#i literally just listened to highway man thank you

[bad-ads]

anywah we dont talk enoughg about how problematic and fucked up johnny cash is???????? i mean he shot a man in reno?????? just to watch him die???? like wgat a fucking creep!!!!

[bambikisss]

Celebration in 5A :: J.JungKook

🎶: Bambi - Baekhyun & Saay (mashup), Seven - JungKook ft Latto

A/N: Sequel of Daddy's 95

💕: Streetracer! Jungkook x Streetracer! Reader

⚠: SMUT: Biting, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), fingering (f), against a window, leaving marks, Jeon JungKook's thighs and muscles.

A/N: I've been thinking about doing a sequel to Daddy's 95, so here it is. There is a surprise announcement also at the end, also 👀 but yes. Also, this is in memory of long haired JK.

NOT PROOFREAD | REBLOGS & COMMENTS ARE ENCOURAGED

"It's not fair!"

You leaned back in your dark red corvette as your opponent complained loudly. You had beat him in a street race after telling him that you knew you'd beat him, yet, he was still so shocked that you won. It made you roll your eyes as the grown man threw a whole tantrum. As he yelled, your phone buzzed with a text from Jungkook.

JK: Y/N, there's a race downtown against this guy from France!

JK: Come stop by and watch your man win

A smile broke out on your face at the text, giving you something better to do than listen to the loser. "I'm off" You smiled to the man and the officiant before you drove away, leaving the man in the dust. As you drove, you listened to the music that came on your radio, the lyrics reminding you of JungKook; the nights you would spend with him on this very same empty highway speeding and making jokes. Those were your happiest times, all thanks to JK.

Ever since you and him began dating, he had made it his personal mission to be there for you all day and all night, despite his job and his wacky sleep schedule- if you had a race or needed him, he would be there. It always made your heart swell at his gestures, but you refused to tell him that he wouldn't ever let it go.

When you arrived at the empty race track, you noticed the crowd of people that were arguing out front. The closer you got, the more you could make out the conversation.

"There's no way you're going to beat me!"

"Dude, I'm literally going to"

You concluded that the more confident sounding words were JungKook, knowing that he was always overconfident in his abilities. You were proven right when you saw his confident smile, his arms crossed over his muscular chest while his opponent was mirroring him, but with a red face and a not so relaxed stance. You pushed your way through the crowd till you got to his side, making sure that he didn't cause a fight or something- while he was a great street racer, you weren't so confident in his fighting abilities, despite his constant gym visits and boxing classes. When he realized that you were now by his side, his smile widened, turning to fully give you his attention. When you asked him what was going on, he simply shrugged before saying "just some pre-race banter."

"No, this is not!" The French man yelled, making you and JungKook turn to face him as he stomped his foot before he was escorted away by his friends, leaving you and him alone. When he was far enough away, you raised your eyebrow at him as he rubbed the back of his neck. He looked guilty. At your raised eyebrow, he held up his hands in defense before he said "Hey, to me it was just some banter. I didn't think he'd take it so seriously!"

"JungKook, how do you manage to piss off and annoy everyone you meet?" You asked, pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against his hard chest. You felt your body relax as he placed a kiss to your head, a small smile coming to his lips as he bit his bottom lip. "I don't piss you off and annoy you, baby." You raised your eyebrow again at his teasing voice, sighing once more as you knew he was right. He took your sigh and relaxed body as a sign that he was right as well.

"Well, you now have to beat a very angry french guy, so you need to go focus on that" You motioned over to the man who was glaring at JungKook still, leaning against his yellow car. JungKook winced at the glare, whispering to you "is that why I felt heat in the back of my head, like someone was trying to burn a hole there with their eyes? Damn."

You shook your head at his words, following him to his choice car for the night: a dark purple hellcat. He had won it in a race a week ago and he had been dying to use it again. You leaned against the driver side as he got inside, watching him as he prepared himself. "What did you bet if you won?" You asked, leaning back so he could close the door before you bent down to look at him through the window. JungKook at first didn't answer, choosing a playlist to blare while he raced before he jumped as you repeated the question, this time more tense.

"If I win, no, when I win I get his hotel room at some expensive hotel" He then paused, giving you an almost pained smile before he spoke again. "If he won, then he gets our project car."

At those words, you felt your heart drop: you and JungKook had been modifying a hellcat together for a while. It was your baby.

JungKook noticed your change in expression, wanting to reassure you that he could win, but you cut him off, asking him with gritted teeth why the hell he would wager your baby. "He saw my lockscreen picture of you and me posing in front of it and he picked that. Look, I know I can win this race, so don't worry your pretty little head, Y/N. I got this." For once, you felt doubt in JungKook. With something as important to you as that project car was for you, you felt like you had to wish upon a star like a child to ensure that you got to keep it and it didn't get shipped off to France.

JungKook gently cupped your face, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours before he pressed a kiss to your nose, whispering "I got this, baby. I know how important that car is to us, but especially you. Don't worry." You nodded, stepping back from his car as he moved to the starting line, revving his car as he looked over at his opponent. When he raced, JungKook usually never felt nervous. But, with something as important as that car on the line, and with how much it meant to you, he felt a bit of nervousness tingling at the back of his head. He took a deep breath before he turned up his music, facing forward as one of the French guy's friends dropped a green flag.

GO.

JungKook pressed his foot down on the gas, speeding down the racetrack, his music blaring loudly as he drove, drowning out his nervousness. He felt free, almost like a high.

He continued to speed around the track, skillfully moving around the track like it was the back of his hand. He didn't even try to look over at his opponent, wildly drifting when needed until he passed the starting line once more. He then pressed his foot down on the break, his whole body moving forward before he fell back against the seat, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down. He then opened his eyes after a few moments to meet your eyes as you stood outside his window, a proud smile on his face. He then got out of his car, hugging you tightly as the others cursed and complained about having to get another hotel room. That didn't matter to JungKook, nor you.

"Yo, hurry up and get the room key from me before I throw up" JungKook smiled, removing himself from your embrace before he accepted the room key from the annoyed man. He then turned to you with a wide grin, walking up to you before he approached you. "So, Y/N baby, ready to have a night out with me?"

He knew you wouldn't say no to him, but he wanted to see you nod. So when you did, he instantly, held your hand before he leaned in to whisper in your ear "I'm going to rush back to my house to pack some stuff, you do the same. See you in an hour" You smiled at his words, his grip on your wrist tightening before he pulled you back into his embrace, his lips now pressing against the shell of your ear as he says "Oh and pack something pretty for me"

You knew what he meant by the tone of his voice, biting your lip before nodding. JungKook smiled, moving his hand from your wrist, slowly up your arm to cup your jaw, making you look at him before he kissed you, just giving you a taste of what the night had in store.

~.~

What kind of French man did JungKook race and how did he even find him?

Your thoughts continued to spiral with more questions as you looked up at the luxurious hotel that you stood in front of. It was so fancy that they had a valet, a beautiful lobby, and even an infinity pool. It made you a bit worried to know that JungKook had challenged a probably very wealthy man to a race, thinking he was just an average joe. But, a part of you was very proud of him and excited for where this night would go.

You gripped your suitcase as you made your way through the lobby up to the elevator, pressing the floor number that JungKook had told you to before you leaned back against the cold elevator wall and waited. When you finally reached the floor, you walked straight ahead, noticing the beautiful double doors that had the room number JungKook had texted you. You glanced over at the plaque by the door, making sure it was the right room.

Presidential Suite 5A

You then knocked on the door, biting your lip as the doors opened to show your boyfriend wearing only a simple white hotel robe, his hair wet from the shower he had just taken. When you met his eyes, a smile crossed his face before he reached out to hold your hand, pulling you into the room. JungKook could tell you were shocked, but his thoughts were everywhere else besides letting you look around the luxurious suite.

No, he would let you do that after you two did some celebrating.

"Jung-" Your words were cut off by your boyfriend's lips pressing into yours, pressing you against the wall as he kicked the door closed before moving to press you against the door. The kiss started off slow before picking up in pace, his tongue moving against your bottom lip as a warning before moving into your mouth to meet yours. Your brain became fuzzy as his tongue moved with yours, his hands moving around your body to grip various parts of you before he became frustrated with the clothes that kept you from him. He kissed down your face, moving from your lips to your chin, then along your jaw before he stuffed his face into your neck, licking the area before he began to bite. Your various moans made his own brain fuzzy, his hands moving to grip your thighs before carrying you the bed, laying you against the silk sheets before he pulled back.

"Off." Your eyes slightly widened at his gruff sounding voice, sitting up to remove your clothes slowly, teasing him. You watched him as you removed the clothing slowly; how his eyes move over every section of newly exposed skin, his eyes darkening every second. When you sat back down on the bed, now fully naked, JungKook waisted no time in trying to reach your body again, only to be stopped when your hand moved to press against his chest, stopping him.

"I can't be the only one naked, can't I?" Your playful voice made JungKook feel even more dizzy, biting his bottom lip before he nodded, standing back up to slowly untie his robe. "I was taking a shower before you got here, Y/N. It's pretty nice, too." You hummed in response to his words as he let the robe fall from his shoulders, pooling at his feet as he stood in front of you bare. You let your eyes roam over his large pecks, his abs, his muscular thighs, and his long cock that stood pressed against his stomach. It all made your mouth water and made you even more dizzy.

JungKook always loved your reaction to seeing him naked, it always motivated him when he didn't want to go to the gym; to see you stare at his body like it was the first time every time always gave him that extra confidence boost. It also turned him on more.

"You know, Y/N, you would love the shower" He smiled, leaning down to cup your jaw, moving your head to look up at him as he climbed on the bed, pressing one of his legs in between yours as he slowly ushered you onto your back, keeping your jaw in his hand. "Maybe when I'm done fucking you all around this bedroom, I'll go fuck you in there"

You moaned at his words, making his grin become wider before he kissed down your body slowly, taking his time to get to where he knew you wanted him most. He let his tongue drag along your stomach as he looked up at you before he placed your legs on his shoulders. He would never pass up an opportunity to make you fall apart on his tongue.

"Oh and if you're worried about being too loud, don't be, baby" he smirked, kissing the inside of your thighs before biting them gently, his hands moving to grip the flesh before he blew gently on your clit, making you whimper a bit. "These walls are pretty thick. I should know, I asked the hotel staff"

You weren't able to say anything after that, his tongue immediately moving to taste you. He slowly lick up your wet pussy before diving back in to move his tongue around you, humming and moaning at how good you tasted and sounded for him. His eyes never left yours, staring up at yours as he messily ate you out without a care in the world; speeding up, slowing down, teasing you, outright fucking you with his tongue- he did it all.

As your back arched, he gripped your thighs tighter before moving to sit up, wrapping one of his arms around your waist as he ate you up higher, that way you would have no choice but to look up at him. You moaned at the new position, gripping the sheets as you looked up at him. You felt your orgsam approach quickly, one of your hands moving to grip his thighs and dig your nails into them as an anchor as your felt your body begin to heat up.

JungKook could tell you were close, moving faster before sucking and kissing your pussy, a smile coming onto his lips when you came. He made sure to clean you up, moaning loudly at your taste before he slowly placed you back down on the bed. You closed your eyes as you tried to calm down from the orgsam, not even noticing him kissing up your body to your lips before he kissed you roughly, shoving his tongue into your mouth so you could taste your own cum on his tongue before he pulled back. When you opened your eyes, you were met with his boyish smile and a wink, making you gently smack his thigh.

"Do you like that new position baby? I thought about it just for you. Is your neck ok?" He asked, gently massaging your neck as you nodded. You always loved how caring he was in situations where both tried something new.

He nodded before his hand moved to the back of your neck, pressing his fingers gently into the side before he began to move your head towards his lap where his cock was now leaking. "Look at the mess you caused, Y/N. All that moaning and shit made me like this, so you should come clean it up, no?" You knew it wasn't a question due to his voice, his hand directing your head more towards his cock. You accepted it, licking along the underside of his cock before moving opening your mouth, allowing him to enter your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks. JungKook gave your neck an appreciative squeeze before moving down your back to cup your ass, giving it a squeeze as well, making you moan around him.

You began to bob your head as JungKook moaned, continuing to squeeze your ass but giving it a smack whenever you did something he really liked, like deepthroating him and holding it for a bit, or circling your tongue around the tip of his cock. He tossed his head back before moving his hand in between your legs, pushing a finger into you before adding another, curling it.

You let out a shocked, yet happy moan, JungKook's hand moving into your hair to encourage you to deep throat him again as he began to finger you faster. You closed your eyes as you let JungKook have his way with you before he pulled you off his cock, pushing you onto the bed before he stands up, placing his fingers into his mouth as he does so, humming at your taste.

"I don't want to cum in your mouth tonight, baby. Not when I could cum into that tasty fucking pussy" he said, gripping your thighs to pull you to the end of the bed before pushing into you without a warning. You moaned as you arched your back, his hand coming down to press you back down against the bed as he moaned loudly as well. He gave you a few moments to adjust before he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist before he walked over to the nightstand, grabbing a remote.

Why would he fuck you on the bed like usual when you both had a whole suite to yourselves? There we're so many options for tonight.

You raised an eyebrow as he pressed a button one the remote, watching as the curtains slowly opened, showing you a beautiful view of the city and the floor to ceiling windows. It only took you a moment to realize what was going on, hissing a bit as your back became pressed against the cold window. "Oh, and don't worry about people seeing you too. I asked the staff too about this and it's tinted" JungKook smiled before spreading your legs out onto his forearms, pulling back out before slamming back into your, crashing his lips into yours to suck up all of your moans as he moves.

You moaned loudly into the kiss, digging your nails into his shoulders before digging them across, making him moan loudly before biting into your bottom lip. "Fuck, keep doing that Y/N, baby, mark me up. I want scars to remember this night, baby. I want to remember having you pressed up against these windows, fucking you just like this"

You did as he requested, digging your nails into him more, sure that you had broken some skin before tossing your head back as he moved to bite and kiss along your collarbone. His hips never let up, which was something else you loved about him.

He could multitask.

"Oh, fuck, Jungkook" You gasped, feeling one of his hands move to play with your clit, moving it in various shapes as he moved faster as his face moved into your neck, leaving hickies in his wake. He wanted you to cum all over him before he came.

No, he needed it.

"Come on, Y/N. Fucking cum for me, babygirl" His voice came out gruff and a bit whiney, his hips now moving frantically into you as you came all over him, the cum ring around the bottom of his cock moving down his balls, making him moan louder into your neck before he pressed his hips against yours, filling you up with his cum. You gripped his shoulders as you both held each other, feeling his cum leak out of you, moving down his cock. JungKook breathed heavily before pressing a kiss to your neck, pulling back to see your face as he panted before placing you back on the bed, slowly pulling out of you. He hovered over you, his arms on either side of your head as he tried to gather his thoughts from the orgsam. You gently cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss before sighing as your body relaxed against the sheets.

"Don't get to comfortable, Y/N" you opened your eyes, giving JungKook a confused look as he stood back up straight, wiping the sweat from his brow before he met your eyes again, a small smile on his lips. "This room booked until checkout time, which is tomorrow afternoon. Don't think that I we're done." His eyes mirrored ones of a predator, crawling onto the bed to hover over you as he continued to speak slowly. "I am going to fuck you all around this suite: every surface, against the floor, in the shower, in that tub, even in that infinity pool. I mean it, everywhere."

You smiled as he placed a kiss to your cheek, feeling excited for the hours to come as you whispered into his ear "well, you did win this, so this is your celebration"

"Damn right this is." He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips before he whispered against them "and who better to celebrate it with than with you, my love?''

You smiled again at his words, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he picked you up, his cock pressing against your ass, letting you know that the break was over.

"So, where next?" You asked, tilting your head as he smirked. "Well, I wanna show you the shower, still. It's so spacious and has many different water settings. And, the shower head even comes off"

"Well, why don't you show me?" You whispered against his lips, watching as his eyes darkened once more, tightening his grip around you before carrying you to the bathroom.

It would be a very long night of celebration, but it would be worth it, even if you both wouldn't make it out by check out time.

THE STREETS SERIES : 2/4

[fiammee]

Hello, how have ya been? How did your trip ended, did you have fun?

I guess reaching to you through asks is easier than DMs, so here I am, being generally curious about where we left off the last last time, but since I am here I'll also leave a big ask:

How did it happen that Jon Lord is so important to you? When did you hear him and saw him for the first time? What's the thing in his playing and in his character that makes him be that special guy to you?

Write the longest answer you want - or a short one if it's more in your style - I'm just a curious lil mutual <3

Heyaaaaa haiiiiiii dear!!!! Thank you for these questions *rubbing hands* Finally lets hope that I can respond this time XD

Times could get better, but summer is coming and Im pretty excited in beginning uni academy next year, lets hope🙏

About my trip end, it was a bit unexpected but funny: we leaved our rented house at 10 AM but we quickly found out that all highways were clogged up, and we managed to reach home a whole day after, at 1 AM, literally praying that my mom wouldnt fall asleep while driving 🤣

Abt Jon, lets begin *cracks knuckles*

I dont remember if I have ever said this to anyone, but usually my dad, when I was little, made me watch purple lives instead of cartoons;

So, throughout my childhood and my first teenage years I had this blurred memory about the members and how they looked like; (my thoughts were like: why the drums guy is so little? Why the guitarman is so scary? Why that mans moustache are so big and silly? Why the singer looks like Jesus and has my same hair? Just pure childlike wonder lol)

And finally, around 2020, I gave them a chance by listening my dads machine head vynil and OH BOY OH BOY I was quickly captivated by their roaring and powerful sound.

My first crush was big ian but I later revalued Jon when, out of pure curiousity, I went searching for pics on pinterest and I stumbled upon this:

My brain and hormones went apeshit🤭🤭 and this sort of awakened me, I was asking myself questions like "wtf is happening to me whattt?" in pure confusion.

The rest is now history, and here I am today :]]

Apart from the obvious phisical attraction (please mind that I was still new to this world at the time🤣) What I always found fascinating about him was the crazy talent and gentle personality among the "rock people" that Ive known previously.

I consider him to be a pretty unique rock soul: no extreme drama, nor arrogance, stupidity, rudeness or immesurable ego; he was just happy to be in the scene, and had the intelligence to make himself respected and valued... I think that he did that pretty well😌.

He used MUSIC in his everyday life as the main method of expressing himself rather than using words (as an introvert I consider him as a role model for what he gifted to others and himself) and lets be frank, isnt it cool that a BIG strong 185 cm man is easily brought to tears of emotion by listening to a classical piece or spectating a good sunset or landscape? He's an 800' romantic author trapped in a motocyclist body, an unusual combination🤣🤣

And what about his music? He combined classical, popular, blues, jazz and sick improvisation in a fresh versatile style that changed rock music and organ playing forever, and would inspire generations of musicians since this very day! And lets not forget his pure classical works, full of a wide range of emotions that have helped me in various rough times.

I hope to have answered your questions my dear :)) and it wouldnt be bad if I addressed the same questions to you about keith, with you making a post about it reblogging this one, obv if you feel like doing it 🫰🏻

[blacclotusss]

I LOVE MUSIC GAMES

Thanks for the tag @sygoflyy

RULES: When you get this you have to put 5 songs you actually listen to, then tag 10 of your favorite followers beloved beauties who live in ur phone.

Cadillac (A Pimp's Anthem) by Victoria Monet

This song has been on repeat since this album dropped. It's sounds so smooth and it takes you back in time.

After Last Night by Silk Sonic

This song reminds me of those videos you see of Black people in the 70s in all forms of media with their sultry outfits and sexy way of moving. Another one that's perfect for a smooth ride down the highway.

Worth a Million by Jeremy Pope

A VIBE! The chorus literally says "catch this vibe with me". So good! Good for playing in the car at night or in your room with the lights low.

Hi De Ho Man by Cab Calloway

Always have to break up the new music with some stuff from way back. Cab Calloway's voice just does something to my body that makes it want to get up and dance or belt the lyrics. And this song is so upbeat. Can't go wrong with it.

Four Women by Nina Simone

My favorite song in the entire galaxy. It reflects the lives and physical description of so many women in the world. I fell in love with this after hearing a live performance of it my freshman year of high school. So beautiful.

I'm not gonna tag anyone but feel free to participate. I would love to see your taste in music!

