#if the rest of the world is like this i get it

[xoluvx]

Hi love! I am heartbroken from seeing Billie crying at the Grammys, I was wondering if whenever you get a chance if you could write a little blurb of reader comforting her

hi, angel. totally.. here's a lil blurb. ily ₊˚⊹ᰔ

you could feel the tension radiating off her body. there was a lot riding on this - the last award of the night. the biggest award of the night. it'd all came trickling down to this. the kisses on your cheek washing away the disappointment after not hearing her name called for each nominated category, the hand squeezes, and subtle glances with the tight line smiles.

you patted her thigh as the presenter spoke. your heart was in your throat. you could feel your mouth going dry as you glanced at her. she was bouncing her leg rapidly. your fingers dug gently into the fabric of her pants attempting to calm her nerves. she gave you a faint smile before resting her hand on top of yours. you turned your palm and your fingers molded perfectly in a comforting grip as the nominees were announced.

you couldn't take your eyes off her as the tension multiplied. she was biting the inside of her cheek. her hand was growing clammy. she was rapidly moving her leg. her eyes focused on the presenter.

you heard the cheers before you could hear her name. a name that never came as she stood up applauding. her lips forming that familiar tight line smile. you sat dumbfounded. your hand touching the back of her thigh as she looked down at you giving you a smile that was so obviously fake. you could see right through her and her glistening eyes. you could feel her heart shattering as she turned back hearing the speech that'd probably been rehearsed like the one she'd brainstormed with you on the ride there.

a ride that had been full of giggles and kisses on cheeks and tender eyes and soft kisses on lips. it was all crashing down. when you heard the faint sniffle, you stood. your arm wrapping around her waist, your chin resting on her shoulder. she smiled faintly and looked at you. your lips touched the corner of her lips and she moved her body wrapping her arm around your shoulders until your limbs were tangled and her cheek was pressed against yours. you turned to her, lips brushing on her ear.

"i am so proud of you," you whispered. you were. you were so proud. award or no award, you'd been with her through it all and it didn't diminish the hard work she'd put into the album. she let the tears that were welling in her eyes fall. they cascaded down her cheeks so slowly, you caught them before in the tips of your fingers before they could reach her chin.

she turned to you with a smile. a genuine smile - it was shaky, but real. her hand cupped your jaw bringing your face close until your lips were touching ever so softly. your noses brushed. eyelids fluttered closed. it was just the two of you in your little world. where she kissed you just like this before delivering her speech. a speech she would still deliver when you got home as you cheered just for her because she was still a winner in your eyes. she always would be.

[bunny-jpeg]

next level

lando norris

request: “Just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” w/ Lando Norris 43. “just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.”

tags: smut/pwp, established relationship, teasing& seduction, video games, cough sex, cowgirl position

eros (the valentine's day collection)

just because it wasn't sim racing, doesn't mean it didn't require lando's full attention. but it was hard to beat the level when his loving, beautiful girlfriend would not get away from the front of the television.

he wouldn't deny it, you were beautiful. but lando had been trying to beat his level for over an hour, and he was so close before you stood in front of the television screen. your arms crossed and your hip cocked slightly to the side. your gaze stayed on him as he tried to see the screen behind you.

"lando... it's eleven-forty. time for bed."

he exhaled and said, “just let me finish this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” his words were promising. but with the season around the corner, the future world champion needed his rest. and you knew exactly how to get him settle for the evening.

he breathed a sigh of relief when you moved away from the television and towards him on the couch, you were pressed right up against him and pushed back his curls. you chuckled lowly and he tensed up a little.

"honey. baby. please." he said.

"i'm not doing anything. you wanted to keep playing, then keeping playing." your hand trailed across his clothed chest, you added a little pressure when your thumb grazed his nipples. sensitive spot. you were breaking out all the stops for this.

you touched his skin and he tried to navigate the level, he could feel the tightness in his sweatpants from your tender touches. his focus was split between the difficulty of the level and when you were going to do next. hard to say what you were going to do, your expression was unreadable.

"honey." he said.

"focus, lando." you cooed before your hand dipped lower and you grasped his hardening cock through his sweatpants. you chuckled lightly to yourself as you watched him squirm. trying his best to focus.

you could see the muscles of his neck move as he swallowed, the feeling was getting in his head. it was cute, to see him squirm. but he was so determined to finished this level. you were just providing moral support!

"oh shit, right there." he muttered as he missed the jump in the level and had to restart. you rubbed his cock through his sweatpants and you watched him squirm a little. his length throbbed under your touch and you smiled a little. how cute.

you chuckled lightly and continued to tease his cock, you watched him struggle and admired the sight of him. he looked sweet as he tried to fight back the pleasure that coursed through him. you watched him fail the level again and again and once more before he threw the controller to the side and grabbed you.

"come here." he said as he pulled you close to him. he got you up in his lap with his hands in your sweatpants and under your underwear. he kept his gaze on you as he rubbed your slit against his talented fingers.

"someone's needy." you remarked with a small laugh. you took him by the face and pulled him in for a hot kiss. he groaned against your lips as you rubbed yourself up against him. it felt beautiful, you felt like a dream.

when he pulled away, he looked up at you and remarked, "well, i think i just had a revelation. your hot pussy is a lot better than video games." then continued to rub your clit before you got your bottoms off.

your wetness rubbed against the fabric of his grey sweatpants. you felt the curl of excitement through you as the two of you moved against each other on the couch. you rubbed up against each other and it left you both feeling hotter.

his hands gripped your bare ass he looked up at you, there was a lustful twinkle in his eye and you smiled down at him. he looked good under you. he gave you ass a light slap, "fuck you're hot."

you held him by his cheeks and said, "and you're hotter when you're not wasting your evening on video games." then kissed him once more before you got his cock out of his sweatpants. you rubbed yourself up against his leaky length before you sank yourself on him.

"lando. fuck." you exhaled.

he moaned into the next kiss and held you tighter, helped you onto him. you took him beautifully, he slipped in without much struggle. and it only made him relax against the couch a little more. it was a hot feeling, you made a fire burn inside of him with each of your slow thrusts.

you held onto his shoulders and moved your body. your worked yourself on his cock as you kept kissing him. heavy breathing and small moans filled the living room air underneath the loud sound of the video game's music. he held on tightly and guided you up and down his cock. the two of you seemed to move at a similiar pace with no words spoken.

he understood you and you understood him. when you broke away from the kiss, the two of you gazed at one another. lando soon buried his face between your clothed breasts and groaned, "fuck, that feels good. right there, fuck, baby." he shuddered from the intense pleasure of it all.

he felt like a fool for ignoring you, but thankful that you were determined. because with your slick cunt around his cock, the pleasure felt better than any stress of the game. he groaned once more into your chest and you pulled his hair a little.

"see." you said, "should've just come to bed. got all comfy under the covers and let me ride you until you saw stars. i know i'm better than that stupid game, and i'm glad i could make you see the error of your ways." your voice was cheeky and lando just groaned against you.

"you're right, you're right." he panted.

it was no secret that lando loved your pussy, he loved having sex with you. you could recall when he was on the road and he was near begging for photos of you. not even nudes. just something to tide him over until he could smother himself in your love. to him you were divine and he wanted to bask in your holiness.

the two of you continued to move together under the bright light of the television screen. it was late in the evening, you two should be in bed. and while having sex on the couch wasn't your ideal location for fucking, it still felt nice.

lando's cock was snug inside of you and it made you toes curl from the pleasure. the thrumming of your heart while you moved against him left you panting and lustful for the man you had your arms wrapped around. you kissed him once more, moans were shared and you felt the pleasure rise in your body like steam over hot water.

at least lando could admit that it felt better. to fuck you was a treat that he indulged himself in and as he moved harder against you, he wanted more. you moaned into the kiss and he gripped your ass once more before he wrapped both arms around your middle tightly. it gave him better leverage to fuck you with.

your noises got hotter and more needy, the lust was intense in your core. the two of you moved quickly against one another as the pull of orgasm drew closer. you whined, he panted when the kiss was broken. you were both needy for one another.

"i'm close." you whined.

he held on tightly and said, "then cum for me. c'mon, fuck. i need it. cum for me and i'll spend the rest of the night eating out that fucking beautiful pussy until you can't cum anymore." his breathing was heavy.

you dug your nails into his back and with a few more thrusts of your hip, you finished on his cock. when you slowed down, lando worked up into you faster. your noises were higher pitched and the feeling radiated through you.

he came soon after with his face between your chest. he tensed up for a moment as he came then relaxed. he panted against your soft t-shirt as he relaxed a little bit. he shakily exhaled and pulled his head away, "wow."

you chuckled and kissed him gently on the lips, "i know. i guess it's time for bed." you winked at him.

lando reached for the control, "one more try of the level... then i'll go bed." he booted the game up again with his semi-hard cock still inside of you.

you gave him a death glare. next time, you promised yourself, you'd drag him by the ears to bed if you had to. <3

[surielstea]

First Impressions

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rhys is a bumbling buffoon when it comes to meeting his mate for the first time.

Warnings: awkward tension, reader lives in the hewn city

A.Note: not totally proud of this one since it’s hard for me to write first meeting stories with a concluding ending, but I hope you guys enjoy :)

Word count: 4.8k words

The scratching at my door had me sitting up in an instant, my back pressing against the cold stone wall as my hand slid beneath my pillow, fingers curling around the worn hilt of my dagger. My breath came shallow, controlled, as I listened—waiting for another sound, another shift in the air that might give away whoever had decided to test their luck tonight.

Life in the Hewn City never allowed for restful sleep. Not when shadows slithered in every alley when cruelty pulsed like a second heartbeat through its streets. And especially not now that Morrigan was gone.

Her father's estate had been far from a sanctuary, but at least the sheer power Keir wielded had kept the worst of the monsters at bay. Here, in my apartment on the outskirts of town, I had no such protection. Only thin walls, shattered locks, and neighbors who wouldn't need a reason to break into a young female's bedroom—who wouldn't care that I was High Fae, not when my magic was little more than a flickering candle in the wind.

A shiver danced down my spine as I gripped my dagger tighter, pulling it free just as the handle of my door twisted. My breath stilled.

Wards should have held. I'd watched Mor herself etch them into the worn wood, her golden power laced with every careful stroke. And yet the door creaked open, the darkness beyond bleeding into my already shadowed room.

I made myself as small as possible, the blanket of night cloaking me enough to fool a drunk—most in this wretched place were—but if they stepped inside if they came closer...

A head popped through the gap.

Gold hair caught the dim light.

My breath punched from my lungs. "Morrigan."

I tumbled out of bed, my dagger forgotten as I all but threw myself at her. She caught me effortlessly, her arms wrapping tight around my waist, solid and real, her familiar scent washing over me.

"Oh, I've missed you," she murmured, holding me as if she'd been gone for years rather than two unbearable weeks.

I pulled back just enough to take her in, my hands framing her face, my eyes darting over her features, searching for any sign of injury. My stomach knotted at the gauze wrapped around her waist, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed.

"I thought you got out safe?" I whispered.

She smirked. "Forgot some things."

There was something reckless in her eyes, something sharp and unyielding.

My stomach tightened further. "Mor—"

"I'm getting you out of here."

Her grin was edged with mischief, with certainty.

—

I had heard the rumors—the hushed whispers exchanged between patrons in dimly lit taverns, drunken murmurs of a secret city our High Lord kept hidden from the rest of us. A place untouched by the cruelty of the Hewn City, a myth spun to keep fools hopeful.

I never believed a word of it.

But Velaris was real.

"The City of Starlight," Morrigan had said, her voice breathless with something I hadn't seen in her since we were reckless, ignorant children. She'd smiled then—wild, unguarded. And I had known, in that moment, that every whispered legend had been true.

The city thrived even in the late hour. Laughter and music curled through the streets, golden lights casting soft glows against dark stone. I had never dreamed a place like this could exist, not outside of bedtime stories and half-formed wishes. And yet, Mor guided me through its winding paths as if it were the most natural thing in the world, showing me pieces of the Night Court I had never dared to imagine.

Until, finally, she led me to a small cabin at the edge of a quiet clearing.

Warm light spilled from its windows, shadows dancing against the wood as the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter leaked into the night. It was a thrilling sound—carefree, safe.

Mor stepped onto the porch, her fingers curling around my wrist as she turned back to me with a smirk. "I've been living here for the past few weeks," she hummed, as if it were no great thing. "And I decided I missed my roommate."

Her words barely registered over the clatter of voices inside. I could hear the easy teasing, the playful shouts.

I hesitated.

"It's Rhysand's cabin, but—"

"The High Lord's?" I whirled on her, my stomach clenching.

Mor blinked, as if I'd said something absurd. "He's my cousin, you know?"

I did know that. Of course I did. But the knowledge didn't stop the shiver that traced my spine.

I had seen Rhysand twice in my life—twice was enough.

Both times, I had been convinced I would die right there on the spot, crushed beneath the weight of his power. It exuded from him like a second set of wings, dark and monstrous. The ground itself seemed to quake beneath his steps. To say he was powerful was an insult to the very meaning of the word. He was terror incarnate, the nightmare that lived in the dark corners of every court.

I had heard the stories—of him reaching into minds and shattering them from the inside out, twisting their own fears into weapons sharper than any blade. He did not need to lift a hand to kill.

My throat went dry. "He's not in there, is he?"

The words were barely a whisper, but Mor only shrugged, far too casual. "Sure he is."

I nearly choked. What?

"Mor—"

She didn't give me a chance to protest.

Her fingers curled around mine, firm and unwavering, and before I could think to dig in my heels, she had pulled me forward—up the steps, through the doorway, past the foyer—until I was standing in the heart of the house.

The moment we entered, the conversation stopped.

Four sets of eyes locked onto me.

Hazel. Silver.

And then—

A violet gaze, piercing and unrelenting, dilated with something unreadable.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Rhysand.

The High Lord of Night. The male who could level entire armies with a flick of his wrist, who could peel apart minds like flower petals and leave nothing behind. The nightmare whispered about in every corner of the Hewn City.

And he was staring at me.

His lips parted slightly, as if words had caught in his throat.

Mor, of course, was entirely unaffected. "Gentlemen," she said, grinning as she strode deeper into the sitting room. "And Amren."

The silver-eyed female merely flicked a gaze over Mor before cutting straight to me, a sharp, assessing glance that made my stomach twist.

I was still trying to school my expression into something other than imminent death panic when Mor gave my wrist a final squeeze and released me.

"I'd like you all to meet—"

"She's my mate."

Silence.

Utter, perfect silence.

Then—

A choked sound came from the male lounging in an armchair, wings draped lazily over its sides. He had dark hair, hazel eyes gleaming with delight, and an unmistakable aura of shit-eating amusement. That one must be Cassian.

Next to him, another male, shadows curled at his feet like living things, merely blinked—slowly, deliberately—before glancing at Rhys and murmuring, "That was subtle." And there's Azriel.

Rhys, for all his legendary cunning, looked like he wanted to launch himself into the Sidra.

"Mate?" I rasped, my stomach flipping over itself.

No. No, surely not. That was—impossible. I would've felt something.

Or have I all along?

"You must forgive our dear High Lord," Amren drawled, sipping from a glass of something dark. "He usually has more tact when announcing these things."

Rhys finally seemed to snap back into his body, straightening his spine with something like composed horror.

"What I meant to say," he amended, his voice dropping into something far smoother, far silkier—too smooth as if he were compensating, "is that it's a pleasure to meet you."

Cassian snorted. "You just said she was your mate."

"Yes, thank you, Cassian."

Azriel's lips twitched. "I think she got the message."

My head was spinning, my throat tight. But my body had stilled—not from fear, exactly, but from something else. Something coiling in my chest, something aware.

Rhys's gaze flicked to mine, and his expression softened instantly, all humor melting into something devastatingly gentle.

"It's late. You must be exhausted." His voice had dipped, his usual charm tempered with something achingly sincere. "Let me get you something to eat. Or drink. Or—are you warm enough? I can get you a blanket—"

Cassian was shaking with silent laughter. Azriel merely watched, like he was filing this away for later use.

Amren, however, had no such patience. "Oh, for Cauldron's sake," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "She's not a wounded animal, Rhysand, stop circling her like a mother hen."

"I just want her to be comfortable," he argued, flashing her a glare before turning back to me with something so devastatingly earnest that I nearly forgot who he was. What he was.

He liked me.

No—he wanted me to like him.

Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord in history, was tripping over himself to win my favor.

And somehow, that was more terrifying than any of the rumors I'd ever heard.

—

I wasn't entirely sure how I ended up sitting on a plush couch in the middle of the High Lord's cabin, wrapped in a ridiculously soft blanket that I didn't remember agreeing to. A cup of tea—also not requested—was placed carefully in my hands, steam curling in the dim candlelight.

Rhysand hovered nearby.

And I meant hovered.

He was standing at an awkward, not-quite-close, not-quite-far distance, shifting slightly as if debating whether he should sit or stand or vanish into the floor. His normally easy, fluid grace had been utterly abandoned, leaving him looking... well. Uncertain.

Cassian, sprawled in the armchair across from me, was barely keeping it together. His wings twitched every few seconds, his lips pressed tightly as if physically holding in his laughter.

Azriel, seated beside him, was far more composed—but the slight upward tilt of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

I took a sip of my tea, trying to make sense of all this.

The High Lord of the Night Court—the terror of the Hewn City, the most powerful male in existence—had declared me his mate. And then proceeded to fall apart before my very eyes.

I was still trying to process it when Rhys spoke.

"Would you like more pillows?"

I blinked. "What?"

His violet eyes were very, very wide. "You look like you could use more pillows."

Cassian made a strangled noise.

Azriel coughed into his fist.

"I—I'm fine," I said slowly, watching as Rhys's shoulders sagged in relief.

Too fast. All of this was happening too fast, I couldn't keep up.

"Are you sure? Because I can get more."

Cassian let out a wheezing breath, eyes shining with unrestrained delight. "Yes, Rhys. More pillows. That's definitely what she needs."

Rhys shot him a withering glare before turning back to me, smoothing his expression into something intended to be charming, but coming across as deeply, deeply desperate.

"Or food!" he blurted. "Have you eaten? I can make you something. Or, well, I can't make you something, but I can get someone to—"

"She has tea, Rhys," Amren cut in dryly. "You shoved it into her hands two minutes ago."

"I did not shove—"

"You definitely shoved," Cassian confirmed, barely containing his cackle. "I thought you were going to spill boiling tea all over your mate."

I flinch slightly at the term as Rhys shoots back with, "I was being thoughtful."

Azriel hummed, taking a slow sip of his own drink, the amber color telling me it was something much stronger than tea. "Is that what we're calling it?"

I had absolutely no idea what to do with any of this.

Rhysand—the charmer, the schemer, the legend—was unraveling at the seams in front of me.

Because of me.

"I can make my own food," I finally said, mostly just to say something.

Rhys visibly straightened. "Of course! Yes, I knew that. I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, his usual ease nowhere to be found. "I want you to feel at home."

Cassian grinned. "I think she'd feel more at home if you stopped looming over her like a lovesick bat."

Rhys's glare could have melted stone.

Azriel just leaned back in his chair, shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this," he mused.

Rhys turned his attention back to me, clearly trying to regain some dignity. He attempted one of his infamous smirks. "You must forgive them. They're not used to seeing me flustered."

Cassian clapped a hand to his chest, eyes sparkling. "Oh, it's a gift, truly."

Azriel nodded solemnly. "We should savor this moment."

Rhys looked seconds away from throttling them both.

I just stared at him, still gripping the cup of tea like it was the only solid thing in the world. "Are you okay?" I asked before I could stop myself.

His breath caught.

And for a moment, the amusement, the chaos—it all faded. His eyes softened, something raw flickering behind them.

"I'm fine," he said, voice lower now, steadier. "I just... I wasn't expecting this."

Neither was I. But still, something shifted in my chest at the way he looked at me—like I was something precious.

I wasn't ready to name that feeling.

But for the first time since I'd arrived, I didn't feel like running.

Slowly—mercifully—Rhys seemed to remember how to function again.

He settled into the chair across from me, still watching me with those impossibly violet eyes, but at least he wasn't hovering like I might vanish if he so much as blinked.

Not that he'd relaxed entirely.

No, because the moment I so much as shifted—adjusting the blanket, setting my tea down—he twitched as if preparing to leap to his feet and fix something.

If I asked for anything, I had no doubt he'd be up and fetching it before I could even finish the sentence.

But at least he was sitting.

Amren, on the other hand, was done with the entire situation.

With a long-suffering sigh, she stood and stretched. "Alright. That's enough of this."

Cassian perked up. "Of what?"

She shot him a withering look. "The two of you sitting here, watching this disaster unfold like it's a theatrical event."

Cassian grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Oh, but it is."

Azriel just sipped his whiskey, but the small smirk on his lips said everything.

Amren turned her glare to them both, then pointed at the door. "Out."

Cassian gaped. "But—"

"Out," she repeated, already making her way toward him.

Cassian barely had time to dodge before she grabbed his arm, yanking him up with surprising strength for someone so small. "Azriel, move," she barked.

Azriel, for all his shadows and lethal grace, barely managed to stifle a chuckle before obeying.

Rhys, looking very much like a male clinging to the last shred of his dignity, just sighed. "Amren, I hardly think—"

"Oh, please." She shot him a knowing look. "You want them gone."

Rhys opened his mouth. Closed it. Then glanced—too quickly—at me.

Cassian cackled. "Oh, this is so good."

"I hate all of you," Rhys muttered.

Cassian just grinned, throwing an arm over Azriel's shoulder as Amren shoved them both toward the door. "Love you too, brother!"

The door shut behind them then silence settled.

I exhaled slowly, my mind still spinning from all of this—this place, these people, Rhysand, sitting before me and looking as though he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

Mor, still seated beside me, gave a soft, reassuring smile. "Ignore them," she said. "They're menaces, but they mean well."

I nodded, unsure what to say.

