#it was really dark outside so i could barely see but the key was stuck tight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bottlesofrouge · 8 months ago

Text

on one condition.

harry styles x original character

part five.

word count: 12.6K

warnings: talks of a past physically abusive relationship, smut (finaalllyyy!!!), nsfr!

27 JULY 2018

harry wakes up to lynn sitting on the arm of the couch. her fingers dance along his arm as his name falls from her lips in quiet whispers. it’s still dark outside, and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, struggling to remember just exactly where he is.

silas and lynn had gone into the bedroom shortly after dinner. he wasn’t really sure why he was expecting silas to take the couch, but when the click of the lock echoed through the quiet condo, harry knew that he was stuck with the short end of the stick.

there were no goodnights said and no sleepy smiles from lynn. harry sat in the dark for what felt like hours, listening to the muffled laughter coming from behind the bedroom door while he tried to swallow down the ugly, burning jealousy that came bubbling up in his throat.

“harry,” she whispers again. her touch moves from his arms to his hair. “are you awake?”

“yeah,” he hums. “what’s going on? are you okay?”

“i can’t fall asleep,” she says. “not when i don’t know if you’re alright.”

“why wouldn’t i be alright?” he can barely make out anything in the dark. the only source of light was the dim glow of the moon coming in through an uncovered window. it doesn’t do much, but it illuminates her face enough for him to see the way it’s etched with worry.

“the same reason i can’t sleep unless all of the doors are locked,” she doesn’t elaborate any further, and harry’s not really sure what she means by that. “i’m sorry for waking you. couldn’t tell if you were breathing.”

“do you wanna lay out here with me?” she only blinks at him. “you don’t have to, but i think you’d be able to feel if i was breathing or not.”

“are you sure?”

“c’mere,” he presses himself further into the couch, and lifts the blanket for her to slide under. harry’s shocked a little when she actually does.

it’s uncomfortable at first. he lays there like a board, arms straight down at his sides until lynn reaches behind for his hand. he thinks she’s giving him the key to the front door, but instead she presses his palm to her stomach just like he had done the night before.

it really was a complete accident. harry was so embarrassed to open his eyes and find himself wrapped around her the way he was. lynn was still sleeping when he woke up. she never mentioned it, and he had hoped that maybe she never noticed. he could not have been more wrong.

she doesn’t say anything when she does it, so instead of overthinking the situation and letting it keep him up until the sun rises, he leans into it. harry molds his body to lynn’s, letting his fingers stretch across her tummy just like she wanted them to. their legs are crossed at the ankles, and harry can’t help it when he lets his lips press right where her neck meets her shoulder. he half expects her to push him away, but she only sighs, falling asleep mere seconds later.

✮✮✮

“good morning, cuddle bugs,” harry doesn’t wake up again until silas is practically whisper singing right into his ear. the man’s standing over the two of them, a mug of coffee in each hand and a wide grin on his face.

when harry blinks enough to get the sleep out of his eyes, he sees that lynn’s got her cheek squished against his chest and her arm thrown around his torso. both of her legs are in between his and she had stolen their previously shared blanket and selfishly wrapped herself up in it. “were my cuddles not good enough for you, lynn?”

“oh my god, shut up, silas,” lynn groans, letting herself lean into harry even more. “and close the curtains while you’re up. m’so tired.”

silas does as he’s told before coming back over to harry to hand him one of the mugs he was holding. he sits down in the recliner next to them without saying a word, and turns on some local news station for the two to watch.

the volume’s on low, and silas is too focused on whatever stories that are running that he doesn’t try to engage in any conversation. he is so incredibly thankful for it, too. he wasn’t exactly sure what the other had to say about walking out of the bedroom to find his best friend wrapped around him. he wasn’t sure what lynn has told silas about them, but she surely had to have mentioned the fact that he has been treating her so terribly for the last two months.

harry’s free hand absentmindedly travels to lynn’s hair, fingers gently scratching her scalp as quiet, appreciative hums leave her mouth. he can’t really tell if she’s just in and out of sleep or if she’s fully awake, but he doesn’t care as long as he got lynn like this. he’d be stupid not to wrap himself up in everything that she was willing to give him. after all, it’d all go away as soon as they got back to new york.

part of him couldn’t wait to get home, even though he knew that going home meant he would have to face his parents. he also knew that it meant he would be getting back to his new routine. ever since he stopped sharing his days with an entire bottle of hard liquor, waking up has never felt so good.

he was productive. incredibly productive, actually. during the first week, he got around to turning his office into a small art studio. harry had purchased easels and canvases and nearly an entire display of oil paints. of course he put the transactions on john’s credit card. he thought of it as reparations for his shitty childhood, but if his dad asked, he would say it was a parting gift for his frat.

the other part of him wanted to be anywhere but home because home meant no more waking up to lynn and no more soft kisses and warm touches. home meant morning coffee alone and silence so loud that if he closed his eyes hard enough, he would swear he could hear it screaming.

you’re alone. you’re alone. you’re alone. you’re alone.

and honestly, the first few days wouldn’t be too bad. harry thinks he’d use the time to clear his head. the forced proximity had him thinking (and feeling) so many confusing things when it came to lynn. he knew that once they were apart for a little while, they’d all go away. maybe the two would even go back to hating each other.

they’d see each other once a week, maybe twice if they were feeling crazy, and harry would only be brutally reminded of just how alone he actually was. the words would echo in his head like they always did. just like the ticking of a clock.

you’re alone. you’re alone. you’re alone. you’re alone.

maybe it’s his fault for giving himself away so easily. there are so many people who know absolutely nothing about him except for what gets him going in bed, and normally, that fact didn’t bother him one bit. he likes feeling good and making other people feel good, and he loves the fact that he can participate in both of those activities with no strings attached.

however, on the rare days like today, the mere thought of it makes harry want to scratch the skin off his body and start fresh. he wants to be someone new. someone who is loved, and someone that people actually want to know.

and really, that’s where this whole thing stems from. the constant craving for something that is so unattainable for him. he just wants to be known.

harry itches for the day that someone knows just how much he loves ballet and theater. they’ll know he spent the first three years of high school dedicating his life to the drama club, spending afternoon after afternoon designing and painting sets. those long afternoons would soon turn into rehearsing lines in the passenger seat of oliver’s car, nothing but a flashlight on one of their phones illuminating the words on their scripts.

they’ll know he stopped because of how his dad felt about it. they’ll learn all about his senior year football stint, and maybe he’d also be inclined to tell them that he did it just to please him, but even then, john never went to a single game.

“harry,” silas’s leaning forward to nudge harry with his hand. “did you hear me?”

“no,” he admits. “what did you say?”

