsed on Astarion's lap who held you so carefully as if suddenly he felt you'd shatter under his touch. Your arms felt weak now as you wrapped them around your vampire, your legs started to tremble from the almost impossible tension they had endured before.

Your lover only carefully moved you to withdraw from you as he softened. He kept showering you with small kisses and soft reassuring mumbles while he gave you all the time you needed to safely come down from your high.

It took a long while until you were sure you were fully inside yourself again.

“I love you, Astarion,” was the sole thing you trusted your voice to utter because Astarion kept uttering sweet nothings into your ear. His hands were rubbing a comforting rhythm over your back, your chests pressed together, sticky from sweat. Your forehead was leaning on his shoulders, eyes closed.

The vampire softly laughed and patted your back: “I love you too, Tav.”

“Come on, darling, let’s get you cleaned up and into something warm,” he whispered after a few more heartbeats of comfortable, exhausted silence into your ear.

You lifted your head slowly from his shoulder, took one look at how blood was practically smeared all over Astarion’s face and only snorted. But the vampire took it only with another chuckle and began to rise with you in his arms.

He carefully sat you down on the nearby bed, quickly grabbed a cloth and warm water and cleaned you softly. Astarion took special care of where he’d bitten you, spending extra time cleaning the small bite wounds - pressing a kiss on them after.

Slowly you began talking again while Astarion took care of you and you regained your wits but felt exhaustion and blood loss catch up with you.

Astarion continued to carefully pamper you, washing every part of your body with the cloth, almost massaging you. Then quickly cleaning himself up while you were taken over by a big yawn. You were ready to sink back onto the bed and be wrapped up in your lover’s arms as you would slip into your dreams.

“You owe me a new nightgown, Astarion,” you uttered between yawns trying to stay upright - at least until your vampire was finished with the aftermath of your little evening adventure.

The vampire pointedly lifted an eyebrow at you: “But why wear a nightgown if you could just sleep naked?”

You had no power anymore to argue. So you used your remaining energy to stare angrily at your vampire until he stood up with a smirk and returned with his discarded shirt in hand.

“Alright, my dear, I’ll get you a new one,” he promised with a wink. “But for now this will have to do, I fear. I hope you can overlook it was previously owned by me, darling,” Astarion mused and handed you the shirt which you quickly threw over your head. It smelled of his usual scent: rosemary, bergamot - and whisky. Your eyes darted to where the crystal glass with the rest of Astarion’s drink had been forgotten and smiled. Then you drew a deep breath in, closing your eyes. With this you could do.

You clambered further onto the bed then, making yourself cosy as Astarion undressed to climb into bed with you

“You also owe me some strawberries,” you continued as you stretched out your arms towards your lover who you felt was taking too long to join you.

Astarion snorted as he climbed towards you and wrapped you into his arms.

“You’re awfully demanding, darling, you know that? What about my wasted drink?” he replied with a smirk in his voice as you had already closed your eyes, feeling his comforting presence wrapped around you.

“Hm yes, you can get yourself new whisky too,” you mumbled and were already drifting off to sleep.