She nudged me gently. "You doing okay?"

I hesitated.

Then, quietly, "I think so."

Mor's smile warmed. "Good." She stood, stretching. "I'm just down the hall if you need anything, okay?"

I nodded again. "Thanks, Mor."

She winked. "Get some rest."

And then, just like that, I was alone. With Rhysand.

Who, despite his best attempts to seem relaxed, looked about two seconds away from combusting.

The silence stretched for a beat too long before Rhys cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "So," he started, voice smoother now, steadier, "what do you think of Velaris?"

I exhaled, my grip loosening on the blanket around my shoulders as I glanced toward the window. The city lights still twinkled beyond the glass, mirroring the stars above.

"It's..." I searched for the right word. Magnificent."

His lips curved. "It is." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Not what you expected?"

A soft huff of breath left me. "In all honesty, I didn't even expect it to be real."

Rhys chuckled, low and warm. "Most don't."

I looked back at him. "How long has it been hidden?"

His expression turned thoughtful. "Since the war." His gaze flickered to the window, a distant look in his eyes. "My family—my court—has fought to protect it for centuries. It's the one place in all of Prythian untouched by war, by cruelty." He met my gaze again, and this time, there was something softer there. "Now it's yours, too."

Something shifted in my chest at that. The way he said it like I belonged here. I swallowed. "And the court?"

His smile returned, easy and knowing. "You've already met the worst of them."

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "I don't believe that."

"Oh, you should." He smirked. "Cassian and Azriel? Winged buffoons. Mor? Chaos incarnate." He placed a hand on his chest, feigning solemnity. "And me? Well, the stories you've heard don't paint me in the best light, do they?"

A teasing edge now, that sharp, clever humor creeping into his voice.

I tilted my head. "No, they don't."

He grinned, but it softened as he glanced back outside. "You'll see for yourself, though." He hesitated, then added, "You'll be here for Starfall."

"Starfall?"

His eyes lit up, and suddenly, it was as if the shadows in the room no longer existed.

"You've never heard of it?"

I shook my head.

Rhys leaned closer, his voice dropping to something conspiratorial, enticing. "Once a year, the sky does something extraordinary."

I raised a brow, peering out the large arched window to look at the galaxy of stars just outside. "More extraordinary than usual?"

A chuckle. "Much more." He sat back again, watching me with a quiet sort of delight, as if he already knew I'd love it. "The stars don't just shine that night. They fall."

I blinked. "They fall?"

"Mmm." He traced a circle on the arm of his chair. "Not like shooting stars—though it looks similar. The souls of long-lost beings drift across the sky, shimmering trails left in their wake. It's..." He trailed off, searching for the word.

"Magnificent?" I supplied, unable to help the small smile tugging at my lips.

Rhys gave a slow, approving nod. "Very."

Something warm settled in my chest. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

And then, finally, I allowed myself to really look at him.

Not the High Lord. Not the nightmare. Just Rhysand.

And gods, he was handsome.

The kind of handsome that made the room feel smaller, the air feel warmer. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, those impossibly violet eyes that seemed to catch every flicker of candlelight. And the way he looked at me—like I was something precious. Like he already knew me, in some deep, unspoken way.

I cleared my throat, shoving away the thought. "It sounds magical."

He grinned, and for the first time, it wasn't the grin of a High Lord, or a male who held the power of nightmares in his hands.

It was just a smile. For me.

A slight yawn slipped from me, Rhys was instantly moving.

"Mother above, I've kept you up too late—" He was already leading me toward the hall, his steps brisk, his hands half-lifted as if he wanted to guide me but thought better of it.

I barely had time to keep up as he strode toward a door across from Mor's, gesturing to it like it was some grand reveal. "This is yours—of course, if you don't like it, we can find you another room, or a different house entirely, or—"

"Rhys—"

"I really should have let you rest earlier, I can be insufferable when I ramble, and—"

"Rhys."

"I hope you find everything comfortable, but if you need anything—extra pillows, a softer mattress, a different view—"

I pressed my palm to his chest. He froze.

His breath hitched, just barely—but I felt it beneath my hand, the sharp inhale, the slight stutter of his heartbeat.

His eyes locked onto mine, the violet darkening, blazing.

I had only meant to stop his spiraling apologies, but now... Now the air between us was thick with tension.

Something unseen curled and tightened, coiling like a living thing beneath my skin.

Rhys exhaled sharply through his nose. Slowly—reverently—his hand lifted, covering mine where it lay over his chest. His fingers curled just enough to hold me there, as if... as if he couldn't bear to let go.

Something between us shifted and I didn't have time to decide if it was for the better or not.

A pull, deep in my ribs. An ache that hadn't been there before.

Rhys went completely still.

Like he was waging some great internal war, fighting against a force that neither of us had yet spoken aloud. But I felt it.

The way his fingers tightened just slightly over mine. The way his lips parted like he was about to say something, only to think better of it.

The way his eyes—those star-flecked, devastatingly beautiful eyes—searched mine like they held the answer to something he'd been waiting for.

I should have stepped back.

I should have moved.

Instead, I stood there, heart pounding, fingers twitching against the soft fabric of his tunic.

Rhys swallowed, his throat working around the motion, but he said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood there, his chest rising and falling beneath my palm, his fingers flexing ever so slightly over mine like he was grounding himself—like he needed to hold on. I knew I should step back.

We had only just met.

Yet that fact seemed irrelevant, insignificant compared to the weight of the moment curling between us, thick as smoke.

Because I could feel it—something pulling me toward him, that bond deeper than attraction, sharper than longing. It was in the way his breath came uneven, in the way his gaze dropped, just briefly, to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes, a flicker of something raw, something wanting, breaking through his carefully placed walls.

His lips parted, like he might say something. Like he might stop this before it went too far.

I didn't let him. Didn't give myself the chance to second-guess, to think, to reason.

I surged forward.

Rhys barely had time to exhale before my lips met his. Soft. That was my first thought—how soft his lips were, warm and parting against mine as if in stunned surrender.

And then he was kissing me back.

A sharp inhale, his hand sliding up my wrist, curling around it like he couldn't quite believe this was happening—but wouldn't dare let go, either.

His other hand found my waist, light, hesitant, his fingers pressing in just enough to ground me, to anchor us both in the storm of whatever this was.

It wasn't desperate. It wasn't hurried. It was slow, tentative, a gentle exploration.

His nose brushed mine as he tilted his head, his lips parting wider, and I felt the way he breathed me in—like I was something to be savored, something he hadn't known he was starving for until now.

A small sound left me—something between a sigh and a whimper—and Rhys shuddered, his grip tightening ever so slightly, his fingertips pressing into my skin like he needed to remind himself this was real.

We lingered there, caught in something we didn't have a name for, something neither of us had expected but couldn't seem to pull away from.

His thumb brushed along my wrist, slow, reverent, as our lips moved together in a rhythm that felt achingly natural.

Like we had done this a thousand times before. Like we would do it a thousand times more.

When we finally parted, it was only enough to breathe, our foreheads pressing together, breaths mingling.

Rhys's fingers flexed at my waist.

"I—" His voice was hoarse, rough with something unspoken. He swallowed. "We should stop."

I exhaled shakily, my hands still fisting the fabric of his tunic.

"We should," I admitted.

His thumb traced slow, lazy circles along my wrist, like he was memorizing the shape of me, the feel of me.

And then, softer—softer than I'd ever heard anyone speak my name—

"But I don't want to."

I barely had time to whisper, "Neither do I," before he kissed me again.

His lips were still on mine, still moving, still taking, even as he rasped against my mouth, "We can't."

But he didn't stop. Didn't pull away.

If anything, his hands tightened at my waist, fingers pressing into my skin like he was anchoring himself—like he was fighting a losing battle against whatever force was unraveling between us.

I gasped as his tongue slid against mine, slow and thorough, like he was trying to memorize me, like he was desperate to learn every piece of me with nothing more than his lips, his hands, his breath.

"Rhys," I whispered, not knowing if it was meant to be a plea or a warning.

He groaned, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath coming out in short, uneven pants.

"I want to know you," he said, his voice so raw, so gutted that it sent a shiver down my spine.

Then his lips were on mine again, harder, deeper, like he was proving it, like he needed me to believe him.

"I want to know everything," he murmured against my mouth, between kisses that left me gasping, left me trembling, my fingers still tangled in his hair. Another kiss, this one rougher, hungrier. "Everything."

I whimpered against his lips, barely able to think, barely able to breathe with the way he was consuming me, the way his words were carving themselves into my ribs.

He groaned, like the sound was being ripped from him. "I—" He shuddered. "Tell me to stop."

I froze beneath him, blinking up at him, my head spinning, my lips swollen from his kisses.

He swallowed hard, his breathing uneven, his hands flexing at my sides.

"Tell me to stop," he repeated, voice ragged, "because I don't think I can on my own."

His words hung between us, raw and trembling, his breath fanning against my lips. I could still taste him, still feel the imprint of his hands at my sides, as if he had branded himself into my very skin. My heart pounded against my ribs, my body warring between the pull of the bond and the sliver of hesitation curling in my chest.

I slipped my hands from his hair, brushing my fingers along his jaw, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. "Rhys," I whispered, my voice barely a breath.

His eyes, dark and blazing with emotion, searched mine. I saw the restraint there, the war he was fighting within himself, the way his hands trembled against my sides.

I swallowed, forcing myself to find the words through the haze of want clouding my mind. "I'll accept the bond," I murmured. His breath hitched, his entire body going utterly still. "I just need some time."

A heartbeat passed. Then another. And then—he exhaled, his forehead pressing against mine, his entire frame shuddering. His hands skimmed up my sides, gentle now, reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of me before letting go.

"You could take centuries," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple, featherlight. "Beyond that, if you wanted. I'd wait for you, always."

Something in my chest ached, something too big to name. I closed my eyes, breathing him in, the warmth of him, the endless patience laced in every word.

I tilted my head up, pressing the softest of kisses against his lips—nothing like the desperate, fevered ones from before. Just a promise. Just a thank you.

His hands lingered on my waist, like he wasn't quite ready to let go, but he didn't stop me as I pulled away. A small smile tugged at my lips. "Goodnight, Rhys."

His eyes softened, something almost wistful in them. "Goodnight, my love."

With a final glance, I turned and slipped into my room, closing the door behind me. And even then, I could still feel him—like a shadow, like a promise—waiting.

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[pathologicalreid]

all the debts i owe | s.r.

in which Spencer takes your kids into account when deciding whether or not he should take a plea deal, and it doesn't go the way you expect

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: prison reid, takes place during 12x14 "collision course", i love my little reid family so much word count: 1.29k a/n: caamp song fic caamp song fic caamp song fic everyone cheered!!!!

Somehow, you felt like you were invading a conversation that you shouldn’t be a part of. Emily and Spencer knew this world much better than you did, and you were nothing more than a fly on the wall, grateful to be in close proximity to your husband after a few days of him being in jail.

You’d stopped by yesterday, dropping off a bag of his belongings and leaving them with Emily. You had wanted to see him then, if for nothing more than a confirmation that he was still breathing, but he was finally getting some sleep. The comfort of knowing that he had Emily watching over him had to be enough.

Spencer wasn’t allowed to keep his wedding band on. It was something that the jail was going to hold on to, but Emily had intervened and arranged for you to keep it.

The gold band weighed heavy against your chest, suspended by a chain around your neck for safe keeping, you kept it tucked into the collar of your sweater while you watched Spencer and Emily talk. “Please, just think about it,” Emily pleaded with him. “Think about the evidence.”

“I know,” Spencer assured her. “Scratch dots his Is and crosses his Ts. We know that,” he responded, brown eyes flickering over to yours for just a moment.

Leaning heavily against the wall for support, Emily shook her head, “But a jury won’t. A jury will only see what Scratch wants them to see.”

You shifted on your chair, resting your elbows on the table and propping your head in your hands. “You think they’ll convict me?” Spencer asked, a string of hurt threaded through his voice as if the thought of a jury of his peers thinking he was a killer caused him physical pain.

“I don’t know,” Emily answered, her voice barely above a whisper, “But if they do. Five years—that’s doable. You are young. You can have a life after that.” You were grateful for Emily; it seemed like she was doing the begging that you didn’t have the energy for.

“Not as an FBI agent,” Spencer rebutted, “I’d be a convicted felon.”

Her face softened as you watched, “Yes,” she acquiesced, “but you’d be free.”

At the first sign of tears in Spencer’s eyes, you felt water lining your own, “The FBI is my home. It’s where I belong.”

Emily looked at you for help, but you couldn’t get yourself to speak. You understood Spencer in a way few people ever could, the idea of him not being a part of the BAU made your chest ache as much as it did his. “You don’t belong in prison, and if you play Russian roulette with this… twenty-five years. That is a lifetime.”

Your husband lifts his chin in a display of false confidence, “If Scratch is framing me, you guys will get him. I know you will.”

“Yes, we will. I promise you we will never give up, and we will exonerate you.” Familiar silver started to line Emily’s eyes as well, “But what if we can’t do that this week? Or this year? Or this… decade? Because I know we can’t do it before your arraignment.”

Spencer turned to look at you, fully facing you for the first time since you arrived at the conference room this morning. “Thirty, twenty-seven, and twenty-five.”

Emily shook her head, confused. “What? What is that?” Her dark brows were knit together, looking between the two of you as she waited for an explanation.

You faced the two of them, wiping your sweaty palms across your jeans, “That’s how old our kids would be when he gets released.”

“They won’t even know who I am,” he said miserably, looking up at the ceiling to stop tears from gathering in his eyes.

Standing up from the chair, you stepped over to him, taking your rightful place at his side. “You could take the new deal, Spence,” you reminded him. “Five to ten—”

“I need to see them grow up,” he pleaded, brown eyes boring into you as he begged you to understand. Spencer always accounted for every possible outcome. Despite the haze of the past few days, you were sure that he knew what he was getting himself into.

You nodded up at him, taking one of his hands in yours before glancing over at Emily, “Can you give us a minute?”

Prentiss sighed and gave the both of you an understanding look before she slipped out of the room. “I need to see them grow up,” he repeated himself, dragging his free hand down his face while you squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“I know,” you whispered, “but with the deal… five years.”

“Or ten,” he countered. “Ten years… Nell would be in high school.”

Your stomach flipped at the idea, your oldest baby in high school, and just like that, you understood Spencer’s decision. You’d be there, outside in the world with your kids for those five to ten years; you’d see all of the in-between. Spencer would miss everything, learning about his own children through phone calls and letters, he’d play a passive role in their lives. If there was even the slightest chance that he would plead not guilty and win, then this whole nightmare would be over. “You have to fight,” you said, announcing the conclusion that he had already come to.

He nodded in confirmation, “Angel,” he whispered, “I don’t want you to come to the arraignment.”

Your breathing hitched, “What?”

“I want you to be with the kids. You’re the only parent they’ll have for who knows how long,” he explained himself.

You hadn’t worked out what you were going to tell the kids. They were too young to understand. Finn was barely out of the newborn phase, Livvy’s vocabulary was expanding every day, and Nell… Spencer was Nell’s best friend. Steeling your expression, you nodded once, “Okay, I won’t go.”

His lips parted and closed like he wanted to say something but stopped himself, you squeezed his hand in an attempt to be encouraging. “Just in case things don’t go the way we want… don’t wait for me.”

You dropped his hand, shaking your head in horror. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing from him, without a second thought, you reached into your shirt and pulled his wedding band out, leaving it on the chain, “For better or for worse, Spencer.”

“This is far worse than anything we could have ever thought of,” he continued, trying to give you an out. You could leave and he wouldn’t fault you, but you’d fault yourself.

Instead, you waved away his offer, “It would be an honor to wait for you. If that’s what it takes for me to see you again.”

He kissed you. Ducking his head until his lips met yours, there was nothing chaste about it. You both knew it was the last kiss, and it had to be good enough to last a lifetime. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, fueled purely by emotion; you kissed him like you’d never see him again. You gripped the collar of his sweater to discourage him from pulling away, and you tried to memorize the feeling of his hands on your waist.

A hollow feeling filled your chest when he pulled away, “I love you,” you breathed.

He nodded, resting his forehead against yours, “I love you too.” He pressed another small kiss to your lips, “I’ll make this up to you.”

You let yourself be pulled into his embrace, burying your face in his chest. You held onto him because this moment couldn’t last forever, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to drag it out.

[chleem]

One shot/drabble: bf drew x gf yn

Summary: moving in w/drew...except you both don't realize it

Genre: established relationship, pure fluff

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work pls

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It wasn’t a big conversation, nothing dramatic. It was just… happening.

At first, it was simple.

Once a week, you’d sleepover for a day or two. 

In the mornings, you’d wake up next to him, tangled in the blankets, with the soft glow of sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“Hey baby,” he would lazily call out, his blue eyes still half-lidded with sleep, his voice all rough and warm from the night. You’d turn to him, your head resting on his chest, and smile.

He would rummage through different cabinets, finding a spare toothbrush for you to use. You would use his 3 in 1 shampoo, the one that smelled like him. 

When you forgot to bring an extra shirt or pair of jeans, you’d just grab something of his. His oversized tees, the flannel shirts, a jacket that hung too loose on your shoulders but still felt cozy. You’d piece together an outfit with his hats, belts, anything you could find, and it never felt awkward—it just worked.

A few weeks in, you found your favorite mug on his kitchen counter. It wasn’t planned. He hadn’t asked. But there it was—sitting next to his own, like it had always belonged there.

And then came the little details. Your hair tie on the bathroom sink, a pair of your socks tucked under the couch, the book you’d left out on the coffee table now having a permanent spot on his shelf. 

He’d buy you a matching toothbrush, no longer using the cheap spare one. He’d find out your favorite shampoo, buying one and secretly using it, despite having his own. 

The ‘breakthrough’ was your own clothes’ drawer. 

You had a few shirts left behind, a couple of sweaters, nothing too much. But one night, he pulled open the drawer and just offered it to you, as if it had always been meant for you.

“I don’t mind,” he said, his voice still soft with sleep. 

And just like that, a corner of his space was no longer just his. It was yours too. A quiet, unspoken thing.

You’d wake up, and sometimes, he wasn’t there in the sheets. But the smell of pancakes and coffee would linger in the air, along with the soft shimmering of sunlight peeking through the blinds. 

When you’d finally slip out of bed and walk into the kitchen, you’d see him there, dressed and ready for the day, that little smitten smile on his face when he saw you.

“Morning,” his eyes would brighten just for a second, like the day hadn’t really started until you were there with him.

He’d know how you liked your coffee, of course. And he’d smile like he didn’t have anywhere to be, just so he could steal a few more minutes of conversation, talking about everything and nothing.

But what really established that you ‘moved in’?

When he gave you a spare key. 

It wasn’t done in a grand gesture way, but more when he casually handed it to you one morning, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You hadn’t asked for it. You hadn’t even mentioned needing it.

“Don’t ring the wrong door,” he said, that familiar grin tugging at his lips, eyes twinkling with that lazy humor he always had.

With more time spent together, you’ve slowly gotten accustomed to each others’ habits and routines. 

The little things started to sync up without thinking—even your schedules. You’d catch yourself adding things to his calendar—dinner dates, weekend plans, or just time to relax together.

Soon, it wasn’t just his calendar, but yours too. You both had been marking your days together, like it had always been this natural.

A rare occasion was when you’d get up earlier than him, quietly slipping out of bed to prepare breakfast. 

And then, just when you thought you had a moment to yourself, he’d slip into the kitchen behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his breath warm on the back of your neck.

“Need help?” he’d murmur, his voice thick with sleep, but always with that soft smile you’d grown to love.

And then there was his work as an actor: his constant need to rehearse lines out loud, pacing the apartment like he was on stage, his voice bouncing off the walls in a way that had become comforting rather than distracting.

Sometimes, you’d even chime in and practice along with him. 

It wasn’t just the drawer anymore either. You’d started to have a space in the closet, a shelf in the bathroom. Little by little, more of you was making itself at home there—without needing to talk about it.

And then, one day, he realized you had moved in—without ever speaking a word about it. 

He’d catch himself, a smile tugging at his lips as he saw your things around the apartment, and how you’re always there. 

“You wanna... get a pet?” he’d ask suddenly, his eyes gleaming with that same mischievous spark they always had, but now mixed with something softer, more permanent.

You’d pause, surprised by the question but somehow knowing it made sense.

 A pet? Yeah, that felt like the next step. Just another way of making this space—your space—feel like home.

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

word count: 0.8k

࣪𖤐 a/n: st random i thought of, of how it feels to be his

other

[ichigosatsuki]

I normally don't post/reblog stuff like this since I fucking hate politics and I try to avoid it like the plague. But I'm legit scared for the future of America.

I'm scared for my fellow women who might become future SA victims and are forced to carry full term

I'm scared for my fellow Hispanics and hell ALL immigrants either losing their jobs, becoming homeless, or worse getting deported when they were promised shelter and a new opportunity for their children in the "New World"

Only to be told it merely temporary, be ripped away from their now established homes in this New World. Being sent "back to their country" and sometimes even being ripped away from their own family in the process

I'm scared for my fellow LGBTQIA+ that will be denied the help or medical assistance they need. Being in constant fear if the next day might be their last due to crazy folks viewing them as monsters and wanting to 'purge' them or hell sadly more often than not..

The person would kill themselves out of bullying or not finding any support to help them (emotionally and mentally wised)

I fear for people with autism like my little sister or fellow people with mental disabilities that are being portrayed as 'a virus' and will be either declined health care or people will claim that those will become "the next serial killer" cause of the lack of knowledge or understanding. Merely just assuming from what gross portrayals they heard/saw in media and taking it as law

I don't have children, but I still have fear for the new generation. I fear for my young cousins now having to grow up faster than they should, due to how tragically wicked and twisted the world has become in such a short time. Now, they have to be overly cautious and paranoid over their fellow neighbors.