“i asked if you were hungry. we’re supposed to meet everyone for breakfast in ten.”

“i’m okay,” harry hums. his eyes fall to lynn who’s now created a small wet spot on his shirt with her drool. “you go. she’s been having a hard time sleeping.”

“she has for years,” silas responds. harry isn’t sure if he’s just stating a fact or if he’s trying to make sure he’s aware that he knows lynn in ways that harry never will. “i’ve never seen her out like this though. it’s weird.”

when silas decides to take harry up on his offer, he stands up, stretches, and then puts his shoes on before walking out of the door. it slams a little bit behind him, and lynn jolts at the sound. her head flies up, and she’s looking at harry with wide eyes and parted lips.

“just silas, honey,” his knuckles drag across the highest point of her cheek. “you can go back to sleep for a bit.”

✮✮✮

silas: it’s amelia day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

silas: you better be awake when i get back

silas: first round is on you btw consider it your apology for having to look at you and harry all morning #YUCK

lynn shuts her phone off and peers up at harry to make sure he wasn’t reading over her shoulder. (that would be so humiliating.) she finds him fast asleep underneath her. his head is tilted back, resting on a pillow that was propped up on the arm of the couch. his lips are parted, and she thinks that if she’s quiet enough she could hear tiny snores fall from them. god, he is so cute.

“harry,” she gently shakes him, and when he opens his eyes and blinks a few long blinks like he’s trying to gather his surroundings, she can’t help but laugh. “good morning, sunshine.”

“what time is it?” he rasps out around a yawn.

“nearly noon.” lynn sits up so harry can stretch and sit up properly. “it’s amelia day, so we have to leave soon. get ready, and i’ll make you something to eat. my treat for sharing this uncomfortable thing with me all night.”

lynn only makes them a plate of leftovers that consists of stuff she found in various take out boxes in the refrigerator. it wasn’t anything crazy; yet, it takes nearly fifteen minutes before she has it all set out on the breakfast bar. she shouldn't be blamed though. it’s not her fault that she couldn’t stop thinking about last night.

it wasn’t until silas was knocked out next to her that she realized harry was out in the living room all alone. she didn’t mean to exclude him. it kind of just happened, and she felt so guilty for it. she couldn’t stop wondering just how upset harry would be with her in the morning, and soon after, all of the overthinking turned into wondering if harry was okay.

honestly, she knew deep down there was no reason for him not to be, but that didn’t stop her from going out and checking. that’s all she meant to do, really. she planned on making sure he was alive and well and then she would climb back into bed with silas, but when he made room for her on the couch, lynn couldn’t say no.

she missed sleeping next to him.

it was stupid. they had only been on good terms for a few days, but lynn couldn’t imagine ever falling asleep without him pressed against her again. she thought that maybe it was just the simple fact that she was next to someone that had her sleeping so well, but no. it was harry.

silas has probably spent hundreds of hours helping her fall asleep. nearly every time he’s in town, he sits next to her in bed and runs his fingers through her hair until she’s napping. lynn really did appreciate it so much. she knew she would never get those precious naps in without him, but that was just it. they were always a quick little nap, never lasting more than an hour.

with harry, it was so different. all he had to do was be in the same room as her and she’d be out for hours. it was silly, and all in her mind. of course she knew that, it’s just… she doesn’t really want it to end.

harry doesn’t talk until the two of them are sharing an uber to the town square. he’s exhausted. lynn knows that, and she feels so shitty for having him take the couch. he was doing her a favor being there. the least she could do was give him the bed.

“it’s amelia’s birthday?” his voice is quiet when he asks, like the uber driver hearing would give away the faux relationship.

“no,” she laughs a little, not because of him, but because of what amelia day actually is. “silas pays amelia to watch jane while the adults go out for a few drinks.”

“is it the same day every year?”

lynn shakes her head, “just whenever silas feels like it. it’s usually just the two of us, and he convinces her when he thinks i’ve burnt myself out watching them.”

harry only hums and looks out the window.

lynn sits at the bar, nursing her third dirty martini as she watches silas and harry play a game of darts. silas was honestly great at the game. never once has he let lynn win. however, when harry threw his first dart, she realized that today might be the day her dreams of silas losing come true.

she’s been dreaming of the day ever since she had played against silas for the first time at a bar in her college town. he was visiting her for spring break. nearly the entire school had gone further south to a beach, so they pretty much had the bar to themselves. they played forty seven games that week, and lynn had only been close to winning once.

so, she offers to buy harry a shot if he wins, and when he says he’d rather have a kiss, she says he can have that, too.

she watches as harry goes to throw his dart. he closes one of his eyes and the tip of his tongue sticks out a little at the corner of his mouth every time he brings his hand up to aim. normally, she would’ve poked a little fun because he looked crazy, but she was a couple drinks in and she couldn’t help but find everything harry did to be at least a little bit attractive.

harry throws the winning dart, and lynn already has a shot of don julio waiting for him. she holds the little glass in between her fingers and the lime wedge in between her lips as she moves over to the two guys. a little pool of anxiety fills her stomach when she thinks about what exactly she’s doing. the lime placement seemed like a good idea after she had finished her third drink, but when she sees silas’s face, she thinks that maybe she was wrong.

the worry is only there for a second because harry tips the shot back, and then presses his mouth to hers and takes the wedge in between his teeth. the whole thing has her skin burning all the way from her toes up to her ears, but she doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about it because as soon as he’s done, he’s kissing her.

their kisses are messy and wet, and lynn can taste the lime sitting on his lips and the tequila coating his mouth. his mouth is practically devouring hers in a way that has her chest aching and her fingertips tingling. there’s no way that the vodka and olive juice she had been drinking tasted as good as he’s making it seem.

harry pulls away when silas clears his throat and lynn can’t even work up enough nerve to look over at him. the blush on her cheeks. her heart skipping beats in her chest. the way she feels so giddy. god, it was like she was a teenager again.

“i think we should get another drink before we head back,” silas breaks the silence first.

harry agrees and the two of them follow silas over to the bar. harry’s got his arm around lynn’s back, and his hand rests on her waist. he orders his drink and her dirty martini while she pretends not to feel the way his thumb is sliding against the small sliver of skin poking out between her top and skirt.

lynn sits on a bar stool next to kathleen when her fourth dirty martini is placed in front of her. harry keeps his arm draped around the back of her chair, chatting to silas about their last game. silas claims harry cheated, but harry insists that silas is just a sore loser.

“are you three enjoying your vacation,” lynn hears her dad’s voice from down the bar, and makes no move to respond. instead, she brings her glass up to her lips and takes a big sip.

“i am,” harry turns his attention to the older man, offering him a small smile. “thank you for having me. i really appreciate it.”