“Alright then, my sweet,” Astarion answered as he heard your breath deepen already. “A nightgown, whisky, strawberries and whatever else your heart desires, my darling Tav.”

~~~ If you enjoyed this you can support me by reblogging this! You can also support me on Kofi (pinned post on my profile)! ~~~ Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes @somewhatclear @miss-rebel-without-applause

[scudslut]

too sweet

daryl x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni

a/n: okay, is this like the song? IDK i listened to it on repeat tryna decipher shit and come up with a good plot but i think i got a little lost in the sauce, or maybe im just being mean to myself🫢 ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON BYEEE🤍

you two never got along, never saw eye to eye.

years you’d known each other and all it ever did was reveal those differences all the more. highlighting them in bold letters for you to gaze at thoughtfully, but did that stop you?

it was a game you played, back and forth for so long that it became a routine. bicker and disagree till you were blue in the face and at each other's mercy for only the moon to bear witness too.

how many times had you dug into him for his habits. he smoked, kept to himself, he fought, but where had that ever gotten him? it was against your nature. a way of being that you genuinely could not understand.

and he’d be right there with you, matching each dig with his own. you were sweet, too soft. you pleased and walked among ice like you weighed as much as a feather, so predictable it was almost humorous. if you didn’t understand him, he was absolutely riddled by you.

“how do ya sleep at night? huh? don’ya ever get tired of keeping everyone so fuckin happy?” he’d mutter, all the while tearing articles of clothing off of your supple skin, one by one. skin that was pristine by default and worn as if only heaven itself had touched it.

“believe it or not, i actually want people to like me daryl. i like when i can make people happy. it’s not a fucking act,” you sneer back.

who was he to talk? he lived inside his own head. could go days… no, months by himself, not muttering a single word to a breathing soul. and you’d tried to reason, guide, and help, but if anyone knew daryl dixon, they knew he didn’t budge easily. he had to want it for himself and he simply didn’t see the glory in your people-pleasing nature, as he’d like to call it.

sure he saw the value in it, somewhat. but he liked things the way they were, as they were meant to be. if he disagreed with something he sure as shit wasn’t gonna prance around trying not to hurt no feelings.

“alright, you keep tellin’ yerself that, princess.”

so what was it that kept you two coming back for more? why was the tension and aversion between your minds so magnetic between your bodies? he wanted to snap those annoying, pretty lips shut with his. maybe if he kissed you hard enough something would click in that head of yours. maybe he could fuck some clarity into you.

his fingers would rub fast circles over your clit, watching you keen and moan into the pillow beneath you, “how’s that princess? good enough for ya? hm?” he’d mock, “faster? slower?”

“god, would you shut up already?” you tried to sneer only for it to come out as a breathy whine, adding fuel to his pride and smirk across his face. your lips crashed into his in an attempt to diminish it but it was right there, now pressed up against your face, and fuck, why was that so hot? why was his rugged stubble, his long hair kissing your shoulders, and his broad, strong body so infuriatingly sexy to you? muscles built from years of fights, kills, and hunting. you didn’t like it… but you did.

“fuck, i’m gonna-“ you cried to him softy.

“nuh, uh. not yet pretty girl.”

his belt was loud throughout the quiet room. your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure but you heard the familiar clanks and zips, and then you felt his weight above you — warm and spicy. it pulled you so far and close that you sucked him in before he even got his pants all the way off.

“fuckin’ christ girl,” he groaned, snapping down to meet your hips flush. it was rapid and hot, both of you pouring all your frustrations into each push and pull. frustrations with each other, frustrations with yourselves that you liked this so fucking much.

he fucked you deep and hard like his body hated you, but somehow kissed you so tenderly through it all. his tongue massaging and tangling with yours as if you created his oxygen for him.

“so fucking sweet, princess, y’know that?” he whispered against you, “no good fer me.”

he was telling himself that; convincing himself and you knew it. your body rolled to meet his quickly, feeling every gooey, warm muscle against your skin and drooling over it, “more.”

as if to prove a point he slowed down, pulling out till just his tip was caught at your entrance, and then would thrust in, hard. over, and over, and over until you were singing his name and muffling it with his neck. warm and spicy.

“ya like that? thought ya wanted faster?”

he knew he was walking a line, but what had you guys ever been but a definitive line? a clear distinction of night and day, the only time ever seeing eye to eye being these moments. as one.

you were sent over the edge instantly, spasms of pleasure rolling languidly through your body. the tight swelling of your cunt causing daryl to finish with you and fuck if he didn’t cum the prettiest, sexiest way you had ever seen. straight out of your dirty, teenage fantasies and above you to soak in while you wreathed along with him.

he groaned and cursed into your chest, riding out each wave until he was shaking above you and so sensitive he couldn’t help but hiss as he pulled away, flopping down beside you.

a cigarette was quickly fished from his strewn jeans pockets and placed between his lips, lighting up and rolling back into the pillows lazily. every ounce of mending and merging you had just done was palpably tossed out the window, your scoff loudly filling the silence.

“that will kill you one day, hope you know that,” you muttered whilst gathering your clothes and slipping them on.

he didn’t bat an eye, nothing he hadn’t heard before from you and honestly, he didn’t really care. plenty of things in the world that’ll kill you, your naivety being one of them.

“lemme guess, gotta be up bright n’ early? tendin’ ta all yer charity cases?” he mused as he watched you head for the door. there had never been a night you’d spent together, probably would end up ripping each others faces off alone in room together for that long.

he didn’t get an answer, just an amused eye roll as you opened his bedroom door, “bye daryl.”

and then you were gone, quiet stomps heard as you floated up the stairs and he knew it would only be a matter of days before you were right back here, glued to his body and singing his name like you needed him to survive.

“figures,” he mumbled, taking a long drag from his smoke and smirking softly to himself.

what’s that saying? opposites always attract?

[lotusbxtch]

Sunlight

Song: Sunlight Character: Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x gn!Reader Summary: Joel Miller has avoided love, pushed it away at the first sight to stay in the darkness. But then he meets you, and he wonders if he was wrong after all. Word Count: 578 Rating: Mature, mentions of smut Warnings/tags: post-outbreak, takes place in Jackson, vague mentions of smut, angst, Joel hates feelings, everyone loves Reader, grumpy sunshine trope incoming, heavy use of Hozier lyrics, no use of y/n, not beta’d

a/n: This is my entry for @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble Challenge! This felt like the perfect pairing for the song, so thank you Gin! Hope I did it justice.

Ever since the outbreak, since losing Sarah, Joel has shunned the light of love of any kind. He preferred to stay in the cool, detached predictability of a life without it. It was dark, but it wasn’t dangerous for his heart. That was, until you showed up in Jackson.

A veritable ball of light, you charmed everyone in the settlement. Your bright smiles, cheerful demeanor, and deep kindness easily helped you become a pillar of the community. You helped out in any way you could, even if it was something on the more physical end, like construction. People asked you to teach them some of your hobbies: baking, knitting, painting. You helped every single one with a smile on your face. He knew you were nothing but goodness personified, and yet he shunned your light. He stayed cool and quiet, avoiding you just like he’d been doing for longer than he knew. Until one day, he witnessed your sunlight directed towards him.

It was a Sunday, and you’d snuck up on Joel on his porch late at night, strumming absentmindedly on his guitar, listening to the hum of night. Suddenly he heard “I didn’t know you played guitar!” come out from the dark bushes. He jumped slightly, startled, until you popped your head up, eyes shimmering with amusement. He sighed, disgruntled, and said, “Yeah, I don’t usually play for an audience.”

“How about an audience of one?” you suggested coyly, intertwining your fingers with each other, looking down and then back up at him expectantly but shyly. He searched your eyes, so bright. His defenses were screaming at him to be a jerk, to push you away as usual, but a small voice in him said, “play for them.” He swore it sounded just like Sarah. So he sighed, and situated the guitar in his arms. As he played, you slowly wandered up the steps to his porch, keeping your eyes locked on him the whole time. He finished the song and looked up, his breath catching in his throat. You had the most spellbound, enraptured look on your face.

“Joel,” you breathed, “that was so beautiful.”

He was at a loss for words, because he realized that for the first time, he was experiencing your sunlight for himself. He was lost to you, lost in your radiant sunlight, your bright effervescence of love and joy. And he realized he could not be without you for the rest of his life.

After that, he willingly drowned like a falling Icarus into the sea of your love, wax wings melting fast. He gorged himself on your light, drawn like a moth to the flame. You spent days in his bed over the next few weeks, the two of you unclothed most of the time, sighing and moaning and screaming in pleasure, learning about every cell in each other’s bodies. You bathed him in your sunlight, warming his weary bones, soaked in the cold rain of loneliness, bringing him back up to the surface. He let you crawl your way under his skin, living there, searing into his heart. Soon enough, you would rise with him each day, his home now also your home. 

He knew that love meant pain, meant hurt and suffering if it were ever taken away from him. But he was addicted to you, to your sunlight. He’d gladly put himself into a death trap for you, and he knew you’d do the same for him.

[milkbobatyun]

perfect, but not for me

pairing: dr ratio x reader

genre: angst

summary: they saw the two of you as perfect. you both were, but the aeons did not make you for each other

word count: 1k

a/n: inspired by the hozier song 'too sweet', i highly recommend you listen to it while reading this! the only reason why i haven't posted in ages is cus it's exam season for me right now, and i've got pretty important ones that will determine my future so im putting that as priority for now!

in the eyes of the scholars at the intelligentsia guild, you and veritas ratio were the perfect couple. your love story was one out of a romance storybook, childhood love, who were polar opposites, the epitome of sunshine and grumpy. they didn’t see how the honeymoon period was waning, how you were struggling to keep up the happy façade.

you saw the world through rose-tinted glasses, your head always lost in the clouds. you were a dreamer, enjoying life to its fullest. yet, veritas ratio was different. he saw the world in its black and white, ugly, organic form. he stepped through life with a logical mind, silently analysing every glance and gesture, as though looking at an equation only his practised eyes could see.

you loved staying up late at night, relishing in the faint glow of warmth from your lamp, illuminating your desk as your mind wandered, drawing ideas from the world around you. some days, you stayed up till the dark, bejewelled night gave way to milky dawns, some nights you slept early. your life was a combination of sporadic bursts of energy.

veritas valued order and routine over everything else. you could recite his schedule off the top of your head: an hour-long bath after work, evenings spent huddled at his desk, grading papers, a helping hand at dinner before he curls up in a nearby chair, nose buried in his book. all this was executed with clockwork precision. once the clock hit 9, veritas would turn to bed, his alarm forever set up for an early awakening.

you loved to douse your coffee in sugar and milk, while veritas could feel the tooth-ache just from watching you spoon the white powder into your milky coffee. he often joked that normal people had coffee with a splash of milk, while you had milk with a splash of coffee.

unlike you, he drank his coffee black, with no add-ins and a straight face. yours scrunched up with displeasure as you imagined the bitter liquid running down your throat.

despite your differences, you still had similarities. the two of you were stupidly devoted to your work. 

you savoured any moment you had to sketch, a notebook and pencil never leaving your hands. new ideas flowed from your fingertips. your mind was a never-ending fountain of imagination. there was never a day when the other scholars saw you without a pencil stuck behind your ear or glued to the paper you always carried.

on the other hand, veritas was practically married to mathematics. he held a strong passion for teaching the arithmetic subject, nose always buried in a book, his mind busy gnawing away at a new maths problem.

even with your similarities, there were times in your relationship when you struggled living with and loving such a logical man.

when the nights were sleepy, the quiet seemed to hang, like a thick blanket over the two of you, only broken by the swish of pages turning. you doodled a new design for his plaster head absentmindedly in your notebook. your hands itched to show him, but you could guess his answer: a small, polite smile and nod. he would mutter some surface level praise, before turning back to his book.

before, his quiet praise and small, rare smile made your breath hitch and your face flame. now, it left you feeling desolate and hopeless, like an artist staring at their piece, trying to work out what went wrong.

“why don’t you ever clean up?” veritas’ voice broke through the quiet ambience of the house, his gaze fixated on the papers, piled haphazardly upon your desk, sketches and prototypes littering the floor. his brows were furrowed with distaste, hands pinching at his nose bridge in exasperation.

“i do,” you protested, though guilt and shame was evident on your face. “it’s just…i get inspiration.” you meekly finished.

veritas’ sigh of disappointment made your stomach drop and your heart clench. “no wonder you never get anything done.” veritas’ voice was clipped, “chaos doesn’t ever breed results.”

lately, the air in the house felt stifling, choking the life out of your lives. around the reviered dr ratio, you felt like you were walking on eggshells. everything he said pushed a button in you, and everything you did seemed to piss him off.

he supressed the urge to snap at you every time another prototype found its way into his slipper, while you swallowed back every sharp retort on your tongue. he didn’t understand you. inspiration wasn’t orderly, it was messy, bursts of energy—unpredictable and fleeting.

every word he spoke, no matter how well-meaning, felt like an attack. veritas really had a way with words. it wasn’t what he said, but the disappointment and annoyance that subtly laced his words, their sharpness striking deep into every weakness. you tried to understand his logic, but it was like trying to touch the clouds. you could see it, but no matter how far you tried to stretch, it slipped through your fingers, dancing just out of reach before dissolving into a mystery you would never be able to unravel.

it truly amazed the both of you how long it took for you to realise that this wasn’t going to work. you were simply too different from each other. holding onto this relationship was like trying to jam two pieces of a puzzle together, even when they didn’t fit. the more you tried to make the fit, the more the edges frayed, the corners becoming worn down. the picture blurred, its picturesque scene warped into an unrecognisable smear of colour.

you were as wonderful as an angel sent from heaven, soaring with your head in the clouds, and he was as perfect as a greek statue, steadfast and steady. perfection in your own ways but so different from each other. soft features were not enough to bend marble, no matter how tightly you held on. love, as powerful as it was, could only go so far.

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[dreamerschroniclesofstories]

Crawl home to her

A/N: thank you so much for your love on my previous work  “ Goodbye, Tommy Shelby”, i appreciate it so much, i will officially be starting the sequel next week. i'm currently very busy with end of term uni assignments. For this fic you are about to read, i would recommend listening to work song by hozier.

I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR YOU TO REPOST THIS ON ANY OTHER SITE AND TO TRANSLATE THIS.

Summery: who would of thought a conversation with Polly, after another war riddled nightmare, could cause tommys love to come back to him.

Word count: 1,748

The dark. Tommy's worst enemy since the war. It isn't the dark that scares him, its the noises of the consistent banging of shovels and the pained yells of men coming from his walls that taunt him every time he closes his eyes. Usually, the opium he keeps hidden in his draw stops the noises for a few hours.

But not tonight.

Tommy gasps as he opens his eyes and sits up, the room spinning as he slowly sits on the edge of his bed, putting his hands on his head, trying to calm down, his heart races inhumanly fast, he swears one day his heart would burst through his chest.

Like every other night, Tommy stands up, grabs a cigarette from his pouch on his bedside table and leaves him room. the floorboards creak as he walks past the other bedrooms that hold his two brothers, Arthur and Finn, and the bedroom that holds his aunt Polly. The old wooden floor has been shaped over time by each sole of the Shelby family, from generations of living in the house.

Tommy walks into the kitchen and stops in his tracks when he sees Polly sat at the table, he raises an eyebrow as he takes the cigarette from between his lips, continuing to walk to the small table that holds the whiskey. He pours himself a glass.

" why are you up poll?" he asks confused, then gulps down the whiskey from the glass.

" much like you Thomas , nightmares" she whispers, holding her mug of tea in both hands, making sure the warm steam hits her face so it could protect her from the coldness of the night.

" i don't know what you're on about pol" he grumbles, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, then he walks over to the table and sits down across from Polly.

Polly raises an eyebrow, watching Tommy as she sips her tea. Polly knew Tommy was lying, since he was child she could sense when he wasn't telling the truth. He knew this, that's why Tommy chuckles quietly.

" and you pol?" he asks knowingly, wanting to change the subject, leaning back in his seat then takes a drag of his cigarette, seconds later blowing out the smoke.

The small kitchen area was filling up with smoke. Polly delicately places her mug down onto the table, grabbing a cigarette from her own pouch.

"i have the sight Thomas, i have nightmare almost every night" Polly explains, then lights the cigarette before taking her first drag "your's is about the war" she determined.

" it's not serious Polly, every man that came back from France. mentally never leaves" tommy whispers.

polly smirks " yes but most of those men have someone at home to help them, you did but you pushed her away" she points out.

Tommy immediately tenses up, he has not spoken to or about her since before the war. By her, he means his childhood best friend, Alice. They had met during school when Alice was left out on the first day of school and Tommy noticed and went over to Alice to talk to her. Since then, if you saw one you knew the other would be close by.

However, a week before the war. Alice and Tommy had an argument after Alice found out Tommy enlisted. They did not talk it out in time before Tommy left. When Tommy came back, he was a changed man, he did not want Alice involved in the life he had become involved with.

" don't pol" Tommy warns.

" she's a seamstress now Tommy, has her own little shop on the other side of town, sometimes i see her at the markets" she shared.

When Tommy and Alice were teens, Alice always talked about making dress's when she left school. However, she was always self-conscious about the dresses she made and use to show them to Tommy. He was her number one fan, he use to encourage her to sell them, Tommy was the only person who believed in herself.

Tommy smiles slightly " she does?" his eyes sparkle slightly, causing Polly to chuckle.

Polly nods " she lives two streets behind her, next door to Mrs. dingle, the baker"Polly explains.

Tommy stands up and grabs his coat, not saying a word to Polly as he leaves.

Alice's flat

A sleepless night, in Alice's mind, was a chance to mediate about the previous day and the day that was coming. Mediation helps Alice to feel the energy of the world sparkling at her finger tips. The energy asks her to let them in and help her dreams become a nighttime reality.

It was one of them nights for Alice, she sat on her one person couch by her window, watching as the stars twinkle down onto small health, making natural guide lights for the men going home from a late nigh at work. Alice found the night sky beautiful, she finds that the stars look like snowflakes in the night, yet they are forever still. Alice found it amazing that for centuries and millenia's, everyone had seen the same constellations.

Alice stood up, going to her kitchen to pour herself another cup of tea, the sound of a knock on her door makes her flinch. It is two in the morning, who would be knocking on her door.

Alice picks up her gun from her kitchen draw and walks to the front door, even though she doesn't speak to Tommy anymore, she knew she needed protection encase someone who knows they were friends comes after.