Again I will reiterate that I FUCKING HATE politics but understand there's a reason why we're scared. Why we're worried about what will happen to us, our future children, and even our future grandchildren

We are not overreacting, we are all humans and we're all suffering. Whether you're on the left side or the right.

In the end we are all suffering and we need to work together to make both America and the rest of the world a better place.

elon musk did a nazi salute twice at the inauguration, and republicans are defending him.

trump revoked executive order 11246, which prohibited discrimination.

trump put all dei employees on leave to be fired.

trump blamed the dc plane crash on dei.

trump banned all lgbtq+ flags from being hung in government buildings.

trump ordered the pentagon to cancel celebration of mlk jr. day, black history month, women's history month, holocaust remembrance day, asian american pacific islander heritage month, lgbtq+ pride month, juneteenth, women's equality day, national hispanic heritage month, national disability employment awarenessmonth, and national american indian heritage month.

trump rolled back biden’s executive order to lower prescription drug costs for people using medicare and medicaid.

trump rescinded the $35 cap on insulin, and prices are expected to rise to $1500 a month.

trump ordered the national institutes of health to cancel their review panels on cancer research.

trump ended the guidelines to prevent ai misuse. the guidelines prevent many things, but notably it prevents production of ai child pornography.

when sean hannity asked trump about the economy, he said “i don’t care”, after campaigning with the economy as his main talking point.

trump has withdrawn the us from the world health organization.

trump is ordering health agencies to stop reporting on bird flu and halt publications of scientific reports.

trump has pardoned over 1500 people who stormed the capitol on january 6th.

trump changed mount denali back to mount mckinley.

trump signed an executive order to rename the gulf of mexico to gulf of america.

trump shut down cbp one, an app which granted legal entry to 1 million+ immigrants.

trump is allowing ice raids at churches and elementary schools.

trump announced plans to declare a national emergency at the us-mexico border.

trump signed an executive order to expand the use of the death penalty.

trump disbanded the school safety board that works to prevent school shootings. it was comprised of survivors, educators, and gun violence prevention advocates and formed after the school shooting in parkland.

trump withdrew from the paris climate act.

trump revoked all protections for transgender troops in the us military.

trump rescinded executive orders made by biden that benefited and protected women, lgbtq+ people, black americans, hispanic americans, asian americans, native hawaiians, and pacific islanders.

trump is attempting to make it legal to refuse to hire or fire pregnant women.

multiple state legislators are drafting bills to allow the punishment for abortion to be the death penalty.

trump pardoned 23 individuals convicted under the freedom of access to clinic entrances (FACE) act for their anti-abortion activism, including oftentimes violent protests at abortion clinics.

trump signed an executive order allowing deportation of foreign students who they believe express support for hamas or hezbollah.

trump announced that the us government will from here on out only recognize male and female as sexes. intersex is not legally recognized anymore.

trump refused to swear on the bible during his inauguration. (i’ve gotten some comments about this specific point. i didn’t include it because i’m christian, because i’m not. i’m agnostic. i included it because he’s the first president in history to refuse to swear on ANYTHING, bible or not. in the bible it teaches that the only person who cannot touch the bible is the antichrist, yet that on TOP of everything else will never convince his followers that he’s unfit.)

the trump administration paused health communications to prevent the fda from announcing food recalls.

andy ogles drafted a constitutional amendment to allow trump to be president for a third term.

georgia republican congressman mike collins called for the deportation of new jersey born mariann budde, the bishop who urged trump to “have mercy” on the lgbtq+ community and immigrants during a service at the national cathedral.

six states (arizona, idaho, iowa, kansas, mississippi, and north dakota) are planning on challenging obergefell v. hodges, which would end same-sex marriage nationwide. about a dozen more states have representatives are also considering filing similar resolutions.

amazon revoked protections for lgbtq+ and black employees.

the cdc has removed their hiv prevention page.

the united states state department has officially changed its “travelers with special conditions” page which previously said “lgbtqi+ travelers” to “lgb travelers”, completely getting rid of the tqi+.

every single republican told us we were overreacting. trump swore he had nothing to do with project 2025 yet continues implementing details outlined in it. not a single person has the right to tell us we’re being dramatic anymore.

hope “cheaper eggs and gas” was worth it.

[munsonsmixtapes]

This could be just my hormones going insane but I just need a fix of Steve/eddie (or both) giving reader some loving cause all of her friends are having babies and she’s feeling a little bit frustrated it’s not happening with her. Either of the boys end up catching the vibes so they doo all they can to help our girl out and it sticks

What I would GIVE!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) grinding, breeding kink, creampie, mention of pregnancy, hurt/comfort, cockwarming

Having a baby isn’t something you’ve ever really thought about. Your life has always been so you haven’t really had the time, but as you’ve gotten older, you’ve begun to wonder if maybe you wouldn’t mind having a little one running around. You see the tiny little clothes when you’ve gone shopping and your heart bursts. At restaurants, you’ll see the cute little families and wonder what if that could be you?

Your baby fever get even worse when one of your close friends who just had her first child invites you over to meet him. The second she puts him in your arms and his tiny hand wraps around your finger, that's it. You just know you want one of your own. A little baby that you would raise until they eventually would venture out in the world on their own.

But that's all a pipe dream in your eyes. That would never happen for you because you’re single and sperm donors and adoptions can be tricky. So you're just stuck thinking about it for the rest of your life, just hoping, wishing that it'll miraculously happen.

You spend the whole drive home sobbing. You can barely even see through your tears, but you somehow make it home to your apartment that you share with your best friend, Steve. And for once, you hope he isn’t home, because there's no way you can tell him why you're crying. It'd be way too embarrassing.

So you wordlessly hurry to your room where you bury yourself under your covers as the sobs pour out of you. You feel so pathetic for crying about something like this, but you can't help it. It just hurts way more than it should.

There's a knock at the door and you're so glad that you locked it. You really can't talk to Steve right now. He just wouldn't understand. You know that he would be understanding and sympathetic like always, but this time, it would be even better if he was actually experiencing what you are.

"Hey, y/n," he says from the other side of the door and you can just imagine him with furrowed eyebrows, the look he always gets when he's upset. You know you've hurt his feeling by shutting him out, but this is for his own good. He doesn't want to have this awkward conversation with you. You're sure of it.

"I know you're upset about something so I uh, I made you that hot chocolate you like." He's so sweet that it makes your heart ache sometimes. What did you do to deserve a best friend like him?

You throw the covers off of you and make your way to the door. You unlock and open it to reveal Steve's sympathetic smile. He holds the mug out to you and you take it, taking a sip before heading back to your bed, Steve sitting next to you, but making sure to keep some space between the two of you.

Just like always, the silence isn't awkward between the two of you as you sip on your beverage and he just sits there. You set the mug on your desk then sit next to him again, this time to where your thighs are touching and you lean your head on his shoulder.

His arm wraps around your arm, his hand moving lazily up and down it as a way to comfort you. You can't help but let you mind wonder what it would be life if Steve was the father of your child. You're he'd be the perfect candidate, but you're sure that he'd think it was weird. His best friend wants to have a baby with him? That's definitely out of his comfort zone and you know it.

"You wanna tell me what's bothering you?" No fucking way. you're taking that shit to the grave. You've got to make something up, and fast.

"Just womanly stuff, you know how it is," you sniff, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks again. You do your best to try and pretend that your stomach is cramping and Steve is quick to pull you into his lap.

His rests is hands on the lower part of your stomach where he knows they get really bad and he begins to massage the area to relieve some of the pain. He always take sure good care of you and that's how you know that he would be a great dad.

You think about him doing the exact same thing when your stomach starts showing, talking to the baby and you suddenly feeling wet between your legs. You're staring to see Steve in a different way and you're not entirely sure how to feel about it.

"How does that feel?" He asks, looking down at you and suddenly, every single thought is replaced by your need to know what his lips feel like. They look like two pretty, pink pillows and you just can't stop staring.

“I’m not really cramping,” you tell him, feeling guilty that you lied to him. “I uh, I was actually upset because-well, because everyone around me is getting married and having children and I just-that’s what I want. I just want a family, Stevie.”

You look so heartbroken and Steve can see your eyes welling up again. He suddenly gets an idea, but he knows it’s crazy. When you mentioned having a family, clearly he wasn’t supposed to be in the picture. But now that it’s come to his mind, he can’t stop thinking about it.

He’d be honored to have a baby with you. He just knows you’d be an amazing mother, especially when he’s seen you with the kids in his family at different Harrington functions. Now that he’s thought of it, he can’t unsee it. Now he’s got to see it through. That is, if you agree. And why would you? The idea really isn’t something that he should be suggesting to his best friend, but what the hell?

“What if we had a baby?” He asks, his honey eyes boring into yours and you swear you just might melt. He’s so sweet sometimes that you don’t feel like you deserve him. He takes your silence as his answer and quickly tries to backtrack. “Just forget I said anything.”

“No, Steve,” you grab hold of his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eye. “I’d love to have a baby with you. Honored, actually.”

“You would?” His face lights up and you can’t help but laugh at how adorable he is.

“Yes,” you nod.

You move so that you’re straddling his lap while his hands rest on your waist. Shit, you’re really doing this and Steve can’t hide his excitement. This might be the smartest thing he’s ever done.

You make the first move, leaning down and bringing your face to his, slowly capturing his lips with yours. He's quick to respond, trying to match your pace as his lips move against yours. Yours are soft and he's convinced that this is the best kiss he's ever had. You know exactly what you're doing and he's just desperate for more.

Just as he melting into you, he feels you grinding against his crotch and he lets out a whine, already feeling himself getting hard. This has to be a record for sure. He lets you do what you want, loving everything you're doing so far.

His tongue slides into your mouth and he swears he's going to come just from hearing you. It's so hot and now that he's hearing it person and not on the other side of the wall when you pleasure yourself, he's sure it's even hotter because he's the cause of it.

“God, you’d look so pretty,” he sighs against your lips. “So fucking hot. And I’d praise you any chance I got.”

He’s saying all the right things and now you think you’re ready. You’ve-you’ve never done anything like this with Steve, but something about it feels so good, so right.

Your top comes off and it’s thrown to the side as Steve takes advantage of your now exposed skin. He kisses and nips at chest as you melt in his arms, mewling at every touch of his lips.

He slips the straps of your bra off of your shoulders and continues his kisses there, mixing in his lips with it as your hands grab hold of his biceps, digging your fingers into his skin.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbles against your skin and you flush, feeling hot from both his compliments and his soft lips. “Now let me see you.” He unhooks your bra and pulls it away from your body to reveal your bare chest.

Your nipples are hard and Steve’s mouth waters as he thinks about how badly he wants them in his mouth. They’re practically begging for it as your back arches, moving your body from side to side, his gaze following you.

Without warning, Steve grabs hold of your waist and turns your bodies so your back is flat against your bed, him on top of you. He goes straight for your nipple, taking it into his mouth, giving it a hard suck as he pins your arms to the bed.

You gasp as the feeling and Steve continues, introducing his tongue as he licks and sucks on your nipple, one of his hands moving to massage the other one so it gets some attention as well.

Your back arches against his as a pretty moan falls from your lips and he takes that as an invitation to continue. He bites down hard and you mewl, your fingers gripping the bedding underneath you.

“That’s a pretty sound, baby,” he compliments as he pulls away for a split second. “Wanna make it again?”

“Please,” you whine and he goes in again with another as you let out another moan. Once you’ve reached your peak, he moves onto the other nipple, doing the exact same routine until you’re orgasming again, grabbing onto his shirt, trying to pull it off of him so you can proceed.

Steve’s shirt is off in an instant and he kisses his way down your torso slowly, giving your stomach special attention. He peppers it with kisses as he showers you with the sweetest words, wanting to make you feel special, to know that he really wants this and isn’t just doing it because he should.

“You’re gonna be such a great mother,” he starts off, pressing a kiss to the spot right above your belly button. “I’d be honored to raise a child with you.” Another kiss to the spot. “Fuck, I’m gonna love filling you,” is what he finishes off with before pressing a kiss to the spot right above your jeans. He then unbuttons them and you just now you’re a mess now, feeling your slick rolling down your legs.

Your jeans are off in an instant followed by your panties and Steve undressed himself before spreading your legs wide, lining himself up with you before slowly inserting himself. It’s a tight fit, but by the time he’s done with you, you’re going to be so loose.

His pace is slow as he takes his time, watching you so intently to make sure that you’re okay. You’re more than enjoying yourself, it seems as you moan and whine, your nails scratching down his back. Steve didn’t realize just how much he loves not using a condom, feeling every single part of you against him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he says as his thrusts pick up, moving even faster, inch by inch trying to get all of himself inside you.

“Haven’t done this in a while.” It’s at least been a couple of months.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll loosen you up in no time.” He’s pumping even harder and faster now, trying to get to a pace that the two of you will enjoy and continues at that pace as you respond positively.

“And look at that. You’re taking me so well.” He’s moving so fast now that the bed is squeaking underneath you, moving back and forth with every pump and you’re eating it up, needing feel all of him.

“More,” you whine and Steve just chuckles.

“Can’t go any faster than this.”

“No, Steve, more.” You grab hold of his hips and push him further inside you, bucking your hips against his so he gets the hint.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he winks. “Sure I’m not gonna hurt you?”

“I want you to. I just need to feel you. Want you to fill me.” You buck your hips again and again as the two of you work together, trying your best to get the other off.

He’s all the way inside you now and you can feel tears pricking your eyes as you can feel every single inch of him, so sure that he’s going to split you apart. Not that you mind. That would actually be the best way to go of you’re being honest.

“Taking me so well. Look at you, so close to coming. I can see it. Fuck, you’re beautiful. Gonna look even more beautiful with my baby. Gonna-“ his words are cut off as he reaches his own orgasm. He releases inside you and you watch him come undone, curling his head towards his chest as his eyes shut tight. His fingers are digging into your waist and you push his hair away from his sweaty face as he’s coming down.

He’s got just enough energy for little more. Just enough to get you there. He’s moving as hard and fast as he can, watching you come undone underneath him. You’re so pretty, the perfect mother for his child.

As soon as your orgasm is over, Steve lowers himself down onto, not even bothering to pull out because he just wants to be this close to you for a little longer. His lips find yours in a gentle kiss before he lays his head on your chest, your fingers running through his hair.

You spend the rest of the night like that before cuddling up in your bed, the two of you discussing baby names, deciding that neither of you care whether it’s a boy or girl.

Nine months later, you welcome your baby girl into the world. Steve is right by your side the entire delivery and seeing you hold her for the first time, he’s sure that you’re going to be an amazing mother and he’s so excited to navigate parenting with you.

[nightingale-prompts]

Supernatural Dating-DC x DP prompt

One of those thing they don't tell you about the supernatural I'd that they don't chase after humans. Some do of course but that's out of the norm. Not that humans/nonhumans aren't accepted it's just judged.

When we say supernatural we don't mean metahumans though many have assumed that title to blend in with humans.

Look, dragons, ghosts, werewolves, vampires, mummies, and all sorts of fantastical beings exist. But they don't mingle with humans or human society.

Then came Amity Park a place that is mostly cut off from the rest of the world. A perfect place for supernaturals of all kinds to visit. Of course, the facade of pretending to be normal was still there but less force since the people of the town don't notice anything.

A funny thing about liminals is that they also don't usually go for normal humans. Which has led to issues.

Like, that one time a vampire came into town and Jazz was drawn to him and they started secretly dating. Danny also was drawn to that vampire and was secretly dating him. The vampire had plans to turn the siblings into his undead lovers. When Jazz found out that her boyfriend was not only cheating on her but had slept with her 17 year old brother the monster hunting DNA from their parents took control and she staked him through the chest. Danny still laughs that the only person to get both of them had to die. Jazz doesn't think it's funny.

Still, such relationships weren't out of place in this town. Almost everyone was liminal from birth. Notably, Danny's parents weren't born here and cleaned up any contact they had with ecto which explained why they hadn't turned yet.

Danny questioned anyone he has attracted to because he knew they must be inhuman.

After Vlad dragged Danny to Gotham for a Gala the older ghost didn't even bother being subtle about wanting Danny and Jazz to date one of the Waynes.

"I swear you don't want to lose the chance both further our personal wealth but to find the best possible partner." Vlad said.

Vlad made it no secret that if they didn't match with one of the Waynes in an arranged match he was going to hand them over to the Al ghuls who he liked more.

Danny and Jazz were already concerned when they felt any attraction to one of the Waynes. All of them had an aura of death.

(Yeah, I have no idea where this is going. A spaghetti at the wall situation.)

[astrcmoni]

⭒✮⭒ good kisser ⭒✮⭒

MASTERLIST

synopsis: what starts as a simple trip to visit her family in georgia takes an unexpected turn when billie crosses paths with you—a mystery she can’t unravel, a pull she can’t ignore, and a connection that feels as inevitable as it is dangerous.

genre: angst, fluff, suggestive smut

pairing: cowgirl!fem!reader x billie eilish

wc: 14.1k

warnings: cowgirl!au, cussing, brief mentions of death, various confrontations, mentions of a gun, annoying ass ex, unwanted attention from a man, making out. thats it i think.

authors note: pay close attention to figure out what’s going on. this was inspired by the movie holes as well as the song good kisser by usher. let me know if you guys want the lore behind this fic. also ignore the spacing i had to make the words fit somehow😭

the truck rumbles over the uneven dirt road, the hum of the tires blending with the cicadas’ song. the late afternoon heat seeps through the windows, thick and cloying, settling into the fabric of the seats. billie is slouched in the back, limbs heavy, exhaustion pressing into her bones. her earbuds do little to drown out the tangled sounds of her family—laughter, chatter, the occasional clang of something shifting in the trunk. she prays it’s not her luggage getting battered against the walls.

her uncle’s deep voice rises and falls, weaving through the warm drawls of her cousins as they catch her up on the latest gossip from a town she barely remembers. he grips the wheel with one hand, the other draped lazily over the doorframe, fingers tapping against the sun-warmed metal. wisps of blonde peek out from beneath a sweat-stained baseball cap, blue eyes sharp as he navigates the bumpy terrain with the ease of someone who’s done this drive a thousand times. the lines around his mouth deepen when he chuckles, the sound rolling and familiar, blending seamlessly with the drone of tires against gravel.

billie offers a polite nod or a faint smile when someone glances her way, but her mind is elsewhere.

her forehead rests against the window, the glass cool against her sun-heated skin. outside, the landscape unfurls in slow motion—rolling hills stretching into the distance, pastures bathed in gold beneath the weight of a fading sun. a lone bird cuts across the sky, wings outstretched, black against the light. it feels like another world entirely, so far from the tangled skyline and neon hum of los angeles.

her music sputters, the connection straining in the vastness of the countryside. the song plays smoothly for a moment, then stutters, catching on itself like a scratched record. the buffering icon spins, lazy and mocking.

she sighs, eyes flicking to the single, flickering signal bar. useless.

with a huff, she swipes out of the app, shutting her phone off and tugging her headphones down around her neck. now she has nothing to drown out the voices in the front seat, nothing to muffle the weight of this unfamiliar place pressing down on her.

her cousins are still talking, voices rising and falling in easy rhythm. she listens despite herself, catching pieces of a story about someone named tommy—how he roughed up some guy last week, something about money, something about a warning.

“you okay, hun?”

billie blinks, her head snapping up at the sound of her aunt’s voice. her gaze finds the rearview mirror, hazel eyes meeting hers in the reflection. there’s something knowing in her stare, something gentle.

“mhm,” billie hums, offering a small nod.

her aunt may doesn’t press, just shifts slightly in her seat, her red hair catching in the wind that filters through the open window. the sunlight turns it to fire, burning bright against the dust-speckled air. her feet are propped up on the dashboard, elbow resting against the frame of the truck, the picture of effortless comfort. her eyes flick to the mirror every so often, watching, checking.

beside her, the twins are deep in conversation. savannah, all strawberry-blonde waves and quick hands, gestures wildly as she speaks, her words tumbling out in a rush. carter, sprawled back against the seat, listens with a lazy smirk, his greenish-hazel eyes shifting between her and the passing scenery.

“so tommy beat the shit outta that guy last week,” carter says, stretching his legs out with an amused huff. “had him beggin’. ”

savannah scoffs. “well, he had it comin’. dumbass thought he could rip him off and just walk away.”

“language, you two,” their mother chides, voice light but firm.

“sorry,” they mutter in unison, sheepish but unbothered.

the truck finally rolls to a stop in front of the ranch, dust curling up around the tires, hanging thick in the heat. billie stretches her legs before the door even swings open, her body stiff from the long ride.

her uncle travis steps out first, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. he slams the door shut, then cups a hand around his mouth.

“dj! come help your cousin with her bags!”

the screen door creaks open, and out steps dj. auburn hair catching in the dying sunlight, hazel eyes sharp and steady as they scan the yard. she wipes her hands on a towel slung over her shoulder, moving down the steps with an easy kind of confidence, like she’s never known the feeling of being out of place. she’s only a year older than billie, but something about the way she carries herself makes the distance between them feel wider.

“you get shorter, billie?” dj teases, a smirk tugging at her lips.

billie rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she steps out onto the dirt. “you get uglier?”

dj barks out a laugh, tossing the towel over her shoulder. “nah, still the prettiest thing in town.”

billie snorts, and for the first time since she got in the truck, she feels something settle in her chest—something lighter, something almost like home.

dj rolls her eyes, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she steps forward, pulling billie into a quick, firm hug. her arms are strong, familiar, smelling of sun-warmed cotton and leather, the faintest trace of hay clinging to her shirt.

“what’s up, city girl?” dj teases, pulling back, one brow raised. “finally decided to come hang out with us country folk?”

billie huffs a tired laugh. “something like that.”

dj reaches for one of billie’s bags, hoisting it out of the truck bed with ease. the twins, still loitering nearby, exchange a look before savannah leans in toward her brother, voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper. whatever she says makes carter snort, shaking his head.