“it’s the least i can do since you’ve been putting up with my daughter. she can be a lot to handle sometimes.”

her dad laughs, and lynn can’t help the rage that’s bubbling up in her chest. putting up with my daughter? how would he know what putting up with lynn was like? peter was only around for half of her life, and even then, they’ve only shared a few hundred words with each other, if that. the man barely fucking knew her.

“it’s quite the opposite,” she feels harry moving his hand from the chair to wrap around her shoulder and pull her into his chest. “really, lynn puts up with me.”

“good to know, but i was referring to jane,” he brings his bottle to his lips. “she has so much energy, and at my age…”

lynn doesn’t really care what else her father has to say, so she turns her attention to the bartender and orders herself one more. it would probably end up being a mistake because she could already feel her head going all fuzzy. (and that was obvious a drink ago when she made out with harry in the back corner of the bar.) but, she felt like she needed it in order to stomach being around her parents for a second longer.

“you’re sure you need another?” kathleen’s speaking to her. “don’t want to have a repeat of the last time where you didn’t even make it to dinner.”

lynn decides to pretend like she didn’t hear, and insteads thanks the bartender when he slides the glass in front of her. she didn’t come to dinner the night her mother is referring to because of something more than a little too much to drink, and she thinks that if she lets herself think about it for a minute longer, she’d start crying so hard that she might end up coughing up a lung.

aunt cecilia moves from the other side of her father to sit next to silas. she strikes up a conversation with the two boys, and lynn can’t make the buzzing in her brain quiet down enough to focus on what they’re saying. it is so unfair that being around her mother has the ability to ruin what was supposed to be a fun day with her friends.

lynn gets why silas invited her parents. really, she does. just because they treated her so poorly, doesn’t mean they treated everyone else the same. that was obvious when silas came home from his freshman year of college to all of his stuff sitting on the front lawn of his parents’ house. peter and kathy had moved every discarded item of his into the guest room within the day, and silas claimed it as his own until he moved out for good two years later.

“y’alright, honey?” harry’s voice is so low and breathy. it tickles her ear enough to make her laugh, and he offers her a warm smile at the sound. “there we go.”

his lips tenderly press against her forehead and then he’s leaning back to look at her, worry deep in his eyes. she loves when harry’s soft like this, even if she can see silas rolling his eyes at the two of them in her peripheral.

“i miss your last boyfriend,” lynn’s brought out of her trance by kathleen’s voice. “he never touched you like this in front of us. it’s just disrespectful.”

lynn thinks that she’s misheard her mom at first, but when harry’s hands fall from her, she knows he’s heard it, too. silas and aunt cece are deep in conversation, missing what kathleen had just said, and harry’s looking at her with a frown on his lips. his eyes are pleading with hers, like he’s trying to apologize for something that isn’t even his fault.

“i’m sorry, ms. kathy. i didn’t eve-”

“yeah, well,” lynn clears her throat. “jaxson used to hit me when we weren’t in front of you guys.”

“what?”

she knows that she shouldn’t have said it, especially not here. lynn’s just so upset and angry and sad, and all she wanted to do was make kathleen feel the way she has been making her feel since the day she was born. like a complete and utter failure.

“i couldn’t make it to dinner last time because my mouth was bleeding so bad,” her voice is quiet, yet her confession draws the attention from the rest of the group. “not because of one too many drinks.”

it was definitely the five dirty martinis that had her spilling the secret she’s held on to the tightest, but it’s out now and so were the tears that came flooding from her eyes.

“why didn’t you tell us?” her mom has tears of her own on her cheeks, and it only makes lynn roll her eyes. kathleen never really cared about her, and she wasn’t about to start letting her now.

“don’t you see how you treat me? of course i didn’t come to you. nothing i ever do is worth a second of your time,” lynn feels so incredibly vulnerable as she speaks. she half expects kathleen to tell her to grow up, and the other half expects her to get on her hands and knees and apologize profusely for being such a shit mother.

she does neither. instead her eyes fall on silas and aunt cece, a look of realization spreading across her face. “you two knew.”

when lynn showed up on her aunts’ doorstep after a particularly rough fight with her ex, aunt cece helped put her back together again and let her move in for a few months. they hid it from peter and kathleen, per lynn’s request, and when jane was born, she went home. the three of them never really spoke about it, but lynn thinks she wouldn’t be standing here right now if it wasn’t for aunt cece and aunt rosie.

“this is exactly what i fucking mean,” she stands up from her stool, using harry to steady herself, and then she begs him to please, please take her back to the condo.

and he does. harry doesn’t say anything the entire uber ride back. instead, he holds her hand in his lap and wipes under her nose with the sleeve of his shirt when he’s had enough of her loud sniffing.

“i could’ve found a tissue,” her voice is so scratchy it hurts when she speaks.

“but you didn’t,” harry counters. “‘was kind of grossing me out if i’m being honest.”

“heeeeey,” her hands gently shove his shoulders as she laughs under her breath. it’s quiet for a second, and she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from his. it’s like she can feel the pity from his eyes seeping into her own, and it makes her a little sad. “please don’t look at me like that.”

harry looks away and clears his throat, and lynn feels so incredibly guilty for even saying anything, “i don’t like when people pity me. i didn’t mean…”

“i know you didn’t mean to tell me, but knowing now helps me understand you better.” he’s running his forefinger along the creases in her palm. “and i don’t mean to make you feel like i pity you. i just… you didn’t deserve to go through that.”

“okay,” she offers him a warm smile. “i was going to tell you, but i was nervous that i’d scare you away.”

“you could never scare me away.”

“why’s that? am i your only friend?” lynn only means it in a teasing way, but the way harry’s smile drops says that she’s hit the nail on the head.

“yeah,” his face draws together when he speaks. “um, i don’t know. there’s not really anyone besides you. sorry if that’s weird or makes you uncomfortable. i’m not the best at making friends.”

“s’not weird. i was only joking, harry. i didn’t mean-”

“you don’t have to apologize,” his eyes fall to his lap, and then he looks back up to her. “that’s not why you can’t scare me away. i just… i like having you around, lynn. i don’t want that to change once we go home.”

his words make her cheeks warm, “it won’t. i like having you around, too.” and when that doesn’t feel like enough, “i’m really glad you came, harry.”