She takes the safety off her gun and begins to open the door, as the door inches open her heart feels like it was about to burst from anxiety.

Alice frowns when she sees a man standing in front of her door with his head tilting down, his peaked cap covering his eyes but she knew who it was immediately.

"Tommy?"she whispers, her voice soft but also shaky. They had seen each other this close since before the war.

Tommy lifts his head, making eye contact with Alice, His eyes are the same. They were the colour of every dancing sky, filled with infinite hues of that are illuminated by newborn light.

He coughs slightly " can i come in?" his voice vibrating through her bones, causing a much welcomed and missed vibration.

Alice nods and moves to the side, allowing Tommy to walk into her small but homely flat. He takes off her cap, Alice closes the door then walks back over to her kitchen.

"Would you like a drink?" Alice asks, looking over at Tommy, who was taking his coat off.

"whiskey?" he asks, sitting at her small dinning table.

Alice smiles and nods, she takes the bottle of Irish whiskey from the back of her cupboard, then takes the whiskey cup from the cupboard as well before walking over to Tommy.

"are you in trouble?" she questions, placing the glass in-front of Tommy then pours the whiskey slowly.

Tommy frowns " i'm not, why would you think that?" he asks confused.

" you are Thomas Shelby, you have a lot of enemies and we have not spoken for nearly five years Tommy, so why are you here?" she points out, sitting down across from him.

" i heard you are a seamstress" he states, taking out a cigarette from his pouch, lighting it. All the whilst, not breaking eye contact with Alice.

She chuckles " you came here at nearly three in the morning to talk about my job?" Alice raises an eyebrow.

Tommy smirks slightly " There's only so much a man can take of his four walls" he admits.

Alice hums " having nightmares? I've heard a lot of men that came back from France have them, some so bad they go to the hospital" she whispers, her eyes now full of worry.

" i'm Thomas Shelby, you don't have to worry about me" he jokes.

Alice rolls her eyes and stands up, walking around the table, pulling out the chair beside Tommy and sits down, grabbing his hands gently " you were my best friend Tommy, of course i'm going to worry about you. Don't give me the Shelby bullshit" she affirmed.

Tommy smiles for the first time since he came back from France "glad to see you have changed"

Alice smiles softly " i'd never changed Tommy, i'll forever be me, for you" she admits.

Both of them did not say a word to each-other after that, the tension was thick between them. Tommy gently lifts his hand, stroking his thumb down Alice's cheekbone down to her lips, her pale skin was like the silk of the petals of white roses in the summer. Tommy glances down at her lips, his thumb gliding over her plump bottom lip. Alice inhaled softly at the touch, her lips were as good as her eyes. Painting a picture of her emotions.

"i love you" Alice blurts out.

In the stillness of the moment that follows her confession, there so much both of them can say. Alice doesn't regret what she say, sudden moments are a risk but sometimes they are necessary to get what you want. So instead of tommy replying, he gently puts his hand on her cheek and pulls her in. Kissing her.

Kissing her softly but with passionate purpose. Kissing her, immediately stopped the sound of shovels and the sound of mens screams.

Theres a muffled sound of shock from Alice before she softens into the kiss. Her delicate hand finding her place on the back of tommys neck , her lips move against his, as if she was whispering a question over and over again for him. He pulls back slowly, thinking she would want him too.However, Alice follows him, chasing after his lips. Her glazed eyes opening.

in that kiss, was the sweetness of their passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into one moment.

Alice smiles happily, looking between tommys eyes, her eyes full of love. If any one moment in Alice's life were to ancher her soul , creating a tie to this reality. it would be the moment she fell in love with him. She realised that she had a protector born for pure love and how could she not love that? How could she not love all of Thomas Shelby. He is the rope and the knot to her vessel that is now in safe mooring. For this, she will forever be his.

Alice strokes tommys cheek softly " you've come home to me"

A/N: EEEK! i am so proud of this one. Please leave a like, comment and/or re-blog. It is all appreciated xx

[aflame4goinghome]

Talk

s.f.k. x f.reader

a/n: this was meant to be a short little one shot but it actually turned out to be pretty long... oops. it’s only lightly proofread and i’m posting this at 2:30 am so i hope it’s good. enjoy :)

word count: 5.3k

summary: You’ve known Sam practically your whole life, and your relationship has always been the same. He’s your best friend, and he’s never given you a reason to think he feels any other way. So why is he acting so different tonight? Your love for him has so far gone unspoken, but all secrets are about to be revealed.

warnings: fluff, angst (some fighting & yelling), swearing, smoking, kissing, shameless nicknames like always; SMUT (MINORS DNI): oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex (practice safe sex, folks!), dirty talk, some begging, slight praise kink if you squint, soft dom!sammy

“imagine being loved by me.

i won’t deny i’ve got in my mind now,

all things i would do.”

You’ve known Sam as long as you can remember. You’ll never forget the first time you met him. It was the first day of the seventh grade, you had just moved to Frankenmuth that summer from Detroit after your parents split up and your mom wanted to move out of the city. You’d only lived there for a month and your house was pretty secluded on a long road, so you didn’t have much ability to make any friends until you started school.

You were riding your bike to school and someone crossed the street right in front of you, forcing you to slam on your brakes to avoid hitting them and knocking them down. You came to a screeching stop and looked up at the scared boy in front of you, who hollered, “Are you trying to kill me? What the hell is wrong with you?” You got off your bike and the two of you walked the rest of the way to school together. And that’s how you met your first friend, Sam Kiszka.

The two of you have been pretty much inseparable ever since. You had a lot of classes together and he let you sit at his table at lunch, introducing you to his best friend, Danny. From that moment forward, the three of you did practically everything together. You guys would go to the movies, listen to records, and sometimes even jam together in the Kiszkas’ garage with his older brothers, Josh and Jake. You always felt that the rest of them were much more musically talented than you, especially Jake, but you enjoyed singing harmony with Josh every once in a while. You were like family.

Once you got older, you noticed your relationship with Sam began to change. Not in a way that was obvious or disruptive, but there was something that developed that would always be on the back of your mind- your feelings for Sam. You first discovered that you had feelings for him at your ninth-grade homecoming dance. You and Sam went together as friends, slightly organized by your mothers, and something in the air changed that night. There was a knock at the door after you had gotten ready and you opened it to see Sam, all dressed up in a suit and tie.

Your gaze softened as you saw him, and you felt a feeling that you’d never experienced before. When he saw you, in your dress and your hair done, you noticed an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite place, like a deer in headlights. And then he entered the threshold, brushing off whatever it was, acting just like your normal Sam. You put it in the back of your mind and moved on with your night.

However, near the end of the night, something happened that you’d never be able to forget. They turned on the last slow dance of the evening and the two of you had avoided every other slow dance prior out of awkwardness. But something pushed you to ask him for this last song, so you did and he agreed. You both walked over to the dance floor and he placed his hands awkwardly on your waist as you put your arms around his neck. You both swayed there for a while to some random slow song from that year that you couldn’t remember now even if you tried, and there was a look in his eyes that would be burned into your memory forever. He looked at you so softly, like you might break. You looked up at him- his cute swoopy hair, his dimples, his dopey smile- and you knew right there and then: you were in love with Sam Kiszka.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*.・゜゜・✩ ✦ ✩・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Things are a lot different now than they were when you were 15, but your feelings for him are just as strong as ever. He’s never shown any hints of feeling the same way, however, and you’ve never made any effort to tell him. You’re much too afraid of it changing your relationship, especially if he didn’t feel the same way about you. You’re more than happy with what you have with him now, though, even if it’s only platonic. He’s your best friend and you love the time that you get to spend with him, considering it’s quite limited now.

When you guys were in high school, the band that the boys had formed ended up gaining popularity. Even before you, Sam and Danny graduated, they were going out on tour, opening for big bands. You were incredibly impressed and so proud of them, but you definitely missed your best friends. Once you graduated, they were away even more than before. So, when they all wanted to pick up everything and move to Nashville a few years ago, you decided that you would too.

You had delayed going to college for a couple of years because you couldn’t afford it at the time and neither could your mom, so you used this new opportunity to apply to Tennessee State University in the area and you were accepted. You’re in your third year there now and it’s been working out great. You got an apartment not far from where the guys were all living, and that’s how you met your roommate and now close friend, Lucy. She is attending graduate school at Vanderbilt for the same field of study and shares your immense love for music, so you got along almost immediately.

The guys’ band has become relatively famous now. They’ve recently released their third album and have gone on several tours, their current one being a world tour. You haven’t been able to see them as much lately because of it, but you try to catch as many local shows as you can. Despite being away so often, you and Sam are still as close as ever, spending basically every day together when he’s on break from the tour. Every once in a while, you’ll sometimes wonder about the ‘what-ifs,’ but your friendship with Sam is too important to risk by confessing your feelings for him.

Tomorrow is Lucy’s 24th birthday and the band is on a break from tour for a few more weeks, so the two of you are throwing a huge party tonight to celebrate. Your apartment is much too small to host that many people, so Josh offered to host the party as long as you both helped out with supplying the food and decorations. Of course, Josh was more than happy to supply the booze, being someone who would never turn down a party. It’s your last big get-together before the band leaves for the European leg of their tour, so you’re all really looking forward to it.

It's already 3 in the afternoon and you and Lucy have to go over to Josh’s soon to help decorate before all the guests arrive, so you start to get ready. You curl your hair and pull it half-up, then put on some simple makeup with some silver glittery eyeshadow. Lucy wanted to make the theme of the party “Starcatcher” to incorporate the guys’ newest album, so you wanted to throw in a subtle reference to the theme. You go to get dressed, finding the new dress that you had bought just for the party. It’s a short, tight dress adorned with silver glitter, matching your makeup.

It’s not as if you intended to catch anyone’s attention tonight with your outfit, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing. You’ve tried dating since you moved to Nashville, but nothing has ever worked out. All of the guys are either shallow musicians who don’t want to ‘put a label on it’ or immature frat guys with no emotional intelligence. Besides, you still find it hard to completely forget about Sam. You know that he’s probably taking plenty of girls home while on tour; as a rockstar, why would he not? It didn’t bother you, it’s not like he knew how you felt anyway.

You grab your things, then slip on your heels and pop your head into Lucy’s bedroom. “Hey Luce, you ready to go?” you ask, stepping inside of her room. She turns around from looking into her vanity mirror to look at you. “Oh my god, Y/N! Look at you! Sam is gonna die over that dress,” she says, teasing you. She knows all about your little crush, of course, you tell her everything. She’s the only one in your friend group who knows since the rest of the guys wouldn’t possibly be able to keep that kind of secret.

“Luce, come on. You know he doesn’t look at me like that,” you answer, rolling your eyes, “Plus, maybe I’ll find another guy to appreciate me tonight. I don’t need it to be Sam, I don’t expect it to be.” She rolls her eyes back at you and turns her attention back to the mirror. “Okay, okay, whatever. I’m just finishing up my eyeliner, we can leave in a minute,” she says. She finishes up her makeup and you both head to the party.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*.・゜゜・✩ ✦ ✩・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Lucy drives you to Josh’s place and the two of you pull into his driveway, seeing that you’re not the first ones there. You knock on the front door and are greeted by Josh, whose face lights up at the sight of you. “Hello, darling!” he exclaims, pulling you in for a tight hug. He pulls away, smiling, and sees Lucy behind you. “Ah, Lucille, happiest of birthdays to you, my dear,” he says to her, hugging her tight as well. You both enter the house and find Jake in the kitchen, preparing some sort of dip recipe.

“I thought that we’d be the first to arrive,” you say to him, making him turn his attention away from the stove. He sees you both and smiles slightly, saying “Well, it wouldn’t be a party if I didn’t make a queso dip, would it?” You chuckle, walking over to get a whiff of it. “No, it wouldn’t. Smells delicious,” you say, patting him on the back then turning around to place all the snacks that you’ve brought on the kitchen island. You all start to set up, putting out the snacks and alcohol and hanging some decorations on the walls.

Around 6 o’clock, the front door flies open with Sam and Danny waltzing through. You all turn your heads to look at the sudden noise and your eyes find him. He’s wearing a short-sleeved button-up, half unbuttoned, some dark jeans, and sneakers. You watch as he removes his sunglasses and brushes his hands through his hair as he and Danny approach the kitchen, then try to direct your attention back to hanging the star decorations that you’d been attaching to the ceiling.

“Hey, Freckles,” Sam says, walking into the kitchen to greet you. He’s called you that ever since that first day, on your first walk to school. He looked down at you and saw your face, completely covered in freckles, and settled the nickname right then and there. It’s still managed to stick after all these years. "Hi, Y/N! Hi, Lucy, happy birthday," Danny says, walking into the kitchen and sitting down at the table to help blow up some balloons.

“Here, let me help you,” Sam says, reaching his hand up to meet yours and finish hanging the star. “Thanks, Sammy,” you say, stepping down from the step ladder you were using. “No Rose tonight?” you ask, looking up at him. “Nah. Didn’t want her to get too drunk, she was absolutely belligerent last time,” he said, laughing as he jabbed your side with his elbow jokingly. You giggle and say, “Yeah, she’s out of control. You should probably look into that.” He smiles at you silently for a moment, looking down at what you’re wearing. It’s not long enough for you to notice, however, and you move on to helping Josh with the liquor table.

You finish decorating and the guests begin to arrive around 8. Most of them are Lucy’s friends from grad school, as well as some friends from work. You don’t really know a lot of them, so you’ve just stuck with the guys by the bar area of Josh’s dining room for most of the night so far. “Here you go, Frecks” Sam says, handing you another tequila soda that he’s made for you. You thank him and take a sip, then look out at the crowd that’s amassed in Josh’s living room.

It’s been over an hour now since the party started and you still feel slightly awkward since you don’t know any of the people here, but you don’t really want to just be a wallflower all night either. Suddenly, Lucy comes charging toward you. She’s gotten a bit intoxicated, having made some drinks while you all prepared for the party in addition to the ones she’s had since then.

“Babe, c’mere, I want you to meet my friends,” she says, pulling you away. You look at Sam and Danny with a ‘please save me’ face as she drags you into the crowd, hearing them laugh at you as you move further and further away from them. You end up in a small group over on the other side of the room, a few girls your age and a guy that you don’t recognize. “Y/N, these are some of my friends from my classes this semester- Tara, Emma, and Stephen. Everyone, this is my roommate and bestie, Y/N!” You wave shyly and say hello, catching eyes with her friend Stephen.

He’s pretty tall and has dark black hair that’s slicked back with a couple of pieces hanging out in the front. His eyes are dark and mysterious, and you can’t help but admit that he’s rather handsome. You doubt anything could ever come to it, but it might be nice to distract yourself from your one-sided feelings for Sam. Lucy goes back into whatever conversation she was having previously with the girls as Stephen steps closer to you.

“Hey,” you say, looking up at him with a shy smile. “Hey there,” he replies, checking you out quickly before meeting your eyes again. “Do you go to school around here?” he asks. “Oh, yeah, I’m in my undergrad at TSU. I’m a couple years behind but I’m starting to catch up,” you say, sitting down on the couch as he goes to sit next to you, rather close. He makes small talk about what you’re studying, where you’re from, what you want to do after graduation, and more. He’s definitely a nice guy, and he seems interested in you and learning more about you, so you don’t mind sitting and talking to him.

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” Stephen says, smiling at you and reaching over to brush some of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you, Stephen… you’re not too bad yourself,” you say, blushing slightly as he places his other hand on your thigh. The two of you sit there for some time talking closely, flirting a bit back and forth. You glance over to the dining room for a moment and see Sam, who’s looking at you. He’s leaning up against the wall, arms crossed with his eyes glued to you and Stephen, piercing right through you. He looks almost angry, which you don’t completely understand. Maybe he’s upset that you ditched him since he doesn’t know many people at the party? But he has Danny right next to him, who’s talking away as Sam stares daggers into you.

“Excuse me just one moment, Stephen. I have to go check on something,” you say apologetically, getting up off the couch and heading into the other room. Sam’s eyes lock onto yours as you approach, still not faltering from their angry gaze. “Sam? A word, please?...,” you say, looking over at Danny, “…alone?” Sam looks down at you and uncrosses his arms, “Yeah, whatever.” You grab his wrist and drag him into the kitchen, then out the back door to Josh’s porch.

You drop his wrist and turn around to face him as he reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, sticking one in his mouth and lighting it. He takes a long pull, breathes it out, then scoffs. “What? What is it?” he says in an annoyed tone. “What is it? Sam, what’s wrong with you? I saw you looking at me in there, what the hell is your problem?” you say, throwing your hands up, exasperated. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You just met that guy and he was just all over you. It’s fucking gross,” he says, raising his voice at you slightly and rolling his eyes, taking another puff of his cigarette.

“So what if I just met the guy? Why does that matter? He was really nice, I wanted to talk to him! It’s not like I was gonna be over there all night, I was going to come back over to you guys.” you say defensively, crossing your arms and looking up at him, waiting for an answer. He runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly, “Frecks, he so clearly wanted to sleep with you! He probably doesn’t even actually care about you, he just wants to get laid! He’d never treat you right.” He takes another drag of his cigarette and then sighs.

“Why do you even care, Sam? Am I not allowed to talk to guys? Is that it? Am I supposed to just follow you around like a little lost puppy all night? It’s fucking pathetic!” you yell, your eyes starting to well up. “No, Frecks, God! That’s not what I’m saying! But I can’t just stand around and watch some guy flirt with you right in front of my face! It’s making me fucking crazy!” he says, putting his head in his hands and shaking his head. “Sam. Look at me,” you say, looking up at him, tears starting to fall down your cheeks slowly.

His gaze softens as he looks down at you, then he throws his cigarette on the ground and steps on it to put it out as he steps closer to you. You look up at him, glossy-eyed, waiting for some sort of explanation for why he was acting like this. Sam never gets angry with you, you don’t understand what’s gotten into him. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he gets closer to you and suddenly, he raises his hand to cup your cheek and pulls you in, kissing you. At first, it’s soft, his lips feel warm to the touch as you kiss him back, his thumb caressing your cheek affectionately. Then he deepens it, pulling you into him with his other hand on your waist and smiling against your lips.

It grows to become ravenous and uncontrollable, and you start to struggle to breathe. He turns you both around and backs you into the outer wall of Josh’s house as he teases his tongue into your mouth. You welcome it, moaning into his mouth as you deepen the kiss even more. Both of your hands are on the back of his neck, tangled in his long hair, pulling him closer to you. You suddenly feel very aware of where you are and remember all the people inside, so you pull your mouth off of him, still staying close. “Sam, the party,” you say, looking up to meet his eyes.