“how was the flight?” dj asks, shifting the bag onto her shoulder.

billie groans. “long. i swear, if i had to sit next to that crying baby for one more hour—”

“oh, look,” carter interrupts from the porch, grinning as he leans lazily against the railing. “dj’s killer girlfriend is back in town.”

savannah snickers, blue eyes bright with mischief. “should we start planning the wedding?”

dj shoots them both a glare, her grip tightening on the strap of billie’s bag. “shut the hell up.”

carter only smirks wider. “what? it’s true. haven’t seen her around much lately, but people still talk.”

billie, now intrigued, raises a brow. “who?”

the twins glance at each other again before savannah jerks her chin toward the neighboring ranch, just across the dirt road.

“her.”

billie follows their gaze. standing in the middle of a sun-drenched field, a sleek black horse grazes lazily, its coat gleaming like oil beneath the fading light. beyond it, the ranch stretches out—fenced-in pastures, a weathered stable, a house tucked away behind it all, its porch wrapped in shadow.

carter crosses his arms. “she’s got the black horse. a real nice one. she takes good care of it, though.”

dj shifts uncomfortably, adjusting the strap of billie’s bag. “don’t listen to them.”

savannah ignores her. “people say she’s dangerous.”

carter nods. “no one really knows what she does when she’s not here, but when she is…” he trails off, letting the words settle like dust in the heat.

dj exhales sharply, her jaw tight. “you two sound like every old drunk at the bar.”

“just sayin’,” savannah mutters, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in her expression now.

dj’s patience snaps. “don’t just say. y’all steady talkin’ like you don’t know her yourselves. shut the hell up and take the rest of billie’s stuff inside.” her voice is edged, firm, and the look she gives them isn’t one to challenge.

the twins exchange one last glance before sighing, heads ducking slightly as they grab the rest of the luggage. their movements are slower now, quieter—like scolded puppies slinking away.

billie watches them disappear into the house before turning back to dj, curiosity curling tight in her chest.

“what’s your deal?” she asks, watching as dj slams the truck’s trunk shut, the sound ringing out into the still evening.

dj doesn’t answer at first, just exhales sharply through her nose. “she’s just not someone you should mess around with, that’s all.”

which, of course, only makes billie more interested.

she casts one last glance toward the neighboring ranch. the black horse stands motionless now, ears flicking, as if sensing her gaze.

instead of heading inside, she sets her bags down near the porch and starts across the road.

dj stiffens. “billie, i’m serious.”

billie lifts a hand in dismissal. “i’m just saying hi.”

dj curses under her breath but doesn’t follow.

as billie moves closer, the air shifts. the heat is heavier here, the cicadas louder, their buzzing tangled in the dry breeze. the fences are worn, but sturdy. the stable door hangs slightly ajar, dark inside, like a mouth left open mid-sentence. the house beyond it is quiet. too quiet.

she slows her steps, her shoes kicking up dust.

her curiosity hums beneath her skin, insistent.

something about this place feels like a held breath.

she keeps walking.

the black horse lifts its head when billie approaches, ears flicking forward, nostrils flaring slightly as it takes in her scent. the late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the pasture, bathing the world in gold, turning the dust at her feet into something almost ethereal.

“hey there,” she murmurs, reaching out, fingers just grazing the stallion’s sleek coat, warm beneath her touch.

the moment barely settles before a voice cuts through the stillness, sharp and unwavering.

“who in the hell said you could touch my horse?”

billie startles, turning on instinct. you’re standing a few feet away, a bag of supplies slung carelessly in one hand, the other resting against your hip. dark jeans worn in all the right places, scuffed boots that have seen miles of dirt roads, rolled-up sleeves revealing the kind of forearms that come from real work, not gym hours.

the sun catches on the angles of your face—sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, eyes that narrow just slightly, unreadable. your expression is the kind that makes people second-guess their presence. makes them wonder if they’ve overstayed a welcome that was never there in the first place.

billie swallows, suddenly aware of how dry her mouth is. “sorry,” she says quickly, pulling her hand back. “i just got here for the summer. wanted to introduce myself.”

your gaze flicks over her, slow and unimpressed. “that don’t explain why you’re over here on my property. hands all over my damn horse.”

billie scratches the back of her neck, trying for a smile. “didn’t think he’d mind.”

you step closer, the distance between you shrinking to something taut and charged. the air shifts, thickens. billie feels it settle against her skin, the weight of your stare pressing in.

“well, i do.”

a pause, then her voice, quieter now. “what’s his name?”

your fingers flex against the bag in your hand before your gaze flickers briefly toward the stallion.

“…storm. his name is storm.”

billie exhales through her nose, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “fitting.”

you don’t respond, just click your tongue, turning your attention back to the horse, adjusting the bridle with practiced ease. there’s a familiarity in the way your hands move, in the way storm settles beneath your touch. billie watches, her curiosity growing roots, tangling into something deeper.

then you glance past her, your expression shifting, flattening into something edged.

“tell your cousin to stop staring at me.”

billie frowns, following your gaze. sure enough, dj is leaning against the porch railing, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the two of you with something unreadable simmering beneath her stare.

billie sighs, turning back to you. “just ignore her.” a beat, then, “what’s the history between you two anyway?”

your lips curl—not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. something in between. something knowing.

“ask her.”

before billie can push further, dj is suddenly beside her, voice firm. “alright, let’s go.”

her grip on billie’s arm is tight, not quite rough, but close enough. an insistence, a warning. but billie doesn’t move, brows pulling together.

“we were talking.”

dj’s gaze flicks to you, then back. her voice drops, steady. “and now you’re not.”

you let out a quiet, amused breath, rolling your eyes. “good lord.”

dj exhales sharply, like she’s trying to rein something in. her voice is lower now, almost like she doesn’t want billie to hear. “i don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it’s not gonna work.”

your smirk deepens, arms crossing over your chest as you lean against the fence. “yeah? and what exactly do you think i’m doing?”

dj steps in closer, the air between you charged. “don’t play dumb. you always do this—pop back up like nothing happened, like you didn’t leave shit all messy the last time.”

billie shifts beside her, confused. “okay, am i the only one not following this conversation?”

you don’t acknowledge her. your eyes stay locked on dj, steady, unreadable.

“your cousin loves running her mouth, but she don’t ever say nothing real.”

dj lets out a dry laugh, tilting her chin up. “and you love pretending like shit don’t stick.”

you push off the fence, stepping into her space just enough. enough to force her to make a choice—stand her ground or back up. she doesn’t move.

“if you got something to say, i suggest you say it. or is your little audience making you nervous?”

dj’s jaw tightens, but her voice lowers, words meant only for you. “i know exactly what you are.”

a slow grin spreads across your lips, something lazy, something dangerous. “then you should know better than to step to me like this.”

the air crackles, thick with something unsaid, something old. something neither of you are willing to be the first to name.

then—

the screen door slams.

“dj!” may’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “you better leave that woman alone and come inside.”

your expression doesn’t shift, but you glance toward the porch, raising a hand in greeting.

“hi, ms. may.” your voice is softer now, almost polite, but there’s something else lurking beneath it. something unreadable.

your eyes cut back to dj’s.

“better get going, don’t wanna worry your dear mama, now do we?”

your tone is smooth, but the bitterness seeps through the cracks.

dj’s mouth presses into a thin line. “yeah, well, at least i have one. last time i checked, where’s yours?”

the words land heavy, sharper than they should be, and even dj looks like she wants to snatch them back.

your head jerks slightly, like the hit lands somewhere deep. for a second—just a second—your smirk falters, the cocky edge dulling into something raw. something open.

“what the fuck, dj?” billie’s voice cuts in, sharp with disbelief.

you lift a hand, almost like you’re about to touch dj’s chest, but it never lands. instead, your fingers curl into a loose fist before falling back to your side.

your voice is quiet now, nothing like before. “that’s enough. go home.”

but dj doesn’t move. doesn’t back down. instead, she steps in again, breath coming out a little harder. “not such a hard-ass now, are you? you—”

“enough.”

this time, your voice is quiet, but firm, final. your index and middle fingers press into her chest just enough to make space, to remind her where the line is.

“dallas, go home. both of you.”

dj exhales sharply, then steps back, her jaw tight. she doesn’t say another word, just shakes her head slightly before turning toward the house.

billie hesitates, eyes flicking back to you, like she wants to say something. like she’s still trying to figure out exactly what just happened.

but you don’t look at her. don’t acknowledge the weight of her stare. you just turn back to your horse, the whole thing slipping off your shoulders like it never happened.

except, it did.

the air is thick as billie follows dj toward the house, silence stretching between them. the only sound is the crunch of gravel beneath their boots, the hum of cicadas in the distance.

billie’s mind is still turning over the moment, replaying it, pulling it apart.

but the thought that lingers the longest, the one that sticks to her ribs—

what the fuck just happened?

the screen door creaks as dj reaches for the knob, shoving it open and disappearing down the hall. a door shuts with a muted slam—not loud enough to be defiant, but enough to make a point. billie watches her go, jaw tight, before exhaling through her nose. the weight in the air lingers even after she’s gone.

her eyes roam the house, scanning over the framed photos lining the walls, the worn wooden floors, the little marks of life scattered throughout the space. it’s been years since she was last here, yet everything still feels the same—like time doesn’t move the way it should in this house.

she slides her foot behind the other, toe hooking at her heel, before slipping off her shoes and setting them neatly by the door. the air is thick with the smell of something rich and homey simmering on the stove, a scent that settles deep in her chest, stirring something old and familiar.

outside, the sun sinks behind the georgia horizon, spilling liquid gold through the blinds, slicing the walls into slats of light and shadow. the sky is a mess of tangerine and violet, the last gasps of daylight stretching thin. the colors shift slowly, bleeding into one another, swallowing the land in a slow-burning glow.

the house hums with quiet movement. the soft clatter of a knife hitting the cutting board, the steady boil of water, the shuffle of feet against the floor. billie follows the sounds to the kitchen, fingers grazing the edges of picture frames as she passes, tracing over time itself. she pauses at one photo—her younger self, nine years old, hair a wild mess, chocolate smeared at the corners of her mouth. dj sits beside her, equally messy, their grins so wide they look like they ache. finneas stands behind them, hands resting on their shoulders, caught mid-laugh.

billie remembers that day. the summer of 2010. her parents had dragged her across the country for a family reunion, her first real introduction to this side of her roots. back when dj was just dj—back before things got messy.

she lets out a slow breath and moves on, fingers trailing along the faded growth chart scratched into the wall, numbers marking years of childhood in different colors of ink. her name is there too, though fainter, proof that she once belonged to this house, if only for a moment.

in the kitchen, may stands at the counter, slicing potatoes with practiced ease. she glances up briefly, eyes flicking over billie before turning back to her work.

“hey, do you mind cleanin’ up and helping me with dinner?” may asks, her voice light but expectant. “the twins are outside with travis, and dj’s, well… you know.”

billie nods, stepping forward to wash her hands. the warm water runs over her fingers, grounding her. she rolls up her sleeves, reaches for a potato, and makes the first incision, peeling the skin back in smooth ribbons. they fall into an easy rhythm—billie peeling, may chopping, the quiet stretching comfortably between them.

for a while, it’s just the sound of the knife against the board, the bubbling pot on the stove, the distant laughter of kids outside. then may breaks the silence.

“you know,” she starts, voice softer now, “it wasn’t always like that between them.”

billie stills, knife pausing mid-peel. she glances at her aunt, waiting.

“they been best friends since the beginning of time,” may continues, shaking her head slightly. “and they were together for a while. two years, almost.”

billie blinks. the words settle heavy in her chest. she knew there was history, but not like that.

may sighs, setting down the knife. she moves to the stove, sliding the potatoes into the pot before grabbing a bowl covered with a damp towel. she pushes it toward billie and retrieves a stick of butter from the fridge.

billie pulls back the towel, fingertips grazing the soft, risen dough. she watches as may butters a pan, waiting for her to continue.

“but things change,” may says simply. “people change. and their relationship went sour.” she kneads the dough with steady hands, her movements slow and deliberate. “one night, they had a big fight. a bad one. don’t nobody know what it was about, ’cause dj won’t talk and that girl sure as hell ain’t sayin’ a word.”

billie rolls the dough between her palms, watching how it folds over itself, how it yields to pressure but never loses its form.

“and i think that was her last straw,” may murmurs. “’cause ever since then, she done cut everybody off. comes and goes as she pleases, don’t ever talk to nobody unless she has to. she lives right next door, and i ain’t seen her step foot in this house in god knows how long.”

may shakes her head, rolling the dough a little rougher now. “so now i gotta make excuses. like this,” she gestures to the half-made dinner between them, “just to go see her.”

a silence settles between them, thick with something unspoken. billie turns may’s words over in her mind.

she hesitates, then asks, “so… do you think it’s true? you know, the killing stuff.”

may’s hands still, her sharp hazel eyes cutting over to billie. there’s something dark in her expression, something fiercely protective.

“hell no,” she says, voice low, firm. “uh-uh. no way. those rumors? started by a bunch of no-good folks who like to prey on somebody’s grief. they don’t know shit. they just like to talk, to stir up trouble.” she picks up the butter knife again, presses it against the dough with more force than necessary. “one day, they gon’ get what’s comin’ to ’em if they don’t shut the hell up with all that bullshit.”

billie swallows, nodding. her aunt’s words settle deep in her bones, but they don’t quite shake the feeling in her gut.

they work in silence after that, finishing up dinner as the sun outside finally disappears, leaving only the hum of cicadas and the distant rumble of an oncoming storm.

billie’s mind drifts back to you.

there’s something about you, but she still doesn’t know what.

the following days move in slow, hazy waves, each one bleeding into the next. billie spends most of her time trailing behind her uncle, helping around the ranch, or dodging dj’s moods. the tension from that night still clings to the air, stretching thin between them, unspoken but heavy.

but the one thing she notices—no matter where she is, no matter what she’s doing—is you.

you’re never in the same place for long. she catches glimpses of you moving through town, slipping into stores and out of sight before anyone can stop you. sometimes, she spots your truck kicking up dust down the dirt roads, music thumping faintly through the open windows. other times, she just hears your name in passing, hushed voices weaving together pieces of a story she still can’t make sense of.

and yet, despite all of that, you never come around. not to dj’s place, not to may’s kitchen, not even when the sun sinks low and the porch lights flicker on like an unspoken invitation.

the house is quiet when billie wakes, the kind of quiet that settles thick in the early hours of the morning. the sky outside is a deep shade of blue, the horizon barely kissed by the first traces of sunlight. she doesn’t know why she’s up—maybe the restless heat of summer, maybe just habit—but she swings her legs out of bed anyway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she heads downstairs.

the kitchen is dim, only a sliver of light cutting through the blinds. she grabs a glass from the counter, filling it with water from the sink, but just as she lifts it to her lips, movement outside catches her eye.

you.

you’re by the stables, moving with that same quiet, effortless ease she’s seen a handful of times before. the saddle rests in the crook of your arm, your other hand brushing over your horse’s side in a way that looks almost second nature, like you belong here, like the land and the creatures on it are an extension of yourself.

billie sets her glass down, her breath catching for just a second, like her body had been holding onto something it didn’t realize it had let go of. she can’t stop herself, and before she knows it, she’s pulling her clothes on and slipping outside, the cool morning air curling around her, brushing against her skin, mingling with the dust of the earth beneath her feet. each step toward the stables is light, calculated, like she’s stepping through a dream she doesn’t want to wake up from. but you don’t seem surprised when you glance up.

“what are you doin’?” billie asks, her voice still thick with sleep, raspy and half-formed.

you adjust the straps on your saddle, barely sparing her a glance. “what’s it look like?”

billie runs a hand through her hair, glancing at the familiar sway of your movements, the way you handle your horse with such ease. “do you always ride this early?”

“depends.”

“on what?”

finally, you look at her—really look at her, like you’re trying to read her all over again, your gaze lingering a moment too long before it moves past her, steady and unflinching.

“depends on whether or not i feel like answering questions at this hour.”

billie leans against the stable door, crossing her arms. “you always this grumpy?”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head but not offering a full smile. “do you always ask this many questions this early?”

billie tilts her head, a mischievous smile creeping onto her face. “maybe.” she watches you for a moment before she adds, with a teasing spark, “let me come with you.”

your brows lift just a fraction, an unreadable expression passing over your face. “why?”

billie shrugs, her fingers brushing against the rough wood of the stable. “why not? we could play twenty-one questions or something.”

you study her, your eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing her words, but the corners of your mouth twitch up into something of a smile.

“just how old are you?” you ask, half-smirking, like you’re daring her to keep this up.

“i’m twenty-three, you?” she retorts, a smug, challenging smile tugging at her lips as she expertly deflects the subtle jab.

there’s a beat of silence, and then, just as quickly, a small smirk pulls at the corner of your lips.

“alright,” you say, swinging yourself up onto the saddle with a practiced, fluid motion, as though you were born to move like this. “you can tag along, if you can keep up that is.”

billie doesn’t hesitate. she moves quickly, heading toward the nearest stall. she grabs the reins of her uncle’s horse, her fingers brushing over the worn leather, feeling the familiar tension in the saddle as she swings herself up with an ease that surprises even her. the muscle memory kicks in almost immediately, grounding her as her feet settle into the stirrups. you’re already moving, not waiting for her to catch up.

billie clicks her tongue, urging her horse forward as she takes off after you, the cool morning air rushing against her skin. the golden glow of the sunrise stretches across the open fields, the colors turning the horizon into an abstract painting—reds, purples, and soft oranges blending into one another. she focuses, forcing herself to concentrate on the rhythm of the ride, on the sound of hooves pounding the earth beneath her, the echo of your horse’s gallop ahead of her.

the silence stretches between you both for a while, just the sound of hooves against dirt and the steady rhythm of your horses moving in sync. but eventually, billie breaks the silence.

“so what, you just ride out here by yourself all the time?”

you keep your eyes ahead, barely glancing at her. “sometimes.”

“ever bring anyone else?”

you shoot her a look, sharp but playful, a glimmer of amusement flashing in your eyes. “you’re askin’ a lot of questions again.”

billie grins, leaning forward slightly, her body shifting with the rhythm of the horse beneath her. “that’s the point. just trying to get to know you.”

your lips twitch like you’re fighting back a smirk, but you remain silent, your eyes trained on the horizon. instead, you give your horse a quick nudge, urging him to pick up speed.

billie huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “oh, it’s like that, huh?”

you glance back over your shoulder, your expression half-masked by the wind whipping around you, but the amusement is unmistakable. “c’mon, i told you to keep up.”

and then, just like that, you’re gone. the sound of hooves grows distant, leaving billie to scramble, to push herself harder, faster, as the wind roars in her ears and the open field stretches wide before her. she’s not letting you win, not when it feels like she’s finally found a challenge worth chasing.

with a sharp exhale, she digs her heels into the sides of her horse, urging it faster. her heart beats in time with the gallop, her breath steady as she closes the distance between you. she catches sight of your silhouette again, outlined in the early morning light, and for a second, she swears she sees a flash of something—joy, maybe? or something deeper. but before she can catch her breath or dwell on it too long, she pushes herself harder, the space between you shrinking with every stride.

soon, she’s even with you. just enough to catch the smirk playing at your lips, the subtle shift in your posture that betrays the challenge you’ve put out there.

“not bad,” you call, voice carried by the wind.

billie exhales a sharp laugh, her grin widening. “what, you thought i couldn’t ride?”

“never said that.”

“yeah, but you were thinkin’ it.”

you just hum, your gaze flicking ahead again as you steer your horse toward a small clearing in the distance. the sun is rising higher now, and the light seems to stretch out across the land, casting everything in a soft, golden glow. the air smells faintly of wildflowers and earth, the scent of morning fresh in every breath.

you lead the way into a hidden meadow, one billie hadn’t seen before, nestled between trees whose branches weave together above, casting dappled shadows over the ground. the grasses sway gently in the breeze, and the air is thick with the scent of green life, of something untouched.

you dismount with ease, guiding your horse toward a stream that trickles softly through the meadow. the water glistens in the light, reflecting the vivid colors of the earth and sky. billie follows suit, her legs stiff as she slides off her horse with a soft grunt, feeling the weight of the ride in her muscles.

the quiet of the meadow wraps around them like a blanket. billie stands beside you, her gaze drifting over the peaceful scene before her eyes fall on you again. you’re crouched by your horse, fingers working carefully through its mane, each movement deliberate, practiced.

billie sits down beside you, the cool grass soft against her legs. for a moment, neither of you speaks. the quiet stretches, filling the space between you, and despite the tension of the last few days, it feels like a rare kind of peace.

“jesus,” billie mutters after a while, breaking the silence. “i think my ass is permanently bruised.”

you snort, a dry laugh escaping you as you continue working with the horse’s mane. “yeah, well, ridin’ ain’t for the weak.”

you snort, settling onto the grass as you untie a loose braid in your horse’s mane. “yeah, well, ridin’ ain’t for the weak.”

billie doesn’t say anything at first, just takes a seat next to you, mirroring your posture. the silence between you both is calm, stretching, like the stillness of the earth at dusk, with only the rustling of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets filling the space.

she grumbles, rubbing her thigh before dropping down beside you. she leans back on her palms, exhaling slowly, as her eyes trace the fading light across the fields. “damn. this place is real pretty.”

“mhm,” you hum, eyes following the way the breeze moves through the trees, making the leaves shiver and whisper. you can almost hear the land breathe with you, like it’s been waiting for this moment to fall into a quiet that feels too rare.

billie tilts her head toward you, studying your face. there’s a certain way she looks at you—like she’s trying to understand something that might not be easy to explain. “you come out here often?”

“when i can,” you say, fingers still working through your horse’s mane. your hand moves with practiced ease, the bond between you and storm unspoken but undeniable. “it’s quiet. no one botherin’ me. just me and my horse.”

billie nods slowly, letting the silence stretch, letting it settle comfortably between you for a beat. then, with a small smirk, she nudges your arm, playful but thoughtful. “are you sure you’re not just avoiding people?”

you huff out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “there’s nothin’ wrong with wanting some peace and quiet.”