29 JULY 2018

when harry wakes up, the bed is empty and the condo is quiet. there’s no echoes of an overworked coffee pot and no hushed whispers bouncing off the walls. his phone reads 11:53am, and there is nothing but a singular text from lynn sitting in his notification center.

getting breakfast with si & then going to the beach. join us when you’re awake :)

harry gets out of bed and heads for the shower to wash the sleep off of his face (and also the sweat off of his body). he’s spent the last two nights wrapped up with lynn in the bed while silas took the couch. the girl loved her blankets, and being next to her sometimes made him feel like he was next to a furnace.

he decides against joining the two when he’s on his second lather of shampoo. after lynn had talked about her last relationship at the bar, the three have practically been conjoined at the hip doing pretty much everything together. even at the family dinners, they sat at the end of the table next to jane and amelia to keep kathleen, or anyone else, from bringing it up.

as soon as harry heard what lynn said, he wanted to throw up. he felt sick the entire uber drive back, and even worse when they sat on the couch next to one another and she told him about the time she had brought him here. lynn was so incredibly kind, and the thought of anyone hurting her was just so devastating.

but, he did as she asked, and tried acting like looking at her didn’t make his chest feel like it was caving in. (because it did.) instead, he offered her kisses and soft touches every time the thoughts got to be a little too much. lynn deserved to feel loved and appreciated, and he was going to make sure she never forgot that.

harry: i think i’ll spend some time with your sisters. have fun with silas

her response comes through almost immediately.

lynn: they’d loooove that!!! couldn’t stop talking about you at breakfast

lynn: i’ll miss you today :(

the grin that spreads across harry’s face when he reads the message is embarrassing. he never really understood what people meant when they said ‘giggling and kicking my feet’, but when he catches his reflection in the mirror, he gets it.

jane and amelia are waiting for him on the front porch of their condo, and as soon as he’s in sight, the little girl runs to him like she’s an olympian sprinter. she giggles as she does, and harry soaks up every last one because he knows there will be a time when he is nothing but a distant memory for her.

the three of them walk to an ice cream parlor that harry has been dying to go to since the first day they arrived. the outside was painted a bright pink and had mismatched patio furniture sitting out in front of it. he always found these ice cream shops to be the best, and preferred them over the lousy chains.

harry orders his usual mint chip and jane her chocolate chip, and then he tells amelia to get whatever she wants. it was his treat today, even though the two girls were the ones to bring up the idea to go. the older sister decides on a plain strawberry shake, and once it’s all paid, they sit at one of the tables outside.

“don’t forget your napkin,” he reminds jane. “i don’t want to return you all covered in sugar.”

the little girl laughs, and wipes awaythe river of melted vanilla ice cream flowing down her chin, “s’okay. mom says it’s bath night anyway.”

harry listens as jane then goes into a play by play of her day. if one singular detail was wrong, she’d have to pause, reset the scene, and then she could continue. it starts with her saying she chose a red shirt to wear, but actually it was more orange now that she’s thinking about it. then, it’s what she ate for breakfast. jane realizes midway through that she had actually eaten four apple slices instead of the five she said previously because silas had taken one from her plate. the whole thing is painful, but harry sits through every second of it with a smile on his face.

“you alright, amelia?” harry asks once jane has quieted down and turned her attention back to her ice cream. “you’ve been quiet.”

“does lynn ever talk about her last boyfriend?"

he swallows. "yeah. she talks about him sometimes. why?”

“he was mean to me,” amelia states. “and i thought you’d be the same.”

“melia, i would never-”

“i know. i know,” amelia’s quick to cut him off. “that was obvious when jane hit you with that ball.”

jane’s shoulders drop at her sister’s words, “i’m still very sorry, harry.”

“i know you are, janey,” his hand squeezes her little arm from across the table. “i already told you to stop worrying about.”

“i feel bad for being so rude to you,” amelia admits. “and for trying to get lynn to break up with you.”

“you what?”

“i’m sorry. i didn’t-” the girl’s stumbling over her words like she can’t get them out fast enough when harry interrupts her with a laugh. really, he doesn’t mean to, but the thought of amelia trying to end a relationship that wasn’t even real to begin had him giggling.

"no need to be sorry," he says. "if i saw my sister in a bad relationship, i'd probably act the exact same. probably even worse if i’m being honest.”

“a man who grew up with girls,” amelia nods her head slowly before sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed. “makes sense.”

“now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it’s a compliment! ugh, you’re so old.”

harry laughs at the girls in front of him, a feeling of genuine happiness washing over him. maybe he was planning too far ahead, but he can't help but think that he actually does want to be a dad.

“hurry up and finish your ice cream,” he says. “i think there’s a souvenir shop we can go to just a few stores up the street.”

the three don’t end up going back until dinner time. the two girls walk in front of him, each swinging their shopping bags at each other for no other reason than to be annoying. he didn’t really mean to spend a hundred dollars on the two, but he did. jane always looked up at him with big round eyes and he could never say no.

they had passed a boutique with a blue dress hanging in the window, and amelia made a comment about it matching the shade of lynn’s eyes. she was right. it was printed with this floral pattern and had ruffles at the sleeves. harry couldn’t stop thinking about just how pretty lynn would look in it, and that’s how he ended up with a bag of his own.

maybe it was pushing the boundaries of their friendship a little too far, but he really didn’t care. harry thinks it would be a crime for that dress to belong to anyone besides lynn.

aunt cece is the one who opens the door when jane knocks, and to his surprise, she invites him in to enjoy the dinner that she had prepared. he’s about to say no when she lets him know that lynn and silas had gone into town for an early dinner of their own before he had to go to the airport, so he changes his mind and joins the two aunts in the kitchen.

harry sits at the table while the two shared red wine out of a singular glass along with what seemed like a million kisses. rosie rested herself against cece’s back as she finished transferring the meal to serving dishes. she’d whisper things to the other in tones so quiet harry couldn’t make out the words, but each time aunt cece’s face would flush and she’d playfully push the other woman away.

he hopes he gets a love as pure as theirs when he’s older.

“what’s in the bag?” aunt rosie joins him at the table.

“it’s nothing really,” harry can feel his cheeks grow warm and he does his best to avoid the woman’s stare.

“oh come on, you’re blushing all the way to your neck. what is it? we’re very big on sex positivity, so-”

“oh my god. it’s a dress. a normal dress,” harry can’t listen to it a second longer. his finger pulls the collar of his shirt away from his neck. god, why was it so hot it here?

“aww,” aunt rosie coos at him, peaking into the brown paper bag. “it looks gorgeous, harry.”

he hums. “it reminded me of her.”

“you should take her to that restaurant she was talking about this morning tomorrow. give her a chance to wear it,” aunt cece says from the kitchen, and rosie seconds the idea.

“i overslept today, so i don’t really know which one you’re talking about.”

“hmm,” the woman in the kitchen has her hand on her hip and her face in her hands. “i’m forgetting the name.”