[monzabee]

i was wondering if you associate any songs with the drivers? other than the obvious ones like smooth operator or that one friday song. just more like “this is written about them” or “this song is their vibe”

there’s this song my boyfriend loves called CHERIE by darius and it reminds me of charles. also taylor swift’s sparks fly for some reason? i think it’s the green eyes lyric. plus feather by sabrina carpenter and karma by taylor. HES TAYLOR CODED TO ME??? and im honestly not even her HUGEST fan so idk why. anyways, these are more songs that remind me of him then ones he’d listen to.

adele reminds me of lando cause i can just fully imagine him knowing every adele song. also greedy by tate mcrae, never be like you (idk who that’s by), blame it by t-pain (i literally have no reason for this one😭), meet me halfway by the black eyed peas, and we found love by rihanna. oh and fireball by pitbull

dangerous woman by ariana, fetish by selena gomez, and moonlight by kali uchis for carlos

voulez-vous by abba and mamas boy by dominic fike (maybe cause it says maxa maxa million or maybe cause the sad tiktok edits) for max.

the real slim shady and without me for seb vettel

5SOS always gives me danny ric but i think that’s cause i accidentally mentally mashed all my fav aussie’s together. also life is a highway and this one rap song i actually got FROM him that’s so stupid but it’s like “i feel real good today.” paper planes by m.i.a and sunflower vol 6 by harry.

i have so many more but this is too long already. i’ll end it by saying i genuinely think the entire sport of F1 gives viva la vida and that “all the birds of a feather” rio song

👻🤍

OKAY WAIT THIS IS A PRETTY GOOD LIST??

i do totally agree that charles is taylor swift coded, but i was listening to folklore the other day and he's so mirrorball coded and it definitely breaks my heart, but i also feel like mirrorball can also be fitting for a lot of other drivers😭 he's also so fearless coded if you know what i mean😭 but i feel like adele is more charles' lane because he's a sad boy at heart and he said he does enjoy her music👀

GREEDY BY TATE MCRAE IS SO LANDO CODED AND I WILL NOT SHUT UP ABOUT IT EVER😭 for some reason i do associate a lot of olivia rodrigo's songs with lando, at least the upbeat ones, like i feel like he's just a teenage girl at heart and i love him for that. also, in a weird way unwritten by natasha bedingfield reminds me so much of lando, i guess he also gives me romcom vibes🫠

i've been saying this for months, i even have fic based off of it that i have to finish but maroon by taylor swift is carlos coded!! i do have to finish that fic but yeah😭 also, he's so lana coded?? like million dollar man, off to the races, lust for life... HE EXUDES OLD MONEY ENERGY FOR SOME REASON (probably because he kinda is)

there's this one song that my dad used to play for me called sun goes down by david jordan and i associate that song with seb a lot, but honestly he can be anything coded really?? taylor swift? fits. eminem? also fits because he used to be a little menace. i also kinda think panic! at the disco and seb could be a vibe🫡

to me daniel is definitely country coded and that's it😂 like i'm talking dolly parton😭 9 to 5? definitely his anthem. also, PITBULL😭

OKAY THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN SO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MAKING ME THINK ABOUT THIS BESTIE

[brittanyautumn333]

I fought a generational curse this year (and won 🏆)

Tw: Addiction/Alcoholism

My entire family are addicts and alcoholics. My biological grandfather died of cirrhosis at 35, while my grandma was pregnant with my mom. He gave me and my mom a wonderful gift of liver disease. 😍🥰 thanks grandpa! His dad before him was a drunk too. My bio father is an addict, and spent 15 years in federal prison for drug and weapons trafficking.

When I got into astrology and saw my chart, I saw my Virgo north node and Pisces south node. My grandma shares this placement too. She’s an opioid addict, and is currently on hospice care due to a stroke that was induced by an overdose. She takes enough fentanyl patches to paralyze a horse. Pisces south node speaks on my life lesson being managing my need to escape. Escapism comes in many forms. Sex, drugs, socializing…just any refusal to sit alone with negative thoughts. A dude I’m (sorta??) talking to has this placement too - but he can’t do drugs, so he absolutely escapes through casual sexual encounters.

What do we hope to escape you may ask? That Virgo north node gives us the drive to help others. The problem is when we take on too much, and feel that saying no is impossible. We set an expectation with the people around us that we WILL always help, so when we set a boundary, we are met with pushback. As naturally helpful souls, it hurts us to see people around us hurt. So we think “well…ok” and the cycle of not being able to say no repeats.

Last year, I met someone who got me into hard drugs. It was a man that I literally had no business canoodling with. My best friends had started pulling away from me prior, and I needed a friend. It was nice when I could go to his place, and we ski ❄️ and talk for hours. It was mostly him talking shit about his ex wife and the women he was trying to date. I had no interest in dating a man in his 40s with a coke problem. I just enjoy feeling helpful, even if that means just listening. So I kept going back, even though we couldn’t even canoodle because he couldn’t get hard 😭😂

I wouldn’t even call it an “addiction”. But I was definitely participating more than I had anticipated. To the point where I started to crave it.

I have so much shame and guilt about me letting it get to that point.

I had a horrible nightmare in January. In it, I was using, then blacked out and woke up behind the wheel of a vehicle that was NOT mine on the wrong side of the highway. I called my best friend in the dream, she didn’t answer. Then, I flashed forward to someone’s house. It was a couple and I was picking up ❄️. All of a sudden, cops pull up outside, and the dude is actually trying to strangle me.

I woke up literally sweating and in tears. I quit completely cold Turkey and flushed a $200 bag down my toilet the moment I woke up. When I have dreams like that, there is a message. Shortly after, I stopped being able to tolerate any alcohol at all.

I think the divine creator gave a wiggle of their finger and said “uhn uhhh”. I’ve got a 4th house stellium, I’m on this EARTH to break these generational curses.

Im so thankful that I was guided out of one.

[silverskye13]

you are the reason I like cowboys, I now listen to country music on the daily and it has taken over my life so I thank you for this. I grew up in a household that literally fucking hated country music(like it wasn't allowed in the house hate) so this is kind of like a awakening for me so ye :]

Welcome to the cowboy fields! Please receive your standard issue six-shooter, hunting knife and cowboy hat. Make sure all horses are picketed with access to their necessities.

You hit like, a major nerve about country music. Probably because it's 1am. And I just ran down the longest rabbit trail of nostalgia. So even though you didn't ask: here's a LOT of country music recs under the cut.

As someone who was raised on super patriotic post 9/11 pop-country music and then spent most of their adult life running away from it, I'm really envious you get access to it now that it's diversifying itself again! If you want some older (90s) recs, Shania Twain, LeeAnn Rimes and Keith Urban used to be favorites of mine. Rascal Flatts was the only "boy band" I ever obsessed over, and their cover of "Life is a Highway" is always a banger.

Keith Urban's "Somebody Like You" and "Who Wouldn't Wanna Be Me" still make me think of sunny days gunning it down the highway on the way to visit family in North Carolina. "Would You Go With Me" by Josh Turner is a love song I'm still hoping I find a love worthy of. It's also really hard to go wrong with Carrie Underwood. "Before He Cheats," is terrifying, amazing, powerful. "Blowing Smoke" by Kacey Musgrave is A Vibe. Miranda Lambert makes me think of my sister. She captures the same powerful-woman-murders-her-husband vibes as early Carrie Underwood, and "Mama's Broken Heart" was a favorite Im-having-a-mental-breakdown song for a lot of the girls in our high school. Reba McEntire's "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia" is epic and unforgettable. "Suds in the Bucket" by Sara Evans is also very very good.

I'd also like to honorable mention: "Rain is a Good Thing" by Luke Bryan because I'm from semi-rural Indiana where we grow... A lot of corn. You understand a song about corn and whiskey would make every Indiana resident unironically turnt as hell. "I Loved Her First" by Heartland was played at every country wedding for a solid 5 years after it was released. "Going Through Hell (Before the Devil Even Knows You're There)" by Rodney Atkins was very inspirational the first 50 times I heard it on the radio. "Alright" by Darius Rucker blew me out of the water, because when I heard it first we used to watch the country music videos channel every day before school, and it was the first time I'd ever seen a black man singing country music and I cannot tell you how cool I thought he was.

I don't listen to much modern country music [does "Call Me By Your Name" count??]. After the early 2000s super-patriot-party-womanizer flavor of country took over, a lot of what I listen to instead is what's currently called "Folk", "Folk Rock" and "New Age Rock". Kinda captures what that sound and atmosphere of music used to be like before it got pop-ified. The Crane Wives, The Wailin' Jennies, Lord Huron, Colter Wall, and Barns Courtney are the closest I get to "Country music" these days.

If social justice is a thing you admire I Highly Highly recommend The Chicks. They pioneered the idea of disassociating country music from its southern pride/racist roots [and demonstrated it by dropping their very popular brand name, The Dixie Chicks]. They also pushed back against the uber-patriotism movement in the country music genre after 9/11, for which they were dropped from many, many venues and brand deals. They basically disappeared from the media overnight, because they took a stand against what they deemed to be an unjust upcoming war, and continue to work for social justice currently [you might've heard their song March March making rounds during the 2020 BLM movement. If you haven't, go listen to it, it's a bop.]

I hope you have fun exploring the genre! There's so much nostalgia for me there, and while there's definitely some controversy in it, there's also so many good people working to turn the genre back to something admirable again [imo]. :3

[silveme]

i will admit that since im mobile-only i cant actually read the playlist description BUT, i can very clearly tell characters/themes sections , and that some sections made me laugh out loud when certain songs would play, like specifically, hitting us with back to back songs that make made me laugh way harder than i probably should have been laughing, memorably,

Puppet Boy immediately followed by Under My Skin, so meaaan to them

the one-two punch of fuck my boss and da biggest bird.........

the combo of Just The Two Of Us and Thats Life,

the man who sold the world. BACK FROM THE DEAD STRAIGHT OUT THE CASKET RISING UP OPEN UP YOUR EYES CANT YOU SEE ME WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

the cars themed songs, ejsus fucking ..

starting out with a man without love is Perfect ... the first four songs paint such a picture like thr opening of a film except the fourth song is camel by camel of all things,

heaven knows im miserable now. i was looking for a job and then i found a job. making plans for nigel. then ghost.

i can go on (which would be me continuing to state the obvious) but im not planning on editing this ask once i type it out so (sweating) im so sorry....

there are some fantastic choices you can kinda tell who listens to what via vibes , even though obviously no i couldnt actually figure out that marc listens to will smith. but there is a VERY clear switch between steven music, marc music, jake music, plot music, setting music, show mystery atmosphere music, etc. even their mercenary background,

this is only somewhat related to the playlist, but i didnt realize that My Way Of Life was the song that jake was playing in the last scene, and then when you put frontier psychiatrist in there, did yoy know that that song is sampled in there. the That Boy Needs Therapy song. sampling the song that was playing when jake makes his appearance at khonshu's behest, a song that is all in one an admission of defeat, a prayer, and a claim. can i speak to the directors was this on purpose (shaking someone wildly by the shoulders)

your sense of humor shines through the entire thing even from the photo and the GET THE FRIES title reference which im still laughing to myself about it like an idiot and as i finished the playlist i was thinking to myself like. Thats it, Thats The Whole Show 👍👍 We've Covered Literally Everything yknow i marathoned this playlist but this playlist is so long that by the time i hit the end of the playlist after marathoning it i was driving home from work free bird'ing down the highway like I DID IT ... WHAT AN EXPERIENCE...

Yeeeesssssss

YEEEEESSSSSSSSSS

YOU GET ITTT

literally kicking my feet in the air giggling and silently screaming while reading this THANK YOU!! AND YES IT IS THE PERFECT PLAYLIST TO MARATHON I ALWAYS PUT IT ON WHILE WORKING. Also good to know that everyone else can’t see the description on mobile too, damn I thought I was doing something wrong. it goes like this “We’ll need the energy in the coming days…THE ULTIMATE MOON KNIGHT PLAYLIST In order: miscellaneous, Marc, Steven, Jake. I’m always updating and curating this! Also check out my Layla playlist”

Followers who don’t care about the best moon knight playlist ever pls scroll now or forever hold your peace cause I’m about to wig out✌️

This whole playlist is very much my personal music taste both old and new so I’m so glad other people love it too. Like I’m 20 and I’ve been listening to some of these songs since middle school (and one since elementary school….”awoken” LOL) and some is my more recent music taste

So anyway without further ado, here is some of my personal favorite moments on the playlist, I’ll try to keep it in order, strap in.

MISCELLANEOUS

• Nutcracker suite Arabian dances: im very much a classical lover as you can probably tell by now but this has always been my favorite classical piece. It’s just sooooo “I’m tired and injured and trudging through the desert under the light of the full moon. I’m exhausted but I have to keep going” love itttttt

• Leopard: this song is literally always switching up!! Just like moon knight lol. One moment it’s sad and slow, next moment it’s anxious and fast, and then it’s smooth and chill. Need I say more.

MARC

• Back from the dead: “BLOW, YA TAKIN 2 SHOTS TO YA CHEST”

• Hunter: this one is very special to me cause it’s probably my favorite song of all time at the moment. It’s sort of the same deal with the nutcracker suite where it’s like you just have to keep on marching and do what you can to survive cause there’s not really a home you can go back to. It feels lonely, ghostly, desolate, and steadfast. So marc and so knightly. “I tried to organize freedom- you sussed it out didn’t you? You could smell it so you left me on my own, to complete the mission, now I’m leaving it all behind.” Very him and Khonshu am I right or am I right. HES GOING HUNTING. HES THE HUNTER!

• Pluto: this is a more recent addition, it’s just so visceral and violent. Like Marc! I also specifically added the live version with the strings cause it sounds so much moreee. Unhinged? Enraged? “Excuse me, I just have to explode this body” “I’ll wake up tomorrow brand new, a little tired, but brand new” just like going to bed as maRC AND WAKING UP AS STEVEN CMONNNNNN

• Dirty Harry: mercenary days marc moment

• mercure scene 1, la nuit: same thing as nutcracker suite and hunter. WE GOTTA KEEP MOVING EVEN THO WE’RE SO TIRED

• Off with his head: middle school classic of all time to me. It’s so “ugh. Gotta kill all these people to sate this ancient gods will. Sorry, I promise I don’t want to 😬”

• Awoken: relistening to old mlp fandom songs I used to love when I was little and then realizing one of them fit Marc Spector of all characters actually incredibly well felt like unearthing an ancient cursed relic. I literally still cannot believe it

• All the Will Smith songs: Marc speeds on the highway when he drives. And when he does, he’s blasting this. Also he doesn’t like any other musician besides will smith. He has literally had the exact same music taste since 1997 #comfortmusic

• Get out of my house: MARC IS THE HOUSE.

• All the love: the phone calls. THE PHONE CALLS. Did I mention the phone calls? The sighs too UGH. I’m imagining Marc coming back to that storage locker and listening to all the voicemails Steven had left him thinking he was calling their mom. Also am I crazy thinking the last “good night” sounds EXACTLY like Steven?

• Sandpaper kisses: “your gonna a leave her. You have deceived her. Just a girl, with featherweight curls” Layla 😭

• The moon/ Awake: EVERY. LYRIC. HITS. It fits the relationship between him and Steven amazingly. “When sins of sons to fathers come, too heavy is the weight. THE SPIRIT SPLIT IN TWO” <- when I heard that while looking for songs to add to this playlist my jaw dropped. ITS TOO REAL

STEVEN

• Ok let’s go: the moon/ awake to ok let’s go is the transition from Marc to Steven. It’s basically Steven being like “is this too much to take? That’s ok, I’ll take it from here” like he’s there to put Marc’s pieces back together after everything. It’s stevens introduction bc that’s his purpose after all. He’s picking up where Marc left off

• Diary: Goldfish problem vibes. “Dear diary, What a day it’s been. Dear Diary, it’s been just like a dream” “at night I can’t sleep, I toss and turn” also the guy is British so that’s a plus

• the miku song (I can’t type Japanese) : Steven grant anime opening. He’s running late to work with toast in his mouth

• COUNT THOSE FREAKS: literally episode 2. Mr knight vs that jackal vibes

• Sinking feeling, Only dreaming: I’m gonna lump these 2 together cause they have the same gist. Steven realizing that he isn’t completely alone and those strange occurrences and dreams are much much much more than they seem. His life is a lie! Poor man’s being put through the mental ringer.

• Linger a while: It’s just so british sounding you know what I mean? It’s so Steven nervously plodding along

•Oivomaintnt: steven grant walking simulator

• Wake up ( it’s 1984): “two worlds apart, BUT SO!! CLOSE!!!!!!”

• Is anybody here?: ohhhhohhh so Steven. Everything abt it is so perfect but here’s my fav lyrics “I left my soul exposed to frail hands who hold my fate up in the air.” Aka khonshus spindly witch fingers. “Waking in the afternoon, a captive in a passive tomb, moments turn to long Decembers, stoking fires from dying embers. I try To move a limb, but there's a disconnect within. A devil in the alchemy. A phantom staring back at me.ITS YOUUUUU” disassociation moment. He is quite literally slipping out of consciousness and losing days or even months of time. Also….a phantom….OR A SPECTOR

• Steal away: ok I lied this is the one song that’s based off vibes. It’s just Steven what can I say

• It only takes a moment, somethin stupid, might tell you tonight: HES FALLING IN LOVE FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME 😭😭😭

• Ghost: Steven being like “hey maybe actually not being alone isnt so bad :)” again, a ghost….OR A SPECTOR! Ehhhhhh? ;D

JAKE

• you belong to me: Marc and Steven may be free, but Jake? mmmm not so much :/ wherever they go, whatever they do, he still belongs to Khonshu.

• What you won’t do for love: “I guess you wonder where I’ve been”

• Desalento: I don’t speak Portuguese so I don’t exactly know what this song is about but it’s just so Jake vibes. Esp near the end

• The most cursed hands/ who am I: first part is cool but disregard it. The real reason why I added it is at the very end. “Who am I? Just a gambler, holding aces in the devil's eyes. What is wrong? What's the sin? Where's the answer? Where the hell do I fit in? Or could it be, there's just a little demon lost in the debris? And I, should idly bide my time until a wager releases me” cmonnnn that is so good. Where does jake fit in in all this? Steven and Marc are already a team but Jake is disconnected from them, where does he go in the story? Also the little demon lost in the debris is KHONSHU, they thought they defeated him but heyyyy he’s still there just in secret now. And what can Jake do but follow his orders till he’s released! “It can’t remain unknown” his existence can’t stay hidden forever! Also the vibes at this part are just so suave and Jakey.

• how I could just kill a man: marc and steven are soooo free and don’t have to do shit anymore but guess who’s left to do all the dirty work now? JAKE! And he’s pissed! “When your up on the hill in your big home, I’m out here riskin my dome”

• Vroom Vroom: obligatory

• Tardigrade song: Jake lockley is one tough son of a bitch. He can take pretty much everything you throw at him, since that is literally his purpose. He wakes up after years of hibernation, kicks ass in the most inhospitable conditions imaginable, then goes to sleep again. Just like a tardigrade!

• We fly high: I have this image in my head of Jake rolling up to an avengers meeting and you can hear this from the parking lot blasting in the moon knight mobile before he gets out and slams the door. They’re all looking down at him from the window like “ughhhh who invited that guy” “not me” “me neither” “I think he just invited himself” *door bursts open* “eyyyy fugeddaboutit” It’s like his theme song to me, it’s what plays when he rolls up into frame wearing sunglasses. He’s just balling. Simple as. Steven: ouch! He bit me!😰 Jake: no I didn’t 😎😏

Freebird: and what a perfect way to end the playlist. Wow look you made it way to go, now let’s make our car do flips and donuts in the avengers office parking lot 🥳🙌

Sorry if that was too much, I always think about these when I listen to it which is still fairly often. I’ve never gotten to discuss these things with anyone! Delighted to hear that you enjoyed it!!!!! Hope it helped you discover some really amazing songs. THANK YOU!!!!!!! 💕

[you-can-be-what-you-want-to-be]

{{ Fun ask meme you made: Everything with a 4 in it! (4, 14, 24, 34, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45.)

oh that’s a very fun way to do it! I already did 40 but I’ll give you the rest. Thank you for giving me so many!