“yeah, but i don’t know,” billie says, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “feels like there’s more to it.”

you don’t say anything at first, just let her words sit in the space between you both, heavy like the air before a storm. your eyes drift over the land, taking in the scenery, the blanket of quiet that’s settled over everything. there’s a sort of ache in the stillness, but it’s familiar, comforting in its own way.

but billie, ever curious, finally breaks the silence.

“your farm,” she starts, her voice light but edged with something thoughtful. “it’s empty compared to the others around here.”

you don’t move for a long moment, eyes fixed on the flowing water. the question doesn’t surprise you—it’s the kind of thing people always ask, but hearing it from billie feels different. her words settle, a quiet weight on your chest.

“yeah,” you murmur, picking at a blade of grass between your fingers. “that’s ‘cause we had to sell most of it. my dad—” you pause, exhaling slowly, trying to push the words out without letting them get tangled in your throat. “he was a musician. not exactly the most stable job when you’re trying to keep a farm running. and my mom… she was in the rodeo. damn good at it too.”

billie leans in slightly, listening intently, her focus unwavering.

“she kept everything together,” you continue, your voice steady but distant, as if the memory is both close and miles away. “but when she passed, it all started falling apart. bills piled up, and daddy… well, he tried, y’know? did everything he could. but eventually, he had to start selling off the land, the animals, anything we didn’t absolutely need.”

your fingers brush against storm, his dark coat soft beneath your touch, grounding you in the present. you focus on the sensation, trying to keep it from spiraling back into that place you don’t like to go.

“now, it’s just me and what little we’ve got left.” you look at storm again, a quiet ache in your chest as you find comfort in his presence.

billie doesn’t speak right away. she watches you, taking in the way your posture has shifted, the way your voice has softened. the usual sharpness in your tone is dulled now, replaced by something heavier, something more fragile, like a quiet thread that could snap if you tugged on it too hard.

“that’s a lot,” she says after a moment, her voice quieter than usual, as though she’s treading carefully around your pain.

you nod once, sliding your hands off your coat and letting them curl into the blades of grass beneath you. you feel the earth there, steady, unmoving. maybe you wish you could be like that sometimes.

“yeah.”

the meadow falls silent again, but this time, it’s different. the weight of your words lingers, but it’s not uncomfortable. billie doesn’t press, doesn’t push for more than you’re willing to give. she just sits there, her presence steady next to you, breathing in the same air, sharing the same space, the same history, the same grief. it’s enough for now.

after a while, she breaks the silence with something lighter, like a pebble thrown into the still water.

“so, what you’re saying is… you could’ve been a rodeo star?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes with a playful glance at her. “hold on now—i ain’t say all that.”

“nah, i bet you were real good,” she teases, grinning, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “i can see it now. you riding in all dramatic, wavin’ to the crowd, all eyes on you.”

you shake your head, but the corner of your mouth betrays you with the smallest hint of a smile. “you talk too much.”

“part of my charm,” she says easily, her grin widening.

you huff out a breath, pushing yourself up. “c’mon, we should head back.”

billie groans dramatically, throwing her head back in exaggerated defeat. “damn. was kind of hoping to stay out here just a little while longer.”

“nope,” you say, clicking your tongue to get your horse’s attention. the sound breaks the silence like a familiar rhythm. “sun’s up, and i know mr. travis has probably got some work for you to do.”

billie sighs, shoulders slumping like the weight of the world is on them, but she stands anyway, dusting off her jeans before climbing back onto her horse.

the ride back to the ranch is slow, the sun now fully risen, casting golden light over the open fields. the air is warm, thick with the scent of sun-warmed grass and damp earth. billie rides a little closer this time, your horses moving in rhythm, the soft thud of hooves in sync with the quiet, steady pulse of the morning. she glances at you every so often, like she’s got something on her mind, the corners of her lips tugging in subtle hesitation.

“so, uh,” she starts, adjusting her reins, eyes flickering to the horizon. “random question, but how do you feel about—like, i don’t know—eating plants?”

you cut her a sideways glance, brow furrowing in confusion. “eating plants?”

“yeah, like—” billie presses her lips together, her words hesitant, “i mean, i’m vegan.”

you pull on your reins slightly, slowing your horse just to give yourself a second to process. “you’re what?”

“vegan,” she repeats, dragging the word out like she’s bracing for impact, her gaze shifting away, taking in the sprawling landscape.

you blink. then blink again. “you’re tellin’ me you came all the way out here, ridin’ horses, stayin’ on a farm, and you don’t even eat meat?”

billie shrugs, a small, almost defiant gesture. “technically, it’s not really a farm anymore.”

you shake your head, a soft chuckle slipping from you, amusement tugging at the corner of your mouth. “that’s wild.”

“not really,” she says, grinning, her voice a little lighter now. “i just don’t see the point in eatin’ something with a face.”

“couldn’t be me,” you mutter, shaking your head with a smile that feels warmer than you expect.

billie laughs, a low, genuine sound that carries in the still morning air. she doesn’t push the topic further. instead, she shifts in her saddle, rolling her shoulders before speaking again, her tone lighter now, like the tension has eased just a little.

“so,” she starts, her words casual, like she’s asking about the weather. “my cousins told me there’s this little town event tonight. are you going?”

you adjust your grip on the reins, eyes fixed on the dirt path ahead, your horse’s hooves kicking up a trail of dust in the warm breeze. “maybe.”

“maybe?” billie echoes, tilting her head toward you, the question lingering between you, playful yet genuine. “that’s not a yes.”

you shrug, eyes narrowing slightly as you continue to lead your horse down the familiar stretch of road. “ain’t a no, either.”

billie hums thoughtfully, considering your words. the rhythmic clopping of hooves fills the space between you, soft and steady. the town event was just another yearly gathering—music, food, and an excuse for folks to catch up. you’d been to plenty before, but with everything on your plate, it hadn’t exactly been a priority this time. still, the thought of it lingers in the back of your mind, shifting like the breeze that ruffles your hair.

“why you ask?” you glance over at billie, curiosity creeping into your tone.

she shrugs, but there’s a glint of something in her eyes now, something playful, something sly. “can’t blame me for wantin’ to see a pretty face in town, now can you?”

you pause mid-step, your horse shifting beneath you, the sudden shift in the air catching you off guard. you turn to look at her, her gaze steady, a playful smirk on her lips.

you huff, shaking your head. “are you always this bold?”

billie smirks, nudging her horse forward as the ranch comes into view. “why? is it workin’?”

you roll your eyes, but a small smile betrays you, tugging at the corners of your mouth, the warmth creeping up your neck. something about her makes it hard to stay completely composed. the two of you ride in silence for the last stretch, the ranch growing larger as you approach, the familiar smells of hay and dust filling the air.

by the time you reach the ranch, the sun is higher in the sky, bathing everything in golden light, casting long shadows that stretch across the land. your horse slows to a stop near the fence, and you swing off with practiced ease. billie follows, though she takes a second longer, muttering something about her legs not working right after the long ride.

she lingers for a moment, rocking back and forth on the heels of her boots, a smirk still playing at her lips. then, with a casual tilt of her head, she looks at you. “so, tonight… you comin’ or what?”

you look at her, considering. the words hover on your lips, but for a moment, you just let the silence stretch between you, the sun at your back, the ranch before you. “i’ll think about it.”

billie grins like she already knows what your answer will be, her eyes sparkling with something mischievous. “i’ll see you there, then.”

and with that, she gives you one last lingering look, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you before she turns on her heel, heading back toward the house. you stand there for a moment, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin, a weird flutter in your chest, like the space between the two of you hasn’t quite closed yet.

you didn’t say yes.

but you sure as hell didn’t say no.

the rest of the afternoon billie spends helping her uncle with some work around the farm, though her mind keeps drifting back to your conversation. maybe. that’s all you gave her. no promise, no certainty—just maybe. and yet, it lingers in her thoughts, like an unfinished sentence hanging in the air. the farm feels quieter than usual, the distant hum of work beneath the weight of her uncertainty.

by the time the sun dips below the horizon, stretching shades of orange and purple across the sky, billie finds herself getting ready back at her uncle’s house. she pulls on a clean shirt, the fabric soft against her skin. she rolls up the sleeves just enough to keep cool, her movements deliberate, like she’s trying to prepare for something she’s not entirely sure of. she runs a hand through her hair in the small mirror by the door, the reflection staring back at her with an edge of doubt.

her aunt, may, passes by and raises an eyebrow. “you sure are fixin’ yourself up just to go to a town event.”

billie scoffs, shaking her head, but her voice softens a little, a flicker of defensiveness hidden under the surface. “there’s nothing wrong with wanting to look decent.”

may hums knowingly, the corners of her lips turning up in a knowing smile, but she doesn’t press. instead, she tosses billie a light jacket before nodding toward the front of the house. “dj’s out waitin’ on you. y’all don’t get into too much trouble, ya hear?”

“me? trouble?” billie grins as she shrugs on the jacket, the weight of her aunt’s words lingering longer than she expects. “never.”

may chuckles, shaking her head, and billie steps out onto the porch, the cool evening air brushing against her skin.

dj is already leaning against the fence, arms crossed, a bored expression on her face, as if she’s been waiting for ages. “took you long enough,” she mutters, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “you tryin’ to impress somebody or somethin’?”

billie rolls her eyes, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the motion automatic, like a shield she’s used to. “let’s just go.”

they set off down the dirt road, the warm night air wrapping around them like a soft blanket. the path into town is well-worn, the grass flattened from years of footsteps, an imprint of countless journeys. crickets hum in the distance, their song like a steady pulse in the background, and the occasional firefly flickers in and out of sight, like tiny stars caught in the evening breeze. it’s a short walk, barely fifteen minutes, but it gives billie time to get lost in her own thoughts.

dj notices.

“you’re thinkin’ ‘bout her, aren’t you?”

billie doesn’t answer right away, just kicks at a loose rock on the path, her boots sending it skidding off into the darkness. “you always gotta run your mouth?”

dj laughs, a low, amused sound that cuts through the quiet. “when i’m right? yeah.”

billie exhales sharply, shaking her head, the air leaving her lungs in a huff. “she said maybe.”

“and you’re holdin’ onto it like it’s a damn promise.” dj shoots her a knowing look, her voice steady, almost too knowing for comfort. “look, i know her better than you do. and if she said maybe, it means no.”

billie doesn’t argue, but she also doesn’t agree. the words hang between them, but there’s something she’s not ready to let go of. instead, she just keeps walking, her thoughts swallowed by the rhythm of her footsteps, the sound of her boots against the dirt path. the tavern’s glow finally comes into view up ahead, warm and inviting, a sharp contrast to the coolness of the night air. it flickers like a promise, even though she knows better than to expect one.

the closer they get, the louder the night becomes—music drifting through the air, the steady hum of voices rising and falling like a pulse. billie can already see the crowd through the open doorway, bodies swaying on the dance floor, others gathered near the bar, laughter spilling into the warm evening air like a melody of its own.

as they step inside, the scent of whiskey and something fried clings to the air, filling her lungs with a sharp, familiar bite. billie takes it all in—the packed dance floor, the row of worn wooden stools lined up against the bar, the occasional clatter of pool balls from the back of the room. the atmosphere is thick, buzzing with energy, but billie’s mind is elsewhere, pulled in a direction she can’t quite shake.

she barely hesitates before scanning the crowd, her gaze flickering across the sea of faces, as though she’s searching for something—or someone.

dj notices that, too.

“she’s not comin’,” dj says, her voice cutting through billie’s quiet search. “i suggest you don’t get your hopes up.”

billie smirks, slipping her hands into her pockets as she leans against the bar. “or maybe,” she muses, tilting her head, “she is.”

dj exhales sharply, shaking her head as she orders a drink, her voice tinged with disbelief. “you’re impossible.”

billie doesn’t respond, just taps her fingers rhythmically against the counter, her gaze flickering back toward the door every so often, like the rhythm of the night is tied to the beat of her waiting.

and then—

the door swings open. and there you are.

standing just inside the threshold, framed by the dim, amber glow of the tavern lights. the room seems to shift around you, as though the space itself is adjusting to your presence. you scan the crowd, your expression unreadable, the quiet control you exude almost tangible.

dj notices first. she huffs out a quiet laugh. “well, i’ll be damned.”

billie grins, pushing off the bar slightly, her posture shifting as if she knew it all along. “told you. maybe ain’t a no.”

you’re dressed head-to-toe in all black. your long-sleeve shirt is tucked neatly into your jeans, the edges of your collar sharp against your throat, and a black belt cinches your waist, defining your silhouette. a cowboy hat sits low on your brow, casting a shadow over your sharp, unreadable expression. your chaps, draped over black denim, hug your legs in all the right places, the subtle swish of the fabric whispering as you move. the faint golden gleam of your belt buckle catches the light, but it’s the deep, sultry burgundy lipstick that steals the show, bold against the subtle darkness of your outfit.

billie swallows hard, her mouth suddenly dry, her breath caught on the edge of something unspoken.

the tavern shifts as you step inside, the energy crackling like a storm rolling in. people pause mid-conversation, eyes dragging over you, the hushed whispers slicing through the noise. it’s not just your presence—it’s the way you carry yourself, the effortless confidence, the unbothered aura that makes them stop, even for just a moment. you don’t need to try; they can’t help but look.

your eyes scan over the room until they land on billie, and when they do, your lips curl into the smallest, knowing smile—subtle, but impossible to miss.

billie, still leaning against the bar, watches you with something close to amusement, but there’s something else there, too—a hunger, a quiet longing that she doesn’t bother to hide.

you make your way over, your boots clicking against the wooden floor, each step cutting through the tension in the air, your presence undeniable. but as you draw closer, you feel another pair of eyes on you, heavy and knowing. your gaze flits over to your left, and there she is—dj, already looking at you, her gaze sharp as steel. the tension between you and her is thick, palpable, and it almost seems to snuff out your smile, just like that—flickering out like a candle’s flame in the wind.

you don’t stop walking, but there’s something stiff now in your posture, a tension that settles in your shoulders, your gaze hardening as it locks with hers.

“dj,” you greet, your voice even, but missing the warmth it had just moments ago, the friendliness gone, replaced by something cooler, more guarded.

dj dips her head in acknowledgment, shifting her weight slightly, her eyes flicking to billie and then back to you. “what’s up?” she says before taking her glass and knocking back her drink in one smooth motion.

there’s a beat of silence, thick and uncomfortable. then dj clears her throat, glancing toward the back of the tavern, the movement casual but deliberate. “i’m gonna go talk to amari.”

you just nod, your chin tilting in the slightest acknowledgment, though you know her announcement was meant for billie and not you. you don’t stop her, and neither does billie.

the air between you and billie is still, charged but unspoken, as dj walks off into the crowd, leaving both of you standing in the flickering light, surrounded by the hum of the tavern’s life.

once she’s gone, you and billie exchange a glance, one that carries the weight of unspoken understanding. the tension that hung in the air moments ago lingers, but it’s quickly brushed aside, buried beneath something lighter.

billie’s lips curl up, playful and easy. “you look nice.”

you tilt your head, smirking, a flicker of something in your eyes. “just nice?” you ask, your voice low, teasing. you do a slow, deliberate spin, letting the fabric of your clothes ripple as your hips sway with the motion, letting the room drink in your confidence. “you like it?”

billie exhales a soft laugh, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “yeah. you look real pretty,” her gaze drags over you, warm and appreciative, and she leans in slightly, her eyes lingering as she adds, “but i guess that’d be an understatement.”

“damn right it would.”

billie chuckles, tilting her head, a small smile curling on her lips. “you fishin’ for compliments?”

“if i was, would you give ‘em to me?”

billie doesn’t miss a beat, her response immediate, sure. “yeah.”

your smirk deepens, satisfaction humming through you. “figured. you don’t look too bad yourself.” your eyes trace the outline of her outfit, noticing the easy confidence she wears like a second skin. her blue plaid flannel looks soft, faded from time, its edges curling slightly at the sleeves, the worn fabric complimented by a white tank peeking through, the silver chain resting just above it, catching the low light.

the shift in the air between you both is palpable, a playful current that sparks and hums with unspoken words. you slide into the seat next to her, claiming the space once occupied by her cousin. your elbow rests on the worn wood of the bar, fingers drumming a slow, absent rhythm, as if the movement is just another part of the atmosphere now.

the bartender slides a basket of potato wedges across the counter, a quiet gesture that speaks volumes about the casual comfort of the place. he asks if you want anything to drink, and you don’t hesitate.

“sweet tea,” you say with a slight smile, watching him disappear behind the bar, the cool clink of ice filling the silence.

billie looks at you, curiosity in her gaze. “you don’t drink?”

“nah, that shit’s disgusting,” you reply, your nose scrunching up at the thought of anything stronger than tea. the word lingers between you, casual yet definitive.

billie watches you, her amusement flickering in her eyes. “so, no alcohol at all?”

“not my thing,” you mutter, sipping your drink once it arrives, the amber liquid cool against your lips, the black straw making soft sounds as it shifts in the glass. you swirl the ice, and the clink rings in the silence.

“what about special occasions?” billie presses, leaning in slightly, her eyes narrowing with playful intrigue.

you shake your head with a slow, deliberate motion. “nope.”

billie hums thoughtfully, tilting her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “so if i showed up at your birthday with a nice bottle, you wouldn’t take a sip?”

you raise a brow, the challenge clear in your eyes. “you plannin’ on showin’ up to my birthday?”

“maybe,” billie says, her grin widening, knowing the game she’s playing.

you huff a laugh, swirling the straw in your glass. “i’d take the bottle. give it to someone else, though.”

billie laughs at that, a warm, easy sound that fills the space between you. she grabs a potato wedge, dragging it through a small cup of ranch before popping it in her mouth. “so what do you like?”

“besides sweet tea?”

“yeah.”

you tap your fingers against the table, pretending to think. “long rides, warm nights, good music.”

billie’s lips curl into a smirk. “you sound like a country song.”

“and you sound like you don’t know what good music is.”

billie gasps, hand dramatically pressed to her heart. “wow. you wound me.”

“you’ll live.”

before billie can come up with a retort, the speakers crackle, and then the smooth, rich tones of a blues song fill the room. the bass hums, slow and steady, and the vocals pull at something deep within you, a familiar ache.

billie’s face lights up, her eyes shining with recognition. “oh, hell, i love this song.”

you pause, letting the sound wash over you. something flickers in your chest, a memory rising unbidden, soft but sure. “really?” you murmur, almost to yourself. “my daddy used to play this all the time when i was younger.”

billie leans in, drawn in by the quiet depth in your words. “yeah?”

you nod, your fingers lightly tapping the rim of your glass. “on this smooth black bass guitar. i used to sit by his feet, just listenin’ while he played. never got tired of it.”

billie smiles at you, her gaze warm, unguarded. “what’s your favorite part?”

you hum softly, considering. “probably the way the bass carries the whole thing. i mean, it’s just so damn sexy. you take that out, and the song wouldn’t hit the same.”

billie nods in agreement, her expression thoughtful. “yeah, you’re right. that deep groove just makes it.”

“exactly.”

you both fall into easy conversation, dissecting the song, the way it moves beneath the surface. it’s effortless, like finding a rhythm in the chaos, like something that’s always been there, waiting to be heard.

and then, just like that—

“you’re cute when you’re like this.”

the words are soft, easy, but they hit you with the force of a slow burn.

you blink, caught off guard. “huh?”

billie leans in, elbows on the table, chin resting in her hand as she regards you with an easy smile. “when you’re all into something. i dunno. it’s cute.”

your mouth opens slightly, but before you can even find your voice, your gaze flickers past billie’s shoulder.

dj.

she’s staring.

the easy warmth between you and billie evaporates, replaced by something colder, something sharper. the air shifts, and you find yourself straightening, your posture stiffening, your smile faltering. you clear your throat, the moment slipping through your fingers.

“uh—i’ll be right back,” you mutter, already standing.

billie watches you go, curiosity lingering in her gaze. but she doesn’t stop you.

you slip through the crowd, the steady beat of the music vibrating through the floor beneath you, boots heavy against the worn wood, the sound almost swallowed by the chatter and clinking glasses. the air smells of sweat, spilled liquor, and something faintly sweet, an odd cocktail of scents that make your skin feel sticky, like the night is wrapping itself around you.

dj is already moving before you even reach the hallway, her presence a shadow in the dim light. she falls into step behind you, her pace matching yours as you push through the bathroom door, the sound of it creaking on its hinges before slamming shut behind you.

you lean over the sink, the cool porcelain beneath your fingertips grounding you, the dim lighting casting a soft, golden hue across your reflection. the deep burgundy on your lips is striking, bold—a statement you didn’t even mean to make. but now, under the harsh light, it feels too loud, too much, like you’re wearing someone else’s face. something about it doesn’t sit right.

you grab a paper towel, wet it, and press it to your lips, gently wiping away the color, the faint scent of soap mingling with the metallic tang of the bathroom air. a quiet sigh escapes you as you take your time, removing the boldness until only a faint stain remains, something softer, quieter. reaching into your pocket, you pull out a sleek black tube, twisting it open, the motion smooth and practiced, like you’ve done this a thousand times. the new shade is just a tad bit lighter than the one you had on moments before, the deeper shade now tucked away in its golden case in your other pocket. you apply it with a practiced ease, rubbing your lips together, you flick your gaze back up to the mirror.

the door swings open with a crash, slamming against the wall, and you freeze, eyes narrowing before you turn.

dj.

she moves fast, crossing the bathroom in only a few steps, the space between you both closing like a predator closing in on prey.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she demands, her voice sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

you frown, tucking the lipstick back into your pocket and folding your arms across your chest. “excuse me?”

“you know exactly what i’m talking about,” dj hisses, her eyes flashing with something between anger and fear. she crosses her arms tightly, like she’s trying to keep herself together. “you need to stay away from billie.”

your confusion twists into irritation, the edges of it sharp, dangerous. “what? why the hell would i do that?”