“latitudes,” kathleen’s voice comes from the doorway. “that’s the restaurant.”

harry can tell by her demeanor that she’s trying to be nice, so he offers her a warm smile before thanking her.

dinner isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. he imagined it being incredibly awkward because of what had happened a few days prior, but surprisingly it’s not. he’s not really sure what was said or what happened after he had left with lynn, but he suspects it was something eye opening by the way kathleen is acting.

when gets back to his condo, he finds lynn sitting on the living room floor with at least twenty photobooks sprawled around her. there’s a half full bottle of wine on the side table, and an empty glass seated at her feet. he wasn’t really sure where she kept getting so much wine. they had only purchased three bottles.

“hey,” he’s kicking his shoes off by the door.

“hey,” she doesn’t look up. her eyes are too focused on some photos that she’s holding in her lap, and he takes the opportunity to slip the boutique bag into one of his drawers.

harry changes into his pajamas and then gets himself a glass from the kitchen. with a deep breath, he moves to the living room and sits next to her on the ground. “can i join you?”

“you don’t have to ask,” lynn reaches for the bottle before filling both of their glasses and setting it back down. she offers him a smile, “such a silly question, harry.”

“did you and silas have a good day?”

“the best,” she says with a grin on her face. harry can’t help the jealousy that starts burning in his chest. he wonders if she says the same when silas asks about him. “we found all of these photobooks. what about you? were the girls good?”

“so good,” he replies. “we got ice cream, and had a little shopping trip.”

“i bet they had so much fun,” she takes her eyes away from the photo book to look up at him. her mouth opens and she pauses, and then, “i missed you today.”

they sit next to each other as lynn opens up a fresh book. it was full of photos from when she was only a kid. there were so many pictures of her in the summertime, lounging around a swimming pool wearing rugrats themed swimmies and eating ice cream, and there were even more of her hanging from the monkey bars in playgrounds and posing cutely in flower fields. his favorites were the ones of her standing behind a mixing bowl with a monogrammed apron tied around her waist.

as she turns the pages, the pictures turn from summer to fall and it goes from wide toothy smiles soaking up the sun rays to close lipped grins at school events. there were photos of her at chorus concerts and class parties and some of her sitting with her arms around her friends in the school cafeteria.

there’s a woman who appears in quite a few of the photos, not enough that he would say she was in almost all of them, but enough that harry recognizes her presence. she looked nothing like lynn or any of her family members. her skin was tan and she had long dark hair with matching dark eyes. she wore red lipstick in a lot of the photos, and every time she did, baby lynn had a matching red lip print stamped on the side of her cheek.

“who’s that?” harry decides to ask when she pulls out a picture from the plastic sleeve. it was of the woman hugging her tight while lynn held up a little certificate indicating she won some award.

“she was my au pair,” lynn traces the corners of the picture as she brings it closer to her face.

“the one your dad had an affair with?”

lynn shakes her head. “the one after. elena,” she clarifies. i spent most of my childhood with her.”

“yeah? it looks like she loved you an awful lot.”

“y’know like that feeling that you get when you think of your mom?” she asks. “i get that when i think of her. she was wonderful, harry.”

“do you still talk to her?”

“no, i think my mom stopped hiring her when amelia was two,” her voice is thick when she speaks, and harry can see the glassiness in her eyes when she looks over to pass him the photo. “i still use that recipe in my bakery today. i wish she could see it.”

harry looks at the photo and can’t stop the smile from growing on his lips. little lynn was grinning so wide, her smile nearly went from ear to ear. the certificate was proudly displayed in her hands with a large FIRST PLACE written across the top. elena had her arms wrapped around her body so tightly, you could see the imprints of her fingertips in little lynn’s flesh. his fingers flip the photo over, and his eyes scan the words written on the back.

e. adams, 1998

“you’re what?” harry speaks. “24? 25?”

“i’m 27,” the girl laughs when she sees harry’s face. “what? is 24 too young for you?”

“i’m 21, lynn,” he deadpans. “freshly, too. my birthday’s in february.”

“oh god,” her wine glass nearly tips over when she turns to face him, and harry wraps his fingers around the stem to catch it.

neither of them speak for a moment. her eyes are scanning over his face like she’s not really sure what to say. both of them had just assumed they were each other’s age.

“is that,” harry pauses. “does that bother you?”

lynn’s bottom lip goes between her teeth before she sighs, “i mean, it’s all pretend, isn’t it?”

harry wants to say that it doesn’t feel all pretend when lynn’s got his mouth pressed to his. or when they’re alone and her fingers rub every ounce of stress from his body. or when they’re in bed every night, pressed so closely together that harry can feel the way her heart beats against his own.

instead, he only smiles. “yeah, i guess it really doesn’t matter.”

they each finish their glass of wine, and harry’s quick to pour them the rest of whatever’s left in the bottle. honestly, she was right. what they were doing was supposed to be pretend. it was his fault for letting parts of it get too real.

maybe lynn didn’t need to know that some of his family disowned him because of his queerness. she also probably didn’t need to hear harry’s drunken confession about him being a friendless loser, and she definitely could’ve gone without seeing him sleeping with someone else.

he takes another large gulp of wine when the realization hits. he likes that she knows those things about him.

“evelyn,” her voice is soft as it pulls him from his thoughts.

“hm?”

“i know you saw it,” she points to the discarded photo on the ground between them. harry was so focused on the bolded 1998, he didn’t even notice the tiny e that preceded it.

“evelyn,” the intensity of his voice matches her, and as soon as the words leave his lips, her eye’s fill with tears. “oh, don’t cry.”

“they’re good tears,” she breathes. “promise.”

his hand cradles her face and tucks her hair behind her ear so it doesn’t get all sticky from the now falling tears. the way she looks up at him feels so real to harry, and it makes his chest grow tight. he didn’t know how he’d be able to walk away from all of this unscathed, but at least he had her now. he’d be stupid not to soak up everything she wanted to give him.

“it’s a pretty name,” he’s nearly whispering now. “fits you.”

“it was my grandmother’s,” she chews on her lips. “she was lovely, harry.”

“she sure seems like it,” her head feels heavy in his hand like she’s relying on him to hold it upright for her. “why’d you change it?”

“jaxson ruined it for me, and hearing it was a lot,” she sighs and her eyes squeeze shut. “it’s stupid i know.”

“i don’t think it’s stupid, blondie,” she looks up at him like she doesn’t necessarily believe him, and harry thinks that if he didn’t find out that she was twenty fucking seven years old minutes prior, he’d kiss her. “not stupid at all.”

really, he still wants to. harry wants to kiss her so hard that she forgets that goddamn loser that made her own name sound unbearable to her. the thought just makes him so incredibly angry. he could kill him.

“hearing it used to make my stomach churn,” she admits.

“it doesn’t anymore?”

her head shakes, “no. at least not when it comes from you.”