4: if you had to loose one of your senses or physical abilities, which one and why?

im a chatter box but I’d loose the ability to speak. It’s kind of selfish but speaking is one of the only abilities that’s primarily for everyone else’s experience of the world. I mean you can’t talk and share ideas as easy and some of the puns and stuff you do get limited but you still get sunsets and art museums and books and musicals and cat purrs and all that. I still get things, I just can’t give anymore.

14: preferred form of travel i know tumblr doesn’t like them but car for SURE. Used to have ten hours in it every weekend visiting my dad and like. You can sing. You can have arguments with yourself and imagined people. Go noom. Pretty sights. And I’ve had the best conversations I’ve ever had in the car, because what else are you going to do? If there are two people in a confined space and one of them can’t look at anything you can only talk and I love that it’s a wonderful feeling. And falling asleep in the back of a car while people you care about talk in the front? Being able to leave home at any time? Getting sonic at 11pm? Ough it’s so good. I get home and spend an hour in a non moving car love being in a car I am no better than a dog.

24: what is a food or experience you miss from being a child? This does not mean things like paying bills, and is more about the time period you are from.

1 burning cds

2 a lack of cool people on tv. I wasn’t the biggest fan of Napoleon Dynamite but yeah things like that. Like there is no one cool in invader zim.

3 toxic waste (candy.) I haven’t seen one in ages

4 PEANUT BUTTER TWIX.

34: name a way someone has helped you before

car got stuck on this pile gravel. It had been snowing, next to a busy highway, thirty minutes by car away from any town, and it jammed up all the way up like into the entire bottom, not just the tires. Spent like an hour by hand trying to dig the stuff out with bare hands. Some guy with a truck hooked me up and pulled my car off. I’ll never forget it

41: what’s a hobby you want to get into? Disregard whatever skills money or tools you would need, listen to your heart

I want to learn how to make music and video essays. Both of those cost money and your own private area (instrument, mic, and a place you don’t disturb people with sound). Also animation I’m a very bad artist and don’t get technology so it’s a pretty hard no but I’d love to do it someday

42: what’s an experience you’ve wanted to do or have for awhile but not been able to justify to yourself?

I want to see hadestown on broadway. Or anything on broadway really but hadestown is the dream personally

43: a part of yourself you are fond of?

I like that soft spot between your lower ribs and thumb nails

44: favorite supernatural being

I’ve always been fond of ghost, because they’re the only one just about that gets to be sad or helpful instead of just scary. The idea that you felt something so strong it outlasted your body…. Yeah that’s what emotions feel like. That’s why you can be haunted by things that aren’t there, like war or an old friendship. It’s just emotions out of place that followed you.

Sad ghosts, lost ghost stuck in a loop, ghosts that save people from similar situations as their own, ghosts that come back to love their loved ones, ghosts who taunt the person who killed them and haunt them in the literal and metaphorical sense. Idk man. Just ghosts. They’re so important to me.

45: favorite fantasy being

Fae but only the fucked up kind who like find people fascinating but mostly as entertainment and make them dance till their feet fall off or see how long it takes them to loose a deal. Idk they’re just fun.

thank you so much this was mega fun to talk about

[nerdyreaderpapi]

I LOVE DOUBLE UPDATES!!

1) “If cloud nine existed, James was sat right upon it, standing with his arm around his girl while talking and drinking with her friends and sister, unable to keep from turning to gaze at her fondly. There she was, at last, right by his side.”

- I’m sorry but this made me smile so hard! No one understands the joy I feel knowing they’re both together again! Literally feel like a parent watching them be together again!

2) “Just so you know, I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off this, innit,” he began, squeezing her bum firmly. “You’ve got an arse, Ells bells! I’m so fucking proud of you. And horny, because you looking fucking top grade sexy!”  

- JAMES COME HOME THE KIDS MISS YOU!! lol, I love his honesty, I’ve always loved how he speaks to Ella.

3) He stopped then, moving into her path, touching his fingers beneath her chin to lift it gently. “It was fucking worth everything, babe. Everything. That was the only thing that was hard, being away from you. Not having you there to unload everything that was in my head, or just sit and laugh with, forget about it all for a while.” He paused, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Nearly told ‘em to turn around about twenty fucking times along the way, I felt so bad for leaving you. Fucking broke me a bit, innit, doing it like that. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have left, though. I needed to, Ella, to get where I am now.”  

- THANKS FOR MAKING ME TEAR UP!! Seriously, James is a ducking poet, because that was fucking poetry right there!! Listening to wildflower by Billie Eilish and reading that scene over again feels like heaven!! JAMES I’LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!

4) He threw his head back, his rumbling laugh sounding like music to her. “Yeah, little. Here you fucking are. I swear, seeing you in the crowd, best surprise ever. I was just like ‘what the fucking fuck? She’s here! Shitting hell, she’s right fucking there!’ when I saw you. Couldn’t believe it.” 

- something about James being so excited to see Ella will always make me melt!! Like excuse me?!!? JAMES IS THE BEST MAN EVER ISTG!! His happiness is everything to me and seeing him so excited to see Ella, seriously made me cry real tears!!

5) Taking it, he looked down, dropping the pizza slice back into the box and covering his mouth with his hand. “Shitting hell.” To say she looked like death was an understatement. And he’d thought she’d been scarily thin at just over a stone heavier when he’d first met her. “Ella... fuck. Seeing you like that makes me wanna fucking cry, innit, and I don’t cry easy. That’s twice with you now, fucking dickhead.” 

THATS ALL!! ME JUST CRYING ONCE AGAIN! 😭😭😭

6) After eating three slices of his half of the pizza, Ella managing one and a little bit, he rolled them a joint, stretching out on the sofa with his head in her lap. The feel of her nails combing over his scalp and through his hair was a comfort he’d sorely missed over the last seven weeks, reaching to stroke the side of her neck as he smiled up at her. 

- Okay first of all, I LOVE YOU MY BABY ELLA FOR EATING!! I’m so proud of her! Second of all, James laying his head on Ella’s lap is so frickin cute! I swear I wanna take a walk on the highway, like holy cow, they’re the cutest couple ever!! And Ella running her fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp! YEAH LET ME GO CRY AGAIN.!!!

7) “darlin’”

- this deserved it’s own section. That’s it. That’s all I needed to say.

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THESE CHAPTERS!! It made me laugh, smiled AND FRICKIN CRY BECAUSE OF HOW CUTE THEY ARE!!

Thank you so much for these amazing updates! I’m so excited for more! And a reminder, you are SO frickin awesome 💗💗💗 my love for this book is beyond anything else!!

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Eleven.

Remember darlings, it's double update today, so if you see this chapter first, remember you have chapter ten to read prior! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,647

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

If cloud nine existed, James was sat right upon it, standing with his arm around his girl while talking and drinking with her friends and sister, unable to keep from turning to gaze at her fondly. There she was, at last, right by his side. She looked amazing for the extra weight she’d gained, his eyes picking out the obvious, of course. Boobs. His hand moved to rest on the other.  

“Just so you know, I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off this, innit,” he began, squeezing her bum firmly. “You’ve got an arse, Ells bells! I’m so fucking proud of you. And horny, because you looking fucking top grade sexy!”  

He leaned to nibble her neck, making her giggle, Ella turning to softly thump his chest before looking up at him. “Calm down!”  

“Nah.” They happily fell into another kiss then, enjoying it for a few moments before he pulled away, grabbing her hand. “Come with me a minute.” 

Placing their drinks down on the bar, he then led her in the direction of the doors, nodding at the bouncer on the way out into the still warm early October night, moving to the side of the club away from the noise of the music. There, he wrapped his arms around her again, humming happily before giving her another kiss.  

“So, why didn’t you call me?” 

Ahh. She might have known she’d have that coming. “Truth?” 

“Always, babe.” 

Hiding her face against his chest for a second, she took a deep breath. “I was nervous!” 

His facial expression was an absolute picture. “You fucking what?” 

“You heard!” she laughed, shaking her head.  

“But it’s me!” he continued loudly, curling his lip and having her in soft hysterics.  

“I’m aware it sounds ridiculous now, but I was. I had all these silly thoughts, like wondering if you might have gotten out and gone off me, or met someone else.” His eye roll was immense. “Needless to say, I’m not anymore!” 

“You shitting well better not be, darlin’!” He then looked her up and down again, mouth spreading into a wide grin. “Seriously, you look so fucking gorgeous.” 

Beaming, she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers weaving into his beautiful hair. “Looking pretty mint yourself, BFG.”  

They stayed out the front talking a little more and kissing for a few minutes, James taking her hand again, leading her back inside to introduce her to his band. The rest of Nocturnal Descent were occupying one of the big tables outside in the spacious beer garden, Ella finally able to put faces to all the names of the men she’d heard so much about.  

“Nah, honey,” Steve began upon giving her a meeting hug, “what’s someone as cute as you doing with Kingston here? Fucks sake, you need to upgrade. Get yourself a man who doesn’t fart so bad, you feel like you’re in the gas chamber. Or one who’s got a decent sized cock instead of a worm.”  

She couldn’t help but laugh. Mainly because she knew the former to be true, and the latter she’d bet, from what she’d tentatively felt pressing against her a few times, was very much false. 

James arched an eyebrow. “Well, that ain’t you on either count, is it, fucking flatulent, pin-dicked twat.”  

To his credit, Steve guffawed, gripping James’s shoulder before making as if he was about to punch him in the balls. “Ya dickead,” he growled, turning his attention to Ella. “So, Ella. What do I have to do to get Andrea’s phone number?” 

“Ask her yourself when she comes to stay with me. However, if you’re only like, out for the ‘I shagged a sex addict’ trophy then she’ll let you down, mate. It’s sleeping around spontaneously that lead her into treatment. And that’s all I’m saying. Save her privacy.”  

How very Ella, James thought proudly, snort laughing when Steve pouted. 

“Alright, what about the honey with the massive tits over yonder taking to your sis?” 

“And he calls me a tart,” Janes snorted, sipping his pint. 

“Single,” she confirmed, giggling at the speed he moved down to the next table with. Turning back to James, she leaned to kiss his cheek. “You having a good night?” 

“I am,” he revealed, “but I don’t wanna stay much longer. Just wanna spend some time with you. If you like, you can come stay at mine?” 

Oh yes. She liked.  

They left at midnight, Ella feeling a little buzz, James not so much other than the one he had from walking back up the high street towards home hand in hand with her. 

“So, what was it like at the place you were transferred to? And how long since you came out?” she asked, lighting a cigarette and offering him one he took with thanks. 

“Little, I am fucking telling you, worlds apart from Moor Acres. My therapist is top grade amazing, such a fucking sound guy. First session I had with him was the day I arrived. We just sat and chilled, talking about music and drinking tea for the first half hour. In those thirty fucking minutes, he figured out more about me than Dr. Beaumont did in five and a half months, innit. As for how long I’ve been out, just over two weeks. How about you?” 

“Eleven days, and I’m so thrilled for you, that your last month of being in an institution was so positive: it was one of the things I worried about, after you’d gone. You might have been sent to a bleedin’ shithole of a place and not made progress, and without me there to help you. For whatever that was worth.” 

He stopped then, moving into her path, touching his fingers beneath her chin to lift it gently. “It was fucking worth everything, babe. Everything. That was the only thing that was hard, being away from you. Not having you there to unload everything that was in my head, or just sit and laugh with, forget about it all for a while.” He paused, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Nearly told ‘em to turn around about twenty fucking times along the way, I felt so bad for leaving you. Fucking broke me a bit, innit, doing it like that. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have left, though. I needed to, Ella, to get where I am now.”  

The way he’d done it truly had left her feeling completely broken for a time, but she saw it so clearly, how it radiated through him. He could cope with it, the noise in his head, those feelings of despair. Whoever the therapist was who he’d seen at the place he’d ended up, she could have kissed him. He’d definitely helped him much more than Dr. Beaumont.  

“I won’t lie, it was pants, being without you. I was half heartbroken, half bleedin’ livid with you, when I sat and read that letter,” she began. 

“Yeah, thought you would be,” he interjected with.  

“Sat and cried for an hour, blamed myself, had Andrea give me some really sound advice and like, state again what I knew but didn’t want to let myself believe. Then, I knew what I had to do. Get better, get released, and find you.” She beamed, holding her arms wide. “Here I am!” 

He threw his head back, his rumbling laugh sounding like music to her. “Yeah, little. Here you fucking are. I swear, seeing you in the crowd, best surprise ever. I was just like ‘what the fucking fuck? She’s here! Shitting hell, she’s right fucking there!’ when I saw you. Couldn’t believe it.”  

They continued to walk at a leisurely place, James telling her a few stories he’d amassed from his month in Birmingham, Ella sharing a few of her own. 

“He was moved the week I was let out, big Keith. Sent to Broadmoor, so I heard. Went absolutely psycho and almost killed another patient, so they had no choice. I saw the blood all down the stairs, it was fucking brutal,” she spoke, James’s eyes widening, although he wasn’t all too surprised. He’d quietly wondered during his own time there, just how many chances of rehabilitation they would give to the twenty-eight stone, six feet seven behemoth of fury that was big Keith.  

“That don’t really surprise me. He used to sit up all night, howling like a fucking wolf unless they shot him up with tranqs. Wouldn’t take his meds half the time, attacked the staff daily. Way worse than how I was,” he spoke, a scent of familiarity drifting under his nose. “You hungry, by the way? We’re getting near to Prezzo, and they actually do proper pizza in there, none of that carboard tasting shit. If that’s too scary, they do salad and all that, too.” 

Hmmm, she could eat, she supposed. It had been seven hours since her small plate of pasta for dinner. “Yeah, alright then. Let me get it, though. You bought me enough drinks already tonight.” 

“Nope, he spoke, steering her over to the other side of the high street when the traffic broke. “I’ve got music money burning a hole in my wallet. Apparently, while I was away the record took off hugely in Japan. I have a few more zero’s than I’m used to on the ole’ bank balance.” One stop at Prezzo, a small back and forth over Ella’s request for ham and pineapple – and James’s deep distain over such – and a pizza constructed with half that and half tandoori chicken was purchased, the pair on the move again once more.  

“Oh, shit! That building is amazing, I love it!” she spoke as the old factory housing James and Steve’s flat came into view, Ella wondering why the hell he’d referred to something with so much character as a shithole. It really wasn’t, not even when they got inside and climbed the stairs up to the second floor.  

The old brickwork gave it character, the original windows too, James taking his keys from the thick wallet chain he wore and unlocking the door of number six when they arrived there.  

“Bathroom is that door there,” he spoke upon entering, pointing to his right after switching on the light, a light that flickered for a few seconds before the bulb popped. “Ahh, shit! Fuck, don’t think we’ve got any more bulbs. Hang on.” He strode for the kitchen area, lighting a candle on his way and using it to illuminate the cupboard under the sink, Ella just about able to see the sofa through the gloom, placing the pizza box down on the coffee table and taking a seat.  

“Any luck?” 

“Nah, I’ll have to go get some tomorrow. Fucks sake. Don’t matter though, we’ve got about a billion fucking candles, innit.” He went about lighting them, the space nicely illuminated, moving next to the stereo in the corner and taking a CD from one of the shelves that ran the length of the wall. Thier music collection was staggering.  

“What’s this that you’ve put on? It’s very atmospheric,” she spoke, James shrugging his leather jacket off and hanging it on the corner of the armchair, kicking his boots off and joining her on the sofa.  

“This is that guy Varg Vikernes we talked about a while back, you know, the actual church burner,” he replied, opening the pizza box and taking a slice out.  

“Hold on, I might be able to impress you here. I think I know what his project is called, Jane loves it. What is it now,” she began, clicking her fingers and winding her hand around as she tried to remember. “Burdum? Bursim?” 

“Close,” he spoke, taking another bite. “Burzum, but ten points for trying, little.” 

“Thanks!” she chirped on a laugh, reaching for a slice, watching him crinkle his nose up. “What? I like pineapple on a pizza. It’s mint. Get over it.” 

His reply dripped sarcasm. “I’m sure Italians the world over would agree.”  

“Oh, don’t be concerned if I like, only have one or two slices. This is a big pizza and this is a lot for me to eat in one sitting,” she spoke, tucking her chin a little before taking a small bite. 

“Nah, I ain’t gonna monitor you. It’s a scary food, too. Dough, cheese.”  

It touched her greatly, that he remembered all of this. “Yeah. Like, it’s less scary now, but I keep reminding myself what Dr. Beaumont told me. Every meal I manage to eat is an accomplishment, an extra mile on my health journey. It helps. I finally had a breakthrough with it when I’d almost reached my target weight. Mary told me to stand in my undies and look at myself, then showed me a picture of how I looked when I was first admitted.”  

“I bet it was shocking, right?” James asked, starting on his second slice. God, he was starving.  

Reaching for her bag, she pulled out her wallet, taking from it the folded-up picture she kept with her always to remind her how far she’d come. “Here, see for yourself.” 

Taking it, he looked down, dropping the pizza slice back into the box and covering his mouth with his hand. “Shitting hell.” To say she looked like death was an understatement. And he’d thought she’d been scarily thin at just over a stone heavier when he’d first met her. “Ella... fuck. Seeing you like that makes me wanna fucking cry, innit, and I don’t cry easy. That’s twice with you now, fucking dickhead.”  

Taking the picture back, she leaned to kiss his cheek, stroking his hair. “When was the first time?” 

“When they were driving me away from Moor Acres.” He looked very uncomfortable at revealing that, frowning, side eyeing her. “Knob.” 

The snort of laughter that came from her was huge, tucking her wallet away again as she giggled. “My grumpy church burner.”  

“To use one of your favourite expressions, shut your hole,” he retorted, only succeeding in making her laugh more. Oh, how she’d missed him. Even when he was pissed off at her. He didn’t stay that way for long, though, nudging her with a soft elbow and turning his head to kiss her shoulder. “Still think you’re awesome.” 

After eating three slices of his half of the pizza, Ella managing one and a little bit, he rolled them a joint, stretching out on the sofa with his head in her lap. The feel of her nails combing over his scalp and through his hair was a comfort he’d sorely missed over the last seven weeks, reaching to stroke the side of her neck as he smiled up at her.  

“It’s just me and you. No other patients, no orderlies or nurses watching us like fucking hawks. Just us.” 

How they had both longed for it, the simplicity of being together without watchful eyes constantly on them. Still, Ella almost felt like Tony was about to bark an order at her as she slipped a hand beneath James’s t shirt, idly stroking the side of his abs while they chatted.  

“I’m telling you, I lasted an hour when I went see her and my sister for the first time. She’s still coming out with all the same crap, that I’ve somehow brought my mental illness on myself. I just stood up, told her I’d had enough, and took Sam out for a drink instead so I could catch up with her without being fucking hen pecked to bloody death,” he explained of his first visit home after being released, glowering at the memory of his mother being, well, her usual difficult self.  

“You know what it sounds like to me?”  

“What?” he asked, handing her the joint. 

She was thoughtful for a moment before waving her hand dismissively. “No, it’s probably not my place to say.” 

He prompted her again. “It is. Spill.” 

“I think she’s deflecting, like, going in really hard with saying it’s because of your music and lifestyle to absolve herself from her own part in your issues.” 

Michael had said very similar. “Nah, you’re totally right, darlin’. It’s exactly what she does, it's like, if she makes enough noise about the other person, she thinks people won’t notice her, what she says and does.” 

“And that’s up to her to acknowledge,” she sighed, passing the joint back, her hand retuning to his hair.  

“Innit? I know she loves both me and my sister to bits, but I’m not excusing her any longer, or putting up with it. Me leaving the other night was what Michael advised in therapy. Set a boundary, then if she continues to cross it, calmly walk away. So that’s what I did. Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about the duchess. What you been up to since you got out?” 

“Not much, really. Just spending time with mum and Jane, went back to my yoga class for the first time since I got really ill, had a tentative job hunt.” 

“Any luck there?” 

“Nope,” she asserted, widening her eyes a fraction. “Not unless I want to work in the same old utterly pants job roles I used to. Never going back to bar or supermarket work again.” It would be fair to coin the pair as intelligent underachievers, both only having three and four GCSE’s respectively, only James going on to do his A levels. Ella had taken the GNVQ route, choosing health and social care although she wasn’t sure she wanted to work in either.  