“Fuck the party. Let’s go, c’mon,” he says, grabbing your hand and dragging you through the backyard gate, around the house to the driveway, avoiding the crowd inside. You giggle at the situation, feeling like a couple of teenagers, then ask “But what about Danny?” You both stop at his car and he looks down at you. “He’ll just stay at Josh’s tonight,” he says, smirking, “I’ll text him, don’t worry about him, honey…” He holds your waist and pulls you in for another kiss before opening the door for you, letting you into the passenger seat. He rounds the car and gets into the driver’s side, starts the car, and pulls out of the driveway.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*.・゜゜・✩ ✦ ✩・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The drive to Sam’s place is short but also agonizingly long at the same time. He keeps a steady hold on your inner thigh as he drives, keeping his eyes on the road. Occasionally, he rubs his thumb lightly, sending shivers down your spine. Never in a million years did you think you would be here, with him. It was something you only imagined, but you never thought that Sam would want you like this. It warrants a conversation, but you can worry about that later.

Sam pulls into his driveway, puts the car in park, and then rushes to get out and open your door for you. You get out of the car and his lips are already attacking you, putting his hands on your hips as he backs you up toward his front door. He drops your lips for a moment to unlock the door, opens it, and then drags you in with him, closing it and shutting it behind you. You both kick off your shoes and then he swiftly brings you to his bedroom upstairs.

You’ve been to Sam’s house hundreds of times, but this time felt different. As you enter his room it almost feels like the first time, giving you butterflies as he pulls you into him, taking your lips in his. He lays you down on the bed as he continues to kiss you, making his way across your jaw and then down your neck. You lean upwards into his touch, wanting more. His lips feel electric on your neck, sending shockwaves through your entire body and creating friction between your legs.

He pulls back for a moment and slides his finger under the strap of your dress. “Can I…?” he asks, looking down at you for permission. You nod and you watch him as he slides the straps of your dress down your arms, leaving it bunched above your waist and freeing your uncovered breasts, as you couldn’t wear a bra underneath. “Fuck,” you hear him mutter under his breath before he leans back down, taking one of your nipples into your mouth as he holds the other in his hand, squeezing it, making you whine. He moans against your skin and then leans back to unbutton his shirt, throws it to the side, and then slides your dress the rest of the way off, past your legs.

He kisses his way down your stomach, to your hip, and then your inner thigh. You writhe slightly under his touch, barely able to contain yourself from his teasing. You’re insanely aroused now after all of the kissing and feeling his hands on you, you don’t feel like you can wait anymore. “Sammy, please,” you whine, his eyes looking up at you deviously. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you,” he answers, his voice sounding so smooth that you feel closer to the edge just from hearing it. He slowly slides your panties down your legs, tossing them onto the floor.

He kisses your inner thigh once again as he spreads your legs a bit more. “Y/N, you are so beautiful… You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about all of the things that I want to do to you…” he says before lowering his mouth onto your aching pussy. Your back arches at the feeling of his mouth on you. His movements are slow and gentle, his tongue circling your clit slowly as his hand rubs your thigh softly. He runs his tongue swiftly through your folds, making you moan quietly before returning to your sensitive bud. You’re already so close from all of the anticipation when you feel his fingers on you before he dips one of them inside of you. He uses steady movements, curling his finger into you as he brings you closer and closer to your release. “Fuck, Sammy, that feels so good,” you whine out to him and he moans against you.

His tongue starts to speed up as he pushes a second finger into you, pumping them in and out of you relentlessly. You clench around them and he removes his mouth from you for a moment and says “Come on, honey. I know you’re close, give it to me. Want it so bad,” then goes back to attacking your clit. His smooth voice combined with his movements inside of you bring you right into a crashing orgasm, arching your back as it washes over you. After you come down from it, he removes his fingers from you and climbs back on top of you.

He slips his hand behind your neck and kisses you passionately, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you taste yourself on it. You moan into his mouth and he pulls away, saying “You taste so sweet, baby. Did you taste it? Isn’t it sweet?” You nod and smile weakly at him, still in a bit of a trance. You lean forward to sit up and kiss him again, reaching your hand down to grasp at his hardened cock through his jeans. You start pulling the zipper down and he leans away from you to get off of the bed and remove them.

Sam gets off of the bed and slips his jeans down his legs, stepping out of them and palming himself lightly over his briefs. He then tucks his fingers underneath the waistline and pulls his underwear down, revealing himself to you for the first time. Your jaw drops at the sight, he is much bigger than you had ever imagined. You’d thought that it might be big considering that he’s tall, but this is much more than you expected. He immediately sees your reaction, chuckling a bit and taking your hands to bring you off the bed to stand up with him.

“Surprised, Frecks?” he says, laughing a bit. “I don’t wanna hurt you, honey. You think you can take it?” he asks, looking down at you with a smirk. You just nod before lowering yourself to your knees and taking him in your hand. Given your small stature, your hand can barely even fit all the way around it. You look up at him as you lean up to lick the tip lightly. You watch as he leans his head back, groaning and mumbles some expletives under his breath. You slip the head into your mouth and work your way as far to the back of your throat as you can go.

You start to move, bobbing your head up and down his shaft as you hold it with one hand and grasp his thigh with the other. He reaches his hand down and places his hand in your hair, holding your head as you continue your movements. You swirl your tongue around him and begin to rub your thighs together to relieve some tension, but he’s had enough. “Uh-uh, nope. If you keep going like this, I’m gonna come right there in your mouth,” he utters, using his hand in your hair to take you off of him and bring your face up to his. “I want you, Sammy. So bad,” you say, looking up at him, begging him with your eyes. “Honey, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” he answers, leaning you back down on the bed.

He kisses you slowly, holding your cheek in his right hand as he uses his left to line himself up with you. He pulls away, his face just a few inches from yours. “I’ll be gentle, okay baby? You tell me if it hurts at all, and I’ll stop,” he says softly. He leans his forehead against yours as he slides the tip in, eliciting a soft whine from your mouth. He pulls out slightly and then pushes back in, just a bit more, easing you into it. “Fuck, honey, you’re so tight. Relax for me, okay? I’ve got you.” He does this same thing a few more times, easing in a little further until you’ve adjusted enough for him to push in to the hilt. He lets out a deep groan, lighting your insides on fire as you pull him close to you, kissing his lips harshly.

He kisses you back hard, moving his hand from your cheek to grasp the hair at the back of your neck as he pulls you into him. His other hand is firmly planted on your hip, holding you still underneath him. He begins to pull out slowly, slamming back in once, making you whine into his mouth. He starts a steady pace, pulling out and slamming into you over and over again. Your hands are grasping at his back, surely scratching it up to the point where it will leave a mark. “Harder, Sammy, please,” you whine, feeling him smile against your lips. “Can you handle that, baby?” he says, smirking. You nod ferociously, “Yes, please, please.”

He pulls out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of the feeling of him inside you, then swiftly flips you over onto your stomach. His hand goes under you, pulling you up to your hands and knees, while the other lines himself up with you once again, slipping in with ease. You both moan as he places a hand on the small of your back, pushing you down slightly as the other grips your waist. He sets a faster pace, slamming into you so hard that your head starts to spin. “You like that, honey? That hard enough for you?” he asks, relentlessly pounding into you. You mutter a string of yeses, unable to focus on what comes out of your mouth.

The hand previously on your waist moves down to your clit, moving in tight circles as he continues to fuck into you repeatedly from behind. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Give me another one, all over my cock. I know it feels so good,” he grunts as he brings you to another climax. His pace inside you never slows as he fucks you through your second orgasm, uttering words of encouragement as you come down from it. You can tell he’s close now, his hips faltering a bit. “Mmm, fuck honey. I’m so close, where can I-?” he asks, as you interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. “Inside, Sammy. Please, I need it so bad, wanna feel you,” you whine, causing him to throw his head back and moan at the idea of it.

He pulls out and flips you back over, then quickly slides right back into you. “Wanna look at you when I come, baby. Wanna see your face as I fill you up. Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, unable to hold back anymore. He thrusts inside you a few more times before he reaches his own climax, pulling you in for a long, hard kiss. He whimpers against your lips as he finishes, coating your insides completely. His hands are holding your face affectionately as he pulls away from you, looking at you like you’re his whole world. He pulls himself out of you, still hovering over you, his eyes trained on yours.

“I love you, Y/N,” he says. He rubs his thumb on your cheek, looking down at you. “I love you too, Sammy. So much. I always have,” you say, smiling up at him. He pulls you in for another kiss, smiling against your lips and letting out a sigh. “You’re everything to me, Freckles. Everything.” He kisses your lips again lightly before taking your hand and helping you out of the bed, bringing you to the bathroom to clean up. You both take a shower, wash everything off, and then return to his bed.

You settle into bed, laying your head on top of his chest, breathing him in. His hands play with your hair as you wrap your arms around him, nestling in. “Goodnight, Sammy,” you say, sighing into him as you shut your eyes. “Goodnight, my love,” he answers, placing a kiss on the top of your head before drifting off to sleep, feeling the happiest he’s ever felt.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*.・゜゜・✩ ✦ ✩・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[littlemissthunderstorms]

just some lover pt.2

alex turner x reader

aaah its definitely been awaited, here it is, i hope you enjoy! read part one if you haven’t.

p.s. i added two songs for this story, i also included markers near the end of where to start them. it’s obviously optional but i highly recommend listening to them at the right moments because i feel it adds to the emotion

———

‘alex was the one who recommended you’

“what?” you were in a state of disbelief for a moment, brows furrowed. it took you a beat to even grasp and process what it meant, what it could mean. you weren’t quite sure where to start.

you stared nick down. even though the situation was shocking, you believed him. o’malley wasn’t much for pranks like this. your palms gathered a thin layer of sweat, fingers fidgeting with your rings. you stuttered, “why would he do that?”

nick flashed you a knowing look, you know why. your face softened, eyes shimmering under the ember lighting the streetlamp emitted. oh.

the possibilities of his simple request left you all too hopeful, it was the first true glimmer of hope since you and alex separated, sparking in you like a match in a room that had been dark for much too long. your heart soared as your mind raced.

why would alex purposefully recommend you to follow them around on tour if he was over you? doubtfully, you tried to scan your mind for any reason he would’ve wanted you around that doesn’t involve him wanting you back. “wha- what if he did it because he just wants me to make good money? what if he just wants to be friends?”

nick shrugged. “it’s a possibility. but not a high one.” noticing how doubtful you looked, he took a step closer to you. “look, i’m not saying this indefinitely means something, but i’ve seen the way he’s been acting ever since you two have been apart, it’s just not right. it felt like the right thing to tell you.”

a small gust of wind blew through the quiet sidewalk. you shivered in your jacket. noticing your silence, nick spoke up again. “one of our friends is hosting a party later. you should come, we’ve all missed ya.” you returned his soft smile.

———

thirty minutes later and you and nick were making your way through the door, music thumping as the crowd chatted and danced, small fairy lights twinkling across the walls. nicks offer left you hesitant, but you decided it was good to get out of the house for something other than work.

you usually weren’t much for parties when you were younger. you preferred staying home painting or reading, and while you still felt the same from time to time, parties were for the most part nicer in your adulthood.

when you met alex, he introduced you to people who genuinely liked you for who you were, and loved talking to you. this made gatherings much more enjoyable, being able to talk and party with genuinely cool people was much better than being ignored at highschool parties by people your friends talked to.

immediately upon walking through the door, you didn’t recognize anyone there. one of nicks friends pulled him into conversation, offering him drinks and such, which left you alone. you wandered into the crowd some more, hoping to find someone you knew.

as your gaze wandered across the crowd, your heart sunk. you definitely knew the man your eyes laid upon. there, up against the far back wall was alex. it wasn’t necessarily him that made your heart drop, but the girl next to him. your stomach twisted as you watched how she batted her eyes, her palm resting on his chest as she leaned a little too close to his face when she spoke. you couldn’t quite read alex’s face for cigarette smoke had clouded the corner.

nauseated, you turned around and started making your way out through the crowd. it was clear you didn’t belong here anymore. you just wanted to leave. there must’ve been some misunderstanding, it’d left you all too hopeful. no more of this, you thought.

———

two or so weeks had passed. spring was becoming ever so present in the way the leaves started to adorn the trees in vibrant greens, the air now humid and warm. rain pattered on the large, foggy cafe window next to you as your face knitted in concentration at your laptop screen, your friend across from you not ceasing her rambling.

“are you alright?” she questioned mid sentence, taking another sip of her coffee. you sighed, back thumping against the chair as you slumped into it. “yeah, i’m just.. stressed. the bands tour manager emailed me again, i’ve got less than a week to decide if i want to take the offer.” you stared at the email in your inbox, as if staring at it for long enough would help you make a decision.

“well… let’s look at the pros and cons.” she started. “pros, it pays a lot more than your current job and you would have the

opportunity to travel more.”

you crossed your arms. “con, i would see my ex everyday.”

“pros, your ex is the one who recommended you for the job, which has to mean something.”

“cons, it was probably some grand misunderstanding, and it would be insanely awkward seeing him almost everyday.” your friend looked even more annoyed.

“but the money.”

you slumped your head down onto the table.

there were plenty of reasons in your over anxious mind you shouldn’t take the job, but all of them somehow tied back to alex, which you thought was stupid. i mean, why not accept a job that’s ultimately much more suitable for you, and offers more money? besides, the mystery of the boys recommendation lingered, you were aching to see what unfolded upon the acceptance of the offer.

redirecting your attention to your laptop, you clicked ‘new email’, flashing a grin at your friend.

———

it was now a month later, spring was in full bloom and it was the first show of the tour in your hometown. since you took the job, you had only met with the tour manager as well as a few of the other crew members. nick, being one of your good friends, had known you took the job, and was much too ecstatic. knowing he knew, you assumed the rest of the band did too.

even with this in mind, it still felt so stalker-ish knowing you hadn’t spoken a word to alex since the breakup and you were now bound to follow his band around the world on their tour. though you were still mindful of the fact that he had originally put in the request for you to practically follow him around. so, you were in fact, not a stalker.

as this storm of anxiety and reasoning swirled your mind, you wandered backstage, gathering your equipment for the show that took place in an hour or so. the area was desolate, most of the crew was unpacking vans outside and getting things organized for the openers.

as you set down the hefty bag of photography equipment, one of the rather sharp rods sticking out scraped your arm, sending crimson seeping out of a small, but deep wound.

shit. what a fucking stupid way to get hurt.

you held your arm, cheeks flushed as you hissed in pain. “are you alright?” a familiar voice boomed behind you.

you whipped your head around. of course, alex fucking turner. it was almost comedic, like it was out of a movie. of all people, it had to be alex who rounded that corner and saw you hurt. you almost laughed, then you felt like crying, then maybe throwing up.

he looked good, too good standing there in his crisp black t-shirt that hugged his arms ever so deliciously. his hair was all gelled, the sides slicked back with a messy curly quiff laying atop.

you started to get quite flustered, gulping before you spoke. you definitely stared much too long. “no- i um, no.” the boy seemed almost equally flustered, trying to keep his demeanor calm as he neared you. he chuckled. “yeah, doesn’t look like it.”

you were dumbfounded, unsure how to speak. “yikes, looks painful.” you nodded, afraid to speak in worries that you would stutter, or even worse, say something stupid like ‘hey remember when we were lovers and we broke up but now i’m the photographer for your band?’

you took a deep breath, really trying not to think thoughts. the tension was palpable, dodging unspoken words and feelings. alex’s eyes were cautious not to meet with yours. “i’m gonna go get the first aid kit, i saw it earlier.” he flashed you a smile and darted off, leaving you a flustered mess.

one thing led to another and you were now sat down in a fold out chair with alex on his knees in front of you. his brows knitted in concentration as he cradled your arm, gently tending to the wound and wrapping gauze around it. “getting your med degree?” you joked, smiling down at him.

a slight blush creeped upon his cheeks. alex noticed how nervous and giggly you were, finding it a bit adorable as he rolled his eyes, smiling as he shook his head. “nope, i just know my way around a basic first aid kit.” his smile lingered long after, ember eyes flashing up at you in a second, quickly darting back down.

his little comment evoked a similar bittersweet memory. this time, the roles were reversed, you were tending to alex, for one of his guitar strings had snapped and popped out of the bridge pin, leaving a rather deep scratch on his hand. you remembered how he teased you for wrapping his whole hand in gauze, all for a scratch. you’d told him that if he really wanted professional care, he should’ve gone to the hospital. you remembered him shaking his head, telling you he wouldn’t want it any other way.

the flashback left your heart a bit heavy, your hands shaky as alex finished up. the silence was almost bitter, tense. the boy noticed your tremors, subtly sliding his hand down your arm as to brush your fingers with his ever so softly when he pulled away. it was so discrete you could’ve missed it in a blink but sure enough, he’d done it, whether purposefully or not you weren’t sure.

“all done,” he nodded to the bandage. you mustered a grateful smile, fingertips grazing the gauze as so to examine it. once you looked back at alex, his gaze was much darker, more complex, like the sky before a storm. his demeanor shifted, mouth opening and chest rising as to speak but a voice interrupted.

“alex! we need to make sure the earpieces are working, cmon,” a member from the crew called out. he looked back to you, nodding and flashing you a sweet little smile before scrambling off.

you exhaled, noticing how your fingers still tingled from his touch.

———

it was about halfway into the show, all was well. you were having a good time chatting a bit with the other photographers and getting to know more of the crew. the show was electric, the lighting and atmosphere making for the coolest shots. alex even flashed you a little smile when he saw you in front of the stage, making your stomach swirl.

after a quick break, you joined one of your good friends from the crew on the side of the stage with your camera. you clicked a few cool shots of jamie during pretty visitors, loving how the stage lights bathed him in an eerie red.

someone nudged you, catching you a bit off guard. you turned, stomach dropping. it was the girl from the party, the one who’d been all over alex. she only looked at you once she felt your gaze. “sorry,” she shrugged, not a drop of sympathy, or really any emotion at all as she apologized. ‘i bet you are,’ you thought. you didn’t even respond, flashing her a quick smile before you immediately refocused your attention on your camera.