“i can call you evelyn if that’s something you want,” lynn sits up when he offers, straightening herself so she’s no longer leaning into his touch. he instantly misses the weight of her.

“yeah, i mean if it’s not too much of an ask. and maybe not in front of my family? it’s been forever since anyone’s called me that. i just- haven’t been able to recognize myself in the mirror since i started going by lynn.” she laughs lightly, but it just sounds sad at this point. “sorry, i think i’ve had too much wine.”

“yeah, i can do that,” harry hums, and he can’t help it when he reaches for her hand. his finger trails across the back of her knuckles. “it’ll be our little secret, won’t it, evelyn?”

30 JULY 2018

harry is absolutely gnawing the fuck out of the sides of his fingers while he waits for lynn to get out of the shower. as soon as she went in (for the third time because she kept forgetting things), he had laid out the dress neatly on the bed with a necklace that kathleen had slipped him at breakfast. she had said that it was lynn’s grandmother’s.

he wasn’t really sure if this whole thing was crossing the line of their fake dating arrangement. they’d be going for no other reason than to spend some time together, but really, friends spend time together all the time. silas and lynn just had dinner last night.

but did silas buy her a dress for it?

whatever. it was too late to take it all back now. he hears the water shut off, and harry knows he’ll see how she really feels about it soon. he was going to be sick.

the sound of the door knob twisting echoes through the quiet room, and then, “harry?”

“yeah?” he sounded so fucking stupid.

“what’s all this?”

“um, a dress?”

lynn moves into the doorway of the bedroom to look at him. she’s wearing a robe around her body and a towel in her hair. “obviously. where did it come from?”

“a boutique,” he replies, and she raises her eyebrow. “i bought it for you yesterday. with amelia and jane.”

“you bought me that?” her voice is quieter than before, and she no longer has the teasing smile that was sitting on her lips just a moment ago.

“yeah,” why did he feel so shy? “if you don’t like it, i kept the receipt-”

“don’t like it? harry, i love it. it’s gorgeous.”

“good,” he sighs. “i thought so, too.”

lynn doesn’t say anything else, but she doesn’t move from her spot in the doorway either. she’s got the softest smile on her face, and she’s looking at him like she’s not really sure what she wants to do next.

“well, go put it on,” he’s moving in her direction to get to the shower. “you don’t want to miss our latitudes reservations, do you?”

“no way!” she shrieks, and when harry follows it with a corny little ‘yes way’, she hugs him around his neck so tightly, her feet aren’t even touching the ground. “thank you. thank you. thank you.” her words are being whispered against the skin of the crook of his neck.

“it was nothing, really.”

“you always say that,” lynn leans away from him, still keeping her arms around his neck.

“i just like seeing you like this,” and maybe he should have picked different words.

“what?” she laughs. “half naked and pressed up against you?”

“jesus christ, no,” his cheeks warm, and he can feel the way her fingers are rubbing the back of his neck. “happy. you’re different here.”

“only when you’re the one here with me,” she presses a kiss to his cheek before stepping back. “now get in the shower. we are not missing latitudes.”

✮✮✮

lynn talks so much during the uber ride to the ferry port. she does it with a big grin on her face, and harry can tell that she’s genuinely excited about their night he had planned. she spends the entire drive discussing the menu and comparing it to yelp reviews, and when they’re on the ferry, she tells him stories about coming here with her grandma while her fingers toy with the small pendant that hangs from the gold chain around her neck.

the two talk all the way through two appetizers and a bottle of wine. harry lets lynn order everything for them because she was the one who wanted to come in the first place, and also because she had spent so much time dissecting the menu. honestly, he didn’t really care what he ate, as long as she was having everything she wanted.

their table was right on the beach, and he had a perfect view of the sun starting to set right behind lynn. harry was sure of only two things at this moment. lynn looks breathtaking in her pretty blue dress, especially during sunset, and he absolutely adores hearing her voice. harry thinks he could hear her talk forever and ever.

she tells him the story from the picture of her and elena with the first place certificate. it was a simple strawberry cheesecake cupcake, and the two had spent nearly a month practicing beforehand. lynn swears that they came out perfect every single time, except for the day of the contest. apparently, the first batch of icing wasn’t setting properly because she had cried too hard over the bowl.

when their mains come, harry realizes that this is the first time the two have hung out and gotten to know each other without some depressing undertone hanging around their conversation. sure, harry learned about elena last night, but the conversation was sad. here, lynn talked about her childhood with shiny eyes, and laughed with harry when he did the same with his.

“have you ever been grand gestured?” lynn asks around a forkful of seared grouper. her dish looked absolutely delicious, and harry regretted not getting it himself.

“not unless you’re counting a cheesy promposal.”

“hm,” she hums. “i’m going to have to go with no.”

“what about you?” harry picks up the wine bottle sitting in the chiller and works on refilling both of their glasses. “have you ever been grand gestured?”

“this is as close as i’ve come.”

“this is not a grand gesture,” harry stresses. he’s worried it’ll come across wrong for a moment until she laughs. “i just meant this is the bare minimum.”

“i know,” she smiles at him, and harry wishes he could take a picture of this moment and keep it tucked away inside his brain forever. “thank you for this again, harry.”

he’s a bit tipsy, and he can tell she is too by the amount of giggles leaving her mouth. harry always saw a sad lynn when she was drunk, and he can’t believe he was lucky enough to see this side of her, too.

this side was magical. there was really no other way to put it. she was the kind of woman that people write books about.

when harry gets tired of his pasta, he twirls little bites around his fork before leaning across the table and feeding it to lynn. it was probably a little immature to be doing at a restaurant like this, but he didn’t really care, and he could tell that she didn’t either by the little appreciative hums that fell around his fork everytime.

“ugh,” she groans when harry orders a slice of key lime pie for dessert. “harry, i’m going to explode!”

“s’okay,” his hand reaches across the table to pat the top of hers. “you don’t have to eat any of it.”

“of course i do. you know i love a sweet treat,” and really, he didn’t, but he does now.

their arms are wrapped around each other’s backs as they walk in through the front door of the condo. lynn immediately goes to the kitchen to get the last of their remaining wine while harry takes the bedroom to change into something a little comfier.

“more wine? where all you getting all of these?”

“been swiping them from my mom’s cabinet,” lynn’s sitting on the floor with her back leaning against the couch, and she laughs at harry’s words, the half empty bottle of wine pressed to her lips. after a sip, she stretches her arm out to harry, “c’mon. it’s our last night.”

he sits next to her, taking a gulp from the bottle before passing it back. “did you have fun tonight?”