He hadn’t sought anything further academically, taking on mainly factory and doorman work around the band until they’d taken off, his touring schedule making it impossible to hold down a full-time job.  

“Yeah, babe. Don’t blame you. I’ve done bar work before. Total bullshit. Ruins your weekend too as that’s when you get the best shifts as far as tips go,” he agreed, taking another drag on the joint. “I can’t smoke much more of that. I’m proper fucking tired.” 

She frowned concernedly. “Is that because you’re drinking on your meds?” 

“Nah, Michael took me off the ones that made me wanna crash in the afternoon, and I only had three pints tonight. Can’t get drunk or it’ll stop the pills from working. Trust me, I’ll miss getting wankered, but I don’t miss that fucking mess my head was in before I got help.” 

Smiling down at him, she kissed his forehead, taking the joint from him. “I’m proud of you. You’ve worked hard to get through what must have been a hugely heavy weight bearing down on you,” she began, trying to stifle a yawn and not manage it. “Bleedin’ hell, are there crushed up sleeping pills in this weed?”  

“Fucking feels like it, innit?” he laughed. “I didn’t feel this mashed so quickly last night. What I bought off Gaz must be different strains. I’m irritated by that.”  

“Why?” 

“Because my brain is saying sleep, but everything south of my waist is like, ‘Nah, man. You’ve got a top grade girl here, the one you’ve been missing for weeks! Go shag her through the bed!”  

She almost choked on the lungful of smoke, wheezing, softly slapping his shoulder as she spluttered. “I don’t mind not being shagged through the bed tonight, so don’t feel like, all conflicted and stuff.”  

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief. It could go either way with weed, depending on the type. Just enough and he could have sex for elongated periods before orgasm, too much and as soon as his body hit a bed, he was asleep. It was a balance he couldn’t bank on prior to smoking, but suffice to say the one joint of very strong weed he and Ella had shared most definitely took the wind out of his sails.  

Sitting up, he grabbed a marker pen and shut the pizza box, writing ‘DO NOT EAT’ upon it. “Snedders’ll inhale it otherwise, the lardy cunt.” They made their way to his room, the space much bigger than she was expecting, pulling off her clothes all bar her knickers and top, unhooking her bra beneath it and pulling that off for comfort.  

He made no mention of her leaving it on, remembering her insecurity there. It didn’t matter to him one bit; she could have laid next to him fully clothed and he wouldn’t have cared. Having her beside him was all he wanted. Climbing beneath the deep grey duvet, she happily sank into his arms, enjoying both the look and feel of that gorgeous chest against her bare for the first time. He looked more or less exactly how she pictured he would, and lord, it was a mouthwatering sight.  

“Wow, you were right. This bed is like, the comfiest ever,” she spoke, leaning to kiss him beneath his jaw as they entwined, James resting his hand to her hip and stroking the slender curve. God, it felt so good to hold her and not feel bones jutting out.  

“Told you,” he spoke, kissing her head. “Even comfier for having you in it, too.” 

Her heart thrummed waves of pure happiness, falling into sweet kisses with him before he switched off the lamp and they fell asleep. He was out before her, Ella seeing it was entirely true when he’d told her he was like sleeping next to a corpse, except he ran hot. He didn’t move and he didn’t snore.  

It made a peaceful change to the last man she’d shared a bed with, her ex-boyfriend Ryan over two years before. He’d sounded like malfunctioning power tools whilst he’d slept. She was asleep before she knew it, both of them soothed not only from the strong weed, but what they’d ached for over the past seven weeks. The simplicity of being able to hold each other close once again. 

[bruciemilf]

ACTUALLY, you guys WILL listen to my Bruce & Officer Martinez brain rot because they have Peak " grumpy sunshine " and " asshole sunshine" dynamic and I'm not letting it go

Here's the thing about Jim Gordon; He has patience; He has tact. But he's also a petty shit, and God almighty, he WARNED Batman to stop his solo crime busting for extra dangerous cases

So yes; He gestures to Martinez, sugar cream on his moustache, files overfilling his arms. He tries to wave. They fall everywhere. ''This is your divine punishment "

"... Did you really just refer to Martinez as a punishment?"

" Honestly, I'm just happy to be included!"

Martinez is still SUPER sketchy about Batman, but of course he freaks out in the Batmobile; Yes, it's from the back-seat, but it still MATTERS, - " You know, my aunt is actually a mechanic, and-"

And that's the second thing Bruce writes about him in his profile journal; First thing being 'Talks too much.' Second is Family man.

But he actually listens to everything because it's comforting to know Gotham allows some love to survive.

And Bruce REFERENCES all stories. When they investigate different sources he's like " This is a professional dismemberment. We should ask your brother's opinion"

" My brother?" " I'd ask mine, but I don't have one." " No asshole I mean - you know my brother's a surgeon? You listen to me?" " I always listen."

FIGHTING OVER THE RADIO! GIVE IT TO ME! BECAUSE YOU JUST KNOWWWW BRUCE PLAYS THREE DAYS GRACE AND SKILLET AND MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

" you listen to this shit??? Unironically?? THIS is REAL music" and then-

" GIMME GIMME GIMME A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT-"

And also a ton of Nicki Minaj. " PULL UP IN THE MONSTER AUTOMOBILE GANGSTA-"

Bruce almost rearranges his whole skeleton right there; Martinez eventually figures out that it's Bruce's special interest so he apologises, " I'm sorry I called you out on your terrible taste. We can listen to that Bridge song or whatever"

*shaking with rage* " It's. Not. Called. That."

Literally give me Martinez whining Bruce's ear off until they reach a drive through, and Bruce is just standing there like a STATUE

Martinez leveled up to front seats and is rubbing his hands together like a greedy gremlin, but Bruce does Not move. " Welcome to Bat Burger can I take your order? Hello?" And Bruce is just. Petrified

" Can I had- have, can I - um,"

" what was that?"

" ... Burger"

He pins Martinez face to headboard and makes him SWEAR he won't tell anyone about it but Martinez is too busy laughing his ass off

Martinez always talking about Bruce, - He gave my sister a job as a security guard after she got out of prison. Murdering her rapist, you know how it is

"... I don't, actually." " Well yeah, you grew up in the good part of town, probably" "There's no good part. Only good coincidences."

"... Oh yeah, you're DEFINETLY rich."

Martinez and Selina strangers to enemies, 500k words, slow burn.

Martinez is a dog boy and she's a cat girl. It was expected. She kicks his seat in the Batmobile and he readjusts his chair as LOW as possible just to annoy her

" Crazy cat lady KNOWS something. "

" Don't call her that."

" I don't have to, her smell does it for me, - wait. Are you... Are you HOT for her? SERIOUSLY?"

And so what if Bruce's fast feels hot under his cowl? " Now's not really the time for a jealous scene."

" Oh I'M not jealous, bro. She's in your pants, I'm your emergency contact and organ donor. We aren't even in the same highway."

" ...When did you do that?"

" We don't have time to talk about all that-"

Martinez super casually mentioning he knows Bruce's identity. " Thanks for your help, Mr. Wayne"

[SHOCKED SILENCE]

" How... How did you?"

" BRO. I'd know that jawline in death."

[4awny]

Sp Driving Headcanons that literally nobody asked for

Stan:-

first one to get his licence obvs

usually a calm and defensive driver

gets a scratch on his car and says aw man my dad's gonna kill me

even when he's 30

drives drunk probably

car is a mess. shit everywhere

overall? man can drive. 8/10

Kenny:-

doesn't have licence. couldn't afford that shit

drives anyway

and it's his brother's piece of shit car

can't park for shit, usually just hopes for the best

has a bunch of naughty bumper stickers for sure

can fix his own car

something always broken

huge dent on the side. "jeez man, how did that get there?"

knowing full well it was a hit and run

felt bad so left a note on the dude's car: hit your car but I'm broke and dont have a licence. my bad sorry. hope you get it fixed

somehow never gets pulled over

overall, dude shouldn't even be on the road. 1/10

Kyle:-

suspect to road rage. man's got issues

hates traffic with a white hot passion

no one is allowed to eat in his car... ever.

cartman is the only one that ignores this rule and is constantly hiding wrappers in random places to annoy him

it annoys him

has run a red light on more than a few occasions

got caught speeding. argued his way out of it. thanks dad

overall, a decent driver but mf needs to chill. 7/10

Cartman:-

hates slow drivers

will happily park in disabled spots

and will say "not every disability is visible!"

and then actually gets offended when someone calls him out for doing it

usually kyle

the type of asshole to say "someone better have died for this" when driving past a collision that got him stuck on the highway for 2 hours

tailgates people for fun

hates being tailgated

gets cut off. follows them for 20 mins just to call them a useless cunt

1 ticket away from losing his licence

overall? 4/10. enuff said

Butters:-

taps the wheel along to songs

sings a lot

sometimes oblivious to road signs

because he's usually looking at the scenery around him

drives 10mph under the speed limit

just to be safe

always offers to drive the guys

the guys: 😒😒😒😒

overall, 6/10. score would be higher if the singing stopped

Craig:-

finds driving a chore

but also likes having his own transport so he can bail anytime he wants

like that one time clyde surprised him with a huge birthday party. but that's another story

parks at the back of the parking lot

then regrets it when it rains

never gets to play his own music, because whoever's in the front is in charge of the bluetooth. it's always clyde

mf always giving lifts to people

for free too

always questions himself why he does it

overall, dude deserves a medal for putting up with so much shit. 10/10

Clyde:-

never drives. simple as that

thank fuck for craig and drive thrus, huh

overall, the leech gets a solid 0/10 and that's being generous

Tweek:-

6 failed attempts before he eventually passed

thought he was cursed

turns out he cant drive for shit

only drives to places he's familiar with

so basically a 3 mile radius from his house

drives in silence. man cannot concentrate

tells people to shut up if they are talking to him when he's driving

like I said, man cannot concentrate

overall? I mean, at least he tries. 5/10 for effort

Tolkien:-

listens to the same radio station

pretty observant. can see the accident before it even happens

the most sensible driver out of everyone

somehow never gets asked to drive tho

takes advantage of that

always offers to pay for gas

is the only one that does

overall, a great driver. 9/10. wd buddy

[leiakenobi]

Once In A Lifetime [1/1]

Fandom: Triple Frontier (2019) Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 12.2k Summary: After circling around your attraction for hours, Santi brings you back home to wait out the snowstorm that brought you into his bar. Once there, you learn more about the lonely man who's taken a liking to you and become increasingly aware of just what you'll be missing if you walk away from him in the morning. (Sequel to “This Must Be The Place”) Warnings: SMUT (18+ only): fingering (f receiving), protected piv, oral (m receiving)

A/N: What is that, you say? After swearing that I’d never write a sequel to my bartender Santi fic, I did and it is nearly twice the length of the original? It’s more likely than you think. I’ve known that this was where their story would go pretty much since I posted the first part, but I could never quite settle on an ~emotional core~ to the story. Well uh based on the fact that it turned into 12.2k I think I found it. Anyway much love to everyone who’s listened to me yell about this fic in the past few weeks and an extra special thanks to Tegan for quelling my pacing anxieties and to my irl pal Jaime for watching Triple Frontier and talking with me for literal hours about what the hell is going on in this weird man’s brain. I recommend that you read “This Must Be The Place” before reading this fic but I’m not your mom.

PREVIOUS PART | AO3

——

“This is your house? But it looks so normal.”

Santi lets out a laugh, simultaneously surprised and affronted. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just with your whole…” You gesture vaguely up and down. He’s raising his eyebrows at you, you can see it faintly thanks to the dim light of his porch, but you try your best to maintain a neutral expression. “Amiable but solitary vibe, I’d’ve pegged you as more of an isolated little rundown cabin deep in the woods kind of guy. But this is…”

You hesitate, peering out through the windshield again. It is only one story, but it’s fairly large and well-maintained, with what seems to be a set of steps lit up by the headlights and leading down to the lake below. Undoubtedly it would feel pleasantly secluded in the summer, but the bare trees make you all too aware of your proximity to the highway, just back down the small driveway.

“Normal,” you conclude at last.

It takes Santi long enough to answer that you turn back to look at him, which means that you are now confronted by a very serious expression indeed as he says, “I don’t usually go for any sort of pegging on a first date.”

“I’d hardly call this a date.”

His lips curl up into a smirk. “Fair enough. Now let’s get inside my very normal house, it’s freezing out here.”

You navigate the snow in his driveway alright, but his house sits atop a slight incline and you find yourself hesitating at the stairs leading up to his front door. Admittedly, less snow has accumulated on the steps than on the ground surrounding you, but it still seems plenty treacherous.

“I promise I’m better about getting sand down before a storm when I’m actually expecting company,” Santi says, voice quiet beneath the whistling wind as he reaches you. And it’s a little tricky to see him clearly – his porch light casts only the faintest glow on the spot where you’re standing – but you think he might be genuinely nervous about the possibility that you’re judging him for the lack of courtesy.

So you reach out to take hold of his arm at the elbow. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me steady.”

He doesn’t look worried about your impression of him at all, then.

There’s the slightly awkward lull as he fusses with his keys, unlocks his door, and beckons you inside, but then you’re glancing around and even before he finds the light switch, you can’t help letting out a laugh.

“Okay, clearly I was wrong. This isn’t a normal house at all.” You turn back to look at Santi, grinning wide at the sight of his narrowed eyes. “This is a little old lady’s house.”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.”

It’s not even that you’re trying to be funny. You just don’t know any other way to describe the furniture – undoubtedly well-maintained but certainly dated – or the trinkets and tchotchkes that sit scattered across his living room—some of it is sports memorabilia, a scuffed signed baseball and a few framed magazines and trading cards hung up on a far wall. But there’s also all manner of other things—a hanging shelf of miniature snow globes, a bookshelf with some sort of peculiar figurines instead of bookends.

Frankly, the only thing that makes it not feel like a little old lady’s house is that the whole thing doesn’t look remotely cohesive.

As you unzip your coat and set it into his outstretched hand, you say, “Next you’re gonna tell me that you have five cats.”

He gives you a stern look before turning away; you make note of the closet where he tucks your coat in amongst his own vast collection. (Because yes, clearly he’s been in the Midwest long enough to accumulate a coat for any weather.) “I’m not really a cat guy.”

“Really?”

Santi seems to detect genuine surprise in your voice, because he pauses in the middle of toeing his boots off to look at you. “Do I… seem like I should be?”

“Oh, maybe a little bit, but no, I was just…” You kick gently at the edge of his sofa, leaving a small clump of snow in your wake that quickly dissolves into a puddle on the hardwood floor. “Something scratched this up pretty good.”

A little smile spreads across his face as he returns his focus to his boots, like maybe he’s pleased that you’re bothering to pay such close attention. “I think Eddie had a cat or two. That’s the, uh, former owner of Pope’s. The bar wasn’t the only thing he needed to get rid of when he moved. And you’re welcome to stand here as long as you want, but you know you don’t have to just hang out in the doorway, right?”

It only strikes you when he says this that that’s what you’re doing, and you feel a little bashful as you go to remove your boots as well. “Sorry, you bring me back here and I just start picking apart your life.”

“Hey.” Santi crouches down and settles his elbows on his thighs so that he can meet your gaze while you’re stooped over. “Pick apart my life as much as you want. It’s refreshing. And besides.” He smiles wide enough to show teeth, which immediately softens his features and makes your heart pound. “I think it’d be more accurate to say that you started somewhere around the moment you said I bought my bar to become someone different.”

“I didn’t… quite say that,” you reply carefully.

“No, you were nicer about it.” When you return to your full height, Santi joins you. “But you’re probably thinking it now, too, aren’t you?”

You purse your lips to suppress a smile. “Only a little.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement, and he gives your arm a gentle but intentional nudge and gestures further into the house. “I’m gonna get some water, can I get you anything?”

“Water would be nice.”

You trail after him, taking a closer look at the rest of the room as you go. This side of the house has a fairly open layout, the living room bleeding into the kitchen and a wide doorway leading from the kitchen to the dark dining room beyond. Enough light is cast from the living room lamps that Santi doesn’t bother to turn the overhead light on as he peers into one of his cabinets and collects two water glasses. “He sold me the glasses, too, before you ask.”

Although your attention had been drawn to Santi’s back – to his shoulder blades shifting beneath his shirt while reaching up to the shelf – your gaze shifts and you take in the offending glasses.

Mickey Mouse is smiling back at you.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” you reply, but amusement saturates your voice and he looks at you with raised eyebrows.

Rather than contradicting you – as much as you think he might want to – Santi asks, “Ice?”

“Nah.” You glance over his shoulder at the window above his sink, through which you can still make out snowflakes flitting through the air. “I feel like I’ve had enough of snow and ice for a lifetime.”

He hums sympathetically. “I can turn up the thermostat too, if you’d like. I’ve been told I keep this place a little chilly.”

Frankly, you hadn’t even noticed; a pleasant warmth has been coursing through your veins ever since you kissed him back at the bar, a persistent reminder of the quiet anticipation hanging over you no matter how much you might be volleying back and forth about how Santi has constructed his entire life here around other people’s things.

Meeting his gaze with a soft smile, you tell him, “That’s okay,” and claim the offered drink before moving past Santi – maybe grazing against him – to take a peek in his dining room while he fills his own glass.

From a quick survey in the dark, you’d take a guess that this room is the most Santi you’ve seen so far, largely by virtue of the empty walls and the lack of clutter from the furniture—nothing but a table, six chairs, and a liquor cabinet. After a lengthy period of time during which he hedged around his own hobbies, Santi had finally admitted to you back at the bar that he picked up woodworking after extensive nagging from one of his friends and regulars. In the moment, he told you that he’d only made a table because his old one had given out on him (“I don’t do it for fun, it was just practical”), but from the look of things, you’d take a guess that he built everything else in the room to match.

It’s a nice piece of him, you think.

Even if he does hold it close to the chest.

“It’s nearly 1:30.”

You turn abruptly to look back at Santi where he’s leaning against the doorjamb, backlit by the warm glow from the living room.

“Already?” You take a sip of water, watching his silhouette over the rim of the glass. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Santi hums and takes a few steps closer, but he hesitates short of truly getting into your space. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t…” He hesitates, looking you up and down. “You’ve had a really long day. If you just wanna pass out… my bed’s pretty comfortable. As is the couch, despite the cat scratches.”

The offer nearly makes you laugh in its inelegance, but you suppress it, instead giving Santi an amused little smile as you reach behind you and set your water on the table. “As opposed to picking up where we left off.”

“Yes.”

You give it a moment’s pause before reaching out a hand and capturing his wrist, the leather of his bracelet pleasantly warm against your fingers. “Honestly, I don’t think I could sleep right now if I tried.”

Even with these words hanging in the air, Santi doesn’t move right away. It’s not until you gently tug him toward you that he closes the distance, so much slower than the hungry kiss he initiated back at the bar. Almost timid.

No, not timid—his eyes meet yours as he leans in and it almost makes you heart stall how firm and steadfast his gaze is before his lips settle against yours and your eyelids fall shut.

If anything, you think – as Santi presses his tongue past your lips to taste you again, as he presses in close to you and sets his drink down before resting his free hand against the table where his fingers just so happen to graze your ass – if anything, you think that he is remarkably sure of himself. And as you open your mouth to him, you feel it in the way he inhales sharply through his nose and leans in closer--

He’s decided to trust that you’re sure of yourself, too.

Good, you think, reaching up for the buttons of his shirt.

Time to pick up where you left off.

Santi smiles against your mouth and he lets you—he even puffs his chest out a little bit and leans into your touch, giving you better access. To your surprise, though, he doesn’t follow suit. He grins and nips at your bottom lip as you ease his sleeves down his arms, but when the flannel drops to the floor, he doesn’t tug at your shirt. Instead, he clutches your waist tight and presses you harder against the table as he leans in.

Distantly, you’re aware of the edge of the table digging into your thighs, but you couldn’t care less. Not when Santi is wonderfully close, he’s tasting you so eagerly and there’s his thigh, nudging between your legs.

You think back to your impression as you straddled him on the floor of his bar, that Santi might just kiss you forever, and it seems now like he’s of a mind to do precisely that.

His tongue traces languid and patient against yours, and you think you might let him.