“because,” dj says sharply, her voice low and dangerous, “you’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.”

you scoff, leaning back against the sink, the cold touch of it pressing into your back. “look, i don’t know what your damn problem is, but i’m not bothering you. so how about you return the favor?”

“you’re not bothering me?” dj laughs, but it’s hollow, empty, and you know the words aren’t meant to be funny. “you’re out there, batting your lashes at billie like you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. what you’ve been doing.”

you narrow your eyes, taking a small step forward, your pulse quickening, the heat rising in your chest. “and what exactly do you think i’m doing?”

dj steps closer, her shoes scraping against the floor as she closes the distance. “don’t play dumb.”

you hold her gaze, unwavering. “i’m not playin’ anything. i’m minding my business. just like you should be doing.”

dj’s jaw tightens, her whole body coiled like a spring, ready to snap. “billie isn’t some random girl you can mess around with. she’s not—” she stops herself, exhaling sharply, biting back something heavy, something that’s been weighing on her for too long. “you just need to back off.”

your patience wears thin, the tension in the room curling around you like smoke.

“oh, back off?” your voice drops, low and sharp, every word a knife. you push off the sink, your fingers curling into fists by your sides. “and what exactly gives you the right to tell me what to do? last time i checked, i make my own damn choices.”

“and you’re making a mistake,” dj snaps, her voice tight with something she can’t hide.

“you don’t know shit about what you’re talking about.” you snap back, the words bitter and cold.

dj shakes her head, her eyes wide with frustration. “i know enough. i swear to god, if you hurt her—”

you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head, exhaling through your nose. the sound is empty, but something dangerous lingers in it.

then, your voice drops to a low growl, steady and calm, “and i swear to god, dallas joelle, if you don’t back the fuck up out of my face—”

the use of her full name cuts through the air like a slap. dj freezes, her posture going rigid, her breath hitching in her chest. you watch as the words land, the shift in her body language like a brick wall slamming into place.

but you don’t wait for her to respond, turning on your heel and pushing past her, the tension still hanging thick in the air. you can feel her eyes on your back, but you don’t turn around. not now. not yet.

the bar is thick with cigarette smoke and the sticky scent of cheap whiskey, the air pulsing with music too loud for the space. you move through the crowd, heat buzzing beneath your skin, but it’s not from the alcohol or the night’s tension. it’s from the sight of billie at the bar, her posture stiff, her gaze set forward, ignoring the man leaning into her space like he belongs there.

reggie.

his breath reeks of liquor and bad decisions, his voice dripping with the kind of charm that curdles in your stomach.

“hey, sweetheart,” he drawls, grinning wide enough to flash the gold in his mouth. “you know, a girl like you shouldn’t be out here alone. i got plenty of time. could use a drink, maybe some company.”

billie doesn’t even blink. doesn’t turn her head. “i’m good.”

reggie chuckles, like this is a game and she’s just playing hard to get. “you sure? ‘cause you look like you could use some company.”

his fingers ghost too close to her arm, and you see it—the way her jaw clenches, the way her shoulders go taut beneath her leather jacket.

your stomach tightens.

billie rolls her eyes, shifts to stand, but reggie steps in her way, tilting his head, all confidence and no sense.

“c’mon now, don’t be like that,” he presses, voice syrupy. “i got plenty to offer—check this out.” he lifts his wrist, flashing a thick gold watch, letting the dim light catch on the metal.

billie doesn’t spare it a glance. “i said, i’m good.”

but reggie just grins wider, because he’s the type who never takes no for an answer.

“c’mon now, don’t be like that. you’re new ‘round here, ain’t you? you oughta let someone show you a good time.” he

billie exhales sharply through her nose, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “yeah? you know someone?”

his smile falters just a bit, but before he can respond, a voice cuts through the tension.

“reggie.”

he turns, his smug expression shifting the second he sees you. dj lingers behind you, but this isn’t her fight. it’s yours.

reggie’s lips curl into something too familiar, too easy. “well, look who it is. where’s that southern hospitality, huh?”

“you can take it and shove it up your ass,” you say, voice cool, steady.

he lets out a low chuckle, tilting his head. “damn, girl, now is that how you greet an old friend?”

“we ain’t friends.”

his grin doesn’t waver. “aw, don’t be like that. used to be real sweet to me, remember?” he tuts, shaking his head. “what happened?”

“my daddy realized you ain’t shit.”

dj shifts, ready to step in, but you’re quicker—you put your hand out to stop her, letting her know that you don’t need her.

reggie hums, rubbing his jaw like he’s considering something. “you always had a smart mouth on you. i like that.”

you don’t flinch. “leave her alone.”

he tilts his head toward billie, barely sparing you a glance. “just bein’ friendly.”

“ain’t nobody want your friendliness,” you bite out. “why don’t you go home to your wife and kids?”

his smile tightens. “my family is none of your damn business.”

you fold your arms, tilting your head. “you sure about that? ‘cause you make it my business, steady lurkin’ around bars, tryin’ to holler at women who don’t want you.”

his nostrils flare, irritation creeping into his expression, but then his eyes flick to your hip, catching the glint of your gun.

his lips part, just slightly.

he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “now what’s a pretty thing like you doin’ with a piece like that?” he tuts, his bravado inching toward something meaner. “you don’t need them kinda toys, baby. what you need is a real man to—”

your laughter cuts him off, sharp and sudden.

“real man?” you mock, glancing around like you’re looking for one. “where?”

a few men at a nearby table stifle their laughs, and reggie’s jaw flexes.

“watch your mouth,” he warns.

you take a step closer, voice dropping, steady as stone.

“get on before i use it on you.”

reggie’s nostrils flare. “ the fuck you just say to me?”

you don’t blink. “i said get. the fuck. on.” your voice is calm, steady, but there’s a razor-sharp edge to it, something unshakable.

the way you say it—the certainty, the weight behind the words—makes something flicker in his eyes. a hesitation. a calculation.

his fingers curl into fists at his sides, but after a long, simmering moment, he scoffs, clicking his tongue. “ain’t worth my damn time.”

he turns on his heel and stalks off.

you don’t bother watching him go. instead, you turn to billie.

“you good?”

billie exhales, like she’s just now remembering how to breathe. then she nods, her lips parting, something unreadable in her eyes.

and then—

“that was sexy, as hell.”

you blink, caught off guard, before raising an eyebrow. “really?”

billie laughs softly, her voice a little breathless. “yeah,” she says, eyes gleaming. “you just… told him off.”

you shrug, trying to play it off. “wasn’t much.”

billie smirks, and it’s the kind of smirk that makes your stomach do something stupid. “it was kinda impressive.”

the air shifts, the static between you lingering just a second too long.

you glance toward the door. “wanna get outta here? i need some fresh air”

billie nods, too quick, too eager, and it makes you smile. “yeah. let’s go.”

as you head for the door, billie hesitates, then glances at you.

“you want me to walk you home?”

you don’t miss the way her voice dips, just slightly.

you glance at her, amusement curling at your lips. “yeah,” you say. “i think that’d be nice.”

the walk back to your house is slow, both of you dragging your feet just a little, neither wanting the night to end too soon. the cool air hums with the distant sounds of crickets and rustling trees, the scent of the earth richer out here under the open sky.

the town has settled into its quiet, the rowdiness of the tavern now just a distant murmur. porch lights flicker lazily, moths circling the glow, casting long, restless shadows across the dirt road. overhead, the stars sprawl endlessly, silver and cold, sharp enough to cut through the darkness.

billie kicks a stray pebble, hands shoved deep into her pockets, her gaze flickering to you every now and then, unreadable. you can feel her eyes on you, the weight of them, like she’s turning something over in her mind.

“so,” she drawls, breaking the comfortable silence, “you always that quick to pull a gun on a man, or was tonight special?”

you smirk, side-eyeing her. “depends on the man.”

“right, right.” billie nods, her lips twitching around the edges of a smirk. “he deserved it, though. you put the fear of god in him.”

“good.” you stretch your arms over your head, rolling out your shoulders, the tension from earlier still humming beneath your skin. “he needs to learn when to shut the hell up.”

billie huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “you’re somethin’ else.”

“what? you ain’t ever seen a woman put a man in his place?”

“oh, i have.” billie grins, slow and knowing, tilting her head at you. “just not one that looks as good as you do doin’ it.”

you scoff, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you. “real smooth, billie.”

“i try.” billie glances at you, playful, eyes gleaming under the moonlight. “it seems to be working though.”

you roll your eyes but don’t deny it.

by the time you both reach your house, the moon hangs high, silver light spilling across the porch, pooling in the spaces between the wooden planks. you stop at the steps, turning to her, your hands settling at your belt, fingers hooking loosely around the buckle.

“i really appreciate you walkin’ me home,” you say, voice softer now, like the night has finally wrapped its arms around you, settling into something quieter. “i had a good time tonight, billie. y’know before all the bullshit happened.”

billie nods, rocking back on her heels, her gaze lingering on you. “yeah. me too.”

the quiet stretches between you both, thick with something unspoken. the cicadas hum. a breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the faint scent of pine and the lingering smoke from the tavern.

billie tilts her head slightly, her lips curving into something half-smirk, half-thoughtful. “so… what now?”

you hum, tilting your head, eyes glinting under the porch light, the warmth of the evening still clinging to your skin. “i reckon you want a kiss?”

billie exhales a small laugh, the sound caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. “yeah,” she admits, nodding once. “a kiss would be nice. really nice, actually.”

you just hum again, waiting.

billie steps closer, closing the space between you. her lips brush against yours, soft and brief—too brief. when she pulls back, you don’t move, just raise an unimpressed brow.

“hold on now,” you murmur, fingers curling into the loops of her jeans, tugging her back in with a slow, deliberate pull. “come and do it right. wasn’t given them pretty lips for nothin’. kiss me like you mean it.”

billie exhales another quiet laugh, but there’s something else beneath it now—something heavier, more certain. this time, when she kisses you, it’s slow, unhurried, her hands sliding to your waist, fingertips pressing into the fabric of your shirt like she’s trying to memorize the shape of you.

she kisses like she don’t want to forget. like she needs to know how you taste, how you feel under her hands, how your breath hitches just slightly when she deepens it.

when she finally pulls away, your lipstick stains her lips, a deep smudge of color against her own. you smirk, brushing your thumb across her lower lip, your touch lingering.

“well, now you’re just wearin’ my lipstick.”

billie licks her lips, smirking. “i don’t mind it.”

her hands are still on you, grip loose but firm, like she don’t wanna let go just yet. she steps forward, backing you against the door, her breath warm against your skin.

you don’t hesitate, don’t fumble. just reach behind you, unlocking the door with practiced ease, pushing it open, the wood groaning softly under your touch.

billie glances past you, taking in the inside of your house, her expression flickering with something unreadable.

“huh,” she mutters.

“what?” you ask, raising a brow.

billie shakes her head, smirking. “nothin’. just—figured you’d have somethin’ a little messier goin’ on.”

you roll your eyes, stepping back just enough to let her in. “you really thought i lived like a damn outlaw?”

“maybe.” billie grins, stepping closer, her presence filling the space between you. “you’ve got the attitude for it.”

you huff, shaking your head, but before you can say anything else, billie moves again, her hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you into another kiss—deeper this time, more sure, more wanting.

you don’t stop her. hell, you don’t even think about stopping her.

you just kiss her back, letting her press you further into the house, her hands gripping you like she’s scared you’ll disappear. and maybe she’s right to—because if she keeps kissing you like this, you just might.

you take a slow step backward, leading her toward your room, your fingers threading through the soft waves of her hair. there’s an ease in the way you move, something effortless yet deliberate, a quiet kind of confidence that has billie watching your every motion like she’s committing it to memory, like she’s afraid it might slip through her fingers if she blinks too long.

she exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “you always this smooth?”

you smirk, tilting your head just enough to make her breath catch. “you always this easy to pull in?”

billie bites her lip, her eyes flicking to your mouth for just a second too long. “for you? always.”

and you don’t waste another second.

you kiss her again, slow and deliberate, letting her feel exactly what she’s gotten herself into. it’s the kind of kiss that lingers, that pulls her under like a deep tide she has no intention of fighting. your lips move with a teasing slowness, a subtle push and pull that has her chasing after your mouth every time you threaten to pull away.

her breath stutters as your hands slip beneath her shirt, fingers tracing along the dip of her spine, feeling the way her body responds to your touch. billie exhales against your lips, the sound soft, a little unsteady.

you smirk. “somethin’ wrong?”

she shakes her head, lips parted. “just—never been kissed like this before.”

you hum, tilting your head as you trail your lips down her jaw. “like what?”

her hands tighten at your waist. “like i might not recover from it.”

your smirk deepens, your voice dropping lower. “good.”

you pull her shirt over her head, your lips never leaving her skin as you press kisses along her collarbone, down the curve of her neck, leaving faint smudges of lipstick in your wake. your fingers move to the buttons of her jeans, slow, deliberate.

billie’s breath hitches as you toy with the waistband, teasing, testing. her grip tightens against your sides, grounding herself.

“you sure?” you murmur, looking up at her beneath your lashes.

her answer comes without hesitation. “i’ve never been more sure of anything.”

your smirk lingers as you press another kiss to her lips, slow and intoxicating, before finally undoing her jeans and tugging them down. her fingers slip beneath your shirt in turn, skimming over warm skin, tracing along the edges of your ribs like she’s learning you by touch alone.

when her jeans finally hit the floor, you step back slightly, gaze dragging over her, taking in the sight of her—flushed, breathless, her pupils dark with something heady.

you lift your cowboy hat off your head and place it onto hers, tilting it just right.

“relax,” you murmur, voice thick with promise. “i got you.”

billie blinks up at you, dazed, lips slightly parted. “i think you want to kill me.” she mutters, voice thick with something dangerously close to reverence.

you grin, leaning down to brush your lips over hers, teasing. “nah,” you whisper, your breath fanning over her mouth. “just tryna make you feel real good.”

her hands slide up your back, nails scraping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “already do,” she breathes.

you hum in satisfaction before moving lower, undoing her jeans completely and letting them pool at her ankles. she lifts her hips to help you, breath catching when your nails lightly scrape down her thighs.

you sit back for a moment, just looking at her—how undone she is beneath you, your lipstick still smudged across her throat, your hat perched slightly crooked on her head.

“damn,” you mutter, shaking your head slightly. “prettiest thing i ever did see.”

billie laughs, breathless, her hands reaching for you. “please, have you seen you?”

she pulls you back in, fingers tracing down the line of your spine, undoing the buttons of your shirt, pushing the fabric from your shoulders. her touch sends heat skimming along your skin, a slow, simmering burn.

there’s a careful give and take—the slow unwrapping of each other, the soft murmurs exchanged between kisses. her hands are gentle yet eager, memorizing every inch of you as you do the same to her.

when her fingers trace over the clasp of your bra, she hesitates for the briefest moment, gaze flicking to yours as if waiting for permission.

you smirk, reaching behind you to unhook it yourself, letting the straps slide down your arms. “don’t get shy on me now.”

billie exhales a soft laugh, shaking her head. “not shy. just—” she swallows, gaze dark. “don’t wanna rush.”

your smirk softens just a little, and you brush your fingers along her jaw, tilting her chin up. “baby, we’ve got all night.”

her lips curve into something small, almost reverent. “yeah. we do.”

the moment stretches between you, heavy with something unspoken, something deeper than just the press of skin against skin.

you kiss her again, slower now, like you’re savoring every second, every inch of space between you disappearing as her hands roam, her breath mingling with yours.

time feels like it’s slipping away, dissolving into the heat of your skin, the rhythm of your heartbeats in sync. the world outside ceases to exist—no past, no future, just this. just her. just the warmth of her hands, the press of her lips, the weight of her body against yours.

the night stretches on, lost to whispered gasps, tangled limbs, and the quiet hum of something that feels dangerously close to forever.

billie wakes up to the quiet hum of morning, the kind that stretches slow across the land, warm and drowsy. the weight of sleep clings to her limbs, thick and slow, like honey refusing to drip from a spoon. the soft light of the morning filters in through the curtains, painting the room in muted golds and sleepy shadows. the sheets are tangled around her legs, clinging to the heat left behind, but the space beside her is empty.

she shifts, blinking against the haze, her body aching in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant. instinctively, her fingers reach for her neck, grazing over the remnants of last night—your lipstick, deep burgundy, smeared like a brand against her skin. the memory of your mouth, your hands, your weight pressing her into the mattress, lingers like an echo.

but you’re not here.

the realization settles in slow, an unease curling at the base of her spine. she sits up, raking a hand through her hair, her eyes scanning the room. nothing’s out of place, yet something feels off, like the air has been disturbed, like the warmth of you has been stripped away too soon. your hat rests on the chair by the window, untouched, but there’s no note, no message, nothing to tell her where you’ve gone. just an absence that gnaws at the edges of her mind.

her heart drums against her ribs.

last night—she remembers last night. the way you looked at her, the way your lips had parted like you wanted to say something but never did. the way your fingers had trembled, just for a second, before tightening in her hair.

so why does it feel like something slipped through her fingers while she was sleeping?

she swings her legs over the side of the bed, the cool floor grounding her, but it does nothing to settle the unease curling in her stomach. pulling her clothes back on feels mechanical, the fabric stiff from sweat and the lingering scent of you as her fingers moving on autopilot. she doesn’t know why she feels like this, like she’s standing at the edge of something unseen, something she doesn’t have the words for yet.

outside, the sun is already high, too bright, too warm against the cold twisting in her chest. she starts walking, boots kicking up dust as she heads toward her family’s ranch. the land stretches out before her, familiar yet suddenly foreign, like she’s seeing it through a different lens. her thoughts run circles around themselves.

then—

a scream. it’s sound, sharp. splintering.

billie stops cold, her breath catching.

then she’s running.

the sound draws her forward like a thread pulled too tight, unraveling her step by step. when she reaches the clearing, there’s a small crowd gathered, faces stricken, whispers curling in the air like smoke.

and then she sees him.

reggie.

lying still, his body slack, emptied.

his skin is pale, his body still. lifeless. but there’s no blood, no clear wound. just the eerie stillness of him, like something vital has been stolen right from under his skin.

but it’s not just his stillness that makes billie’s stomach drop. it’s the details.

his wrist—bare where his gold watch used to be.

his mouth—slightly open, missing the glint of a gold tooth.

his cheek—marked with a kiss, deep burgundy, the similar shade billie felt against her own skin hours ago.

billie stares. her pulse is a roar in her ears, her breath turning shallow.

her gaze lifts, flickering wildly through the gathered faces until she finds dj already watching her.

dj’s eyes are steady, dark, knowing.

billie can’t move.

dj tilts her head just slightly, and then, almost too soft to hear, she says,

“told you.”

billie sways where she stands, the earth beneath her suddenly unsteady.

the night unravels in her mind, thread by thread, until she’s left with nothing but a sinking realization.

the lipstick. the missing watch. the missing gold tooth.

the empty bed.

the ghost of your touch still warm on her skin.

billie swallows hard, stepping back, her skin cold despite the heat of the sun.

she doesn’t know what’s worse—the sick certainty curling in her gut or the fact that, deep down, some part of her already knew.

astrc’s tag list: @zendayasredbottoms @bilsdillldough @billiesrighthand @watercolorskyy @bilssturns @47lake @vijaxx @natbelovasblog @hopingforgoodblogs @thefeverburningalive @st0nerlesb0 ; hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content

[asingularcanadian]

I'm gonna tell y'all a story. This story doesn't necessarily have any heroes or losers. As per usual, you should never go looking for heroes in history because you will never find one.

I'm sure I don't have to tell you all that during the Holocaust much of the violence could have been avoided or straight out thwarted by radical acts of public outcry and civil disobedience. Unfortunately for victims of the Holocaust, even many people who disagreed with what was going on didn't do much. I'm sure some of you at this point in history will know why. They were afraid of getting in trouble/getting killed, losing their livelihoods, felt helpless that they couldn't do any big action so they didn't do anything at all, ect ect. And so many many people were killed with very little resistance, especially in the beginning.

Now I'm sure you all know about some of the various efforts made by single people to try and smuggle Jews to north america or to asia or various other parts of the world, Schindler, Miguchi, Ho Feng Shan, but you likely don't know what happened in Bulgaria.

On the 4th of February 1943 a missive was sent to the Bulgarian Council of Ministers advising that the entire destruction of the rest of the Jews of Bulgaria should be eliminated by the end of the year. On the 8th of March 1993 the government decided that in May of that year around 50 thousand Bulgarian Jews would be deported to concentration camps. A member of the Jewish community and soon to be deportee, Jakob Baruch, was luckily friends with the Vice President of the National Assembly, Dimitar Peshev. Though Peshev initially did not believe his friend it was not uncommon, especially on the edges of the war, for many people, even government officials, to not be fully informed of what was going on including the deportations themselves and also the fate of those being deported, he was eventually convinced and he was angry.

Though Peshev had long been a collaborator in assisting in the implementation of Nazi requests for deportations throughout the Bulgarian occupied areas, he felt this was a step too far. The Next day he had made up his mind that he had to stop these deportations.

From Wikipedia:

"Peshev tried several times to see Bogdan Filov, but the prime minister refused. Next, he and his close friend and colleague, Petar Mihalev, went to see Interior Minister Petar Gabrovski, insisting that he cancel the deportations. After much persuasion, Gabrovski finally called the governor of Kyustendil (the area from which the Jews were to be deported) and instructed him to stop preparations for the Jewish deportations. By 5:30 p.m. on 9 March the order had been canceled. However, the order did not reach all the Bulgarian cities on time, and, on the morning of 10 March, Bulgarian police began to round up Jews in Thrace and Macedonia. Almost all of the Jews in Bulgarian-occupied Thrace (some 4,000) were arrested and surrendered to the Germans, who then deported them to their deaths at Treblinka. Another group of about 1,200 Thrace Jews was moved to Salonika and then sent to Auschwitz. At the same time, all of the Jews of Macedonia were rounded up by the Bulgarian authorities; all but 165 were deported to Treblinka."