was she his girlfriend? i mean, she was all touchy with him at the party and now she’s backstage at his show? it would be a crazy coincidence for her not to be romantically affiliated with him in any way. this plagued your mood for the rest of the show. you hated the jealousy that coursed through you, it made you feel pathetic. alex wasn’t yours anymore, you kept reminding yourself.

———

two weeks had passed in quite a whirlwind. nothing too eventful had happened, the interactions from your old lover had been sparse. you’d bump into him talking to matt or someone, greet them, and then scurry off. you weren’t getting any answers, any hints from alex. being quite shy yourself, you weren’t confrontational enough to ask him yourself, leaving you longing for any clue from him whatsoever.

what annoyed you even more was his supposed ‘girlfriend.’ catching a mere glimpse of her made you forget what the word feminism even meant. a few nights ago, you’d accidentally bumped into her backstage, being nice and mumbling a genuine apology despite your emotions towards her. the girl glanced at you with the most utterly dissatisfied expression, ignoring you and strutting off, her white heels clacking on the ground. it made your blood boil, clearly she wasn’t much for kindness.

nick didn’t seem to like her much either, says alex’s publicist set them up to ‘promote the album’ or some bullshit. he’d also informed you she was some model from california who co hosted a gossip talk show, which is why she’d be leaving tomorrow, to go back to la. thank god.

now, you and the band resided in london for a week or so, playing three shows throughout that time. nick had invited you to a quaint little jazz bar that wasn’t far from the hotel, apparently the band and a few other friends were going.

different this time- cornelia murr

as you walked in, your senses were immediately delighted. the ever so melodic symphony of jazz filled the cozy atmosphere, warm lamps casting soft, dim light throughout the space. it was adorable, a perfect contrast to the foggy downpour. you eventually caught eye of the boys, eyes shimmering in the light as you walked over to greet them.

everyone looked pleased to see you, even alex, you noticed. his dark gaze lingered, melting over you like honey. he sat on the end of the circle booth, leaving the only free spot next to him. a bit flustered, you slid in right beside the boy, thighs brushing ever so slightly. he looked absolutely to die for, clad in a black turtleneck, his quiff so perfectly messy. he smelled divine too, like musk with notes of amber and wood.

you felt so warm sitting next to him, butterflies swirling your stomach. as the night went on, they didn’t cease. a soft ‘accidental’ brush of the hand, a lingering touch on the waist when he moved to get past you at the bar, it wasn’t enough. you wanted his hands in your hair, his warm body pressed against yours, yet you weren’t willing to admit that to yourself. so when he smiled at you and whispered, “you look nice,” you could no longer ignore the immense need you had for him, the way his ember eyes were all soft, strands of hair falling over his forehead. still, you remained composed, thanking him and redirecting your attention to your drink.

a mixture of emotions muddled your mind. you were lovesick, all over again. just like the first time you’d met him, his hair all short and face all flustered when he tried to flirt with you at that party years ago. now, you gripped your martini glass, looking back at him with the same gaze, that same eager, loving gaze he once adored you with. that same gaze he held when you gave him his number, the way he smiled at you while he added your contact into his phone almost immediately. he was so sweet that night, so eager to get to know you and it made you feel so warm inside, so appreciated. your heart sank, tears threatening to gloss your eyes.

you could barely handle the way your heart tugged, the warmth of the bar suddenly becoming stuffy and claustrophobic. you pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, fiddling with the napkin before you. you thought about how devastated you would be if just a year ago you knew the situation you were in with alex now. the glimmer of hope that resided in your eager heart now dulled. you were starting to believe this would go nowhere. god, you couldn’t believe how foolish you were.

noticing a tear drop onto the napkin directly below you, you quickly excused yourself, sniffling and mumbling something about needing some fresh air. once outside, you slumped against the bricks and let the tears trickle down your face in steady streams. the weather fit your mood, london fog settling over the tops of buildings, light, crisp rain falling in tandem with your tears.

you sighed, almost laughing at how absurd it all was. you felt so stupid, thinking he truly wanted you back, thinking he was calling you back to him. no, surely dreams and hopes plagued your mind, sickening your poor heart with optimism.

you wiped your tears, noticing how mascara stained your fingertips in streaks and flakes of ivory black. the door to the bar suddenly swung open, startling you a bit. alex peeked out, worrisome eyes gazing back at your teary ones. he made his way over to you, hands stuffed in his pockets. “i just wanted to see if you were okay,” he stated, voice soft as he studied your face.

talk by hozier

you weren’t quite sure how to respond, the tears a dead giveaway to your emotions. you just shrugged. his eyes looked dark, complex. if you could see beyond them you might see a ship struggling amidst a stormy sea, thunder booming down across the choppy cerulean waves. if he was the ship in the storm, you were standing at the shore, waiting for a note in a glass bottle, something, anything.

“i guess i just confused myself,” you uttered, voice wavering. alex looked hurt, as if the words spoken were a hit toward him, a dagger shoved in his heart. “how so?” he questioned.

“it’s stupid.”

“please, you can tell me.”

you shook your head. “i guess-“ you looked down, studying the old cobblestones you stood upon. “i think i just got too hopeful.” you felt sick to your stomach, gulping to put your shaky voice at ease.

he stepped towards you, whispering your name. “look at me, please.” you did so, his eyes twinkling back at yours, strands of damp hair sticking to his forehead. “i’m confused too.” you furrowed your eyebrows. he continued. “i’m confused to why i just lost the love of my life.” his face was now mere inches away from yours. he spoke like he was almost mad, voice laced with emotion, barely above a whisper.

your heart hammered in your ears, the tumultuous swirl of thoughts being ignored momentarily, focusing on nothing but his voice, his eyes, the way his hand now lightly held your chin. “i’m confused to why she’s been in front of me all this time and i haven’t fucking done a thing. i’m confused to why i’m looking at her crying before me right now, how i let this happen.”

your breath hitched. he continued to speak. “i’m confused to why i haven’t told her i still love her, that i never once stopped.” he laced his fingertips in your hair, warm hand cradling your face. you were at a loss for words, no ability to string words together in a sentence that could possibly begin to convey how you felt.

so instead, you pressed your lips to his.

———

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR READING!! this is the last part, but i’ll probably write a little epilogue type thingy. hope you enjoyed my loves, sleep tight.

taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed)- @ultragirrl @inmyownfantasywrld @almluv @raven-ql @ohladymoon @yourstartreatment @missbabyjay @andulina567 @blair-s-world @rentsturner @indierockgirrl @kittyrob0t @kennedy-brooke

[keruimi]

Hey! I think your requests are open, but if not please feel free to ignore this!

I was just listening to Too Sweet by Hozier and had the idea of a reader who has a crush on (or is dating) Nishinoya and feels like she doesn’t deserve him

Falling In Love With Him

Pairing: Nishinoya x Reader

Warning: Comfort

Note: To write an angst story, I need an edit of them but I can't find anything so writing this is quite difficult but I seem to manage. My apologies if I decide to use another song for your request. But Thank you for the idea!

_____________________________

Admiring one of the best players in the school sports club is much more difficult than what I have thought. No matter how friendly he is to the people around him. Approaching him is like a damn challenge.

When a timid girl like me is the one who started to like him.

I was hopelessly in love with Nishinoya. Because I can put so much effort for him.

From the food I secretly give to him through Yachi. The notes I put on his table before he arrives back on class.

The nights I stayed awake just to think what I could do for him again.

Yet confessing was never one of them.

I once thought of it until I accepted that I am not deserving of him.

I can't taint a loveable man like him.

My mind is full of negativity. It feels like there's no positive things around me unlike him.

I am just an average student who is only good at one thing.

And that is my studies. The thing that made me feel like I am no one without it.

I keep chasing the academic validation I needed that I thought I shouldn't be in a relationship with anybody.

It was one of the reason why I never pursue the libero further.

I knew I couldn't give more than he deserve.

I'm Kazue Y/n, an average girl who can't have a leading man like him.

Until Intrams arrive. The time I feel like God showed another sign that I need to believe in.

A chance to move so I can obtain my happiness. And that's him.

A long week of Intrams gave me another chance to see him play in the court without getting scared that he would find out about it.

My eyes during his matches were always in him that I started to think...

Can I go closer to him? Can I close the distance between the two of us?

Can I take this secret admiration further?

"I'm so lost" I muttered while letting my body move on its record as customers piled up in our booth.

I sighed in annoyance with how timid I am in his presence yet can't stop thinking and even blabbering about my admiration for the libero.

It feels like all of my classmates knew how much I like Nishinoya. One time, they almost used Takeda-sensei so I can just enter the gym.

But it didn't happen because of the panic attack I had that day.

Yes, I really couldn't face him and I'm not even joking.

It feels like I prefer to move behind the curtains.

I want him to know me, love me like I did.

But I can't dream of it. It was simply impossible for me.

Because I'm scared on the way he would see me. Even though he is not the type of person to judge somebody.

I slap both of my cheeks to focus on the orders placed on the bulletin board.

I can't slack off because this is our test in another subject.

"Y/n!" I heard a male friend of mine call me from the front that made me peek on the curtains to look at him.

"It's time to switch" he told me as he stood up that made me go back behind the curtain to remove the apron I was using.

I planned to be an accountant that's why on this entire activity we are having, being a cashier is what I love the most.

In other words, I love Intrams week.

I sat down in the chair near the cash register to start taking orders when my hands halted the moment I looked up and saw him in front of me.

It felt like my heart dropped from my chest.

I just snapped out of it when I heard chatters behind the curtain that made me take a deep breath to calm myself down.

I can't hate them for this.

"Good Morning! What would you like to have?"

Those were the first words I uttered to him.

The first time we properly met and face each other.

And the reason why I decided to move up my game.

Because I want to feel the same happiness I felt during that time.

I found myself running to the gym where his match would be held the moment I heard their team was up next.

Until I felt like Yachi dragging me to a much better view when she saw me.

There I saw his skills that made me like him more.

I didn't regret admiring him at all.

There are times I urge Yachi to take videos of him so she can send it to me. Times when I couldn't prevent myself from cheering when he received a ball.

Those are the moments I confirm that this is not some puppy love or infatuation.

I did start liking him more than I thought.

I leaned on the wall behind me to catch my breath after all the screaming I did out there.

It feels like I'm more tired than the players.

I heard Yachi chuckling beside me as she lent me a bottle so I could take a sip from it.

"You really like Nishinoya-san" she uttered that I can't help but laugh.

"Yes" I admitted without any hesitations. Because it was true.

I don't know what I saw on him but I can't explain how my heartbeat skipped the times we walked past each other in the hallway.

His cheerful voice never made me get tired of hearing it.

The Man who I want to be with me.

In my eyes, he is my motivation to keep going.

But for him, I am just one of the many who admire him.

If he is just aware of the way I look at him. That wherever I go, he never left my mind. The way I hold back just so I can have the freedom to like him from a far.

Somewhere within me, wish he felt the same way. That no matter how hard I try to abandon my feelings, it just came back stronger than before.

But I don't deserve the love he is giving. Not even a percent of it.

"But he doesn't like me. He doesn't know me, nor look at me"

The same way I did to him.

"I should have been a manager" I joked but we both knew, I wanted more than this hopelessness of watching him from afar.

"But right now, I'm just his fangirl"

I stood up properly from my position and the girl I am with didn't waste any second and just started dragging me without informing me where we were heading.

But I feel like my world slowed down the moment I saw his figure among the crowd.

He was talking to the other players as Yachi dragged me closer, nearer to him who halted from drinking his water when his eyes laid on me.

Is this a dream?

Do I deserve this kind of chance?

"Nishinoya-san!" Yachi called for him and made me decide to stick my feet on the floor beneath me.

I don't dare go further...

Yachi looked back when she noticed I stopped. I took my hand from her as I hid it behind me so he wouldn't see how much it was trembling.

She didn't even give me a chance to bring anything

"Hello to you ladies!" He beamed and I felt how my cheeks warmed from his voice.

The voice I thought I would just eavesdrop from. I never dream that his words would be directed to me at all.

"What did you thought of the game?" He ask us but I knew he was talking to Yachi after noticing how I seem to preserve myself from them.

They could at least give me a warning so I can prepared myself.

"Miss" I flinched when I heard his voice louder and saw he is now in front of me.

Now my feet are also trembling from nervousness.

"Yes?" The stutter from my voice didn't go unnoticed that made him scratch his head.

"What did you think of the game?"

No matter how much I made it awkward for him, he still managed to lift a beautiful smile from his lips.

"You did great..."

I have a lot of things to say but I don't know where to start.

I bit my lips when I felt his silence as I closed my eyes shut.

"So great that I didn't regret admiring you at all"

And then I felt his eyes on me. I wiped the tears that fell from my eyes.

"Please stop staring at me" I mutter in embarrassment when I notice his gaze seems to stay in my trembling figure longer.

"Wow..." He whispered that made me look up to him and saw the shock he plastered on his expressions.

"You like me?" He ask again that made me took a deep breath before giving a slight nod.

Never have I dreamed that I would confessed, especially in public.

He was silent like it feels like he is trying to process everything before a grin lift from his lips and out of nowhere, I felt him twirl me around.

"You don't know how happy I am right now"

His words made my fear disappear as those thoughts that keep preventing myself from admitting my feelings also diminish from my mind.

The only thing that I thought that my feelings were the reason he is happy.

I made him happy.

And a smile finally lifted from my lips.

How did I get so lucky?

~•°•~

"Excuse me everyone, my girlfriend is coming through" his cocky words made me hit his shoulders before I took a seat on the end to not disturb the team more than I intended.

My boyfriend just love boasting me around. Especially to his best friend, Tanaka. Who is now glaring daggers at him.

I didn't mind them anymore and started preparing the first bento I made for him, which I already inform him yesterday.

But it seems like his antics is still not stopping.

"How lucky I am for my girlfriend to prepare my lunch. I don't deserve this"

I started to wish to melt there right now when he keeps pulling the trigger of his senpai's patience and the jealousy of his friend.

I hit his shoulder harder to shut him up and just start eating which he obliged when he notice how red I was already.

"Oh?" I heard him let a small sigh of confusion on his first bite that made me halt from taking my first bite.

"What is it?" I ask him as I put down my chopsticks and saw how he slowly chewed the food.

"Taste Familiar"

I smiled from his words before I started eating my lunch.

"Why does it taste so familiar?"

"Because she is the one who was giving the food to you after practice" Tsukishima's nonchalant statement made my boyfriend look at me.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Oh how much my chest warmed from his words.

I really did win him over

[reidslovely]

When My Time Comes

Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of:gun violence, murder, blood, throwing up, and panic attacks. Suicidal ideation, and a few swear words. Reader goes by the name 'Angel' throughout the story. Slightly supernatural/horror I'm not sure how to take it. Very different than anything I've written before please just hang in there lol. It's also unedited because I wrote it in a one day and wanted to get it out as fast as possible before the inspiration left me.

Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader/OC

Word Count: 5k

Genre: Angst with happy ending

I told y'all Mob!Peter was making a comeback..this is his rebirth. Thanks to Hozier's Work Song.

Please reblog and/or leave a comment instead of liking or hearting this post! Thank you.

There’s an uncomfortable frigid feeling in the room. It’s like that moment when giving a class presentation and everyone is looking dead at the person. Waiting for them to drop because they can tell the speaker doesn’t want to be here, and that they’re waiting for the worst to happen and the other shoe to drop. 

“Angel-” 

Felicia’s voice carried throughout the room. The legs she stood on grew wobbly, her vision narrowing. A mix of bitter bile and anger grew in her throat as she shot the platinum haired girl a heated look. 

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me-” She shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “This is your fault!”

 It wasn’t. But it was easier to blame her, the person delivering the blow than it is to blame others. 

Harry’s hands grabbed the distraught girl from under her armpits, to keep her from falling and approaching Felicia any closer than she already was. Harry tucked her into his arm, hand flattening out against her back, trying to soothe the heart he knew was breaking. The smell of the iron on his shirt flooded her nostrils, and only provoked more tears. She fought against Harry, who only held tighter. 

“I wanna see him. Let me see him. I-”

“Angel, that’s not a good i-”

“Let her, Harry. Let her.” Felicia’s words were soft yet firm. Her lip was tucked in between her teeth as she wiped at her face. Harry looked between the two women, and at Miles who was standing in front of the door. He was fighting his own losing battle, and denying her would put him in his own grave. Once he released the girl, she ran as fast as she could and wobbled up the stairs to the bedroom all the way at the end of the hall. Vision so blurry from anxiety, and tears that she couldn’t even make out May, who'd just left the room shutting the door behind her. 

“Angel, you can’t go in there. You shouldn’t. Pete, he wouldn’t want you to see him like this. Just stay out here for a li-”

Usually she’d respect May’s wishes, and listen to her wise words. Angel knew deep in her heart of hearts that she was right. That this was an event that would stick with her for life and couldn’t be treated so loosely. But, her husband, Peter, was sitting on the other side of that door and you needed to see him. 

Pushing May aside, nothing, absolutely nothing, could prepare her for what laid on the other side of that door. 

“Pete.” Her words faltered seeing his entire torso bandaged, a deep red of blood already seeping through the clean white color of the bandages. Angel carried herself as far as she could before dropping to her knees, crawling across the floor to the bed. 

“A..Angel.” 

Peter’s eyes wouldn’t open, but his voice was somewhat there. Tired and strained, her hands grasped his, as she bowed her head against the memory foam of the death bed. He wasn’t dead. Not yet. 

“Shhh, I’m right here.” There was a sense of dread crawling into the bed with him. It’s the same bed they’d shared for years, but it’s different now as he lays dying. Out of pure reflex her hand reaches out, resting on his torso. He’s too weak to even flinch, her hand soaking with his blood. They’d been trying for hours to stop the damage the attack did to his insides.

“It happened all too fast and there were..too many. His body isn’t healing as fast as it usually does.” Felicia’s explanation came back to her. So much for being superhuman. Angel’s head pressed against his temple, as tears trickled down her cheeks hitting his bare collarbone. 

“Oh Angel..” Peter whispered, pressing his head back against hers. “Don’t cry over me.” 

She shook her head. “‘M not crying Pete, cause you’ll be fine. May gave you more of your blood, and your body is gonna speed up its process. And..and you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m dying, Angel.” 

‘Shut up.” 

“No listen okay.” He used what strength he had to open his eyes, looking at her through half lidded eyes. “I am going to die. I know it and you..” 

He coughed, blood splattering out of his mouth. “You kn-kno-know it.” She wiped the blood off his mouth letting tears fall. 