But you certainly take the opportunity to touch him, too; a little sigh escapes your lips as you run your hands over his torso before settling one low on his back and the other up higher, where his muscles are pulled taut from holding you.

He groans, soft but eager, when you dig your nails into his skin and urge him closer, urge him to press flush against you.

The lingering hint of whiskey has mostly faded on Santi’s tongue, covered up by the earthy taste of what you think must be well water. It suits him—is intoxicating like him, overwhelming you as the still, late night hangs over the room and makes you all too aware of each shaky inhale through your nose and each time your chest falters tight against his.

It’s not until Santi shifts his weight that you become abruptly aware of his arousal as his groin settles against your hip—not that he seems to be making any efforts to do anything about it, seemingly still too preoccupied with learning each inch of your mouth and drawing soft whimpers and moans from the back of your throat by sucking at your tongue just right and tugging at your hair.

When you respond by opening your legs more, there’s no intentionality behind it, even though – in retrospect – you probably could’ve guessed that it would encourage Santi to nestle his own leg further between your thighs.

You don’t really intend to grind against his thigh, either, but you like the way Santi chuckles into your mouth when you do.

“Looking for something?” he murmurs.

You, too, giggle, shifting to lean your forehead against his and take the first full breath you’ve managed in you’re not sure how long. “Some place to wait out a snowstorm.”

But your breath falters when Santi inches his hand along your shirt’s hemline until he finds purchase at the button of your jeans. When he speaks again, his voice comes out husky and heart-wrenching. “Is that all?”

“I thought it was,” you concede, softly. Fuck, you’re all too aware of each of Santi’s shallow breaths across your cheek, his skin hot beneath your hands, his fingers trembling at your waist where your shirt has ridden up, and it’s frankly a wonder you can think right now. “What’re you looking for?”

When he deftly unfastens your pants with only his thumb, you expect a joke. You expect him to be flirty and perhaps a little crude.

“I have no fucking idea,” Santi says instead, in a moment of alarming honesty that makes you pull your head back to truly look into his eyes. Even in the dark, there seems to be a gleam to them. “And for once that doesn’t scare the shit outta me.”

You’re not sure if you could have said whether it’s this declaration or the ensuing kiss that sends goosebumps down your arms, but regardless—when his fingers trail into your jeans and over the thin fabric of your panties, you’re already shivering, and it has nothing to do with the cold.

Santi’s touches are fleeting at first—teasing touches paired with teasing kisses that have you rocking your hips forward to seek more friction and clutching at his neck to keep his lips firmly on yours. Even through your underwear, you’re hyper-aware of the calluses on his fingers, sending a jolt to your core and making you sigh into his mouth as he slowly caresses you. His knee nudges yours, urging you to open wider for him, and you oblige unthinkingly.

Anything to sink deeper into the feeling of him closing in around you.

It’s not until Santi swipes your panties aside that you become abruptly, overwhelmingly aware of how wet you are, the fabric pressing damp between his knuckles and your thigh. But then you feel it in earnest, the ease with which he swipes through your folds, and you let out a whimper and tug at Santi’s hair in the same moment that his breath catches and he ruts up against you, just once.

Oh.

So he likes knowing that you’re turned on.

Maybe he likes a little affirmation of precisely how aroused you are.

When he hesitates with a finger at your entrance before slowly, patiently tracing back up to your clit, you pull his hair a bit harder and draw out a low moan from the back of his throat, and yes.

You think that’s exactly what he likes.

By that assessment, Santi also likes it when you dig the nails of your other hand into his back, and when you make a noise of disapproval in the moment you chase his mouth after he pulls away but before he ducks his head down to kiss your neck. He groans and you clench around nothing, needing him more than anything.

You tell him as much, exhaling a fractured, “Santi,” but faltering for a moment when his teeth graze your skin at your pulse point. “I need--” His free hand, cradling your back so carefully, curls into your shirt and grips tight to pull you closer at the same moment that he increases the pressure on your clit. “Need more, Santi.”

He makes a pleased noise that goes straight to your core. “What do you need?”

From the way he’s hesitating just shy of pressing two fingers into your pussy, now, you daresay he knows precisely what you’re asking for.

But you like the vague, haphazard way he’s rocking his hips against your thigh and the heat of his breath, his tongue on your neck as his stubble burns your skin just so. So you humor him—albeit tugging his hair hard for good measure. “Fill me up, please.”

Santi follows through in an instant, wrenching a whimper from deep within you.

“Like that?” he whispers. As if on cue, the pads of his fingers swipe over a spot that makes you buck against his hand.

Nodding, you hum weakly. “Just like that.”

Just like that, Santi begins to ease his fingers out of your cunt before pressing in again, deeper. He takes on a slow, leisurely pace to fuck you on his fingers, a leisurely pace which he mirrors with a patient exploration of your neck and your jaw—finding each tender spot that will make you gasp or moan or dig your nails deeper into his skin.

Only his shallow breathing and the press of his arousal against your thigh can betray how worked up he truly is.

In a frantic moment, you try to reach between you – a near impossible feat with how desperately close Santi is, pressed flush against you – with a mind to stroke him over his pants. Perhaps try to reach inside and get him off in earnest.

(The very thought of getting your hand on his cock makes you thrust against his hand a little harder.)

But he nudges his nose against your jaw and says, “Lemme wait.” Maybe he anticipates that you’re going to ask why – after all, you know that you’re not the only one who’s been craving this for hours – because he elaborates, just a little, as he traces his thumb through your folds before circling it over your clit. “I want to see you come first.”

The thought makes your breath catch in your throat, makes you clench around his fingers automatically, and Santi lets out a sweet chuckle.

“Shut up and kiss me, then,” you instruct him, or beg him—you’re not sure which.

He obeys, or gives in—you’re still not sure which. But you relish in the feeling of Santi’s tongue slotting against yours again as he fucks you with his fingers over, and over, and over.

You feel your climax building steadily, filling your lungs and your veins, and it takes everything in you not to race toward it head-on. Instead, for an instant or for an age, you sink into a very particular feeling--

A feeling of a small hint of scar tissue at Santi’s neck where you’re gripping it--

A feeling of his knuckles, slick with your arousal as they drag across your thigh--

A feeling of the quiet, early morning hour almost ready to engulf you--

And it’s then, with your head swirling and Santi’s teeth on your lower lip, that you feel yourself unravel.

Santi coaxes you through it with tender kisses, continuing his ministrations with his fingers as you thrust, stuttering and clumsy, against his hand. It’s not until you falter and duck your head away that he wavers, his fingers still in your pussy to the knuckle.

The still, heady darkness hangs over you both for a moment until you let out a soft laugh and breathe, “Fuck.”

Santi seems to let out a breath he was holding as he chuckles. “Is that a good ‘fuck’?”

You lean back far enough to raise an eyebrow at him. “Mostly.” Santi’s mouth falls open slightly, but you elaborate before he has any need to be generally affronted or ask a follow-up question. “But also a ‘fuck, I’m starving’ sort of ‘fuck.’”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he laughs harder, and involuntarily, you clench around him again just once. “I think we can do something about that.”

Although you hum approvingly, you also clutch Santi tighter when he moves to pull away. “In a second.”

While you have him here, holding you so close, you might as well steal another kiss.

*-*

Evidently, Santi is a weekly meal prep type of guy—at least judging by the number of Tupperware containers full of some sort of rice and veggie dish that you get a glimpse of when he opens up his fridge. He grabs just one, at first, before hesitating and retrieving another and bringing them both to his microwave.

“I hope I’m not throwing a wrench into your meal plans with this.”

He turns around and leans against the counter with his arms crossed, which draws your focus for… just a moment. Because his shirt is still lying discarded on the floor in the other room, leaving Santi shirtless.

From the way his lips quirk up, he clocks your wandering gaze, but he says nothing about it. “Don’t worry about it. I always end up getting tired of this recipe before all of the servings are gone.”

You laugh, more than a little bewildered. “Why do you keep making it, then?”

“I don’t know, because it’s easy, I guess?” A thought seems to occur to him, then, and he points at you accusingly with a fork. “Don’t read into that.”

“What would I read into that?” You smile pleasantly before sipping at your water.

Santi glowers momentarily, but there’s no real bite to it; regardless, he seems unable to quite hold a stern expression while looking at you, and honestly, you can relate.

“You’re not throwing any wrenches into anything,” he reiterates once his expression softens.

When the microwave goes off shortly after, Santi hands you the first reheated bowl, and you find that you can’t quite bring yourself to sit down, either at the dining room table or at the smaller, more functional kitchen table which – judging by the used coffee mug and the overturned copy of a battered paperback – seems to get more day-to-day use.

Instead, you begin to meander through the space as you eat. You take a closer look at the snow globes you’d spotted on the way in, the framed sports magazines and trading cards and suddenly you realize you’re halfway down the hall that leads deeper into his house, looking over a number of photographs containing what you think must be Santi’s family and friends.

“That one’s my mom.”

His voice startles you, enough so that it’s a good thing you were holding your Tupperware tight or you might have been in serious danger of dropping it. You glance away from the picture in question to take Santi in, hesitating a few feet away and chewing a bite of his food with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“This one?” You point to the frame that you’d been examining, and when he nods, you turn back and look at it closer.

It’s clearly one of the older photos on the wall—black and white but a little brown and faded around the edges, and that’s even without taking into account that the woman in the photograph looks young, probably hovering around 20 years old at the latest as she poses on a beach towel with a large body of water in the background.

And though Santi hasn’t told you his age – though you have had no particular desire to ask – you see the years in his face, so you know that this day at the beach must have been a long time ago.

“You look like her,” you tell him, squinting at her face.

He hums. “Maybe a little.”

The reluctance in Santi’s voice is palpable. When you furrow your brow and meet his eyes, he shrugs. It feels almost apologetic. “She always said I look like my dad, but I don’t… I couldn’t tell you.”

You don’t remark upon that, precisely. You cast your gaze over his tired features, then over his mother, with her bright eyes and inviting smile. “Whatever you got from your dad…” You consider it for a moment before reaching out and touching his cheek gently, just beside his eye. “I think these are hers.”

It’s only belatedly that you think to drop your hand.

Santi’s Adam’s apple shifts visibly as he swallows. “The one next to it is her with her parents,” he says.

You take a bite of food and let the subject change go by.

It becomes apparent to you quite quickly that Santi is in almost none of these pictures, though you can’t say you’re surprised. The ones that do contain Santi are nearly all from his youth, and always with family—his mom or grandparents, mostly, but he also chuckles to himself as he points out his “tío Roberto,” who he explains was his favorite growing up purely by virtue of the fact that he would pick Santi up and flip him upside-down, as captured in one of the photos.

There’s exactly one picture of Santi from his days in the army, and it’s just a polaroid, but he framed it all the same. He’s not looking at the camera, and neither are the other two men in the shot, their focus instead on the card game that they’re playing around a table. One of the strangers seems to be affronted and arguing with the other, while Santi is captured mid-laugh.

“Tom was trying to break his own house rules,” Santi says, reaching out to point at the man who’s being thoroughly chastised. His finger shifts, then, to the one who’s yelling. “Will wasn’t very happy about it.”

“And you…”

“I knew I had the cards to win that hand either way. I think Fish could tell, that’s why he took the picture.”

He has a pleased little smile tugging at his mouth when you look at him, and a far-off look in his eyes that you can’t quite pinpoint.

“Do you see them much?” you ask softly. Because as much fondness as he’d radiated when telling you stories about them back at the bar, it hasn’t escaped your notice that they were all in the past. Years and years ago.

“They’ve each visited a few times, yeah.” Santi pauses to eat, and he seems to linger on chewing, slow and precise. “Frankie’s made it up for at least a week pretty much every summer I’ve been here, but he just had a kid a few months ago, so I’ll probably have to make the trek out to him for now.”

You feel yourself bursting with… a few sentiments, really. Bursting over how lonely it sounds, bursting over your longing to ask whether he misses them and whether it’s worth it to be so far removed if it makes it so difficult to see people he clearly cares about very much.

But you also feel Santi balancing on such a delicate edge of vulnerability and disclosure, and you’re honestly not quite sure you could handle where the conversation might go if you pushed, so you say nothing about it. Instead, you glance at your Tupperware, now empty save for a few scattered pieces of rice and vegetables not worth trying to get onto your fork.

“Show me your room?”

Santi glances further down the hall, maintaining an impressively neutral expression. “If you want.”

“You mentioned a comfortable bed.” You begin to walk in the direction of that comfortable bed, but you move backward so that you can hold his gaze. “Also, I think I owe you an orgasm.”

“Hey, let the record show that I don’t think you owe me anything,” he retorts, although he certainly is trailing after you.

You give him a stern look. “Santiago.”

And he earnestly, wordlessly falters a few steps away, which almost makes you giggle.

“Take me to bed, please.”

Santi sighs heavily, as though you’ve asked something remarkably difficult of him. “I guess if you’re going to say please.”

No sooner have you crossed the threshold to his bedroom than Santi liberates the empty Tupperware from your grasp, stacking it with his own and discarding them both on his dresser before promptly getting his hands on your waist. He gives you a satisfied little grin as he guides you backward across his floor, and you match it—smiling over him, and over the way that his fists are balling into your shirt to finally tug it off again.

You lean in to kiss him as soon as you can manage, before you’ve even quite pulled your forearms free of your top and discarded it. And he smiles against your lips, giving you sweet pecks even while he mumbles, “Gimme a second to turn the light on.”

Unable to help yourself, you let out a low huff that has Santi chuckling. But you acquiesce, though your hand trails along his side as he moves around you to reach the lamp on his bedside table.

Even briefly in the dark as you were, you have to blink away the brightness for a few moments until your eyes become accustomed to the low, warm light of Santi’s lamp. His room is rather small, so in the time it takes for your eyes to adjust, he’s slotted your hands together to pull you toward him, and the feeling of his palm against yours is enough to make your pulse race.

Because you feel abruptly aware of the fact that he may have already been inside you, but you haven’t actually held hands.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you let Santi pull you close and duck his head to scatter a few kisses over your shoulder. “Let’s get these pants off,” he murmurs. His free hand toys with one of your belt loops as he speaks.

“I could say the same to you,” you laugh. Reaching up, you curl your fingers in his hair and tug—just hard enough that he lets you pull his head back to look at you from beneath half-closed eyelids that give you the perfect glimpse of his darkened eyes. “You haven’t even let me into yours yet, and I’ve been trying for hours.”

Santi looks tremendously pleased with himself as he relinquishes his grip on you to unbutton and unzip his own jeans. “What exactly does ‘hours’ mean?”

You roll your eyes – admittedly affectionate – and nudge him to sit down on the bed, which he does easily, kicking his pants away the moment he’s off his feet. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

It takes only moments for Santi to reach up and still your hand—not even long enough for you to unzip your own pants. When you look down at him, he’s gazing at you with wide, earnest eyes. “Yeah, I would.”

You swallow sharply. “Since my car wouldn’t start.”

“Just since then?”

He doesn’t sound hurt, per se, but you think it’s a valid question: you spent a whole evening with him, but it was only when you got more definitively stranded that you wanted to sleep with him?

Carefully, you begin to unzip and remove your jeans. “In another universe, where I hadn’t left my lights on when I came into your bar, I think I would have wanted an excuse to stay.” Your pants make a soft thump when they pool in a pile on the floor, and you lick your lips before stepping out of them and slowly, carefully climbing into Santi’s lap. “And when I couldn’t find one, I would have probably left, and told my friends about the sexy bartender who kept me alive, but not until the trip was over.”

Santi leans into your touch as your arms settle over his shoulders and the pads of your fingers slowly trace over his neck and into his hair. And there, arching slightly against your hand, he murmurs, “How come?”

“Because they would’ve spent the whole week trying to convince me to come back.”

These words hang in the air for several long moments.

“You could come back. If you want.”

Only Santi’s slightly too-tight grip on your hips gives any external indication that this suggestion might come from a place of genuine want. But you furrow your brow anyway, because there’s still something guarded in his gaze. As gently as you can manage, you say, “Why don’t you think about what you want, and then you can let me know?”

Maybe he doesn’t know whether he wants to see you again – or at least, and perhaps more likely, he can’t quite seem to say it – but Santi most certainly knows what he wants right now, and he shows it—pressing you into his mattress while he savors the taste of you. Now that your shirt is gone, he’s quite eager to continue where he left off in the back room of his bar, so it’s in very short order indeed that he scoots down on the bed to kiss and suck at whatever exposed skin he can reach.

You let out a gasp and arch up against his mouth as he sucks hard enough to leave a mark just above your bra cup, and he uses the opportunity to reach beneath you for the clasp to unfasten it, humming a low note of satisfaction against your skin as he slips the bra off and tosses it aside. No sooner has he left your tits bare than his mouth is on them again, making you whimper and tremble beneath his touch. You can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut over just how much it is, and over just how much you’re sort of willing it to last forever.

Then his mouth is gone, and his shoulders aren’t there anymore when you reach for him, and you find yourself earnestly whining his name as you open your eyes.

Santi is kneeling over you between your legs. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide as he looks you over, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. Given how wrecked he looks, you can’t imagine the sort of state you’re in, and you couldn’t care less.

But you still nudge his thigh with your knee and tease him for staring. “I’d say ‘take a picture, it’ll last longer,’ but I think that’s also definitely off-limits for a first date.”

He laughs bashfully and swats at your hip. “I’m just getting a condom.”

And he does, crawling around you to search through his nightstand, but only after taking a few more moments, and you don’t mind.

You lift your hips to shimmy out of your panties, and then you take this opportunity to check Santi out for a moment, stretched out on the bed beside you and peering through a half-full box of condoms to grab one. You take in the sight of him, his bicep flexing from the way he’s leaning on his arm for support; his toned thighs, the muscles shifting beneath his skin as he leans forward; and his ass, still concealed beneath his underwear but tantalizingly within reach. A renewed sense of arousal hits you, full force, and you reach absently to touch yourself.

“Oh,” you breathe, over both the jolt of pleasure it sends through you and the lingering wetness that you sweep up with your fingers. Santi looks up in response to the sound, just in time to see you hesitate at your entrance before pressing inside.

Both of you swear in unison—you because it is something else to feel how needy you still are, your cunt hot and dripping and desperate for more than your fingers can provide. And Santi…

“Jesus,” he groans. The condoms make a soft clattering noise as he drops the box near your head, but he begins to crawl back toward you and the foil of a wrapper crinkles slightly in his hand, so you know that at least he didn’t forget to grab one. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“And leave Pope’s without an owner? I could never.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Santi settles his hand on your thigh, stroking it slowly. His expression is remarkably grave. “If you kill me, you have to take over. It’s like The Santa Clause.” He pauses a moment to consider it. “In the sense that you also turn into a lonely old man with bad knees.”

You giggle, both over the reference and over the fact that he’s now tugging his underpants off as though he said nothing out of the ordinary. “I think I can safely say this is the first time I’ve ever talked about Tim Allen during sex.”

“Does he not… come up often?” You laugh harder, kicking at Santi’s calf which in turn makes him crack a smile. “I’ll have to come up with some better pillow talk, then, I thought I’d talk about Home Improvement until we fell asleep.”

“I’d rather spend a night in the snow,” you retort. But you falter over the last word because Santi has ducked down to kiss you, soft and tender.

He pulls away after a few moments and hesitates, like that—oh so close and just looking at you. You hear him crinkle the condom wrapper in his hand again and you know he’s going to pull away in a moment to put it on, and you want that, you really fucking do, but you also feel words bubbling up in your throat that you really, really need to say now.

“And you’re not such an old man,” you add softly.

Wrinkles pull at the corners of his eyes as he smiles, and you don’t mean it any less.

Santi is slow and precise in fucking you. He’s slow and precise in the kisses he gives you as he rocks his hips, too, and the first time he sucks teasingly at your tongue while buried deep inside you, you can’t help the whimper that you let out.

Then you clench around him and he moans but can’t quite seem to say anything, in case you needed a reminder that he’s just as affected.

It would be an exaggeration to say that you lose all sense of time, in large part because so much of the night has already felt dreamlike and impossible to quite pin down. But you get the sense that Santi would gladly prolong this moment of being inside, on top of, around you, your pussy fluttering around him as your mouth moves languid against his, and the quiet winter night hanging over it all, seemingly endless.

You can relate.