After seeing the cruelty of what had happened in Thrace and Macedonia Peshev was kicked into high gear. and was able to round up a group of other various members of Parliment who would work to petition the Tsar to cancel the deportations. Once word got out about this there was massive public outcry at the deportations as well. Jewish citizens as well as non-Jewish Bulgarians, various trade groups in the country including the Writer's Guild, Doctor's Guild, and Lawyer's Guild, prominent figures in Bulgarian society, even the Holy Synod of the Bulgarian Orthodox church, wrote or marched in protest of these measures. These protests absolutely shook the Tsar and the national assembly to their core. The timeline is slightly contested but it was either the Tsar who cancelled the deportations or the national assembly upon the death of the Tsar but either way the action was successful.

By 1945 Bulgaria's Jewish population remained pretty consistent with it's pre-war numbers. Peshev and the public had succeeded in keeping the population out of Nazi concentration camps. This applied similarly to the Roma of Bulgaria, where the entire population was originally meant to be sent to concentration camps it is estimated at this point that of the original population of 80k, 75k survived. This is one of the lowest kill rates of Roma in all of Europe.

On June 7th 1943 when questioned about the Bulgarian refusal of deportations, the Nazi ambassador to Bulgaria said it was due to the "fact that Bulgarian's had grown up with Armenian's, Greek's, and Gypsies, they had no innate prejudice towards the Jews as did the people of Northern Europe."

Did everything turn out sunshine and roses for the Jews of Bulgaria? No, they were forced into work camps inside Bulgaria and many of the Roma were exiled from the capital to more rural areas as well for work purposes. They often lived in ethnically separate housing or took shelter in public buildings, but they were alive, and many Jews were able to leave Bulgaria. They were able to do this because people came out in support of them, loudly and proudly stood up for them, and refused to let it happen.

We need to do the same.

Anti-ICE protesters are blocking both sides of the 101 Freeway in Los Angeles (02 February 2025)

The protests are still going on.

[hrrtshape]

Could you explain it to me in more detail, how do I assume???, please💘

okay. okay. let’s get into it. how to assume.

assuming is not a wishlist. not a request. not a delicate, trembling hope held between two prayer hands. assuming is occupancy. it is signing your name on the deed before the house is even built. it is living inside the fact before the fact exists.

think of reality like a soft, impressionable thing. like warm wax. like fresh concrete. it takes shape around what you believe to be true. most people walk around like reality is a cold, hard wall, something to be negotiated with, something that needs convincing. no. you do not negotiate. you do not wait in line, ticket in hand, hoping to be called. you sit at the table like the invitation was always yours.

let’s say you’re assuming something big. something wild. you don’t just say it once and then sit there waiting for it to tap you on the shoulder like a well-trained butler. you live in it. you wear it like a second skin. you let it become as natural to you as your own name. because reality..... reality is obedient. reality follows you. and it will follow the story you tell it.

and yes, yes, the brain will panic. the brain is a victorian child with a fever, clutching the bedposts, whispering “but what if we’re wrong?” kiss it on the forehead. tell it to rest. you are the captain now.

because assuming is not about forcing reality. it’s about knowing reality is already yours. it’s walking into the world like a god in a borrowed coat, and the coat always fits.

[gf2bellamy]

hi loveee i have a new request for uuuu

another rlly simple and cute one where spencer just loves head scratches (no this is totally not based on me……) and he somehow exposes that to the whole team and it’s just some rlly cute thing (bonus points if they’re on the jet and at the end after all the teasing he just lays his head on reader’s lap and gets head scratches)

you can decide whether it’s pre or secret relationship :D

danke schön

- 🐚

headscratches — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of a case, just a tiny bit ( very tiny bit ) of angst, secret relationship a/n: hiiiiii 🐚 ! i totally get u i love head scratches too - thank you for ur request i hope you like this <3<3<3

Your exhausted feet carried you up the steps of the BAU jet, every muscle in your body aching from the long case. It had been a grueling few days—little sleep, too much stress, and way too many hours spent chasing down leads. But at least it was over now. The case was closed, and you could finally breathe. 

Thankfully, your wonderful boyfriend had taken it upon himself to carry your bag, saving you from having to drag it up the stairs yourself. You barely managed to collapse into one of the plush seats by the window before Spencer stowed your things away and settled in beside you. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, turning your head to look at him. 

Spencer gave you a small, knowing smile, his eyes softening as he nodded. “Of course.” 

The two of you were alone on the jet, at least for now. The rest of the team was still wrapping things up , which meant you had a few rare, stolen moments of privacy. It was a relief—not just because you could finally let your guard down, but because no one on the team knew about your relationship.

Keeping things under wraps was tricky, especially when you worked together every day, but moments like this made it worth it. 

As the jet’s engines hummed to life beneath you, Spencer leaned into you slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours. He always did that when you were alone, like some part of him just naturally gravitated toward you when there was no one around to notice. 

Without thinking, you turned to your side reaching up and gently brushing a few strands of hair from his face.

His hair was always a little unruly after a long case, messy curls falling into his eyes, and you had developed a habit of fixing it for him. 

He let out a quiet breath at your touch, his eyelids fluttering slightly as he relaxed against you. 

“You okay?” you asked, your voice softer now, laced with quiet concern.

Spencer gave a small nod, offering you a gentle smile. “I’m okay,” he murmured. Then, tilting his head slightly, he asked, “Are you?”

You nodded, and before you could say anything else, his hand found your knee, his touch light and reassuring as his fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns.

But the moment didn’t last long.

The familiar voices of your team filled the jet, breaking the quiet, and as soon as Spencer registered their presence, his hand slipped away.

Like it had never been there at all.

Spencer immediately reached for his satchel, pulling out a book as if he had been reading the entire time. You turned your gaze toward the window, pretending to be lost in thought.

It wasn’t long before Emily and Derek flopped into the seats across from you.

“I can’t wait to get home to Sergio,” Emily sighed, stretching out in her seat. 

Derek chuckled. “That cat’s got you wrapped around his little paw.” 

You turned toward her, curiosity piqued. “How is he?” 

Emily waved a hand. “Same as always. Demanding, dramatic, and somehow convinced he’s royalty.” She rolled her eyes fondly before adding, “Lately, he’s been obsessed with head scratches. I swear, if I even walk past the couch, he flops over immediately demanding them." 

You laughed. “Sounds about right for a cat.” 

Emily shook her head. “I don’t get it. What’s so great about them? He acts like it’s the greatest thing in the world.” 

Before you could reply, Spencer, who had been silent up until now, lowered his book to his lap and spoke without hesitation. 

“Head scratches are scientifically proven to reduce stress and increase oxytocin levels,” he stated matter-of-factly. “The repetitive motion stimulates nerve endings in the scalp, which can trigger a relaxation response. It’s also associated with bonding, which is why many social animals, including humans, find it soothing. It's quite comforting.” 

It took a second for the weight of his words to register. 

Then, as if on cue, all three of you turned to look at him. 

Spencer blinked, his lips parting slightly as he realized his mistake. His book was still open in his lap, but he suddenly seemed much more interested in the stitching of the pages than the words on them. 

Derek’s grin spread slow and wide. “Wait a minute…” 

Emily gasped. “Oh my god.” 

You barely held back a smile, eyes locked on Spencer as the tips of his ears turned a shade of pink. He opened his mouth, probably to backpedal, but it was already too late. 

Derek leaned forward, resting his arms on the table infront of him as he grinned. “Are you telling me you like head scratches, pretty boy?” 

Spencer quickly looked down, flipping a page in his book despite very clearly not reading it. “I was simply stating a scientific fact.” 

Emily wasn’t letting it go. “Oh no, no, no. That was way too specific.” 

Derek laughed loudly, leaning forward with a wicked grin as he reached out and ruffled Spencer’s curls. 

Spencer immediately jerked back, his entire body tensing as he shot Derek a horrified glare. He hastily smoothed down his hair, his blush deepening. 

Derek, of course, looked way too pleased with himself. “Oh, come on, I had to test the theory,” he teased, shaking his head. “And judging by that reaction, I’d say someone is pretty damn picky about where his head scratches come from.” 

Emily laughed, clearly entertained by the discovery. “Seems like he doesn’t like it when you do it,” she pointed out, eyes flicking between the two of them with amusement. 

Derek leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Yeah, I noticed. Interesting.” 

Spencer huffed, flipping a page in his book with a little too much force. “It’s not that interesting,” he muttered, keeping his gaze stubbornly locked on the text. 

You smiled to yourself at Spencer’s embarrassed form, watching the way he kept his head down, pretending to be deeply engrossed in the book in his lap. You knew better, of course. 

You knew Spencer liked head scratches—most of your evenings together looked exactly like that. Him stretched across the couch, head resting in your lap, curls slipping through your fingers as he read.

Emily, still watching you, narrowed her eyes slightly before shifting her gaze to Derek. The two of them exchanged a look—one of those silent conversations that meant absolutely nothing good. 

“Spencer Reid,” Emily drawled, her grin widening, “do you only like head scratches coming from certain people?” 

Spencer slowly looked up from his book, suspicion evident in the way he narrowed his eyes. “What?” 

Derek smirked. “You heard Prentiss.” He leaned forward. “Do you only like head scratches when they’re from her?” 

You turned toward them, blinking. Wait, what? 

It was a known fact that the two of you were close. If someone was looking for Spencer, they usually found him with you. If you were missing from the bullpen, Spencer always knew exactly where you were. And everyone on the team knew he wasn’t a particularly touchy person—except with you. 

What they didn’t know was why. 

What they didn’t know was that this wasn’t just friendship. 

That the late-night conversations, the lingering looks, the small, stolen touches all meant something more. 

That you weren’t just his best friend. 

You were his. 

And now, you were all sitting on the jet, the team watching way too closely, Spencer’s ears burning bright red as Derek and Emily smirked. 

Spencer cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “That’s—” He hesitated, eyes flickering to you for just a second before looking back at his book. “That’s not relevant.” 

Emily gasped. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered, turning to Derek, “that was not a denial.” 

Derek grinned. “Nope, not at all.” 

Spencer groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is ridiculous.” 

You pressed your lips together, trying so hard not to laugh. 

Emily tilted her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So, hypothetically, if someone else did it…” 

Spencer shot her a sharp glare. “Hypothetically, they wouldn’t.” 

Derek laughed, pointing at him. “Oh yeah. That’s so an exclusive privilege.” He turned to you, grinning. “Man, you must be special.” 

You shrugged, playing it cool despite the warmth creeping up your neck. “I guess I just have the magic touch.” 

Spencer exhaled sharply, closing his book with a thud. He turned to you, eyes soft but exasperated. “Are you enjoying this?” 

"Maybe." You shrugged your shoulders as you gave him a teasing smile.

Spencer shook his head, feigning disappointment—but you knew better. He was never disappointed in you.

You smiled softly, and out of habit, reached up to brush his hair out of his face. His eyes flickered shut for a moment, just barely, before reopening with a look that was almost a warning.

A silent, don’t push your luck. 

But you were in the mood to tease. 

To your luck, Derek was already slipping his headphones on, and Emily had her eyes closed, arms crossed as she settled into her seat. The hum of the jet filled the space, covering the small shuffle of movement as you let your fingers slip back into Spencer’s curls. 

His breath hitched, and you felt him tense—just for a second—before melting like he always did. 

You bit back a grin as your nails gently scratched against his scalp, moving in slow, soothing circles. 

Spencer exhaled, the tension in his shoulders draining as his eyes fluttered shut again. His grip on his book loosened slightly. 

You loved how easy it was, how little effort it took to make him relax. 

His head dipped slightly, unconsciously leaning into your touch, and you took the opportunity to gently guide him down. Your hand pressed lightly to the back of his head, tilting him so that his cheek brushed against your shoulder. 

For a moment, he resisted—a small, fleeting moment of hesitation—before giving in entirely. 

You kept scratching lightly, feeling the way his body settled beside you, warm and familiar. Your fingers threaded through his curls, slow and deliberate, as he let out the softest sigh. 

You smiled, pressing your cheek lightly against the top of his head. 

Spencer Reid, the most brilliant mind you had ever known, was undone by something as simple as your fingers in his hair. 

And you loved it. 

Your eyes drifted shut, fingers still moving in slow, rhythmic motions through Spencer’s hair. His soft curls tickled your cheek as you rested your head against his.

What you didn’t notice? 

The way Derek and Emily were now watching the two of you like hawks. 

Derek, one side of the headphone pushed back , slowly raised an eyebrow as he exchanged a look with Emily. She barely suppressed a grin, tilting her head slightly, as if to say, Are you seeing this? 

Oh, he was definitely seeing this. 

They had their theories, of course. The team had always suspected there was more to you and Spencer than just friendship. It was the little things—the way he only let you touch him so easily, the way you always knew how to get him out of his head when no one else could, the way he looked at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky. 

And now? 

Now, with Spencer completely nestled against you, his head tucked against your shoulder, your fingers threading through his curls that could only come from familiarity? 

Yeah. Their theories had just been confirmed. 

Derek smirked, leaning closer to Emily. “Told you.” 

Emily scoffed, but the amusement in her eyes was unmistakable. “You didn’t tell me anything, Morgan. We both knew.” 

Derek chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Man, they really thought they were being sneaky.” 

Emily grinned. “Should we say something?” 

Derek considered it for a moment, watching as your fingers absentmindedly combed through Spencer’s hair, his entire body visibly at ease. 

He let out a small laugh. “No. Let them have their moment.” 

For now, at least. 

Because later? 

Oh, they were absolutely going to tease the hell out of you both. 

[419jhat]

Steve becomes an actor. Eddie reacts to his movies while nursing his crush.

***

That Time He Got Naked

Steve had always been a good performer. Eddie watched him in school, putting on the face of a disaffected cool guy who was above everything around him. And he watched him put on a face of bravery for the kids when the end of the world was at their fingertips. When Steve got his first role, Eddie figured it made sense. He hadn't exactly been trained in acting, but he had a pretty face and the ability to do what he was told on a set.

When he got his second role, Eddie didn't pay much attention. Local art movies by Robin's college friends weren't that interesting to watch, in his opinion. But the third role was when it became a thing. That's when it started turning into a big deal. And before they knew it, a year later, Steve was in a real movie. A movie they could see in theaters and rent at family video. A movie people had actually heard of. The kind of movie everyone sat down to watch in support of their famous friend. Even if it was a just small role.

So, at the first available showing where the entire party could get together, Eddie found himself squished between Dustin and Nancy, watching Steve gasp and moan like it was his first time.

And Eddie's face was on fire.

Dustin had pulled his hoodie over his eyes.

Nancy was sitting straight as a telephone pole.

Jonathan leaned over and asked her, “Was he really like that?” Which made her smack him on the arm and tell him to shut up.

Eddie could barely pay attention. He was too busy wondering, as he stared at Steve's bare ass taking up half the screen, if Steve had been hitting the gym to tone up just for this scene because-

He needed to stop thinking about it before he made it even more awkward for everyone.

When Steve called him a week later, he could barely talk without stuttering like a fool.

“So, what did you think? Maria said I was really convincing but she was in the scene with me. She kind of has to say that,” Steve said.

Eddie thought that the sight of Steve's ass had been imprinted on the back of his eyelids, because it was all he saw when he closed his eyes to sleep at night.

“It was good,” Eddie said awkwardly.

“That sex scene was so embarrassing. People keep asking me if it was hot. There is nothing hot about standing around your coworkers in a flesh colored jockstrap.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie said, trying not to imagine a scenario where Steve was his coworker, and that was his uniform.

That Time He Died

The next time they met up to watch a Steve movie, nobody had warned Eddie about its contents. Or, maybe they did and he'd ignored it because he didn't want to think about the little mole on the small of Steve's back that he'd discovered last time they watched a Steve movie.

Either way, Eddie was completely unprepared to watch Steve gasping for air while being beaten to death in an alley.

“Ugh, I can't watch this,” Robin muttered when it became clear what was happening. She ran out of the theater a few moments later when the scene didn't end quickly enough.

Lucas was on Eddie's other side, cringing with each brutal punch. Steve was letting out pathetic, wet whimpers, his face literally crunching under the main actor's fists.

Eddie knew it was fake. The blood was kind of excessive and there was just no way you could rearrange someone's face like that with your bare hands. But watching Steve's eyes go glassy made Eddie feel sick.

He got up too.

He found Robin standing next to a water fountain, just staring at it.

“Thirsty, Buckley?”

She jumped.

“Oh. No,” she said, stuffing her hands in the pickets of her jacket. “I just dream about that kind of stuff a lot.”

Eddie nodded. “I get it. It's different when we've seen him hurt before.”

Behind them, the theater door swung open. Dustin paused when he saw them, and then propped it open with his foot. The rest of the party followed.

“I guess we're leaving early, huh?” Nancy asked.

Everyone nodded.

“Nobody tells Steve,” Robin warned.

When Steve called him the next day, he kept his mouth shut.

“You were terrifying,” Eddie said.

“You sure? I think I was supposed to be more pathetic than anything else.”

“I mean, that too. But it was super gory, so I think the whole theater was freaked out.”

“Neat,” Steve said. “You know, I'm going to be in Chicago this weekend. We should hang out!”

“I'd love that!” Eddie said too quickly.

Steve laughed and asked, “maybe you can show me around?”

“Yeah, you can stay at my place!” Eddie said.

And then he looked around his apartment and cringed. “On second thought, you can get a hotel if you don't want to deal with the mess.”

“I love the mess. It's you,” Steve said.

Eddie wasn't sure if he was supposed to be offended or not.

That Time He Cried

The next movie wasn't much better. This time, Eddie came prepared. This time, Steve didn't get naked or die. What he hadn't anticipated was that there were other terrible things that could happen, like watching the man he'd held a crush on for years now scream and sob because he lost the will to live after his wife died.

Eddie honestly didn't know that Steve could sound like that. The anguish in his voice at the funeral scene, the pain in his eyes. It was raw, and difficult to face.

There wasn't a dry tear in their row.

“I do not like this one,” El whispered to Eddie.

“Why is he always miserable in these movies?” Max muttered. She had her shoulders up to her ears and her arms crossed, like she could hold the tears back if she wound herself up tight enough.

“Well. He seemed pretty happy in the first one,” Eddie said.

Max punched him in the shoulder.

Steve's phone call came that evening.

“Dude, I think you broke everyone's hearts. I didn't even know you could cry like that,” Eddie said.

Steve huffed a laugh into the receiver. “My agent told me to think of something sad.”

“What did you think of?” Eddie asked. He instantly wanted to smack himself in the forehead. Why would Steve share that with him? To his shock, Steve hummed, like he was thinking.

“I thought about how I felt when we thought Max was dead,” he said quietly. “Obviously, it's not like that between us. She's basically my sister at this point. But…it was the first time I'd ever lost someone but cared about. Someone I was supposed to protect.”

Eddie's heart melted into a million pieces.

“Steve. I think you should invite her to visit you. She loves you too,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly, “the only thing is that Dustin would lose his shit if she visited first.”

“Oh, don't worry, I'll keep him distracted for you,” Eddie said.

“With Dragons and Dickwads?” Steve asked.

“You know it.”

That Time He Proposed

Eventually, Steve broke his curse of misery and managed to get a lead role in a rom com. Eddie hated it more than anything else. Watching him fall in love with the human equivalent of a shallow puddle pissed Eddie off more than anything else had in a long time. Steve's pretty eyes, staring at her. Steve, so visibly in love with someone who didn't deserve him. Steve, doing stupid shit to make her take him back when he hadn't done anything wrong in Eddie’s completely unbiased opinion.

It made Eddie want to tear his hair out.

The real cherry on top was Steve proposing to her at the end, because of-fucking-course the movie ended that way. That kind of heteronormative love at first sight, get married and have kids bullshit the media always pandered to, drove him up the wall. Steve did all the work. He set up a cheesy outdoor surprise at the beach and dropped to one knee while everyone in the background of the scene clapped like a bunch of lemmings.

“This is so fucking stupid,” Eddie said.

“Tell me about it,” Mike said.

“God, I hate romance movies," Eddie said.

“They always suck,” Mike agreed.

“Steve would never do that! He doesn't like big grand gestures!” Eddie said.

“What?” Mike asked.

“He's a very private person!”

“Eddie…that's not Steve. That's Chris. Steve’s character,” Erica said.

“I- I know that. I'm just saying,” Eddie sputtered.

“Can you all shut the fuck up?” Max hissed.

Steve called him a week later, and by then, Eddie had forgotten all about it up until Steve started waxing poetic about how romantic it all was. Ugh.

“Wait, I thought you didn't like that kind of stuff,” Eddie interrupted.

“Oh. No, I don't. But in the context of the movie, it was supposed to be.”

“So…what kind of romance do you like?” Eddie asked casually.

“Gonna surprise me with something, Munson?” Steve asked.

“Wha- no, I just-” Eddie stuttered.

Steve interrupted him with a laugh. Then, he suddenly asked, in a sinfully soft voice, “when are you going to visit me?”

Eddie's heart skipped a beat.

“Uh, I don't know. Tattooing doesn't pay for a California vacation yet,” he said nervously.

“You could move out here,” Steve said. “There's a ton of people wanting tattoos in LA.”

“I don't know if all that sun would agree with me,” Eddie joked.

“Youcouldmoveinwithme,” Steve blurted out.

“Hmm?” Eddie asked, twisting the phone cord around his thumb.

“You could move in with me,” Steve said.

Eddie nearly dropped the phone. He sat up straight and looked at his hands like they couldn't tell him what he'd really heard, because there was no way Steve was being serious.

“Eddie?” Steve asked.

“I'm here. Good one, Steve,” he said with a forced laugh, “like you'd want me messing up your place. Anyway, got anything else going on?”

Steve didn't reply for a moment. When he did, he told him about some party he'd gone to. And Eddie forgot about the offer completely.