“of course i did,” her voice is quiet, not much above a whisper. “i always have fun when we’re together.”

harry turns his head so he’s looking at her. he watches as her eyes drop to his mouth and then travel back up. a little laugh makes her hair float around her face, and as soon as harry thinks she’s leaning in, she stops with a loud ow falling from her lips.

and that’s how harry ends up sitting on the couch with lynn between his knees, working at the pinched nerve she complained about.

"jesus, you're so tight," harry mutters as his thumbs dig into the flesh of her shoulders.

"you're not the first guy to say that.”

"absolutely filthy tonight, aren't you?"

she laughs, and rests her head on her knees. a breathy moan pushes past her lips when he digs into a particularly sore area, "feels good. my neck fucking aches."

harry continues working her shoulders and neck, paying extra attention to the areas that make her breath hitch. he can’t stop looking at the way her lips part and eyebrows draw together. her head tilts back, and her neck strains, like she’s trying to stop herself from making a sound. the soft sighs and muffled whines that she does let fall from her mouth are enough to make him half hard.

he’s embarrassed by it, and really, he tries to think of anything else. if lynn knew he was feeling this way, they’d probably never speak to each other again, but her skin is just so soft and warm, and she sounded so fucking pretty. he really couldn’t help it.

“didn’t realize how much i missed this,” she murmurs with her head leaning against his knee.

“getting a massage? you know they have places for that.”

“knock it off,” he can feel her fingers pinching at his ankle. “i meant this… touching.”

harry hums. “i know what you mean.”

“what?” lynn laughs. “is seven days without taking someone to bed too long for you?”

harry hasn’t been with anyone in weeks. not since lynn had walked in on him and the girl from the bar. he wasn’t necessarily avoiding sex. it’s just that every time he’s gotten close to bringing someone home, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“s’different when it’s someone you care about,” he says instead.

harry can feel the way lynn stops picking at the carpet. her body stills except for her shoulders which move up with a deep breath when his fingers brush over her neck. he’s not really working out the knots in her muscle anymore. he’s just… touching.

it doesn’t last for very long because lynn is soon crawling up to sit next to him on the couch. she drapes her knees over his with a sigh on her lips and color blooming on her cheeks. her eyes are glassy when he looks into them, and her mouth is open like she’s going to say something. she doesn’t.

instead, her fingers cup his cheek, and then her mouth is pressing short, sweet kisses to his. she’s slow with it. her lips lazily sucking, and sometimes she drags her tongue slowly across his bottom lip, never letting it venture past that. harry savors her kisses, letting her do whatever she wants.

he knows it’s just fun for her. she’ll probably pull away with a giggle and say something about how it’s been so long since she’s been kissed like that. she’d press her lips against his once more and then they’d go to sleep. it was his fault for letting it feel intimate. with every suck of her mouth, he felt the want for her grow hot in his belly. she was just so perfect.

her lazily kisses pick up a little more pace until they’re feverish. she sucks and licks and harry groans when he feels her teeth nip at his lips. he thinks he possibly couldn’t get even more turned on than he is right now and then she’s straddling his lap, her knees tightly pressed at the sides of his thighs.

“fuck,” she gasps into his mouth as soon as he feels her against him. harry can’t even think straight. the warmth of her has his brain going foggy and his heart racing in a way that should probably be concerning. all it took was one roll of her hips, and he was a pathetic, whining mess beneath her.

"maybe you'd like a reward for all of your hard work?" she breathes into his mouth as she grinds down against him.

"i hope it's that mouth," the pad of his thumb brushes across her lips. they’re swollen and shiny with their spit. "y'know how much i like kissing you. still sweet from dessert, too.”

"how does my throat sound?" harry thinks that he’s heard her wrong, but then she parts her lips and takes his thumb into her mouth, sucking hard.

he can’t help the way he groans at the sight in front of him. her pretty blue dress all the way up to her thighs with her red lips wrapped around his thumb. she is going to kill him.

when she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, harry pushes his thumb further back before pressing it down right at the back of her mouth. she gags at the intrusion, looking down at him with big, teary eyes.

"don't think you could fit all of me in there," he pushes down a few more times just to see the way her eyes water over, and then he lets his thumb smear the thick saliva pooling at the corners of her mouth down her chin and all the way to her chest.

"wanna find out?"

he hums, leaning forward. "how bad do you want it?"

she laughs a little, the air from her mouth fanning across his face. "i don't beg, harry. especially not for you. don’t you see that?”

"oh really?" he pulls her into a searing kiss, letting his fingers slide all the way around to the back of her neck until they’re threaded in her hair. harry grabs a fistful of the soft strands and pulls her mouth away from his while his other hand nudges her leg over so she’s back sitting next to him. "that's too bad, blondie."

his lips sponge soft, wet kisses from her mouth down to her shoulders, and then back up. he angles her head so he can trail them up the front of her throat all the way to right below her ear. he lets his teeth graze at the soft skin until she’s letting out a shaky breath and pushing his face away.

"god, harry," he thinks she's going to cave. "i know you're practically a teenager, but you don't have to try and mark me up like one."

"didn't realize turning thirty meant you can't have any fun," harry bites back.

"i am not-" he presses his lips to hers, swallowing down whatever else she was going to say. he thinks if he had to spend one more second without his mouth on hesr, he’d die. "you're lucky you're pretty."

"you think i'm pretty?" he's got a teasing grin on his face.

"don't be annoying. look at you.” and that was it. he knew exactly how to get under her skin.

"do you think i'm prettiest in those yellow swim shorts you put in my suitcase?" he’s leaning in so his nose is nudging hers. lynn’s face flushes and she opens her mouth to speak but closes it. "don't get all shy on me now. i've felt you staring all day."

she scoffs, hands coming up to push at harry’s chest. "you wish."

"maybe i do," a kiss. "wore them just for you after all."

lynn fists his t-shirt, bringing his mouth back to hers. they kiss like they’ve been starved of each other for weeks. harry lets his touch slide up her calf, and his fingers caress the back of her knee.

"harry," her words are soft. a whimper.

"evelyn," harry’s fingers push higher, running all the way up to the inside of her thigh and back down. each time his touch gets closer until he’s thumbing at the cotton edge of her underwear. "what's the matter, blondie? you've gone all quiet on me."

"please," is all she says. it’s so quiet, harry barely catches it over the sound of his heart thumping in his ears.

"what was that?"

"you heard me.”

"i don't think i did."

"please, harry," she rolls her eyes at him, but harry sees right through it.

"please what?" his thumb slides a little under her underwear where he could feel the heat pooling. "are you still all achy?"

lynn nods with a whine in her throat and she turns her head to try and hide the pink flush in her cheeks. looking at her is practically intoxicating.