So even you’re taken aback by the precise amount of urgency in your voice when he hesitates for a breath between kisses and you blurt, “Hold my hand, Santi.”

Your free hand – settled up beside your pillow while your other hand is splayed across his back – becomes the focus of Santi’s attention in an instant, and a momentary look of surprise crosses his features.

But then his fingers are intertwined with yours, your forearms are pressed flush against one another, and you become abruptly, overwhelmingly certain that you will be undone, just like that. It’s only a matter of time.

And what a rich, wonderful matter of time it is—as Santi fills you, as his own arousal gradually overwhelms him, drawing out eager moans that go straight to your core.

When your pleasure begins to overtake you, you barely have a chance to mumble a warning into Santi’s mouth before you’re tightening your grip on him and crying out. He swallows the noise easily, maintaining the pace of his thrusts and holding you close while you shudder beneath him, but you can see it in his brow when you begin to come back to yourself—he’s not quite there yet, even though he wants to be. He really fucking wants to be.

Giving his hand a careful squeeze, you breathe, “Can you come for me, babe?”

His hips stutter over the tender tone of your request, and when he finds his pace again, it’s faster, surer.

“Just don’t stop kissing me,” he instructs you, or begs you—you’re not sure which.

You obey, or give in—you’re still not sure which. You move your mouth slow and pliant against Santi’s as he chases his release, hyper-aware of each noise bubbling up from the back of his throat and each eager snap of his hips.

Distantly, you admit it to yourself, even though you don’t think you could quite say it aloud (let alone to Santi): you think it would make you happy, to do this again.

Even though you don’t say it aloud, you kiss Santi as he comes, and you wouldn’t mind if he maybe feels the truth of that, a little bit.

You allow Santi to be the one to pull away, his forehead settling against yours and his breath hot across your cheek as he hesitates inside of you.

“I’m really glad you came, because I kinda wore out my wrist back there and I’m too tired to eat you out like you deserve.”

These last words are accompanied by a low laugh bubbling up from his chest, which you can’t help but echo, even as you swat at his shoulder. “Aren’t you charming.”

“Yeah, I am,” he agrees with a smirk before giving you one last peck.

It’s irritatingly true.

What Santi said about being tired is true, too, for both of you; you watch as he disposes of the used condom in a nearby waste bin and you can see the fatigue setting in in his eyes and hanging over his shoulders. And you’re right there with him.

Because as he pointed out an eternity ago, you’ve had a long fucking day.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom while I can still move,” you tell him.

Santi hums his agreement as he rises to his feet. “D’you want anything to sleep in? It gets pretty cold, I was probably gonna…” He gestures vaguely toward his dresser.

You smile softly. “A shirt might be nice.”

He reaches the dresser first, combing through the drawers in the time it takes you to quite find your legs again. You couldn’t say who starts it, but one of you steals a lingering kiss as he hands off a faded band t-shirt, which keeps a smile on your face while you trail back down the hall toward the bathroom.

You’re only gone for long enough to pee and splash some water on your face – and perhaps marvel at your reflection as you get a glimpse at the mess that is your hair – but Santi is already under the covers when you return, lying on his side and facing the empty spot that he’s left for you. At first, you almost think that he’s actually managed to fall asleep already – you have a moment of amusement to yourself that, yeah, he evidently was too tired to eat you out – but then he mumbles, “I left the light on for you.”

Something about these words makes your breath catch in your throat, propelling you across the floor and into bed.

No sooner have you turned off the lamp and slipped under the blankets yourself than Santi has tucked his arm over your side, in a lazy sort of way. But you’re quick to lean deeper into him, and it makes you smile, when you realize his grip tightens.

For a moment, you’re tempted to make a joke. You consider perhaps asking Santi to make good on his promise to talk about Home Improvement, or tell him something absurd and patently untrue about how you’ll recount your snowstorm mishap to your friends since you did end up going home with that handsome bartender.

But words seem to fail you, and you’re glad for it, because you suddenly feel Santi nudge his nose gently against the back of your neck.

“I think I do want to leave,” he breathes.

You thread your fingers between his over your stomach and you don’t say a word.

*-*

It feels like you’ve only just nodded off when you’re jolted awake by the sound of your ringtone blaring loudly from the floor.

You sit up sharply, looking around in the dark as you parse through where the hell you are and make out… nothing, at first. But then Santi groans at your side and pulls the covers over his head, making them pull tight against your stomach, and a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper as you slip out from under the blankets.

He can only hum his vague agreement.

The curtains in Santi’s room were shut tight when you arrived last night, but as you move down the hall and back into the living room, you’re confronted by sunlight streaming in from over the lake, now clearly visible down below and through the trees. You’re still rubbing your eyes as you answer the phone with a weak, “Hello?”

Judging by the three voices on the other end of the line that erupt into a chorus of questions and one exclamation of, “We thought you were dead!” it seems that you’re on speaker phone.

You don’t tell them much. You explain about your car, and Santi offering to let you spend the night, and the fact that you’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep, which elicits some noises of delight that you choose not to humor with a response. But when you tell them that they should expect to hear from you with a more specific ETA within the next few hours, they’re reasonably reassured and tell you to go get some more sleep.

“Or whatever it is that you’re doing over there,” you hear just before the line goes dead.

Rolling your eyes, you go into Santi’s coat closet and tuck your phone into your pocket before making your way back to his wonderfully dark bedroom to curl right back up against him and drift off to sleep.

But Santi surprises you a little bit—because he’s opened the curtains partway and is sitting up against his headboard and rubbing at his eyes a little blearily when you reach the doorway.

“Everything okay?” he asks. His voice is husky from sleep, and you’d be lying if you tried to claim that the sound doesn’t make your stomach flip.

“Yeah, they just wanted to make sure I’m not tied up in some creepy farmer’s basement.”

Santi laughs softly—a creaky, sleepy laugh. “If anyone is getting tied up in this house, it’ll be in here, not in the basement.”

“That’s what I told them.”

You let out a soft hum as you tuck under the covers again, the weight of them settling over you and making you aware of just how chilly his house truly is, now that you’re thinking about it. It makes the thought of cozying up against Santi’s side again feel very warm and inviting indeed.

“But you’re not…” He falters and then reroutes. “If you’re in a hurry to get back to your car…”

“I’m not in a hurry at all, Santi.” When his expression softens, you feel that he’s been sufficiently reassured, so you add, “Now get over here, I feel like I hardly even slept.”

As much as you mean it, though, you find that you can’t truly nod off once Santi pulls you to him again, and he seems to be in a similar position. You go from talking sporadically as you doze to carrying on a full conversation, sunlight cresting over your pillow while you tell him more about your job and your world back home.

Finally, he squeezes your hip and says, “Alright, I feel like we’re not getting any more shut-eye this morning, so I’m going to make some breakfast. Waffles sound alright?”

You hum and squeeze his wrist in return. “I’ll help.”

Santi sounds genuinely affronted. “I don’t let women make breakfast after they’ve spent the night.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” You roll over onto your other side to look him in the eye, and you see the disapproval there. But you also can see that he knows he’s not going to win this particular fight. So you can’t help it: you smile.

“No need to look so smug,” he mutters, kicking your foot under the covers. But there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Despite the fact that you argued with him, there’s not actually much to making waffles when Santi only has a pre-prepared mix on hand, so you don’t even end up doing much. You lean against the counter as he stirs in the wet ingredients, burrowing your hands into the pockets of the sweatpants that he supplied you with before leading you back to the kitchen, and you ask him to tell you what he’d normally be doing, on a day like today, if he didn’t have you with him.

“Probably waking up right about now,” he says after glancing at the clock on the microwave. “Believe it or not, I usually go to bed around the same time we did. It takes a while to shut my mind off after work.”

“Oh yeah? What does the trick?”

“To turn my mind off?” When you nod, Santi stops stirring for a few moments, briefly lost in thought. “Reading. Watching some old movie on TV. Jerking off.” You roll your eyes and elbow him, and Santi giggles before going back to his stirring. “Mostly reading. It’s probably embarrassing how many times I’ve woken up at sunrise on my couch with a book on my face.”

Embarrassing, but he’s telling you. The thought makes you purse your lips, barely resisting the urge to smirk.

“And then… Oh, let me guess.” He raises his eyebrows at his mixing bowl, so you continue. “You do breakfast and then a workout and then a second breakfast, don’t you.”

Santi falters again in his stirring, just for a flash. “Better guess than the rundown cabin thing,” he concedes.

You grin, knowing very well that he’s as good as said yes.

“I used to just eat after.” Santi points the spoon at you almost accusingly, only to look surprised when you both watch a dribble of waffle mix drip onto the counter. He points you toward the paper towel roll on your other side, and you go about wiping the counter clean as he continues. “Then I started to get dizzy and my doctor said-- Long story short, you’re only right because I’m responsible with my blood sugar.”

Bumping him with your shoulder as you move to toss the paper towel, you say, “But I am right.”

Santi sighs heavily. “Could you plug in the waffle maker while you’re over there? I think we’re about ready.”

Feeling thoroughly called out, Santi nevertheless elaborates more on his routine as you oversee the waffle maker. He briefly alludes to the set-up he has down in the basement – “for when you’re not tying up lost tourists” you tease – but he spends much more time describing his summer work-outs with great fondness, how he’ll go out swimming on the lake or even rowing, sometimes, when the mood strikes him.

“And here you spent so long last night trying to convince me that you don’t have any hobbies.”

“I guess I don’t really see those things as hobbies.” You’re pulling a finished waffle out of the maker and pouring in more batter, but when you’re finished and he still hasn’t elaborated, you look up at him with one eyebrow raised. Santi looks a little bashful as he continues. “They’re more about wasting a few hours until it’s time to eat lunch and go in to do inventory.”

It’s impossible, in this moment, not to think back to his meek confession when you were drifting off to sleep: I think I do want to leave. And your heart aches more than a little, for this man who threw himself into a limbo that perhaps he needed, once upon a time… but one that he doesn’t quite know how to worm his way out of now.

“But what a nice way to waste a few hours.”

He smiles softly. “Yeah, it is.”

From the look in his eyes, it’s as though the thought has never occurred to him.

You’re slow in eating, and you don’t say so aloud, but to yourself you have no qualms with conceding that it’s because you’re beginning to feel the inevitability of your separation. If the prospect nagged at you last night when it looked like you might actually part ways with him at the bar, then now…

Well, you’re downright dreading it.

But at least Santi takes an age to eat, too.

Eventually, though, your plates are clear, the waffle batter is all gone, and he leans back in his chair and lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I figure I’ll stick around Pope’s once I bring you back, so I should probably shower before we head out. Do you…” He points a thumb in the vague direction of the bathroom.

Though Santi is graciously not telling you that you look like a mess, you certainly feel like one, so the very idea of warm, clean water makes you perk up in an instant. “I really, really do,” you agree, rising to your feet at once. And though he did not suggest that you shower together, per se… You allow yourself to look him up and down and say, “Maybe I can take care of our plates and then catch up with you?”

He pulls his plate closer when you try to reach for it. “Hey, hey, not so fast. First you insist on cleaning up my bar, then cooking your own breakfast…”

“I see no problem,” you reply, a little glow of delight coursing through your chest over his blatant exasperation.

And Santi captures your hand, pulling you in close—pulling you in just shy of a kiss. “Not seeing the problem is the problem,” he retorts. But then he nudges your nose with his and relinquishes his grip. “There aren’t really any tricks to the shower, just let me be a good host and I’ll be there soon.”

You, on the other hand, steal a quick kiss before you say, “Fine.”

“Clean towels and washcloths under the sink!” he calls after you.

He’s right—the shower doesn’t seem particularly fussy, and as you hoped might be the case since Santi lives up here full time, it’s an absolute dream compared to the shower in the vacation cabin where you’ll be spending the next week. The water heats up more quickly than you’d have anticipated given the cold, and you let out a sigh the instant you step underneath the steady stream and feel the full and consistent water pressure.

You’re halfway through washing your hair when you hear the door creak open, followed very quickly by Santi saying, “Maple syrup shouldn’t be such a pain in the ass to clean.”

“If only there was someone else here who was willing to do it for you.” You pull the shower curtain back enough to look at him pointedly.

With his shirt only half off, Santi pauses and gives you a stern look. “If only,” he agrees dryly.

He steps into the other end of the tub as you’re rinsing your hair clean. He’s shameless about taking a look at you beneath the water, his gaze focused first on your fingers in your hair but then drifting down. A smirk is tugging at his lips, but his expression falls a little when he looks at your chest and you can’t place why, at first.

“I’m usually better about asking before I do that,” he tells you awkwardly.

You realize then that Santi is talking about the mark on your breast, which has blossomed into a deep bruise in the hours since he made it.

“Oh, that?” You graze your fingers over the bruise absentmindedly. “Gives me something to remember you by. I’m not opposed to doing the same, if you want.”

He quirks an eyebrow and inches forward enough to settle his hands at your waist. Given that you’re in a bathtub, he doesn’t have to move far. “Are you asking to bite me?”

“I’m just saying I could.”

Santi laughs softly and says, “I’ll think about it,” before leaning in to kiss you.

You exhale a sigh into his mouth as he leans in closer, close enough that you’re aware of water droplets splattering against Santi’s skin and back onto you. He’s not trying to get you up against the wall, exactly, but from the way he’s pressing in and inching you backwards it feels like he’s at least thinking about it, although you have a moment of spluttering under the showerhead as the water begins to trail down your face and into your mouth, at which point another thought occurs.

Swatting at his bicep, you mumble, “You better not be kissing me to get under the water.”

“Happy side effect,” Santi offers with a pleased little grin.

You think you believe him – mostly – but you nudge him away to gesture toward the other side of the tub. “As another side effect, I think you’re closer to the soap.”

“Oh, am I?” When Santi glances over his shoulder, you’re inclined to suspect that that part wasn’t an accident at all. Not judging by the way he smiles a little wider as he swipes up the bottle of shower gel. “Then maybe I can…”

Looking at his eager, almost goofy smile, your heart beats a little faster at the thought of Santi washing you clean. So you swallow hard and say, “Yeah, okay.”

A wave of tenderness fills you as you watch him wet your washcloth for you, bubbling over as he gently guides you to turn around so he can start with your back.

“Do you not like how much of a romantic you are, or do you actually not see it?”

He stills with the washcloth on your shoulder blade and his other hand feather-light on your waist. “What?”

“Just that you thought you had to trick me into letting you do this.”

Santi lets out a low chuckle and presses a kiss to your skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “Maybe I feel like I have to trick you because you keep arguing with me when I try to do anything nice.” You’re hyper aware of the soap lather beginning to trickle down your back as he moves the washcloth across your skin. “But I can be very romantic if you let me.”

You open your mouth to speak but let out a shuddering sigh when he kisses the nape of your neck, this time, light and playful. It doesn’t feel like there’s any particular intentionality behind it—not like his hungry kisses last night at the bar, in his dining room, in his bed, which felt in each moment as though they were propelling toward more even when his mouth moved only fleetingly against yours.

“I’m not arguing.” You’re aware of the irony even as you say it, and you flinch to yourself.

“Not really helping your case, here,” he retorts, washcloth cresting over the small of your back, now.

Inhaling slowly, you close your eyes and you hold Santi’s words close, for a moment. You feel the water from the showerhead trickling down your front, Santi tracing the cloth down your arms and back up, as soap drips from your back to the floor of the tub. You feel his breath at your shoulder as he just barely refrains from kissing you.

“It seems like you’re so busy taking care of everyone else because you think you have to,” you concede softly. “Or because it’s the right thing to do. And I don’t--” There are his lips again, making your breath catch in your throat. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that for someone you just met.”

I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that for me, you don’t say, but from the way his grip momentarily tightens at your side, you can’t help but feel that maybe he hears it.

Santi hums. He rests his hands on your hips and slowly, gently encourages you to turn around. He begins washing your front when you do, sweeping over your collarbone, your tits, your belly. “Taking care of someone because it’s the right thing to do. Like making a pretty girl feel safe when she wanders into a strange bar in a snowstorm.”

“Something like that, sure.”

You’re unable to look away from Santi’s face—his gaze is so focused on what he’s doing, brow furrowed and mouth pulled into a serious line. But he licks his lips and smiles to himself as a thought occurs. “So how far does that go, exactly? Because if you think fingerbanging you against a table was something I felt obligated to do, I think we should probably talk about our expectations for people in the service industry.”

“No, of course not,” you laugh. When you do, he looks up at you with raised eyebrows, and you falter. Your smile doesn’t fade, but still, you falter. Hesitantly, you reach up and run a hand through his hair. “I think I knew you weren’t just trying to make me feel safe because you had to when you put your sandwich on my plate.”

Santi lets out a laugh of his own and says, “But you still thought I might not consider myself a romantic.”

“Okay, but how romantic is a grilled cheese, in the grand scheme of things?”

But Santi has barely let you get the words out before he’s cupping your jaw in his hands – getting suds of soap all over your chin in the process – and giving you a slow, heady kiss.

When he pulls away, he almost immediately lowers himself to wash your bottom half, saying, “A grilled cheese can be plenty romantic,” as he goes.

You’re not sure you’ve ever had someone kneel before you like this with such earnestly innocent designs—because even when Santi reaches between your legs, there’s nothing playful or teasing about it. It’s simply…

Tender, maybe. Sensual, maybe.

Both, you think.

And you’re on the verge of commenting on it – to say what, you’re frankly not sure – but before you can, he says, “You were right, that I’ve been going through the motions. Probably for a long time. But I like taking care of people.” He squeezes your thigh and looks up at you with soft eyes. “And I could’ve taken good care of you.”

You swallow hard over the heart-rending way he’s just offered up such an earnest sentiment—because you can’t tell if he means over the course of this pit stop, or if he’s referring to a world where maybe you don’t just drive away from Pope’s and leave this night behind.

Remembering the soft look in his eyes when he told you that you could come back, if you want, you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed by the fact that… Well. You have a guess.

It seems so hopeful but so final at the same time, and you don’t know how the hell that makes you feel.

So you do the only thing you can quite bring yourself to do: you try to crack a smile. “I think you took very good care of me twice.”

Santi returns to his full height, and you’re rendered completely immobile as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Alright, I could’ve taken better care of you, then.” Nudging you backward a bit, he adds, “Time to rinse.”

It is a very impractical sort of rinse, because Santi is kissing you as the water chases the soap away. Steadily, though, you feel the suds receding, replaced by wonderfully warm droplets of water.

You become increasingly aware of Santi, too, skin damp as he slots against you and the undeniable press of his erection against your thigh.

But you don’t do anything about it until he pulls away to take a breath. Only then, curling your hand at the nape of his neck, do you ask, “If I didn’t argue with you, you’d still let me take care of you, too?”

Santi presses a glancing kiss to your jaw, and then another. And another. “Mhm.”

Reaching between you, you trail a hand down his chest and hesitate just short of his groin. “Do you want me to take care of you now?”

He lets out a choked laugh and rests his forehead on your shoulder for a few long moments before conceding, “I mean. Yes.”

“Yeah?” You can hear the smile in your own voice as you graze your hand down further, reaching the base of his cock. Again, you falter.

“I really, really want that, yeah.” In illustration, Santi rocks his hips forward. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head and pull you into another eager kiss, and you give him what he wants.

Your world feels so compact, so richly oversaturated as you stroke Santi right there, the water streaming down over you both and his tongue back at home in your mouth and those sweet, desperate little noises he makes in the back of his throat. And you are slow, so very slow in winding him up, particularly when you realize that this must be what he must have felt like as he gradually made you come apart on his fingers.

The need to memorize each piece of it—that’s what you feel.

The need to notice that little gasp Santi lets out when you first trace your thumb over his head and tease his foreskin, and the sensitive skin underneath.

The need to remember precisely how he’s clinging to your hair and how his curls feel between your fingers.

No wonder he didn’t want you to jerk him off last night.

But you think there’s another piece of this pretty picture that you’d like to get a glimpse of.

“I wanna suck you off,” you mumble into Santi’s mouth, just as you squeeze the base of his cock a bit tighter.

He groans and nods in an instant. “Mhm.”

No sooner have you gotten to your knees, however, than Santi grabs for your face, fingers splaying across your cheek and your neck. “Hang on, hang on,” he blurts.