“I love you…so much. You have been..the best part of my life.” She opened her mouth to respond. He closed his eyes again. Bringing his hand to hold her side close to him. “Just..just lay here with me okay?” 

His chest rattled with a shaky breath, she hiccuped choking on her sobs. Laying her head against his cold one. She'd always pictured dying in this bed with him. But she thought she’d be older, thought she’d at least have had some kids- some grandkids. Thought it would be both of them on a quiet, average night. One where she’d go to sleep and just never wake up. 

Never did she think Peter would be lying here dying at only 31 one years old. Angel knew what Peter did for work was dangerous, deadly even. It killed her father, it killed his uncle. Both knew these actions had consequences.  Yet, Peter wasn’t human like everyone else. He had altered DNA from being studied as a kid, from being bit by a spider at seventeen that gave him powers that he used to climb his way up the ladder of organized crime. Yet, those same powers and abilities were what had him lying here fighting to keep going. 

“Peter..” She whispered against his cold skin. “Peter.” Nothing. She put her hand over his heart and felt nothing. No warmth, no movement, nothing. Her hands shook, looking around in panic for anything..anyone. 

“Peter!” 

The yell was louder this time. One that burns the lungs. She shakes him, and shakes him trying to get him back. Starting to attempt her own CPR screaming for him to come back, to not leave like this. Being so engrossed with her own grief and anger, she doesn't even process everyone rushing in. Harry and Felicia pull her off of him kicking and screaming, as May calmly pulls the sheet over his head, before kissing his forehead. 

Angel hated her. She raised him and she’s not even fighting for his life right now. 

Not her, not Harry, not Felicia. None of them. 

“He’s gone.” Harry spoke sitting on the floor with her, holding her as she screamed through the sobs. His legs pinned hers down rocking up back and forth. The smell of the iron from the blood on Harry’s shirt and her body wafted through her nostrils. Between the smell of her dead husband's blood and the pure panic seeping through the body she couldn’t hold back any longer. Angel’s body hunched forward on reflex as vomit spewed out of her mouth and onto Harry and the floor. 

The blonde man didn’t even flinch, rubbing her back as you slumped forward and cried. A part of her laid dead on that bed with her husband's cold body. 

-

The days lingered, in a still limbo. None of it felt in order. Felicia fed her some cocktails of sedatives, to keep her sane as they both helped May plan the funeral. “He didn’t want a shiva.” Angel spoke from the couch, biting down around the cuticle of her nail. 

“I know we aren’t giving him one, just a wake and funeral and a remembrance party.” Felicia spoke, her hand reaching out to hold the woman's leg. Her free hand pulled her fingers out of her mouth. 

“A fucking party?” She spat. “Is that what his death means to you? Some fucking excuse to get shit faced, so you can live with yourself for walking him into that fucking warehouse.” 

Felicia bit down on her cheek, and took a deep breath. She could almost feel Peter’s hand on her shoulder and his stern yet soft demand for an apology to Felicia. 

“I’m sorry. I should-”

“It's fine.” Felicia says, pulling the widow into a hug, letting her head rest on her shoulder. Angel thanked Felicia for her patience, because at this point she had none left. May’s shaky hand covered her own mouth holding back a sob, Angel pulling her into the hug, the three of them taking a moment to cry. 

-

Harry and Miles had dealt with the dirty part. Harry had come home with a bag of medical supplies the night Peter died. He and May injected him with more of his blood that Harry had altered at Oscorp, both hoping for some last resort. Angel sat on the chair in the corner watching them. She had volunteered to wash and dress him before the coroner took him away. The man, Mr. Weekes had dealt in Peter’s dealing before, and he was listed specifically as who Peter wanted to treat him post mortem. 

“Your death wishes list in your will is super morbid.”

 She spoke in a low monotone voice, washing the blood off his arms. It was weird to see him like this: cold and still. Not bantering back and forth with her. “I appreciate it though, I just wish you’d told me about all this sooner. You’re demanding even in death.”

She washed his face next, and stitched up some of the wounds on his chest before dressing him in some of his more comfortable casual clothes. 

“If only you’d tell me what suit you wanted to be fucking burried in. Planned everything else out..” 

Shuffling through his suits, she started fighting back the tears as she came across his wedding suit. Again, feeling his hand on her back, trying to talk her through it. He always knew this was happening before she did. Angel pressed the palm of her hands into her eyes as she started to cry. Heartbeat racing, it felt like it was crawling up her throat and getting stuck. It felt like choking on nothing, causing her to gasp for breath. She dropped herself down into the soft green chair in the back of the closet, crying and gasping for air as she progressed. She started walking herself through it the best one could. Putting a hand on her chest following the breathing techniques, she tried to alter her breathing as much as she could. Once she started coming down, her vision settled back into normal. She looked up at the racks of clothing and let out a shaky, yet normally paced breath. She had settled on the grayish green suit he’d worn only a couple days before. Slamming the closet door to the closet behind her, she shoved the suit into the bag wanting to be done with it all.

“I shouldn’t hate you..” She started, sitting on the bed with him. Putting his watch on him and staring at him. “And I don’t..I don’t think I do. I’m just so..fucking angry. At everyone, at myself, at you. I shouldn’t have let you go, I should have gone with you.” 

Angel laid next to him, his body cold and their sheets still slightly stained in blood. Maybe it was gross and fucked up. However, next to him, was the only place she felt peace. There was a brief staring contest with the syringe filled with some  liquid that laid on a night stand. One stab to the heart would make everything go away, she could be with him again. Maybe the cocktail of sedatives everyone kept feeding her would do it for her at some point. 

“Mrs. Parker.” Mr. Weekes says walking in, rolling the gurney in with him. Harry and Miles in tow behind him. “I have to take him now. Is that okay?” 

“Angel..” Harry’s voice sounded pitiful, she felt her heart squeeze as she sat up.

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, scurrying out of the bed. Flattening out her clothes, watching Harry help Mr. Weekes transfer Peter to the gurney. Miles comforted her, his arms wrapping around her rubbing her back. Harry nodded his head towards the door, telling him to walk Angel out of the room. He followed directions sitting her in Peter’s office downstairs, both sat in their grief. 

“Why does everyone call you Angel?” Miles asks, wanting to take her mind off Peter. Funny enough, Peter was the reason why she even had the nickname. 

“When Peter and I started dating he brought me home and everyone was there with him at the time. They were ready to meet me if they didn’t know me already. Him, May, Gwen, Felicia, pretty much all of us…he walks me in and he goes "everyone this is Angel, Angel this is everyone.” 

Shr laughs, and Miles smiles. “Everyone just kept calling me Angel till he realized about 30 minutes later that he’s called me Angel instead of my real name. So it was just a pet name that became a nickname. So everyone, including my own mother, calls me it now.” She watched Miles walk around Peter’s office taking in every piece of him. 

“I’m really gonna miss him. He taught me so much, he helped me and my mom. I just..he was like a brother to me.”

“He thought a lot of you too. He cried on your 21st birthday, talking about how much you grew up and how proud he was of you.” She looked at Peter’s will open on the table, her and Harry had gone over it earlier. “You should head home Miles.”

“Are you gonna be okay? I can stay here.”

“Yeah, I have Felicia and May..and Harry.”

Miles nods, engulfing her in a hug. Angel smiled sadly, hugging him back, sliding an envelope from Peter’s desk into his pocket. “No questions. It’s what Pete wanted you to have. There's a note in there you should read it.” 

Miles nodded and patted his pocket, taking the keys off the desk and headed out the office doors. 

-

Grief was a funny thing, it’s a terrible gutting feeling one minute that had her laying in the bloodied bedsheets with your dead husband one minute, and sitting in the bathroom with her high school best friend laughing at memories another. Gwen had flown in from London the moment she heard, she helped get Angel out of bed and bathe her for Peter’s funeral seeing as she could barely bring herself out of the guest room.

 “He really loved you.” Angel whispered, her head resting on her knees as Gwen sat by the tub with her. Gwen tilted her head to the side laughing, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder. 

“He loved you more.” Gwen says. “I remember when we broke up and I told him if he didn’t ask you out I was going to do it for him. And I think that terrified him more.” They both laughed. “I knew he was going to marry you before he knew, before you knew even” 

“Yeah?” Angel asked, smiling at her, tears rolling from her eyes. 

“You two were made for each other. And I was lucky enough to love both of you.” Gwen whispered, taking her hand. “Let’s wash your hair, yeah?” 

“Okay.” Angel nodded leaning back in the tub.

-

Standing by his coffin was awkward; she felt like a little girl at her daddy’s funeral again. Not knowing how to stand next to the body, not liking the way the pity filled stares felt, so she focused on his body. There was a rosy tint to Pete’s cheeks, and he almost looked alive. She rubbed his cheek looking at the gifts lining his coffin, stuff people wanted to lay to rest with him. “It’s only been five days, and I’m losing my mind.” Her voice whispered to him, her hand holding his.

 “I don't know if I can do this without you.” She flattened out the white shirt under his tux and took a deep breath. 

“Let's sit dear.”

 May sniffles, holding her side reassuringly. Angel nodded, wrapping an arm around May, rubbing her shoulder. No one knew her pain like May Parker. She’d become her rock in the haze of grief. She had lost her husband and her nephew who was more her son than anything. She’d been staying at the house with Angel and everyone, she’d even climbed into bed with her most nights like a child seeking comfort from her mother. She was thankful for her and thankful Peter had brought May to her. They were the two most important women in his life and bonded like no other. 

-

“Peter Benjamin Parker was the love of my life, and he was an amazing man.” Angel spoke into the mic standing before friends, family, and acquaintances. She looked down at him in the coffin, and smiled at him, already wiping away tears. 

 “I know to many of you he was frightening, and strong. He seemed unforgiving, cold, and inhumane on occasion but he was my best friend, and my soulmate. He was a complex human and that…is what brought his life to such a short stop. I’m no good at public speaking. I'm sorry, this was always his thing. He was so charming and knew how to talk to you all, and I stood behind him every step of the way. But in the last few days, I discovered he was actually the one standing behind me every step we took together, and he also stood behind many of you and helped you all in numerous ways. I think he left a part of him in all of us, and I hope we can all be half the person he was one day..I- I’m sorry. Harry..Har-.” 

“I got you go, go.” Harry ushered Angel off the podium covering her crying frame from onlookers. She sniffled, wiping her eyes stepping off the podium into Gwen’s arms sitting back down between her and May. May kissed her head, assuring  that it was all going to be okay. Her hands comforting and cradling her face as Angel tried to quietly bawl her eyes out. She stared at the casket in front of her during Harry’s speech, slowly turning everything around her out. 

-

“Angel.” Eddie Brock smiled as she stood outside watching Peter be lowered into the ground. She smiled at him in return, letting him engulf her in a hug.

 “Oh I’m so sorry, Peter was such a good guy. Kind of scary..but..good.”

Angel laughed sadly, squeezing his shoulders. “I know he meant a lot to you Ed.” 

“He did, he really saved my ass more than once. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.” 

She tilted her head, and tried her best to smile at him. “Hopefully stay out of trouble.”

Eddie shook his head back and forth, giving a smirk that said ‘We’ll see.’

They exchanged sad goodbyes and she watched him leave heading towards his car. She was thankful that Peter’s death was kept out of the headlines, it took some begging and bribing Betty Brant but it was worth it for such an intimate and private time. 

She watched the grave diggers starting to fill in the dirt, and she contemplated staying the night on the bench. But May came, wrapping her arms around Angel, a jacket you immediately identified as Peter’s from smell alone. 

“Why don’t you come home with me tonight?” May offered, pushing hair from the girls face. 

“That’d be nice, yeah.”  Angel whispered. “How have you not lost it yet? All I want to do is crawl in that hole with him.”

“I know you do. I was there once, it’s a terribly awful feeling Angel, I know.” May frowned, holding her arm with hers as they walked together to the car. “Peter, bless him. I love him, he was my son no matter what anyone said he was my boy. But because of that I saw every side of him and Peter had been ready to go since Ben died. And I find peace in thinking that they are together again, and that he is safe and protected..and- I’m sorry” May’s voice broke and she fanned her face. “And they are here in any way we want them to be.”

There was quiet for a moment before Angel let out a soft, yet grief riddled laugh.

“I need what you have.” You laughed sadly, both of you crying now. 

May let a teary laugh burst from her chest. “We’ll go make some tea and talk about it.”

That's what they did. The two had a girls night with Gwen and spent it remembering Peter in their own way. About twenty minutes in She had wandered off into Peter’s old bedroom. Smiling as she stood in the doorway, and she knew grief was a funny thing because she could see the two of them about fifteen years younger dancing in his bedroom practicing for prom. 

“Ouch that was my foot!” She yelled out. Peter dropped to his knees dramatically, grabbing her leg inspecting her foot playfully. 

“Not broken.” He placed a kiss on the top of her foot before jumping to his feet. Watching her smile and scrunch her nose.

“I didn’t say it was.” 

‘Well I had to make sure I didn’t hurt my girl.” 

She shook her head in response, rolling her eyes. Hands rubbing his shoulders, placing his glasses on the top of his head. “Are you gonna do that at our wedding too?” She teased. 

Peter pulled a face laughing, racking his head back and forth thinking. “Maybe! But since when are we getting married? What have you and Gwendy been planning, mhm?”

Angel looked over at his desk where she’d found her engagement ring tucked away only a couple years later. 

“I couldn’t find the blue quilt but I found the gray one and everything is set up and ready when..”

They both froze looking at the green velvet box in her, now shaky, hand. 

“Shit I knew I should’ve put it in the safe. My girlfriend is so nosey.” He laughed it off taking the green box from her hand. “You just couldn’t wait a couple weeks till your birthday mhm?” He laughs, kissing on her face. Angel could feel warmth wash over her face and body, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“I was just looking for those pictures from our trip upstate you had processed.” 

Peter smiled tugging up his gray sweatpants, dropping onto one knee. 

“Angel, my sweet girl. I have loved you for years, for far longer than I remember. Ever since we were in middle school, and I got lucky enough several years ago to have you want me. Maybe we are a little young to get engaged, but I know I want to be with you forever. I’m not asking for a wedding anytime soon, I just want to know that eventually in-”

“Yes.” You cut him off excitedly, hands cupping over your mouth. “Sorry, sorry.”

Peter scrunched his nose, standing up as he slid the ring on your finger twirling you around. 

“She said yes!” Peter yells throughout the house, the announcement bouncing off the walls and making a home in its fixtures. 

May’s excited cheer could be heard all the way up the steps. You laughed, wrapping your arms around him as he spun you. 

Walking towards the perfectly made bed, she mentally thanked May for never changing it. For keeping it the same all these years later. She took her shoes off, crawling into the bed closing her eyes waiting for sleep to wash over like a wave. For just a second she swore the other side of the bed dipped down, and in instinct made room for his tired frame to crash beside her. 

-

“A distraught man was seen walking up around the streets of Harlem this morning, the man was described as looking dirty. Wearing a green suit, and was seemingly distraught and confused, mumbling to himself.” The anchorwoman spoke, reading off her cue cards shocked by the news herself. Angel scrolled on her phone wrapped in one of May’s quilts as she made breakfast.

 “Witnesses say the man seemed distraught, and in a rush. Looking like he had climbed out of a hole, his suit askew and ran past anyone who offered help. Seemingly not wanting to be seen.” 

She switched the channel before she cared to hear the other stories, not thinking she could handle the grief of another depressing story right now. Angel wrapped the blanket around herself, walking to the kitchen to talk to May. Her phone pinging, the front camera at the house notifying her that motion had been detected. 

“I’ve gotta get to the hospital after I eat, are you gonna be okay getting home? I know it’s not that far of a wal- everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I actually should get a cap and head that way. I just got a weird notification I need to check out.”

“Okay yeah. Do you need me to go with you?” May asked.

“No, no. I, I don’t know what it is. Could be nothing or an error on my end.” Angel says, pulling herself out of the chair rushing towards the door. Quickly calling a cab she climbed into the back refreshing the ring app trying to get it to load. The dark screen freaking her out. She had called Harry, bouncing her leg in the back of the cab watching the houses fly by. 

“I was just about to call you.” Harry’s panic was evident from his voice. “Someone dug up Peter’s grave. Kicked the headstone over and everything.”

“You don’t think it was Fisk’s guys do you?”

“Could be..could be anybody. I love Pete but he had a lot of enemies.”

“I got a notification that there's motion at the front door, but it’s not loading now. It's a network error.” She spoke as the cab pulled into the neighborhood, already unbuckling her seatbelt waiting for the sudden stop. 

“Okay listen to me.” Harry says starting the car. “I’m thirty minutes away, there’s a gun hidden in a fake drawer in the table by your door. It’s loaded, and I know you know how to use it. Let’s just be prepared for the worst.”

“Yeah..” Angel nodded, rubbing her forehead wishing Peter was there to talk her through this. “Okay I’m heading in. I’ll let you know.” 

Angel handed the driver a hundred that she had on her and hung up the phone, tucking it into the pocket of the pajama pants she’d been wearing at May’s. The front door was left ajar and slightly off its hinges. She looked down seeing a track of dirt leading from the front walk away all the way into the house. 

Quietly she found the gun Harry was talking about, leaving the safety on till otherwise needed and slowly following the muddy footprints. The fridge was left ajar, food and drinks sitting on the counter. Whoever broke in was pretty hungry, having pulled out the pastrami and other gatherings for a sandwich. A soda poured into a glass and half gone. She checked Peter’s office, his file cabinets open and a couple files pulled out. As she went to open the files to see who it was research on, she heard the water upstairs turn on. Slowly and as quiet as possible she snuck up the steps, and through her bedroom. Her jewelry box was left open but nothing was taken out, everything in the closet was practically untouched except for a couple of Peter’s items thrown onto the floor. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door to the bathroom open, and nothing could prepare her for what stood on the other side of the door. 

“Angel..”

The voice nearly caused her to drop to her knees. She knew grief was a funny thing, because Peter Parker was standing before. Dirty and clearly sore, his voice strained from not using it for a couple days. Her knees fell out from under her, Peter using his reflexes to catch the gun and her all in one go. Smearing mud and blood lightly on her as he caught her. He placed the gun on the counter away from them as he slid down onto the floor with her. 

“Shh, shh I know. I know. It’s scary. It’s okay, Angel. Breathe okay. In and out.” 

She couldn’t even find her voice to scream, she reached out hitting him trying to get him away from her. A ghost from her nightmare.  The harder she hit though, the faster she realized he was real..this was all real. 

“You’re dead.” 

“I was..technically. Kind of yeah.” 

“Not technically, legally.”

Peter laughed shakily holding her, tears starting to pour out of his own eyes. His lips pressed against her forehead letting out a gasp of air. 

“Spiders..play dead when they sense danger. Meaning their bodies shut down completely out of their control, as a way to replenish and prepare to attack and prevent further damage.” She watched intently as he explained his mad man ramblings. 

“I guess when I got bit that’s something my nervous system developed the ability to do. I read about it all those years ago after I got bit. It just never happened until I took so much damage. So, yes. I was..I did die. However, the amount of my own blood that Harry and May pumped into me. Helped me heal in that shut down state.” Peter laughs hearing himself. He sounded fucking crazy. Angel reached her hand out cradling his face, gasping at his warmth. His heat radiating off his body again. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she lunged forward holding him in a hug sobbing happily. 