That Time He Was a Villain

Thankfully, Steve's next film was wildly different from the others. This time he was the bad guy. Eddie found it kind of thrilling to watch him parade around with the confidence of an unapologetic piece of shit. The way he led the main characters around like he had them on a leash, the way he looked when he was in charge. It made Eddie's pathetic little heart shiver.

Steve made a sexy villain.

Unfortunately for Eddie, nobody else seemed to agree. As they left the theater, all the kids were grumbling under their breath.

“I thought he was cool in that role,” Eddie said.

“He was such an asshole!” Dustin said.

“I can't believe he was so mean to Miranda! He didn't have to be such a bad husband!” Max said.

“It was the look in his eyes. Like he thought it was all fun,” Erica said with disgust.

“Once a douche, always a douche,” Mike muttered.

Nancy lifted an eyebrow. “You guys know that it was just a character, right? Steve didn't actually endorse any of that stuff.”

“He chose the role,” Dustin muttered. “I hope Hollywood isn't ruining him.”

Eddie was pretty sure they just missed him.

Steve called him three days later.

“Do you think I'm turning into an asshole?” he asked without saying hello.

“Dustin’s just being stupid,” Eddie said.

“He says I'm regressing back into my high school days!”

“That's dramatic,” Eddie said with a laugh, “he didn't even know you in high school.”

“Exactly!”

“I thought you were cool in your latest movie,” Eddie said.

“What?”

“I mean, you are a bit of an ass, but it shows your skill.”

“Wait, is that what this is about? I thought I missed his birthday or something!”

“Oh, no. They just don't like seeing you play the bad guy.”

“Oh my God, that is so fucking-”

That Time He Fell In Love With A Man

Eddie didn't know what was coming next. Steve had been in a wide variety of roles at this point, so when he sat down in the theater with a bucket of popcorn, he did not expect to witness the crush of his life, holder of his soul, dream of all dreams, to be making out with another man.

Eddie nearly threw his popcorn at the screen out of sheer shock.

“Buckley, did you know about this!?” he hissed to Robin.

“Yeah, I thought it was really brave,” she said softly.

“What do you mean? Because he's straight?”

Robin slowly turned to look at Eddie with an eyebrow lifted.

“...what?” she asked.

Eddie wasn't paying attention. He turned back to watch. It was beautiful. It was nothing like what he'd expected. Explicit love between two men, on screen for the world to see. He didn't even have it in himself to get jealous. For the first time, Eddie couldn't see Steve. He saw the story. He could see himself in the way Steve's character looked at his lover. The way they hid their feelings for each other in public. The film ended with Steve's character passing away in a car accident. It made Eddie cry. Eddie hadn't cried in a theater in years.

He left the building feeling raw.

The others were raving about the film, talking about how it would push Steve's career to the next level. No comments about it being weird or gross.

“Robin, why would he choose that role?” Eddie asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean, did he do it for Will or something?”

Robin turned to Eddie with her hands on her hips, looking very much like Steve with the level of judgement in her eyes.

“Eddie…when you said Steve was straight. Were you being serious?”

Eddie just blinked at her. “Of course I was. He is straight.”

“Are you stupid?” she asked. Eddie opened his mouth to reply, but she didn't let him. “Where have you been the last few years? Has that apartment of yours been lined with lead?”

“What-”

“Eddie, he calls you almost every week!”

“He calls everyone-”

“He stays at your place when he's in town!”

“It's cheaper-”

“He is a successful actor! He has no reason to stay in your apartment, which is always covered in dirty clothes!”

“Hey, I try to keep it-”

“Last time I was there, your underwear was hanging on the bathroom doorknob!”

“Listen, I told you I can explain that-”

“Eddie, he asked if you wanted to move in with him!”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Now that he thought about it, he did recall Steve joking about that. But it had just been a joke. Right?

“I thought he was being nice?” Eddie offered.

“Oh my god, you are so stupid,” Robin said.

“Wait, so let me get this right. Steve isn't straight. And he's interested in me!?”

Robin punched him in the shoulder. “Go call him, you dumbass.”

Eddie turned and ran all the way home without even saying goodbye. By the time he made it to his phone, he was gasping for air after running up three flights of stairs. And for the first time in years, he called Steve after watching his movie.

“Hello?”

Eddie could only gasp for air.

“...listen if this is some kind of prank-”

“No! Wait! It's me!” Eddie gasped.

“Eddie?” Steve asked.

“I saw your new movie,” Eddie said, brushing his hands out of his face with a shaking hand, “why didn't you ever tell me?”

Steve was silent for a moment.

“Tell you what?” he finally asked.

“That you like men!”

“I'm sorry?” Steve asked, sounding shocked.

Eddie's face was on fire. Had he somehow completely misunderstood Robin's point? Should he have stayed beyond to make sure?

“Eddie, did you not know that?” Steve asked.

“What! Of course, I didn't! If I had known that I would have-” Eddie cut himself off, too embarrassed to even say it.

“You would have what?” Steve goaded.

“It doesn't matter,” Eddie mumbled.

“No, I think it does,” Steve said.

“It's not a big deal,” Eddie said.

“I think it is,” Steve said.

Eddie bit his bottom lip, letting his feelings fester inside him until they finally exploded in the form of him shouting, “I would have asked you out!”

“And I would have said yes,” Steve said instantly.

“Really?” Eddie asked softly.

“I mean…I've been crazy about you for years,” Steve said.

“Why didn't you say anything!? Do you know how crazy you drove me last time you stayed here? You can't hold a man in bed like that and not expect him to fall in love!”

“I- uh, thought you didn't feel the same,” Steve said, sounding embarrassed. Eddie closed his eyes and sighed. Robin was right. He was so stupid.

“Steve, I feel the same and I want to ask you to be with me for the foreseeable future,” Eddie said boldly.

“The foreseeable future? Not just a date?” Steve asked.

“I am well past wanting a single date, to be honest.”

“Oh wow. Well, I've been looking for a boyfriend,” Steve said.

“I might even surprise you with something romantic,” Eddie said with a smile.

[leonastarry]

{ 13 } Mine. ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x fem!reader

Sung Jinwoo wasn’t the type to get jealous.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

He had fought god-like beings, commanded entire armies of darkness, and held the power to crush the world.

And yet—

None of that mattered anymore when he saw another man getting so close to you.

The scene played out like a terrible cliché: a guy in a suit at a party, smiling charmingly at you, standing a little too close. Jinwoo watched as the man leaned in, his hand casually placed on the bar counter next to you, practically trapping you inside.

Jinwoo saw red.

This was supposed to be a normal night out—a simple gala, some socializing, nothing more.

But that was before.

Your laugh rang out over the music, but Jinwoo knew that laugh. It was your polite, I-don’t-want-to-be-rude laugh. The kind you used when you didn’t want to cause a scene.

The guy leaned in even closer, and that was it.

Jinwoo moved.

Silent, precise. Shadows followed in his wake, curling around the floor like they, too, were eager to stake their claim. Within seconds, he was behind you, his presence washing over you like a wave of heat.

Then—his hands were on you.

One on your waist, the other sliding up to rest against your bare shoulder, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to remind you who you belonged to.

You stiffened briefly before relaxing into his touch because you knew.

You knew exactly who it was.

Jinwoo didn’t even glance at the man in front of you. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to suffocate him.

Instead, his lips brushed the shell of your ear as he murmured, voice smooth but dangerously low—

“Are you having fun, sweetheart?”

You swallowed, turning slightly in his grip, but his hand on your waist only tightened.

“Jin—”

His eyes flickered, dark and possessive as they locked onto yours. He wasn’t angry at you—but he was something else entirely.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said softly, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath the words.

The man finally seemed to realize his mistake. He cleared his throat, attempting to step back. “I didn’t know you were with someone,” he muttered.

Jinwoo laughed.

But it wasn’t friendly.

It was low, dark, warning.

“She’s not just ‘with someone,’” he said smoothly, tilting his head. “She’s with me.”

The man swallowed hard, hands raised in surrender. “I—I was just talking to her—”

Jinwoo’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And now, you’re done.”

That was it.

The guy mumbled an awkward excuse and practically bolted in the other direction.

Jinwoo didn’t even watch him leave.

His attention was all on you.

You exhaled, giving him a look. “Jinwoo…”

His grip on your waist didn’t loosen. If anything, he pulled you in even closer, his other hand sliding to tilt your chin up.

His dark eyes flickered, searching your expression. “I don’t like it,” he admitted. “I don’t like it when someone else looks at you like that.”

You softened, fingers grazing over his chest. “Jinwoo, you don’t have to be jealous. You’re the only one I—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he cut you off.

You blinked.

He exhaled, then leaned in until his lips were just barely brushing against yours. “I want you to show me.”

Your breath hitched.

Because that wasn’t a request.

That was a challenge.

And you had never, ever been one to back down from Jinwoo.

You exhaled softly.

Then—

You kissed him.

Slow, deep, certain.

Jinwoo inhaled sharply, but the moment he processed it, he melted into you. His hands slid to your waist, fingers gripping you just tight enough to keep you close. His lips moved against yours, slow but desperate, as if he was drinking in your reassurance, as if he needed this to believe you were his.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “You’re the only one, Jin.”

His breath hitched.

Then, without a word, he kissed you again—fiercer this time, tilting your head up, claiming you completely.

He didn’t need to say it.

You already knew.

You were his.

And he was yours.

[prisjean]

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ HELD CLOSE caleb x reader

synopsis: after finding out your ex cheated on you, an angry caleb comes and saves the day, and then comforts you hehe ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

tw: MDNI +18, p in v, no condom (pls use protection), cumming inside, caleb gets NEEDY (or i try to make him seem that way lolz), he says pipsqueak in the middle of it (only once), dry humping, slight biting, and long plot (i try to make it worth it PLS)

authors note: literally i had to take a break writing, esp during the dry humping scene cause HOOOO lorddd this makes me want caleb more than ever. thank you @tbaluver for helping me write this & happy reading everyone!! ᡣ𐭩

your phone buzzed in your trembling hands, and when you saw caleb’s name flash across the screen, your heart clenched. you wiped your tear-streaked face quickly, taking a deep breath before answering the video call.

“hey pipsqueak.” his voice was warm, familiar but his sharp eyes immediately narrowed. “what’s wrong?”

you forced a smile, shaking your head. “nothing, i’m fine.”

caleb tilted his head, his expression softening but showing a bit of his possessiveness. “oh no no no, don’t lie to me. i can see it all over your face.” his voice was firm but gentle, a thread of concern weaving through it.

your resolve cracked, and a fresh wave of tears welled in your eyes. “he cheated on me, caleb,” you whispered, voice breaking. “i feel so...so stupid.”

his jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. the muscles in his neck tensed, his grip on the phone tightening. "who?"

you hesitated, but when you said your ex’s name, caleb’s eyes darkened. “...i’m on my way back to linkon,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“caleb, you don’t have to-”

“don’t.” his voice cut through your protest. “i'm almost there, just stay put.”

you knew better than to argue when he got like this, so you nodded, biting your lip as he gave you one last lingering look before ending the call.

it wasn’t long before a knock sounded at your door. when you opened it, caleb stood there, his casual clothing slightly disheveled, his knuckles bruised and raw.

your eyes widened. “caleb…”. you grabbed onto to his hands.

he shrugged, gazing down at you before. “had to teach that asshole a lesson.” wanting him to calm down, you led him to the couch.

your heart ached, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. you looked at him before speaking, “but you.. you didn’t have to.”

he reached out, wiping away the stray tear lingering on your cheek. “yeah.. i did.” his voice softened. “no one gets to mess with you and get away with it.”

you sighed, leaning into his touch. but your chest felt tight, you didn’t know why, but somehow, you found yourself sitting on his lap, his hands found your waist, his touch gentle but firm, grounding you in the moment. “what am i gonna do without you?” you chuckled softly.

caleb smirked, caressing your cheek. “lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

caleb’s eyes softened as his hand rested on your cheek, but even as his gaze held yours, there was a storm behind his violet eyes, something darker. his lips parted like he was about to say something, but he didn’t. the silence between you two was becoming unbearable.

then his hand gripped your face, pulling you closer, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, desperate energy that sent you spiraling. it wasn’t gentle but of a hungry, needy, force that demanded attention. as his kiss deepened, you could feel the tension running through him and slowly through you, neither of you fully able to control the emotions swirling inside.

as the kiss deepened, the world around you disappeared but only the feel of caleb’s lips, his warmth, his touch. his hands were everywhere, your waist, your back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get close enough. the two of you were practically moaning in each others mouths, every second felt like it wasn’t enough. the heat between you both was unbearable, and with each kiss, each caress, it felt like everything that had been unspoken was finally free.

but then, you couldn’t take it anymore. you pulled away, your chest heaving with the intensity of the kiss with your heart racing like it might explode. you stared at caleb, trying to catch your breath, feeling his body still pressed against yours, the distance between you barely existent. you didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to face the reality of pulling back, but your feelings were conflicted.

you bit your lip, your gaze flicking to the side as you gasped for air. “caleb, i can’t... this is too much, i—”

before you could finish, caleb’s hands grab onto yours, he presses his forehead onto your knuckles before looking right back up into your eyes. his eyes were dark, full of raw need, and his jaw clenched tightly. “no. don’t you dare do that.”

his voice was rough. “you can’t pull away from me now. not when i’ve been wanting this for so long.” the words came out like a confession, as though the weight of everything he’d been holding back had finally come crashing to the surface. his gaze softened, but the longing was undeniable. “i’ve been waiting for this, waiting for you...”

“please,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, almost like a prayer. “don’t push me away when i finally have you here. don’t make me wait any longer.”

you didn’t know what to say. his words wrapped around you like a chain, pulling you back toward him. no man could ever long for you the way the man in front of you did. your pulse raced and before you can even mutter a reply, caleb closed the distance, capturing your lips again in a kiss that felt like a promise.

his hands roamed again, desperate to keep you close, to feel you against him, like he needed to anchor himself to something real. the way he kissed ignited a fire in you. it couldn't be helped when you started rolling your hips forward just to gain a little bit more of him. you started to feel him harden against you, making the friction unbearable to keep your moans intact. you could tell he was enjoying you by the way his hands clutched desperately on your back, with nails digging in as he pulls you even closer. his kisses grew more frantic, little whines and gasps escaping him between each one. he would so often lift his hips eagerly to meet with every roll you had to offer him, bitten off whines leave his lips as you continue to grind your clothes cunt onto his clothed cunt.

caleb's breath hitched as your lips suddenly trailed along his neck. his hands tangled in your hair, holding you close as you nipped and sucked at his sensitive skin. a low groan rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your lips.

"god, i've dreamed of this," he murmured, voice husky with desire. his hips bucked up against yours, seeking more friction. "dreamed of you, like this, for so long." he continued. 

caleb's voice grew increasingly desperate, his words punctuated by ragged breaths. "please," he begged, his fingers digging into your hips. "i need you. i need all of you." his eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with lust and longing. "touch me, taste me, anything” he kisses your knuckles. “just don't stop."

"i've waited so long," he whimpered, burying his face in your neck. his lips brushed your ear as he whispered, "make me yours. please, i'm begging you."

caleb's usual composure had crumbled completely, leaving him trembling and needy beneath you. his hands roamed your body restlessly, as if he couldn't decide where to touch first. "can i..we.." he murmurs, gesturing towards your skirt.

you nod, you can feel your cheeks heat up. your tone softens, "caleb, i have always been yours as you have been mine." you give him a smile. with trembling hands, he fumbles with his belt buckle. he finally managed to undo his pants, freeing his erection. the tip was already gleaming with pre-cum. with one swift motion, he lifted up your skirt and pulled your panties to the side, not wanting to waste a single second now. he softly guided you, leaving your soaked pussy to run through his tip. you start to slide down on him, taking him inch by inch. you both cried out at the sudden, intense sensation. caleb's head fell back, his mouth open in a silent moan as he savored the feeling of finally being inside you.

"p-pipsqueak.." his raspy voice fills the air as you began to ride him, letting his cock explore you as he whines with every hip roll.

"don't.. don't stop" he whimpers, his cheeks slightly flushes. you were moving at a slow, sensual rhythm that had him gasping for breaths. his hands continue to roam your body as you continued.

"use me however you want.." he whispers, his hands cup your clothed breasts. "don't stop using me till you're.. satisfied ngh.." he places his hands back on your hips, helping you bounce on him.

"caleb.. you feel so..so good.." you moaned in reply. your rolls had him hit your sweet spot and now you were almost at your high. your sounds seemed to ignite something primal in caleb. his grip on your hips tightened as he began to thrust up into you with renewed vigor. the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"and you.. ngh.. are so perfect," caleb groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "so tight,.. so wet for me." he leaned forward, capturing your neck in his mouth, gently biting bite. the sensation sent shocks of pleasure through your body, making you clench around him.

you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as you rode him harder. "caleb, i'm.. so close," you panted, feeling the tension building in you.

his eyes locked onto yours, cheeks still flushed. "that's it.. princess.. please..please come for me... huu.. please let me feel you.."

his words, combined with the exquisite friction of his cock inside you, pushed you over the edge. you cried out, your body shakes as you rode your high on him.

"you're stunning.." caleb says adoringly as he watched you crumpled on him. "ngh.. im going to cum.. let me cum," you loved this new side of him. "cum inside me.." with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within you, his cock pulsing as he came. it sent you over the edge as you felt his seed warming inside you. both of your breathing were in synced, breathless as time seemed to go normal again. the air between you was thick with warmth, your bodies still tangled together, caleb didn't want to pull himself out of you yet. he wanted to cherish this moment. caleb’s hands, once gripping you with desperation, had softened, his fingers now tracing slow patterns along your back.

you let out a shaky exhale, pressing your forehead against his, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his shirt like you weren’t ready to let go. caleb’s hands slid up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheekbones.

“you okay?” his voice was lower now, softer, laced with something tender. he searched your face, his gaze lingering, waiting for any sign of hesitation.

you chuckled, nodding as you leaned into his touch. “i should be asking you that,” you whispered, teasingly. “that was a different caleb i saw back there.”

caleb chuckled under his breath, a small, breathy sound that sent warmth curling in your chest. “yeah,” he echoed, a hint of something affectionate in his tone. his fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering, like he wasn’t ready to stop touching you yet. "but, it couldn't be helped.. when i'm with you." he continues.

caleb shifted, adjusting so you were nestled against his chest, his arms wrapping around you with a quiet protectiveness. his heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a rhythm that soothed you.

you sighed, melting into him as his warmth surrounded you, his steady heartbeat lulling you into a sense of calm. his fingers trailed absentmindedly along your back, tracing slow, soothing patterns, as if he needed to reassure himself that you were still here, still in his arms.

“you make me crazy, you know that?” caleb murmured after a moment, his lips brushing against the top of your head. his voice was softer now. “i don’t think i’ve ever wanted something this much.”

your fingers tightened slightly around his shirt, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. caleb’s eyes softened, and without thinking, he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. it wasn’t desperate or rushed like before, just warm, grounding, like he was trying to memorize every second of this moment.

“are you tired?” he asked, smirking a little. his fingers now tracing idle circles against your arm.

you hummed in response, your eyelids growing heavier. “a little.”

knowing you didn't run away from his confession, he pulled himself out of you and adjusted yours and his clothing as if nothing happened. he shifted slightly, just enough to lean you against him, making sure you were comfortable. “i’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice quiet, protective. “just rest, okay? i’ll be right here.”

you smiled against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the way his arms held you like he never wanted to let go. you had totally forgotten about your ex. the world didn't even matter to you at all, not right now, not when you had this.

and as sleep pulled you under, you heard caleb murmur one last thing against your hair, barely heard but filled with devotion.

“i'll always be by your side.”

[eleclya]

My parents adopted a 5 year-old border collie whose entire life to that point had been lived in town with no access to countryside, never mind livestock animals (why would you get a collie and never take them out into the world?)

For the first few weeks my mum was just taking her to parks and the small local woods to give her a chance to settle in and get used to her new home without overwhelming her with too many experiences. And she was doing great! By week 3 she had near perfect recall, she never barked at anyone, she never pulled on her lead.

Then they slowly started venturing out to more interesting places to give her a chance to see more of the world. Still doing great, was walking with us absolutely fine, but then suddenly started pulling on her lead out of nowhere, which she'd never done before. We came around the corner to find... a field full of sheep.

This 5 year-old dog who has only ever met other dogs and maybe a few street cats instantly starts crouching down to the ground, crawling along to the maximum length of her lead, stalking the flock, and if any sheep was a bit too close to the fence she would yip and dart towards them until they scampered back to the rest of the flock. No one has taught her this! She just knew, her job was to make sure them sheeps stayed in line, and she knew how to make them do it. We've even had farmers ask us if she was a working dog bc she has such great herding instincts.

The first time we introduced her to my horse she absolutely lost the plot. It was like she wanted to herd him but he wouldn't go where she told him (bc I was holding his leadrope). Fortunately my horse is the most chill creature on the planet and literally couldn't give less of a fuck about this weird dog barking her head off at him, so it gave us a chance to let her have her big tantrum about it and then slowly come around to the idea that he's allowed to just exist near her. We went out with me riding him and my mum leading her, and since she was reasonably settled down and we know he's reliable as anything, we tried letting her off lead to see if she was happier with more freedom.

She INSTANTLY went back into herding mode. She must have run 5 times the distance that we walked, coz she spent the entire time literally running in big circles around him. Luckily since we were all together he was going in the direction she wanted him to go, so she got to happily carry on thinking she was "herding" him, while he mostly just ignore her. That turned into her happy place, where she got to spend all her vast amounts of energy doing her "job" during the day and then go home and sleep on the sofa.

I think it's so funny how we bred JOBS into dogs. I have two shih tzus and they were bred to be lap dogs. All they care about is looking cute and cuddling with people. Meanwhile my grandma has a border collie and that dog needs to feel so useful all the time, he acts like he will pass away if he doesn't have a job to do constantly