Gazing up at him – gazing up at him as he blinks glassy-eyed at you, water trickling down his chest and his cock leaking eagerly in your hand – you feel the world grow quiet for a moment.

“What was that you said,” Santi begins carefully, “about something to remember you by?”

You lick your lips and resume your slow, careful strokes as you ask, “D’you want a little mark, Santi?” A smirk pulls at his lips at this question, so you push a little further, smoothing your free hand over his thigh. “Maybe somewhere just for you?”

Quietly, he says, “Yes please.”

The moan he lets out when you get your mouth on his skin, on the other hand, is loud—you think louder than you heard him at any point last night. Santi moans as you suck a mark into his thigh and thrusts eagerly into your hand, and you hear yourself make a little noise of pleasure yourself, just over the sound of his arousal.

“Fuck, that’s--” Santi falters and lets out a softer whimper when you press another, sweeter kiss to the same spot. “On-- one more thing. Before…” You sit back on your heels and gaze up at him with a pleased smile, admittedly delighting in the fact that it seems to be just the look of you kneeling before him that momentarily gives him pause. “Where do you want me to come?”

Oh.

“Where do you want to come?” Maybe you make a point to stroke your thumb over his head in this moment, collecting the precum accumulated there.

Santi opens his mouth and then closes it again, then traces a finger faintly over your cheekbone. “I asked first.”

You purse your lips in amusement. Fair enough. Looking up at the showerhead for a few moments, you don’t miss the flash of delight that crosses Santi’s face when you meet his gaze again and reach up to meet his fingers at your cheek, holding him closer. “If we’re in here anyway… right here might be nice.”

He’s barely choked out an okay before you’re taking him into your mouth.

It should take longer. You’re genuinely willing it to take longer, trying to wind Santi up slow and render him absolutely desperate before he unfurls.

So why does it feel like it’s only an instant later that he’s tugging at your hair and pleading with you to hang on, I’m--

Even though your knees are aching from the floor of the tub, and your neck and jaw are sore as shit, so there’s no fucking way that it actually went by quite so fast.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Santi says gently.

His hand is stuck out for you to take, which you do, allowing him to pull you to your feet on the wet shower floor. Knelt down in front of him, you hadn’t been getting as much direct spray from the shower, but now, at your full height, you’re aware of how tepid the water has become over the course of the time that you two have been in here—but it still feels nice, trailing through your hair and down your cheeks, intermingling now with the traces of Santi’s cum which have left your skin warm and sticky.

Santi’s skin too, then, because he traces his hand over your jaw before cupping your cheek, looking you over all the while with shining eyes. “You look so perfect like this.”

“All credit goes to the artist,” you reply, lamely.

But he laughs before leaning in to kiss you soft and slow. He settles his forehead against yours when he pulls away, and distantly, you imagine yourselves becoming stuck like that. You’re still imagining it when he asks, “Is something going on?”

What a complicated question.

“I don’t think I want to leave,” you blurt.

Evidently not a particularly complicated answer.

Santi pulls back, gazing at you vacantly for several long moments. And those moments seem to take an eon, your heart pounding in your ears and water splashing over you all the while.

“You’re serious,” he says an eternity later.

Now that the words are out, it is unbelievably easy to say more, all of it just as fumbling. “I mean, I want to see my friends, because I’ve missed them and I know they’re worried about me and this is my one time of year with them. And I want to get back home to some place with public transportation where people don’t call a twenty-five minute drive an easy commute. But I don’t…” You furrow your brow, mulling over how to articulate something that feels so entirely outlandish. “I don’t want to get back into my car and drive away. Please tell me that makes sense.”

As you’re speaking, Santi’s expression shifts, until finally he’s smiling—a wide, open, vulnerable smile. “Yeah,” he says. “It makes sense.” His eyes flit over your features. “Should we… talk more about it?”

You swallow sharply. “Yeah, I think we should.”

“Good.” He smooths a hand over your neck before saying, “But we really should finish up in here first because I don’t think I’ll be able to think straight with you looking like that.”

It feels like an exquisite release when you truly, earnestly giggle. “If you want to clean it off for me, I won’t complain.”

Santi grins, moving at once to give you better access to the faucet. “I really, really do.”

The water streams down onto your face, and Santi wipes the traces of his cum away, and you find that you can’t quite stop smiling.

——

interested in my other fics or my taglist form? you can find them on my masterlist here

blanket taglist: @amneris21​​, @brandyllyn​​, @iamskyereads​​, @jaime1110​​, @justjaclin​​, @marvelousmermaid​​, @mstgsmy​​, @princessxkenobi​​, @pumpkin-stars​​, @trickstersp8​​

oscar taglist: @aellynera​​, @alwritey-aphrodite​​, @egcdeath​​, @genea-myers​​, @jitterbugs927​​, @rosiefridayrogersunday​​, @that-friend-in-the-corner​​, @thedukeofcaladan​​

triple frontier taglist: @ayrusss​​, @buckybarneshairpullingkink​​, @darnitdraco​​, @rosiefridayrogersunday​​, @stardust-galaxies​​, @wildmoonflower​​

santi taglist: @dailyreverie​​, @disabledameron​​, @jettia​​, @mariesackler​​, @millllennia​​, @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog, @zhonglis-wine​​

[yrluvjane]

rival bands remus x reader where the 2 bands were talking shit about each other in separate interviews (including remus and reader saying some remarks as well) and then they meet up at an event and they just bicker and they end up liking each other but reader (publicly) has said sirius is rude and cocky (before they met) and normally brings him up with her band when they talk shit

Sound & Vision

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

"I'm on the highway to hell!" You sang the last line as you ran the guitar pick across the strings harshly for last time. The music stopped and the audience began to applaud, some whistling and others shouting.

You chuckled into the mic as the lights turned back on. After you gave your trusty instrument to one of the crew members to place in your back room, you high-fived your friends and walked up the small stairs and dial to the seating lounge, opposite to your host.

You took a seat between two of your friends, sharing a small laugh before facing the beaming man.

"That was an amazing performance! Can we get another round of applause!?" He shouted excitedly as the audience broke into cheers once more.

"Alright, alright." Your best friend, Dorcus said with a grin on her face as she waved her hands up and down to calm the spectators.

"I just have to say- this- this song! I have played over five times on the ride here. I literally took three different turns just so I could listen to it more." The host said.

"Have you seen the charts?" He asked baffled. He picked a card off from the side of his table and spoke in an amazed and disbelieved tone. "Over 300 million streams in two bloody weeks! Your new album is holding the 1st, 2nd, 4th and 8th on the top hundred."

Cheers erupted one more as you and the rest of your friends shrugged sheepishly with large grins. "We just can't help being awesome. It's a naturally born gift." Marlene, the drummer, said as she flipped her long, straightened her.

Someone wolf-whistled in the crowd, earning a wink from the dark-haired girl. You, Dorcus, Mary, Marlene and the host laughed.

"But with this astonishing achievement comes a great load of drama. You just got nominated in the Best Pop Duo/Group Performance category. The same category The Marauders got nominated in a few weeks prior. What do you say to that?" He asked.

You rested your elbows on the back of the couch, behind Mary's back and twirled your long and extentioned hair, that reached the end of your thighs and was braided down, held up by a ponytail.

"I don't know what to say. I heard their new song -When the lights go out - i don't- it just felt like it was missing something." You said coolly.

"What would that be?"

"Talent."

Immediately, the crowd broke into 'Ohhs' and 'AHHH's', the hosts' face turned pink from how hard he was laughing and Mary slapped your thigh as she cackled like a madman.

"Look I'll admit the rhythm was good, maybe if that Sinus bloke learned how to play the guitar and wasn’t such a twat, and the other one what was his name- the one with the glasses- Ted, Tanker, Tanor-" You began snapping your fingers to try and remember the twit's name as everyone fell into hysterics.

"James?" The host huffed out as he chocked on his laugh.

"Right! Thank you! If that Jack stopped looking like a penguin with a hair nest and glasses then maybe their song would've scrapped an 'Acceptable' in my book." You finished as Dorcus leaned her head over your shoulder for support.

A few moments later the laughter died down, but everyone's face was still red, most still trying to catch their breath.

"Anyone else wanna add something?" The host asked as he took a gulp of water and choked on a small laugh that left his throat.

"I think Y/n's said it all." Mary says patting your knee and sending you a grin.

"Well this is what The Marauders had to say, when we invited them on last week."

The screen that was placed under the audience, and showed what the camera looked like from behind, went blank and not a second later the screen turned back on and showed the identical set just with four different people.

You crossed your legs in your white pantsuit and white-gold heels, staring down at the screen with an amused expression.

"But do you think they could win if they were nominated?" The host asked.

"Joe, Joe, Joe" Sinus began, "there is a reason they were not nominated. The question you're looking for is 'Why'. Why, You ask? Well because to get nominated you have to have a certain level of style. That's just something they lack."

The crowd went 'ohh' once more as Marlene scoffed.

"It's very understandable." This time it was Renus - Reset, whatever his names is, the point is that it was the one with too many scars to count. "They don't open these nominations to third-rate bands."

Your mouth dropped, making an oval shape with your lips. There were a few snickers and scoffs from the seated audience, and you were pretty sure is was Marlene who muttered something along the lines of "This bitch."

The screen goes black and the camera's face us once more. "Jokes on them, last I checked they weren't in the top 10." Mary said, lifting her head up proudly.

As the day droned on, and the interview stretched, you became more and more tired by the time you finished it, you had to go back to the hotel you were staying to pack and head to the airport, where you would be taking a jet to NYC, where the last concert on your tour was held.

.

"Can you believe this shit?" Sirius asked James, baffled. They both sat on their comfortable red couch, in the luxury of their penthouse, in Manhattan.

The two stared at the screen in both anger and shock as they watched the four stupid, wannabe's talk smack about them. "Girls shouldn't even be in bands! Not real ones!" James shouted at the TV, throwing a pillow at it.

"My name is Sirius! You bloody buffoon!" Sirius shoots glares at the monitor powerful enough to make Cyclops from the X-men take a step back.

"What's going on? What's with the racket?" Peter asks as he walks in with Remus, the first coming back from a shower and the latter sweaty from hitting the Gym on the 2nd floor of the building.

"Those-those-ughhh!" Sirius shouts in anger as he screams into the seat cushions.

Peter pulls out his phone and start typing on it, taking a seat next to James, a towel on his shoulder preventing his soaked hair from wetting his shirt.

Remus raises an eyebrow as he leans on the back of the couch and raising the volume. Peter snorts when the girl in a white suit labels James as Penguin and calls him Jack. "Aren't those-?" Remus asks, though he already knows who they are, but is already cut off by James's aggressive "Yes!".

"They're playing at Madison Square Garden," Peter says as he scrolls on his phone. "It's airing live on Channel 5, it's all sold out."

Sirius scoff's as he snatches the remote off Remus and pulls out the said channel. The screen is dark, there dark blue spotlight shining around the dark stage. The sound of screaming fans is inevitable.

A sound of drums hit and the screaming grows louder, but the stage is still dark. "Livin' easy, Lovin' free." A voice sings softly, the music stops, the screaming grows. All four boys are narrowing their eyes at the screen.

Another drum note and this time with a string of guitar. It stops letting the singer take over. "Season ticket on a one way ride." You could hear the smirk playing on the singers voice. The lights flash on the stage, giving you a split second to see the performers.

"Askin' nothin'. Leave me be. Takin' everythin' in my stride." Someone else sings. The camera turns over to the fans, those who are filming, those crying, and those shouting and screaming.

"Don't need reason. Don't need rhyme. Ain't nothin' that I'd rather do." The lights flash at one person.

Y/n.

Dressed in a short black dress and a long, dark, lacey, blue jacket that reached her ankles fastened at her waist with a silver belt. With matching long, black, thigh-high heels, her black guitar with silver accents strapped around her shoulder.

She smirks. "Goin' down."

"Party time." The spotlight flashes on Marlene, the bassist, who is dressed in a dark blue top and black skirt, holding a blue guitar. The crowd is screaming louder than ever.

The two girls face each other behind the mic and smirk at each other. They face the crowds, lean over to the mic and sing towards each other. "My friends are gonna be there too." They sing. The lights finally open revealing the drummer, Dorcus, and Mary, the rhythmist, both wearing blue and black outfits.

Dorcus flips her drumsticks in the air before playing an impressing feat of drums, the rest joining a moment later. "I'm on the highway to hell!"

.

"GOOD NIGHT NEW YORK!" The four of you shout and wave at the screaming crowd. You, Mary, Marlene and Dorcus hug each other, swaying from side-to-side as you laugh, a few tears stinging your eyes. "You're crying." Marlene laughs, her mic is still on.

You know the camera is probably zooming in on you right now, so you just laugh shakily and pull Marlene into a hug, the other joining in as many scream or go 'Aww.'

After a moment of wiping your tears, you pull away and walk down the stage with your friends. You hug as many fans as you can by the time you reach backstage, where you shared hugs and high-fives with the crew.

"Last show...I can't believe it..." Dorcus says, reality sinking in. You are all changing in different parts of the dressing room as if you do not each have a room of your own. However none get to really get it to sink in before Marlene's excited voice rings out.

"You better believe it! And to celebrate I got us reservations to this really great nightclub." Marlene said excited. "No, no, no. I just got out of heels. And I missed eight episodes of Sherlock." You said as you curled your bare toes with a satisfied moan and merged yourself to a nearby couch.

"Oh c'mon! Dor?"

"I was actually planning to read this new book I got."

"Mary's with me. And it's the last show! We should celebrate!!" Marlene said as she pouted and gave the two disagreeing girls a puppy face.

"That doesn't work on me, haven't you heard? I'm the Ice-Queen." You said reciting the name, one of the marauders called you, on one of their social media platform.

"Please! Please! Please! We've been working our butts off for months! Just one night!" Mary said and joined Marlene's side with a similar pouty face.

After a moment Dorcus gave you look which made you groan into a cushion, which made the two M's (M&M) jump and squeal around like two eight year-olds.

"I hate you." You said once Marlene presented you with a post-knee long, full sleeve, red, dress that completely bared your back with matching strappy heels.

Marlene kissed your head and hanged the outfit on the back of the door. "I hate you too." You said facing the picked out clothes with a pouty look.

And that is how you found yourself and Dorcus awkwardly standing at the entrance door of the said club watching the numerous people grind off each other and spill drinks as they pass by you.

"Your right this is so much more fun than curling up in a blanket in an air condition room, watching TV, eating snacks and pizza." You sarcastically added as you mouthed for the bartender to pour you a shot.

Twenty minutes in and M&M already found new partners each, Dorcus found a booth to silently read, occasionally looking up to make sure the two M's didn't take anything too far.

You, after your fifth drink and being a lightweight, was dragged into the sweaty, messy group of (teenagers) young adults. You walk your way to the bar, tripping as the groups of people push through you.

By the time you sat down, Marlene was already whispering things to the DJ, who was staring back at the girl in shock. You felt someone bump you from the back, making you slip off the stool.

You turn to face them, but the face you meet was definitely one you weren't expecting. "You."

"You." The pale-faced boy with light brown hair replied with a narrowing of his eyes. "What are you doing here?" He added.

"This place is open to the public, anyone get in." You replied with a raised brow as you looked him down. He was dressed in a black button down, having the sleeved folded to his elbows and the first two buttons open, with matching black jeans and white striped sneakers.

"Tell me, how does it feel to lose, now that your chance for losing the award rose to 90%." You asked, raising a glass of water to your lips.

He scoffs, "Lose? Us? If anyone's gonna lose it's you, love; especially after that dreadful performance at Madison Square."

"So you watched it?" You asked with a smirk, ignoring how that small nickname sent a shiver down your spine, making you feel hotter than you already did.

"Don't flatter yourself, we were only checking out the competition."

"Is that what we are? Has your team finally identified us as a threat? Are you starting to get worried, is that it?"

"Worried? If I was worried I wouldn't be in a club." He replied with an amused brow and a grin. The bartender pushes a glass towards the drummer, who thanks him, and faces you.

It seemed due to loud noise of the music, you two drifted towards each other to hear better, though the small distance wasn't clearly visible until the lights passed by you. Only then did you realize that he was standing, leaning on the table with an elbow, his height towering over you.

While your mind sat logical reminding you that he was your rival, competitor, enemy. Your body betrayed you, particularly when he faced you after taking a sip, the smell of whiskey flowing through your nostrils, helping you identify his choice of drink.

"Right, so did you come here to 'Check out the competition'?" You ask, finally aware of his golden-like amber eyes, the moment he faced you once more.

I always thought they were brown You thought, subconsciously humming to yourself. Which caused him to tilt his head at you.

"As if we'd waste our time with you."

"But you weren't wasting your time when you were watching us preform." You said cheekily with a grin, the weight of the alchol you drank settling in.

He's eyes narrow at you, from your perspective it looks like his trying to read your mind. "I already tol-"

"Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time." You cut him off as you blankly stare at him. This wasn't how you expected the conversation to go. Maybe cause you expected to find Marlene fighting with someone cutting your lovely talk off.

You watch his eyes roam over your face, as if trying to memorize it. His eyes lock on something on your head but before you can ask what, his hand reaches over and brushes something off your hair.

You watch him as he finishes the rest of his drink. "What? Is there something on my face?" He asks after a few moments of you watching him like one of his crazed fans.

"No...No. Just-...It's just this isn't how I expected us to go through this..chat. Maybe I've watched to much Mean girls, I just expected this fight. Marlene jumping in, probably you showing off her very scary ability to maim you with her shoe." You said as he chuckled.

"She can reserve that for Sirius, he has thing for violent women." He joked

"Maybe they became violent because of him." You said with an edge of your tone, which caused the man next to you to laugh loudly, gaining whispers and stares from those around you. "I'm sorry, I said that too."

"Dance with me." You said abruptly, making turn to you wide-eyed. You hadn't even thought of what you said, you just blurted it out. "I'm sorry?"

"Dance with me. I'm drunk, you probably are too. We can regret this in the morning." You said. You put your glass down with a 50 bill and pulled at his arm towards the dance floor.

You see his lips move as he awkwardly stands there but no sound reaches your ears other than the blasting music. The other dancers on the floor begin to push you towards each other.

You grab his hands and place them on your hips, throwing yours around his neck and pushing him closer to you. "Your much more likable like this." You shouted to him.

He smiles and pulls you closer, his grip on your hips tighten. A hand slips up to your back and immediately pulls away back to your hip when he realizes it's bare.

"Sorry!" He shouts but you shake your head. That small touch did more to you than it should. "It's fine." You said but when you look at him, his brows are furrowed.

"Shit." He mutters, pushing his further down. "What?" You ask.

"I think were gonna make headlines tomorrow." He says with a small smirk. "I love this song!" You shout, "Let's go crazy, crazy, crazy 'til we see the sun. I know we only met, but let's pretend it's love." You sing at the top of your lungs joined by almost the whole club.

Remus's grin widens and he bursts out laughing. "What?" You ask but he only laughs harder, "What?!"

"How do you know this song?" He asks, still grinning creepily.

"I hear it on the radio, everyday to work...Why?" You ask narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

He points over somewhere behind you. You swiveled on your heels and faced where he was pointing. Your mouth dropped open when you saw James Potter singing the song and playing the guitar.

You turned back to him sharply with wide eyes. "No.." You say in disbelief as he laughs. "I should join them, I'll see you later."

Before you can utter a word, he kisses your cheek and jogs over to the stage, where the rest of The Marauders and most of the crowd are chanting 'Moony', repeatedly.

"Oh my God."

.

.

This was soo long. I hope you liked it. I was listening to highway to hell when your ask came in and I was like 'Fate.' But the thought that kept running through my head was. Drummer Remus or Bassist Remus because like he fits with both.

James too, like i can only imagine Remus and James as drummers, but thy can also fit with guitarist but I feel like Remus gives off more drummer vibes? What do you think?

[diedbutterflies69]

Chaotic love

Contains: Hyunjin x reader , mafia au, swearing, smut, sexual stuff, choking , blowjob etc.

Minors don't interact.

This pics screams Mafia lord.

Everything comes with an inherent sacrifice, and to have him was like having stars.