Harry’s feet pounded against the hardwood floor as he yelled for her. 

“Oh fuck.”

“Hey Harry.” Peter laughed awkwardly. “Long story.” 

Harry, in shock, stumbled out of the room immediately making phone calls. Letting out a scream of shock and awe.

“Angel..” Peter whispered. “I need to shower okay. You can stay with me though if you want.”

So she did, she washed his hair and body. Rubbing her fingers over the held wounds that once littered his chest now just scars in their place. So much for being superhuman.

“We’re never gonna have a normal life are we?”

Peter shook his head, kissing her head. 

“No, no we won’t. But we’ll have each other, and no matter what happens. No grave will hold me down.” He laughs holding them together, making her look up at him. “I’m coming back here, back to you everytime.”

 She shook her  head holding him close listening to the beat of his heart, finally feeling that piece she lost crawl back home into her chest.

I know that was different...I hope you guys liked it. I really wanted to bring Mob!Peter back but I'm nothing if not dramatic..so :)

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[dailyreverie]

We fell in love at the end of the world

Part of the Your Wish is my Command universe

A/N: ...well this took a while didn't it? To makeup for it here's a long-ass update with like a thousand taylor swift song references because that has been my personality for the past two months. Title comes from the song with the same name by "Hozier" (Give it a listen because it has huge Poe vibes)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader (fem.)

Word Count: 3.9k words

CW: A lot of feelings. Bar setting, alcohol and drunk people mentions, reader drinks alcohol, s3x mentions.

SERIES MASTERLIST

There were so many factors of why you couldn’t be with Poe that you didn’t even know where to start enlisting them. The heart-crushing feelings you had for him were becoming unmanageable; you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t speak to him, couldn’t think of him without feeling your limbs and organs moving in a giddy flutter, so you did the only thing you could do: avoid him at all costs.

It’s hard to do so, ignore your favorite person in the whole galaxy, but maybe if you did for a few weeks you could get over all those feelings… right? And yes, it’s hard to do so, even more so when you are summoned to a briefing only to find him going in at the same time.

“Hey!” Poe sounded happy when he saw you, relieved even, his features even lighting up when he looked at you after taking a double look. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Poe!” Damn you, Dameron, was all you wanted to say when his arms opened to greet you with a bone-crushing hug. “You know how this gets…” Your vague answer made his smile turn into a tucked-lip grin, almost as if he were disappointed by your answer.

“I know,” was all he said. “So are we both in trouble, or are we going on the same mission?” Being in trouble sounded like the better option. You couldn’t know, but Poe thought so too.

An infiltrated spy in the government had reached all the way to the Resistance, and of course, in order to give away more information, the spy needed an in-person meeting. Even knowing that, when the General told you who was assigned to the mission, that news alone terrified you more than the actual meeting.

“I’m sending you two”. You couldn’t know who was more nervous about it, you, or Poe, who kept looking at you without really knowing what to say. Your blood turned cold in your veins. You looked at Poe as he looked at you, and you both turned to look at the General. “Why?” You asked, trying to remain as cool as possible even though you felt like your knees could give up on you at any moment. You failed, clearly, since your own mother looked at you stranged at your uneasy tone. “I mean… why send two people? Isn’t this a- uhm- one-person job?” You saved yourself quickly while looking at Poe, who seemed like a lost porg with wide eyes avoiding yours.

She glared at you as if she knew more about you than you did - and she probably did. “I’m sending you because they are expecting an Organa, and I’m sending Poe as your protection.”

The General walked past you, leaving no room for protesting. All Poe did when you exchanged a look was shrug.

“Protection?” You asked after a beat, once the General had walked past you, and from the look on her face, you may have asked a bit too harshly. Poe looked down, hiding a hurt smile that twisted your insides from guilt. “What I mean is- You don’t have to send your best pilot to this mission, I can handle it on my own. It’s just intel, after all.”

“Well, then…” Leia looked between the two of you; you with your panicked eyes hiding a thousand feelings, and Poe a couple of steps behind, uncharacteristically quiet, watching it all unfold. “...then consider this a fun friend getaway, in which your friend is also there for your safety.” She patted your arm and left the room.

“Hey!” Poe called you as you began to walk outside, and as you stopped and turned around, facing each other and waiting for him to speak, you got a glimpse of the hurt from before mixed with something else, something warm; right there, all over his eyes, you remembered why you couldn’t be sent alone with him. “Are you okay?” Was all he said.

“Yeah.” You said almost instantly. “Why wouldn’t I be?” A chuckle came right after.

“You seemed a bit… I don’t know.” His voice turned to a quiet whisper at the last words, as if he were questioning his own self. “Are we good?” He sounded hurt, and you hated yourself. A nod was all you could do without giving away your almost exploding feelings.

“We’re good.” You confirmed. It wasn’t his fault, he didn't deserve to be ignored by his best friend.

Poe nodded back, convincing himself about it. “I thought you were avoiding me, I just- I wanted to make sure we were good.”

Damn. Damn him and his perceptive, smart, beautiful, brain.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I would never avoid you.” You smiled, with an apology between the lines that you hoped he would get, but a real smile after all. You can’t be away from him, it doesn’t matter how hard you try.

“Well, then I should get some rest. Can’t be easy being your personal security, I have to be well-rested.” You pushed his shoulder, scoffing at his dumb joke. You felt almost relieved to be back to laughing with him, not realizing how torturous the past couple of weeks of avoiding him had really affected you. “I’ll see you in the morning, Lieutenant.” He shouted as he turned his back to you, finally, letting you break into the enormous smile you couldn’t contain anymore.

It was going to be a hard mission.

******

In another life, this would have been the most beautiful trip. You arrived well into the afternoon, with a smooth flight with Poe as your pilot soaring you amongst the clouds of the waterfall-filled moon you were sent to. Poe and you were back to being your ridiculous selves with each other, making the job of not falling anymore for him harder.

You laughed together at Poe’s dumb comments and jokes about being your bodyguard, walking side by side along the streets lined up with stone walls that paved the way to your secret meeting. “I need you to stop looking at me, ma'am, you can’t be distracting your security guy on times like this.” He faked a deep, serious voice, failing miserably at it since his lips kept turning upwards at the sound of your laughter.

“Shut your mouth, Dameron.” You rolled your eyes, but in all honesty, you couldn’t stop looking at him. You had to lay low for the meeting, no uniforms or clothes that could give away who you were, and Poe’s choice of clothing had you mesmerized since the moment you saw him before take-off; with his hair pushed back and his relaxed white shirt that hung loosely from his shoulders while still showing the built frame that the pilot suit usually hid, you were having a hard time to focus on what had to be done. Not that it was any easy for him either, since what you had modestly called a disguise happened to show your body in a way that was giving Poe a hard time to even turn the engine of the ship on.

Sure, you were there to see a potential spy and anyone could come around the corner and attack you, but for a few hours you felt like you could forget about all that; for a few hours, it didn’t seem like you were falling in love in the middle of a war.

Meeting the spy was anything a meeting with a spy could be, or so you thought, since you had never done it by yourself before. As soon as you reached the cantina he mentioned you spotted the guy, immediately tensing as a sharp breath came in through your nose. The realization of why you were there came upon you then, when you saw the blaster hanging so freely by the guy’s hip. Thank the Maker your mother insisted on sending Poe with you, who so gently reached for your hand and squeezed it gently. “I’ll be right beside you, I got you” he whispered, nudging his head towards where he was already holding his blaster by his hips.

You were spotted and greeted with an acknowledging head tilt and a hand urging you to reach the table. “I was expecting the General, not some kid and a flyboy playing war.” His voice was a whisper, yet you could still hear the raspiness of it, one that came with the age his graying hair and experienced eyes showed. 

“The General has more important matters than meeting a self-acclaimed spy.” Your reply made Poe hide a proud smile with a bite on his own cheek.

“You talk just like her.” He asked, knowing quite well who you were. “Little Solo, aren’t you?”

“Are you giving us what we came for or should we just tell the General we wasted our time?”

“No!” He said in an instant. “I can’t say much, but everything you need to know is here,” he placed a drive on the table that Poe quickly went for, examining it before putting it in his pocket. 

“What’s in it?” Poe asked urgently.

“Mission logs. Everything you need to know about their locations, positions, and next attacks.” He stood up then, looking at both you and Poe with the surprised look on your faces.

“How do we know you are trustworthy?” You did your best to read him, but he gave no sign of being either on your side or on the other guys’. 

“Who would be crazy enough to meet the Resistance, anyway?” And with that, he walked away.

“Well, that was fast,” Poe spoke first, signaling the waiter for a couple of drinks not before putting the drive safely kept in one of BB-8’s compartments. 

“This better be real,” You couldn’t shake the nerves away from your body, only then realizing how risky everything could have been. Who knew, maybe you were distracted by your security after all. “What if this is a fake thing? Or a drive that will read into all of our files and all our missions and-”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Poe’s hand reached yours on top of the table, but even without the touch, the way he interrupted your dooming thoughts so sweetly, calling out for you in that way he hadn’t done before, was enough for you to land on your feet again. “It’s all going to be okay, we’ll check it before giving this to the General, ‘kay?”

You nodded, that’s all you could do, since words had left your brain for a good minute already. If his words weren’t enough before, Poe smiled at you reassuring you everything was going to be alright. And how could it not with Poe by your side?

After one more comforting hand squeeze from Poe, he leaned back, taking his surroundings in as you took the chance to admire the view before you, it was not every day that you got a relaxed, loose-curl Poe all for yourself. “Let’s get drunk, what do you say?”

“Huh?” His proposal caught you by surprise, you were too busy thinking of… other things.

“We’re already here, the night is young, and that was stressing enough.” 

You laughed at his words, murmuring a so-not-convincing “You are terrible, Poe,” covering your face long enough to not see the way he lit up at your giggles. His mission was accomplished. “Alright Commander, let’s get drunk.”

A couple more drinks flowed for each one of you, enough for both of you to be comfortably tipsy, laughing, and living that night without a care in the world. Poe was in the middle of recounting a ridiculous story about Snap, something involving his ship becoming the nest of a family of tiny rodents on their last trip to Endor and him being terrified of them, when you realized how drunk you both actually were, laughing your asses off without really being able to pay enough attention to the story.

“I swear, he kept squirming away and begging me to take them out of his ship,” Poe managed to say in between laughter.

“Oh poor Snap,” You tried having some sympathy for the guy, but in between the alcohol and Poe’s laugh, you really couldn’t feel anything other thing than an exploding amount of happiness. “How come you had never told me that story?”

“It just happened las week,” Poe’s laughter began to die down. “And you were too busy not wanting to talk to me.” He raised his eyebrows at you from behind his glass. You had no words to justify it, not this time, yet your mouth still opened and closed without a sound coming from it. The one thing you were working so hard on not bringing up was laid on the table, displayed for you in the shape of Poe’s whole heart.

“I was not- ugh, I know what it seemed like but I promise it’s not-”

“This is not just me, right? I mean… you feel this too, right?”

“What are you talking about?” You almost believed yourself, asking unknowingly as if your heart wasn’t hammering against your chest all of a sudden.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Poe was so sure about what he was saying you could be mad. But you weren’t, you couldn’t be.

You could keep quiet. You could stand up and leave and never acknowledge your feelings anymore. The thing is, you couldn’t, not when looking at him at base and much less with the stars ant the moon reflecting in his eyes. “It’s not just you, it definitely isn’t.” You stated, simple as that, but the look in his face, hopeful and gloomy all at the same time, told you that you hadn’t answered his question at all. After a sigh, you spoke again. “We can’t, Poe.” 

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” He almost hoped, because that was way much better than any scenario he had played in his head.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, doubtful, not knowing how to tell him. Poe smirked, laughing at the situation you were both in. “I’m sorry, and I’m sorry for lying to you about it yesterday. But this, whatever this is, is something I never felt before.” The tiny smile he sent your way was enough to make you smile too. “Great timing, huh?”

“It’s not the best.” Poe nodded without ever breaking his stare from you.

“When Leia assigned us both, and I knew we were going to be sent away together, I- I knew I would not be able to hide it, but I had to at least try.”

“I know. I-” His own laugh interrupted him, meeting your eyes with a shimmer in them. “I felt the same way.”

You shared a silent smile, taking in the fact that you had both just confessed how bad you had fell and how you couldn’t do much about it.

“I don’t know if I’m brave enough to risk it.” The happiness you had felt mere seconds ago left the table, breaking both your hearts almost instantly. Poe understood, you saw him nodding, but that didn’t meant he agreed with you. “It’s just- It’s hard, Poe, and just imagine us trying to work this out in the middle of a war. There’s so much at stake and-”

“Hey, hey-” He cut you off, grabbing your hand over the table in a soft grasp in the process. “I know.” When he sighed you realized he felt the exact same way. “Let’s just finish this mission, ‘kay? We already have the intel, so let’s enjoy this dinner, get the job done, and when we get back we can continue our own lives forgetting about each other. Deal?” A pained smile painted his face. Poe’s eyes spoke a million words and reflected even more galaxies. You wanted to explore them forever.

No!, you wanted to scream. No deal, no way. How could he even suggest that when he knew damn well it would be a lie to you both? “Deal.” you said against yourself matching his sad smile, thinking of all the possible ways this could have ended if your lives weren’t so complicated.

The inn they had put you at was as lovely as the rest of the town, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy the night away with an actual bed instead of the hard mattresses you had back at Base. The report of today’s encounter was half-filled on your pad, which was long forgotten on the bed as your eyes got lost in the sight outside your window. Your nails couldn’t resist any more picking and biting, but you couldn’t take Poe’s words out of your mind.

He felt it. He felt it too and there you were like an idiot trying to avoid the most real thing you’ve both ever felt in years. “Fuck it.” you spoke into the silence of your room. You didn’t think twice when you began walking to the door, headed straight to Poe’s room across the hall and set this straight once and for all. You couldn’t ignore your feelings anymore.

But as soon as you opened the door you were met with Poe’s disheveled curls and his uneasy eyes. “Poe.” You greeted surprised, not knowing what else to say, the practiced speech you had planned was nowhere to be found anymore.

“I can’t,” he said firmly. “I can’t go back and live life without you. You have no idea how hard it has been for me too.” You were speechless. When you made up your mind to go and confess your feelings to Poe you never expected this, never expected him to be already at your door with a desperate confession of love. “I think I’m in love with you.” He added when he saw you were not talking. “I’ve been for a while, and I can’t pretend anymore that I’m not, especially when I know that you feel it too.”

He took a step back from your door when he saw you were quiet, muttering a quiet apology, but the lightning bolts you felt on your fingers couldn’t let him walk away.  

“Wait,” Your hand reached for his wrist and stopped him, pulling him to be close to you again, close enough for your chests to press against each other with every quick breath you took. Poe smiled, that stupidly gorgeous smile of his. 

“I’m in love with you too.” You barely finished the sentence when his lips crashed against yours, backing you into your room and closing the door behind him as his lips moved in sync with yours. Tender and soft, just as you had pictured them so many times, they molded perfectly with yours, all while his hands held your back letting yours cling around his neck, up and down his back, around his arms… anywhere they felt like going, making up for all the times you could’ve kissed him and you didn’t. His lips found their way to your neck not long after, making the most beautiful gasp leave your lips. You could feel the smile on the kisses he was peppering all over your neck and jaw, your fingers tangled in his curls to hold him firmly against your skin.

“Poe,” You breathed, and whatever it was you were going to say was cut short when he started kissing your lips again. With expert hands, firm and rough moving along your back, he walked you backward until the back of his knees reached the bed, lowering slowly to let you straddle him. Breathless, you parted your lips and found each other’s eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh, an incredulous laughter that forced you to hide your face in his neck. His fingers turned delicate as he traced circles on your back. If this was what kissing Poe was like, you would’ve kissed him the moment you met him at that bar.

“There’s no going back from this, isn’t it?” 

“There better not be.” Poe shook his head with a lovestruck smile all over his face. Your fingers reached up to trace Poe’s eyebrows, soon your lips replaced them and traced down his face, to that spot in between his eyebrows and the hard edges of his nose that you’ve always loved. Your hands traveled down his chest and began to lift his shirt, there was no hurry in your movements, all you wanted was to enjoy each minute you had together.

“Are you sure?” Poe whispered as you began to lift your own shirt.

Once it reached the floor and your hands were back to each side of his face, you replied with a smile on your face: “With you, I’m always sure.”

The night passed in a blur of soft touches and tangled limbs. Poe took his time, never rushing anything, letting every exploding emotion take over your bodies whenever it arrived, every time it arrived. It was everything you had ever dreamt of and more, it was the man you loved with every bit of your heart loving you back as if both your lives depended on it.

You were still wrapped in each other when the sun came up, the silence of the couple hours of sleep you had filling the room in a quiet haze. “What’s going to happen when we get back?” You broke the silence. “When people find out it’s all going to be a mess. My mom is going to freak out, everyone is going to talk, and the ranks are definitely going to come up…”

Poe turned his head to kiss your forehead as a way to stop your rambling mouth, which for some reason, has happened a lot in the last few hours. “Why don’t we take it slow? With telling everyone, I mean.”

“Sure, because the last 5 hours were definitely us taking it slow.” You commented with sarcasm, making Poe tickle your side. “Are you talking about a secret relationship, Commander Dameron?” Resting your chin on his chest you turned up to look at him.

“Maybe.” He met your impressed stare, and as you began to break into a smile he quickly turned around to lay on top of you. “I would want nothing but to scream into the galaxy that I’m madly in love with you,” He squeezed your side, making you squirm. “But for now, just for a while-”

“I know, I know. We should enjoy having this for just us, just for a little while.” You finished, pulling him in to kiss him. “You’re going to have to keep it professional, though.”

“What are you talking about? I’m always professional.” Much in disregard of his own words, his lips started attacking your neck leaving delicious open mouth kisses on it.

“I mean no cute little nicknames, no calling me ‘sweetheart’ in public, no sneaky looks,” Poe whined, writhing his hips against yours as he complained. “Definitely not that.” You whispered that last part, fingers sneaking up to his tangled curls.

“I can behave, sweetheart, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The way he said that, with that love-drunk smile on his face, told you just how much trouble you were in. “Can you?”

You matched his daring smile, quickly thinking and catching him off guard as you pushed him to his back and straddled his hips. “Of course I can.”

You could deal with the rest of the galaxy some other day, because right then there was nowhere you’d rather be than in Poe’s arms. 

🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

Eat Your Young -Jake Kiszka

A/N: You guys wanted Jake, so here it is. I know I said after all the other fics but, I decided it would be best to post it while the song is the hot topic. I seriously whipped this out fast af, cause there’s no plot. Just smut. Between something I stumbled across on Instagram and this song… whew. Anyways, I love you all. GO LISTEN TO EAT YOUR YOUNG BY HOZIER.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! oral, (f&m receiving), hair pulling, slapping, degrading, unprotected sex.

NEW Masterlist

••••

Often times, since it was only you and Jake in your apartment, you would slip off in the morning to make him breakfast. Especially when you both had a free day.

Jake could sleep through half the day, but only if you were right there with him.

Once you were out of bed, it was never long before he would go searching for you.

You slipped out of bed carefully, listening to Jake as he continued to softly snore, barely even stirring when your weight leaving the bed had moved him.

Making your way downstairs, you decided to forgo turning on any music. Sometimes the simple songs of the birds were enough for you.

You made it to the kitchen and immediately made yourself some coffee, pulling out eggs and bacon - simple things that Jake often enjoyed eating for breakfast.

You started to cook the bacon first, basking in the sunlight peaking in from the open window above the sink and the peacefulness of the apartment.

Once the bacon had cooked most of the way, you started on the first couple of eggs.

In the middle of flipping one of them over, two strong arms wrapped around you.

Even though you knew them to be Jake’s, it never failed to make you jump a little when he did that unexpectedly.

You kept your eyes fixed on the skillet in front of you, smiling. “Good morning, to you to Jake.”

Jake stayed quiet, sliding his hands down your body, silently taking you in… But as his hands went, so did the rest of his body.

He sank to the floor behind you, nudging your legs apart gently.

You attempted to turn around, but he stopped you. “Jake…?”

“Quiet. Just keep cooking, angel.” He said firmly.

His hands ran over your hips, perfectly smooth where your panties would usually rest and immediately noticed the absence of them. “No panties, huh? Naughty.”

You heard the click of his tongue. Something about the disapproving sound made your knees go weak.

Jake pressed a kiss to the back of your thigh, working his way up to your heat. He brought one of his hands up, spreading you open just enough to give his mouth room to work you.

His other hand stayed on your hip, ready to hold you up when your knees would positively falter.

He licked slowly from your entrance to your clit, feeling your body jolt and tremble above him.

“Oh my god-“ You gasped, dropping the spatula against the stove with a rather loud bang, splattering eggs everywhere.

“Don’t you dare burn my eggs, angel.” Jake growled from below you. “I’m starving, darling.”

Working his tongue over your clit, he listened in amusement as you whimpered and struggled above him - likely burning everything left on the stove, despite his warning not to.

“Jake, I’m gonna burn this stuff and then… then- oh, fuck!”

Jake pried himself from your dripping core, picking you up over his shoulder swiftly and standing up with you.

“Jake, what are you doing?!” You questioned breathlessly. “The food-“

A gasp erupted from you; your back hitting the cold marble island in the middle of your kitchen.

“Fuck the food.” Jake waved a dismissive hand, voice still thick with a sleepy rasp.

He turned around, switching off all the burners you had been using.

Crouching back down in front of you, he put your legs over each of his shoulders and went right back in to finish what he had started.

“Fuck yes, Jake.” You whimpered, pushing your hips into his mouth.

His tongue worked over your clit with such urgency, sucking it into his mouth every few seconds like he was a thirsty and starving man. His hands, calloused and strong, gripped at your thighs until your skin started to turn white around his grip.

The obscene sounds of him eating you, only served to make you both even more desperate. There were no longer soft sounds of food frying, just the lewd sounds of Jake sucking and licking at your core.

It didn’t take long - that white hot heat in the pit of your stomach was creeping up on you, ready to swallow you whole. Jake knew it, too, given the way his movements became even quicker.

“Jake, oh fuck, Jake.”

His name became a mantra. A prayer, of sorts.

“Jake, I’m so close-“ Your hips started writhing against his mouth on their own accord, chasing and chasing that sweet relief. “Jake, Jake, Jake.”

He groaned against you - drinking you in as he threw you over the edge, soaking his mouth and chin. His mouth never wavered, working you through your orgasm until he was satisfied. And even then, he wasn’t done.

“God, you’re so fucking filthy. Soaking my face like that.” Jake purred, licking his lips just as your eyes locked with his. “You taste so god damn sweet.”

He placed a kiss over your clit, smiling smugly when you jerked away from the gentle action. “What ever am I gonna do with you…?”

“Fuck me, that’s what you can do with me.” The words fluttered out, airy and sweet to his ears. “Right here, Jake.”

“Yeah? Right here?” Jake raised his eyebrows, undoing the tie of his sweatpants and pushing them off. “Right where we eat…?”

He smoothed his hand over the countertop beside you. “That’s so dirty of you, angel. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

You smiled up at him innocently. “But I’m not.”

Jake shook his head and lined himself with you anyway, pushing in to the hilt with a throaty groan. “Fuck.”

Your own moans followed, your hands gripping tightly at the edge of the counter.

“My dirty girl. Letting me fuck her in the middle of the kitchen like this.” Jake said, lending a taunting edge. “What if someone looks through the window while I have you spread over the counter like this, taking me like a deprived slut?”

“Let them watch.” You said, forcing the words out through your moans and whines of pleasure. “Fuck them.”

Jake pulled out of you, prying your hands from the counter by your wrists and hauling you up to a sitting position.

“Stand up and hold onto the island.” Jake commanded, helping you down to the floor carefully.

Your legs wobbled beneath your weight, even with Jake’s help. The counter served to be little support against the ruthless thrusts Jake was giving to you.

“Sweet girl, taking me so-“ He delivered a sharp thrust as emphasis. “So,” And another. “Well.”

“I need more, Jake. More, please.” You begged him, clawing at the marble beneath your fingers.

“More.” Jake scoffed, like the word tasted awful in his mouth. “So fucking greedy.”

He quickened his pace anyway, trying to give you what you were begging for. “Is that what you are? My greedy girl?”

“Ma- fuck, maybe.” Your voice was notably hoarse as you choked the words out.

“No. No, ‘maybe,’” Jake was quick to correct you, delivering a swift smack over the swell of your ass as he did so. “You are.”

His hand traveled up your spine from the bottom, all the way up until it tangled into your hair.

He pulled you up until your back was just barely pressed against his chest, while his other hand traveled down in the opposite directed to find your still sensitive clit.

“Is this enough for you?” Jake said in a mocking tone. “Or you are you gonna keep being ungrateful and greedy?”

“Fuck! No, it’s enough! It’s enough.” You cried, wanting to fall back down against the island.

“”It’s enough!”” Jake mimicked you, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips that you couldn’t see. “My poor little girl. Can’t even handle the heat now.”

You felt yourself getting close for the second time. Jake’s hand steadily worked over your clit, not faltering even the slightest bit when your hand wrapped around his wrist and tried to slow him down.

“Uh uh,” Jake scolded. “Hands off. Don’t be a fucking pussy. Let me make you cum again.”

Releasing a shaky breath, you removed your hand from Jake’s wrist and let him continue dragging you towards another orgasm without any mercy or sympathy.

“You gonna be a good girl, my good girl, and cum for me one more time?” Jake cooed into your ear, low and slow.

All you could do was nod, eyes squeezed shut and head tossed back, just letting your moans and high pitched whimpers fill the whole apartment.

“Yeah, you are.” Jake’s fingers continue their assault over your bundle of nerves.

After a few more tightly drawn circles, that sweet and unforgiving coil exploded in the depths of your stomach. Wave after wave of pleasure making your body shake against Jake’s, clenching so tightly around his cock that he could barely keep a steady pace.

“Mhm, there you go, darling.”

Leave it to Jake’s voice to single-handedly threaten your body with another orgasm. His voice was far too powerful. “Give it all to me. Atta girl.”

“J-Jake,” Your voice pleaded for his attention. “I wanna taste you. Let me have it, please?”

He already knew what you wanted.

Jake slowed his thrust to a stop, but didn’t pull out just yet. “Yeah?”

“Please.” You pleaded again, because It was all you wanted.

Jake pulled out of you without another word and stepped back from you to let you get down on your knees in front of him.

Albeit, they were watery - you looked up at him with the sweetest doe eyes. He always was a sucker for your eyes and you loved to take advantage of that.

“God damn.” Jake groaned, swiping his thumb along your bottom lip. His other hand steadily stroking over his cock.

Your mouth opened slowly for him, sucking his thumb momentarily when it slipped in briefly.

“Go ahead, darling.” Jake let you replace his hand, eyes fluttering closed as your mouth closed around the rest.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

His hands tangled into your hair, twitching in your mouth as his orgasm started to build back up.

“So good, angel. So fucking good.” Jake moaned, involuntarily thrusting himself a little further into your mouth. “Gonna cum in that pretty little mouth. You still w-want me to?”

You hummed around him, the vibrations earning another twitch and an animalistic groan that sounded as though it ripped its way out from the deepest part of Jake.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” Jake demanded, watching you with parted lips, brows knitted together. “Don’t fucking stop. I’m gonna… I’m-“

With a final mouthwatering twitch, he released into your mouth.

The string of profanities that flew out of him were likely loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but neither of you could be truly bothered to care.

You slowly slid your mouth from around him as to not overstimulate him, swallowing down everything he’d given you.

“Jesus christ.” Jake huffed out a long and shaky breath, cradling your cheek in his hand. “You’re gonna kill me one day, I just know it.”

“Mm, no.” You barely even pondered on it, giggly softly. “But you might starve to death if you don’t let me cook your damn breakfast.”

“Oh, I’ll never starve.” Jake smirked down at you, offering his hand to you and pulling you up from the cold floor. “You’re the only meal I need.”

“Oh, whatever.” He wasn’t necessarily lying and you knew it.

“I am hungry now, though.” Jake admitted and laughed lightly, pulling you into his body. “You know…” He gazed down at you with those brown eyes that always made you melt.

“You should have let me cum inside you. I would have loved to watch you try to cook while I’m dripping down your pretty legs…”

@belovedsamuel @gardensgatedaisy @shutupdevvie @ageofbarbarians @theweightofjake @jake-kiszkas-smirk @positivegvfthings @gretasmokerising @samkooszka @jordierama @doodle417 @asparrowofthedawn @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @greta-van-chaos @skankforjakekiszka @sarakay-gvf @teddiie @colorstreammind @ofburningskies @of-infinite-wonders @highladyofasgard @groovyvanfleet @why-ami-on-here @lunaindigoraven @gvfpal

[hd-wireless]

📻🎶 H/D WIRELESS 2024 - WEEKLY WRAP-UP #2

Welcome to our second wrap up of 2024!

Two weeks of posting have passed, and we have already revealed 19 absolute bangers for you, and there are plenty more hits still to come! Today we're not only thanking our creators but the readers as well!   🎉  Thank you all for being amazing!

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on two playlists:

Click here for Spotify (many thanks to @evaeleanor for helping us out there) ❤️ And here for the YouTube playlist.

Please enjoy this week’s entries below the cut:

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 MY FRIENDS SAY I SHOULDN'T SEE YOU ANYMORE [T, Digital Art ]

🎵 Song Prompt: bad idea right? by Olivia Rodrigo  🎵 Summary: Both Draco's and Harry's friends don't approve of their little... dalliance. But it's so hard to stay away from each other! Could this be a bit more than just casual?

📻 He Did IT! [Not Rated, Digital Art]

🎵 Song Prompt: No Body, No Crime by Taylor Swift  🎵 Summary: Harry: I think he did it but I just can't prove it, 'Mione!!  Hermione: And, what exactly did he do, Harry?  Harry: I-, I don't know! Something! He has to! It feels weird every time I look at him!!  Hermione: .....  Ron: ......  Ron: Mate...  Or, it's sixth year and Malfoy is definitely up to something! Why else would Harry's heart beat so fast every time the stupid git so much as looks at him!?!

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 Draco Malfoy’s Guide to Seduction (DISCLAIMER: not guaranteed to work on one HJ Potter) [M, 11,107 ]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'Push the button' by 'Sugababes'  🎵 Summary: Harry's gorgeous. Draco wants him.  Draco's exasperatedly trying to get him to get. the. message.

📻 karma is a (cat) [E, 8,714 ]

🎵 Song Prompt: Karma by Taylor Swift  🎵 Summary: Draco knew that his karma would come one to him one day and make him pay for all the mistakes he made during the war.  But he didn’t expect for it to have four legs, white whiskers, and a soft bushy tail.

📻 Kiss and Tell [E, 27,786 ]

🎵 Song Prompt: Kiss and Tell by Bryan Ferry  🎵 Summary: Sometimes, Harry really fucking hated being himself. All he wanted was to be left alone. That, and someone to share his life with. Was that too much to ask? Apparently so.  When Harry’s sex-life was plastered across the front page of the Daily fucking Prophet, he decided to get away until it all died down. Unfortunately, trouble had always known how to find him.  Would it be possible to forgive the unforgivable?

📻 When the Flood Comes [E, 10,340]

🎵 Song Prompt: Eat Your Young by Hozier  🎵 Summary: Nine years on from the war, Auror Potter is upholding the Ministry of Magic's rule of law.  Senior legal counsel Draco Malfoy is challenging it.  And absolutely nothing is as it seems.

📻 Never Getting Over You [E, 4,396]

🎵 Prompt: Attention by Charlie Puth  🎵 Summary: Harry finally gets the push he needs to fight for what he's lost after a breakup that no one wanted.

📻 Mermaid [E, 3,000]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'Mermaids' by Florence and The Machine  🎵 Summary: “Your magic,” Harry says. “It’s gone.”  “It’s a curse,” Draco says, sounding wry. “Courtesy of Aunt Bellatrix. Disown a Black, and you’ll take their magic away, too. Even if their family name is Malfoy.” “What could bring your magic back?” Draco laughs in his ear. “True love’s kiss," he murmurs. And then he turns in Harry’s arms.

📻 Us, infinite (unfortunately) [E, 77,287 ]

🎵 Song Prompt: All Things End by Hozier  🎵 Summary: It’s very fitting for how Harry’s life has gone thus far that he gets trapped in a time loop without rhyme, reason, or warning.  To make matters infinitely worse, the one other person stuck on the same hellish chronological ride is Draco Malfoy, git extraordinaire.

🎶 H/D Wireless Podfic 🎶

📻 [Podfic] Move, move [T, 54:30 ]

🎵 Song Prompt: Bar Italia by Pulp 🎵 Summary: She grabbed Harry’s hand, slipping something small into it and pressing his fingers around it.  “Dilectio. It’ll cheer you up. Make you feel like dancing.”  Harry gaped at her. Drugs. Ginny’s fucking giving me drugs?  At Stasis nightclub Ginny does indeed give Harry drugs. But it's all good: Malfoy looks after Harry, and Harry grapples with newfound enlightenments, not to mention a newfound fascination with all things Malfoy—one which persists even when he finds out what Malfoy's up to.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 8/20/2024

a little light this week bc i had a fairly wretched week, medically speaking

listening

hozier's nobody's soldier would have been on every 8tracks mix for every character. THEEEEE blorbo song of all time to the point i am already annoyed at the thought of seeing it on every spotify mix. fuckin owns tho. very fun mod sixties heist taste to the horn arrangement

-

reading

thank you philip.

polished off the Marauders (2019-2022) comics. i liked the first volume way more than these three-- they didn't quite deliver the same quality of art or swashbuckles-per-minute. also this was probably not a great choice for someone who has forgotten what little she once knew about the xmen, even though they came at the beginning of a reboot.

why did i read these? mostly bc they were readily available or with short wait times at my library and my bestie is making me watch all the xmen movies. a girl gets curious about comic books sometimes

surprisingly, i came across this one from the Pocket integration on the firefox new tabs

McDonald likens the functions of Spotify to Google Maps. “Google Maps doesn’t do the exploration for me, but it’s helpful if I go somewhere,” he says. Rather than taking us on guided tours, it provides the tools for us to navigate somewhere new. Much as it shows us what’s nearby and how to get there, and flags notable landmarks others have visited, Spotify helps us access most music, lists global listening trends, and introduces us to artists similar to those we already know. But it’s communities that help us home in on a destination Spotify can help us explore.

part two of breaking down infamous academic paper mill Hindawi and why it was bought by Wiley anyway bc they did seemingly no due diligence, bc as a whole they do very little actual work in the publishing process.

i have included a very long quote bc it is one of only two things that made me genuinely laugh out loud this week (the other was phil unsticking a claw from the couch by backflipping herself out)

One issue of Wireless Communications and Mobile Computing from 2022, edited mostly by Hamurabi Gamboa Rosales, took an average of about 20 days to go from initial submission to revision submission. This is not unlikely, it’s impossible. The easiest way to explain this is with an analogy. Say there’s a pothole outside your house, and you call the council. You tell them ‘there’s a big hole in the road outside my house!’ The person at the other end, rather than tiredly telling you to fill out a form - which is what councils do all over the world, in my experience - instead yells ‘MOTHER OF GOD! WE’RE RIGHT ON IT!’ Twenty minutes later, a bitumen truck comes HURTLING around the corner of your street at full send, with the road workers hanging out the back of it, the driver leaning on the horn and yelling ‘GET OUT OF THE WAY! POTHOLE!’ They pull up outside your house, and you see the brakes go hot. But the guys don’t even wait for it to stop, they jump off while it’s slowing down, and they grab pry bars and a burner and a kettle of bitumen, and they start hammering out the edges, pour the bitumen and start slamming it with hammers almost at the same time. In about six minutes, the hole is filled and flattened, and they admire their work for about four hundred milliseconds and SCREAM off the way they came. No sooner has the truck disappeared, then your phone rings - and it’s the council worker from before. ‘POTHOLE! *pant* *pant* FIXED! Happy to be of service!’ *click* That’s how likely the entire editorial process taking 20 days is.

-

watching

i don't understand why the third xmen movie isn't named x cubed. it extremely is not their last stand there are like a dozen more movies to go. gun to my head i could not tell you what happened in this one. whatsherface did look good as hell though

and now for the movie i actually want to talk about, Monkey Man (2024, dir. Patel). imdb says:

An anonymous young man unleashes a campaign of vengeance against the corrupt leaders who murdered his mother and continue to systematically victimize the poor and powerless.

i am so so so lucky that my favorite kind of fight scene — fast, brutal, right spaces with improvised weapons-- is fashionable. pour it DIRECTLY into my open mouth

i think i generally agree with a broad sweep of reviewers here when i tell you that this movie is gorgeous and grossnasty at the same time, there are a lot of ideas that aren't all quite resolved, and i am much more interested in why it has a hell of a lot of ideas (part of why they don't all get resolved).

patel's first movie, it feels very much like a movie of someone who isn't sure they'll be able to do another one, so throw everything you've got in here. a sort of famously rocky production and shoestring budget, but you would not know it. the club scenes are especially dripping in glitz and, like many stage productions, have a lot of clever editing and strategic deployment of mirrors and repeats. there's a fight scene with hanging mirrors near the end where the mirrors can't have been more than fifty bucks each but it looks SO fucking sick.

i am much more willing to go to bat for this movie and ignore some of the rough edges bc it is so refreshingly earnest, and despite the style references, is very focused on being its own thing. at some points it's going to feel like The Matrix (1999, dir. the Wachowskis) bc every movie made in a post- The Matrix (1999, dir. the Wachowskis) world is going to feel a little bit like The Matrix (1999, dir. the Wachowskis). or like when the above gif happened in the movie it did not make me want to turn it off and go watch the first john wick.

people who live in india or are part of the diaspora are a little cranky about the political parties of the film, which had to be neutered for release. while i don't think i would have grasped all the nuances even if we did have the original cut, i think it's likely some of the characters would have resolved a little cleaner if that original intent was still there.

why did i watch this? i think patel is easily as hot as tumblr darling mifune. while drafting this post i got distracted sooooooo many times trying to pick the perfect gif. some of them are too hot!!!

-

playing

fallow week

-

making

just stayin alive! just livin the fuckin dream!!!