Giving fake smiles, clinging on to arms of the Mayor. Putting on an act, just to fench up some of dead important information about city affairs to pass on to your lover's ears. Even though you seemed nothing more than a side whore of mayor in people's eyes you didn't really cared. You were doing all this for him , he was the danger everyone present in the hall feared, the devil itself and if he was here , with you then the sinister must have slashed off everyone's neck by now. Just thinking about him was enough to make your heart beat again and every outside noise stops .

"Hello Mr. Williams", A random stranger comes to the so called public servant who was next to you. He seemed familiar , fuck he was, He is Greg . he was the piece of shit who was head of human trafficking organisation of the City, his men have been transporting people to different corners of world since years the reason he was hard to defeat was because of the tough government support he gets , he was just a rat who was hiding in government's cave and your lover's biggest target to defeat. The stupid old Mayor smiled at him, which Greg returned , they didn't saw each other as humans but rather a big fat suitcase of money. This was your chance to get some valuable information to your sleeves.

"Hi Greg, how you doing young man?" The corrupted man asked Greg, you were holding yourself back from making a real digusted face, when that fucker stared at your beautifully sculpted body.

"I am fine, I had some stuff to talk with you", Greg said his eyes still on you, but you didn't hold any eye contract, a shy trophy that's what you decided to act like to avoid suspicion. You knew there was high chance of them to going somewhere private to talk about thier shit of a buisness , so you pulled up' before you leave me I will leave you card'.

"I should go", you said in a super nervous tone to William, slightly adjusting your dress but more like messing it up to show some skin. You could feel Greg literally eye fucking you, but you didn't felt embarrassed or anything inside your brain. Your small plan seemed to be successful.

"Who is this hot chick, Wil ?", Greg asked William slightly coming close to you. You clutched onto his arms even tighter , pretending to be shy.

"Oh, this I found her a few months ago from streets, She is great slut by the way." Williams said you wanted to gag now, the truth was he never touched you not because he was gentleman but because his shrimp was unable to raise and shine, that bastard was acting all cocky here.

"You don't mind sharing right?", Greg asked Will. You would rather cut his dick than sucking it. They were just whoring around now, not getting on to actual buisness. Like this thier conversation kept going on. Greg didn't mind you joining listening to thier buisness as he underestimated you. Just a mere women, who was about to ruin his greatest deal. Greg told you to sit beside you, his hand around your waist and thighs. this wasn't anything new for you, you were used to filthy touches over the years working for your boss, your lover.

"So Saturday, fixed ? I will loosen up security at State borders and highway but only for that day", William said. What a sick plan they made, two trucks almost 70 people will go out of the borders next week. You can't wait to tell your boss this news, he would be so proud of you.

"Yes. Thanks Will you can go now, just keep your bitch here", Greg said his grip on your thigh getting stronger, now you had to come up with another excuse to go away from this trash.

"No problem boy, Enjoy your night", That bastard said and left without hesitating even a bit and closed the door.

"Do you know Paris?", Greg asked you, Paris was your codename, your name was well known over the network but not anyone really saw you, it was miracle how you managed to live in shadows through all this years. Your heartbeat increased, worried about being exposed but you didn't lose your calm and collected demonor.

"It's a City, right, Sir?", You replied voice shaky and nervous , it was all act.

"Stop acting clueless bitch, I know you are Hwang Hyunjin's bitch", Greg spatted harshly, now choking you. You knew he wasn't Fully sure about his thought, he might had seen you two years ago When your boss killed his four Cousins , you were there with him, Even some bullets in thier chest were of yours. You knew how to get out of such situations perfectly.

"Yes, I was know Hwang Hyunjin but I was just a mere worker in his bar who he occasionally fucked , Mr. Williams freed me from that hell", You said eyes glossy like you were holding yourself back from crying , voice so small and vulnerable . You could have easily won Oscar for such marvelous acting. A perfect sob story of human who got rescued by his friend. You cursed yourself for badmouthing your boss. This Greg guy was stupid, he stupidly believed your lie despite being such a big cunning illegal buisness man. Maybe he just presumed your identity on groundless thoughts .

"You know who Paris is?", Greg asked you, his hand still around your throat.

"No, I don't know . I really don't know anything I just wanna go back to William Sir", you now started crying and Greg immediately released your throat. You were acting like a lovesick human, who just values her savior so much .

" Do you even know, he has wife and kids?", Greg asked you cupping your cheeks, you again wanted to break his hand but nevertheless you looked down.

" I just love him", you said in soft voice staring at the ground. You cringed on your own tone. Either the man infront of you was stupid or you were a hell of a manipulating queen, or he was a stupid misogynist.

"Alright, just go", Greg said as he got up from the couch, fixing his clothes.

"I thought I could atleast make you choke on my dick, but I don't have enough time" Greg said as he stormed out of the room and you finally breathe out in relief. He must have somewhere else to go, bribe some other politicians.

You fixed yourself and wipped out your fake tears and exited the room happily. You had to inform your boss as soon as possible , they need to be alarmed , thier is high chance of schedule change but you knew how to know details, just stick up with that stupid man.

**********************************************

You were here, at your lover's den. You knocked on the door , you were meeting him almost after six days, both too immersed in missions. You heard a bell sound signalling to yeet the door and enter. You opened the door and the sight before your eyes was worth every pain, there he was , in his blue suit, just sitting but looking so alluring and the fact was he was only yours.

"Hi Boss", you said with a cheeky smile, you noticed how that cold yandare's corner of mouth lifted after seeing you.

"Boss, I found some real dope news", you said with a proud smile on your face. You saw how Hyunjin was looking at you with such a interest, he got up from his chair and started walking towards you and as an reflex you took steps back as he was coming more and more close to you, his eyes were little different now, you were scared but not much, cause he looked so hot . Finally your back hitted the wall. Hyunjin cupped your cheek with one hand.

" Did you used your body to get me that dope information?", Hyunjin asked you while looking straight in your eyes, his cold gaze piercing your soul, he touched yours neck with his cold fingertips and now it clicked you, you had marks from getting choked by that jerk. You knew how possessive Hyunjin was, he said you to quit work many times but you didn't and everytime he found your body getting marked by someone else , it bolied his blood and that human didn't lasted many days after that.

"Can I explain, it's not what you think Hyunjin", you said voice really vulnerable now, no act.

"I think we are still in the office", Hyunjin said as his hands moved from your neck to your breast lightly squeezing it. Your breath hitched at his actions , his touch always made you feel so damn good. You realized that you didn't addressed him properly.

"I am sorry.. Boss", you said looking at Hyunjin with pleading eyes . He looked intimidating.

"Explain", Hyunjin said as his hand hands travelled the back of the dress , resting there.

"I know Greg's next truck schedule, he thought---"

Your stopped talking as Hyunjin unzipped your elegant gown, you weren't wearing a bra as the dress was padded, the cold air hitting your nipples resulting in them perking up.

"Continue", He said as his hand moved on your breast, cupping it harshly, the action making you wet down there, you felt so exposed, only in your panties as he was there, fully clothed looking so magnificent.

"Greg thought I was Paris so he attacked me but--"

"What" Hyunjin asked , his worried tone can be felt by you.

"He was just suspicious, I convinced him I am not", you said your hand reaching to hold Hyunjin's larger ones, assuring your safety, you didn't felt shy being naked infront of him. Never actually.

" Did he tried to kill you baby?", Hyunjin asked breaking out from his persona , the nickname making your heart fluttered.

"But I am safe now", you said smiling giving him a sweet smile. Maybe this genuine smiles you both shared made your relationship more special, always saving each other and off course having amazing sex too.

"Don't worry, We will kill him when the right time comes", Hyunjin said as his plum lips came in contract with yours. Pulling you into a deep kiss, this was what you exactly missed, his kisses, his touch. The kiss started as passionate and was getting heated each passing second. You being naked wasn't helping Hyunjin to calm his nerves down, you removed his blue suit during the kiss, desperately clinging onto him..

"On your knees" Hyunjin said finally breaking the kiss. His voice dripping with dominance. You got on your knees, looking at him with pleading eyes , waiting for next command.

"Sir, Can I ?" , You asked Hyunjin your hand reaching his belt which he yanked away. He moved his shoe to your clothed pussy, your breath getting heavy due to sudden contract with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Do you deserve my cock in your filthy mouth?", Hyunjin asked you a sick smile dancing on his face, looking like a psycho from above.

"Yes sir, I deserve it, please give it to me, please", you begged desperation clearly visible in your tone. It felt like Hyunjin got satisfied with your begging as he motioned a go ahead and you happily unzipped his trousers, his long thick erection coming out of restrictions, you drooled over the sight before kissing the tip and taking it down slowly inside your mouth.

" Don't fucking tease", Hyunjin said as he pushed his cock further inside your mouth , you gagging almost immediately and holding onto his thighs for support, he was ruthless today not giving you a second to adjust before gripping your hair tightly and bopping your head up and down at a fast pace, you were gagging almost to much at his rough moments never really used to him despite having sex 100 times with him.

"Why you crying baby? You wanted it so take it without whining", Hyunjin said moving your head further down , and keeping it still without moving, the tip touching back to your mouth making you gag tears filled your eyes but it all felt damn good this was all that you wished .

"You look so good like this baby", Hyunjin said his moans and grunts getting louder indicating he was close. With few more thrusts he removed his cock from your mouth and rested it on your closed lips , the precum and cum dripping on your lips to boobs, messy indeed. He again made you open your mouth and released inside you, taste making you gag, you waited for him to to give permission to swallow it down.

"Swallow it, don't waste", he commanded and you gulped it all down looking like a mess, your mascara running, drool and cum all over you and sticky panties . It was a site to see. Hyunjin admired you from up , you looked absolutely fucked out just by a blow job he was about to ruin you more.

"Bend over", Hyunjin said as he lifted you from ground and kissing you roughly . He moved all his work stuff on one side of table making enough space for you. You bended over his work desk boobs touching the rough surface and cheek pressing against.

Hyunjin moved behind you and spread your legs further apart getting enough space to slap your cunt harshly you moaned loudly at sudden hit.

"You must enjoy looking like a whore to other man, am I right?" Hyunjin spatted harshly from back as another hit come to your core he teared your panties , your arousal more visible now.

"Answer bitch", Hyunjin said tugging your hair , you whined protesting.

"No, I am sorry Sir", you said almost crying, desperate for touch. Hyunjin dipped his finger inside your wet pussy and pumping it in a rough speed.

"Dumb whores like you only know to apologise", Hyunjin said as he spanked you. He moved his cock up and down at your slit before entering inside you .

"The mayor and that Greg won't be alive to see Friday morning remember." He could easily kill the whole world for you.

[elvisabutler]

Caught In A Trap ( 2/10 )

Fandom: Elvis (2022)

Relationship: Elvis/Living Past 42, past Priscilla/Elvis, current Priscilla and Elvis loving each other too much always

Word Count (this chapter): 2360ish

Rating: R, honestly this isn't gonna move below that rating I don't think.

TW: Talk of drug use for pain, pain in general, mention of character death, brief implication of self injury, it's sort of a blink and miss situation, drinking. Honestly it's all in the movie for the most part.

Author's Note: This is probably gonna be 10 parts or lower, I think. I have it plotted out, it's really just how I get to all the parts. Also apologies for the wait, literally have spent like the past week ish sick as a dog between me and my family. As always ask box is open, y'all know the drill.

Elvis is sure Jerry was not prepared to have him leaning on him as much as he is both on the way to the car and inside the car. Truth be told, Elvis himself hadn't really planned to lean as much as he was on the other man but his legs couldn't quite carry him in the way he needed and his body in general felt too heavy for him to lug around or sit up any straighter than he was. Still, it makes it easier for Elvis to listen to the other man as he explains everything in the letter he received.

Goddammit his mama had been right, they couldn't trust this Colonel. He should- everyone's warnings and even his own gut telling him something was off and every damn time he fell right back in snowed in and trapped like only a true Southern boy could be by that snow.

Elvis found himself squeezing the bridge of his nose and exhaling, "we could have done this back in '68. Or 69 or 70. Could have taken 'Cilla and Lisa to see Paris."

Might have helped smooth over some of the dumb things he's done. Could have reminded her that he was her husband and she was his wife- his gorgeous spitfire birdie.

"Yeah," Jerry shakes his head, "honestly, we could have done those dates in half the time we've been here in Vegas and the States. Probably had more money too, even with the deal."

"Don't remind me, Jerry." He spits the sentence out with a little more force than he means to. He knows he's a fool when it comes to business and letting the Colonel get away with what BB's told him time and and time again is highway robbery but he hates dealing with all those details now and he always has. Maybe now he ought to try and see what's going on.

Or not if the flash of pain slicing through his head causing him to roll his head to the opposite side. He should have had Dr. Nick give him something for his head at least. Maybe once they get to the hospital they'll give him something. They always do even if he has to make new pain to get something.

"Lay back, EP." Jerry mutters while looking out the window to see if any photographers are trying to catch a photo. He spots one but with Elvis' tilted the way he is, he's pretty sure they're safe. "We'll talk about it later. Can't have you passing out again before we get you inside. Not that sure I can hold up all of your weight."

If Elvis was a little more coherent and a little less exhausted, he might have punched Jerry in the arm for that- defended his eating habits and told the man he wasn't that much of a feather either. He isn't though and all he can muster up is a light kick to the shins and a mumbled and mildly slurred, "I know ya didn't just call m' fat."

The only response he gets is a deep laugh as they start to pull into the hospital. "Wouldn't dream of it. Priscilla might though."

It's hard to get Elvis into the building without anyone noticing but they've had to play this song and dance so many times that by now it's beginning to be an old hat to everyone and Elvis finds that he's always a little more thankful everything but tonight especially. His filter is gone and his temper is barely in check that he doesn't think he could handle a question about why he's here asked by someone with a camera shoved in his face. Why else would he be here? What dumbass question is that?

The ride up to his room is slower than he's used to but maybe it's just his perception of time feeling off. After all, they have to be moving faster than this goddamn snail's pace with him. What if it was something big that's got him this tired? Having them move like this would get him killed not that it mattered right now, he thought, because he's not dying he's just- he needs a break, one that he hasn't had for such a long time. Maybe he'll just go to sleep now, just until they get him settled in.

He hears The Colonel before he sees him in any capacity. His eyes barely open up at the tap of the cane and he knows he needs to sit up, get up and get the man out of his room but the idea seems like an impossible task. Jerry's voice sounds muffled but Elvis thinks he hears him say something about him being asleep and leave him be.

"Nonsense! He's being overdramatic! The showman never stops, hm?" Elvis can feel both the Coloniel's presence in body and feel his breath far too close to his face for comfort in the moment. The shiver that escapes his body is a mixture of disgust and actual chill and he tries to will his arm to move while mumbling.

It fails miserably and Elvis curses his own body for betraying him in the moment he needs it to be with him. Any other time was fine, but right now when he needs to be in fighting form to get this leech of a man away from him the betrayal just slices a knife right through him. Thankfully he hears the door open and a voice he's never heard- a new doctor he thinks- speak before is pulling Parker away with more force than is probably necessary.

"I know you're his manager, Mr. Parker, but he's not going to respond right now. I'll call security on you if you don't leave Mr. Presley be until tomorrow morning."

He hears the Colonel grumbling something about being a Colonel and trying to put up a resistance before blissful silence. He had almost forgotten what that sounds like.

He wakes up in Graceland- or at least what Graceland was a decade and a half ago. Right when his mama had been there and- he loves decorating his home, he does but there was something to be said about how his mama made it look. He can't actually be in Graceland, he's sure he was at the hospital in Las Vegas before he opened his eyes but seeing everything around him settles something in him, lulls him into believing this is real. He wants it to be real, wants for at least a moment to pretend he's this young again and his mama is still here and he can still fly away like he should to the Rock of Eternity.

He forces himself out of bed, trying to see if the whole house is looking like it used to and he finds himself almost immediately going to his mother's closet. He knows he shouldn't, remembers how he broke down leaning against her dresses as if the feel of them would bring her back but it's been so long and he still misses her. He misses all his girls, but his mama is the only one that isn't just a plane ride away. God, he should call Priscilla, have her bring over Lisa Marie. It feels like it's been an age since he's seen them.

"Elvis, is that you?" Elvis hears his mother's voice clear as day the moment he steps out of her closet and his knees just buckle underneath him. She's not real, this can't be real and yet that's her voice.

"Mama?" His throat feels as if there isn't a single drop of water in it and he swears he feels his eyes watering his vision is getting blurry enough that he hopes he's crying. He forces himself to swallow when he looks up to see her looking older than he remembers. "It's me."

Her smile lights up almost every fiber of his being, it's almost the same feeling he gets when little Lisa grins and giggles at him but somehow just different in the most subtle of ways. "You know you're not supposed to be in my closet. If you needed to find me you know where I am."

At home, six feet under and dead for longer than he likes to admit is his first thought before he let's out a huff of a laugh, "the kitchen, I know, Mama. Just wasn't sure about it today."

"You know better than to lie to me, boobie. You know I can tell." She moves her hand out to touch his face and Elvis leans in quicker than he thought he was capable of moving. He can feel the tears on his cheeks now, knowing that this isn't real and his mama isn't this old but if this is what his exhaustion is dreaming up he'll take it. He'll be this exhausted for just a little while longer just to see her and feel her comfort. "Get up off the floor, I can't give you a hug like that."

His bones protest the movement, creaking in ways they probably shouldn't and he sways just a little too much to where he stumbles just momentarily into the wall. Gladys is there to catch him though and the look on her face brings such a rush of shame in his body that he feels like a little boy getting in trouble for something major. "You shouldn't be moving like that."

"I'm older mama, pushing 40. My body just-" He finds himself being shushed and cut off all at once.

"That's nonsense, almost 40 or not my strong boy wouldn't be stumbling like that just from getting up. You haven't been drinking have you?"

There is an irony that isn't lost on Elvis and he has to bite his tongue to not back talk at his mother but he can't stop the way his lips purse just a bit and his upper lip inches toward a bit of a snarl before he answers her. "No, mama, you know I get mean when I drink anyway. I'm just tired and I'm in some pain."

A lot of pain, but he figures he was due for something that Dr. Nick would give him so that was to be expected even with his exhaustion- can't escape parts of his own body from acting up.

He feels her arms wrap around him. "You mean that pain they've got you on all those pills for, boobie?"

In the back of his mind he can hear himself singing that he's caught in a trap as he pulls away from her embrace to touch at her face and look at his mother. This isn't right, she shouldn't know about that, shouldn't know how bad it's been getting. This isn't real but he's so tired, who's she gonna tell?

"Yeah, mama, that pain. I've got it handled though-"

"For God's sake, boobie, I wish you wouldn't take all those pills, they can't be good for you." His mother pleads looking at him straight into his eyes. Hell, into his soul for all he knew.

He remembers telling her not to drink so much, how it wasn't good for her and he can't help the bark of a laugh that exits his throat with such ferocity that it startles him. Mama didn't need the alcohol, but he's pretty sure he needs at least some of these pills.

"Mama-"

"No, boobie, you know I'm right, you're losing yourself and I don't like seeing you like this."

His eyes narrow who did she think she was saying that to him of all people after she drank herself to death leaving him with his daddy and making it so he couldn't introduce her to Priscilla and her granddaughter. "I didn't like seeing you dead, Mama."

Her face looks hurt for a moment before she exhales slowly. "I was worried. I'm still worried. Promise me you'll cut back, Elvis. You might have the strength of two men but Jesse can't save you forever."

He wants to deny it but there's a part of him, small as it is that knows she's right. That Jesse might have been saving him all these years but the full moons are getting harder and harder to catch so to speak. Still, he doesn't know if he can, because it's hard- everything is starting to bust on him and he just wants a break. If he could just rest and reset he'd be fine, but he's gotta pay for Graceland and the Mafia.

His breath leaves his body in one swoop when he looks up at his mother through his lashes and he nods his head. "I'll try. At least a little."

Will he is the real question, but what's the harm in lying to his dead mother? It's not like she could be mad at him for it or hit him for it.

"Good, now let's head to the kitchen, boobie, I made your favorite." Gladys smiles and motions for him to follow her.

It's then that Elvis feels the pull of real life yanking him back against his will. He knew this was a dream but it was so nice that he just wanted to stay for a little while, just rest for a little while. Maybe if he just shuts his eyes it'll stay put just a little while longer.

He thinks he feels his eyes shut and feels his body become weightless as a bird before-

"What the hell?!"