"gonna tell me where so i can make it better?"

when she doesn’t answer, he squeezes her shoulder, "here?"

her head shakes.

“hmm..” his fingers trail to her neck. “here?”

another shake.

“what about here?” he says as his fingers pinch back at her calf.

lynn groans as she takes his hand, pressing his fingers against her cloth covered center. "here, harry."

"poor, baby," harry murmurs against the crook of her neck. his finger is only gently running against the dampness of her underwear. enough to make her whine, but not enough to give her much relief. "got yourself all worked up over what? little old me?"

"you're ridicu-" a moan from deep in her chest cuts her off when harry thumbs at her clit. she’s looking at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest. he’s not sure if she didn’t expect him to actually touch her, or if she wasn’t expecting to sound so loud.

"here's what i think," he’s only looking at her, his hand back to barely touching her. "you like to act all tough, but it's quite the opposite, really. my sweet honey just needs someone to take care of her, doesn’t she?"

"y-yes.”

he adds a little bit of pressure. a treat for giving him what he wanted. "wanna hear you say it.”

lynn doesn’t answer, and harry tsks before pulling away from her. “nothing? what a shame?”

"i need someone to take care of me," she rushes out like she was so desperate for his touch to be back on her. and what kind of man would harry be if he didn’t listen?

"who?" he pushes further. she's looking at him with furrowed brows. "who do you need to take care of you? to make it all better?"

"you," she cries, her voice broken and needy. "need you to make it better. please, harry.”

"there you go," he praises her with a few kisses to her face. "c’mere, baby."

he tugs her hand so she’s seated in between his legs with her back pressed to his chest. she spreads her legs over his when he nudges her with his knee, and then his fingers find the hem on the pretty blue dress to bunch it at her waist.

"being so good f'me," he kisses her neck while he lets his fingers travel over the plush flesh of her tummy. sure, he felt her like this every night, but this was different. "don't wanna do anything you don't want to, okay? just have to tell me if you want to stop."

"okay," she rushes out. "just... please."

"such good manners," he murmurs against her skin. "think you deserve a little reward."

harry wishes he could forever hear the sound she made when he first dipped his fingers in the front of her underwear. he never imagined her to be so noisy, so loud, but with each stroke of his fingers came whines and moans and whimpers so filthy, they would make the devil look away.

his hand is cramping against the restricting fabric, so he pushes her ruined underwear down her legs, leaving her to kick them the rest of the way off, before moving her hand to the back of her thigh and instructing her to hold herself open for him.

“you’re so fucking hot when you listen, y’know that?” lynn whines at his words and squirms against him as his fingers slowly make a mess of her, watching the way her arousal strings between his fingers. harry’s breathing stops when he catches the perfect view of her. all spread open and glistening. just for him.

harry’s thumb rubs circles against her clit while the rest of his fingers move all the way down, teasing at her entrance. he never pushes in further than his fingertip before he moves them back up and starts again. he does this until she’s so wet that he knows it has to be dripping down onto the couch, and then he slowly pushes a finger in.

lynn’s head is tilted back against his shoulder, and he sponges kisses to the part of her neck that she has bared to him.

“do you think y’can come from this?” he murmurs against her skin. “i know it’s-”

“yes,” she’s quick to breathe out. “god, yes. you’ve got me so fucking horny right now. i’ll be the easiest you’ve ever had.”

and she’s right. once harry moves his free hand from her waist to her center to give her a bit more stimulation, she’s a goner. her moans and whimpers turn into high pitched whines, and her back arches away from him. he can feel her clenching on his fingers, and all it takes is one more curl and she’s nearly convulsing.

harry’s fingers offer lazy touches until she’s whining and snapping her legs together. his lips press warm, encouraging kisses against her neck and shoulders and really, anywhere they could reach. lynn melts in to him, her face falling in the crook of his neck. little giggles tickle his skin as he pulls her dress down to cover her back up.

“so perfect, evy,” he whispers. he expects another laugh or maybe a bashful shove, but instead she’s quick to stand up and head for the front door. “wait.”

"i- um, sorry i just," she clears her throat, and then. "i need some air."

"lynn-" the door slams, and harry’s left wondering what exactly he did wrong.

✮✮✮

harry: im sorry

harry: i shouldn’t have let myself get so carried away

harry: i don’t know what else to say but i am so sorry.

lynn shuts off her phone and slips it into her pocket before quietly opening up the door to the bedroom. all of their stuff was packed up. only an outfit that she had picked earlier in the day was left on top of her suitcase in a nice neat pile. the huge mess she had made in the bathroom before dinner was all packed up into her toiletry bag, and when she stepped a bit closer, she could see harry stretched out under the covers all the way on the other side of the bed. he was such a gentleman.

she felt so embarrassed when she found herself calling her aunt to let her into her condo. she didn’t mean to run out on harry the way she did, but once everything started to feel a little bit too real, she didn’t know what else to do. what was she supposed to say? i actually haven’t let anyone touch me like that in over half a decade, but yeah, we can call it two friends just helping each other out.

her aunt offered her a shower and a change of clothes and then sat with lynn on the bathroom floor while she cried so hard, she nearly threw up. aunt cece rubbed her back while she dry heaved over the toilet bowl, and then she sat and listened while lynn told her all about their fake arrangement.

“isn’t that pathetic?” lynn had said once she was finished.

aunt cece only sighed, “i think it’s more pathetic that you’re crying this hard over here instead of just telling him how you feel.”

and once aunt cece mentions that she thinks that harry likes her in a way that’s more than just platonic, lynn starts thinking that maybe letting him know about her feelings wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

they’d spend more alone time together once they got home. lynn would probably invite him to the bakery on a sunday where she could show him everything elena had helped her create. she’d send him home with loaves of bread and all of the muffins his heart desires.

maybe he’d let her watch him paint. they could spend sunny afternoons in the park with a picnic and a canvas. she’s only ever been artistic in the kitchen, but she’d definitely try to paint something for harry. it’d probably end up terrible, but he’d keep it. maybe even hang it up in his house. she knows she’d do the same. covering her walls in harry’s art just because they were made from him.

long nights would be spent in between her sheets, where he’d give her the best orgasms she’s ever had in her entire life (just like he did tonight). and then maybe, he’d let her touch him, too.

“he called me evy,” lynn told her aunt. it was the very phrase that had her running, but this time a smile forms on her face when she thinks of it. “i told him about evelyn, but not evy.”

it was a nickname her grandmother had given her. everyone had called the older woman evie, and so she called lynn, evy. she had said she wanted her granddaughter to feel like her own person, and the name stuck.

the first time her dad called her evy after her grandmother's passing lynn cried so hard she threw up in her front yard. it didn't feel right coming from peter, and even when luke wrapped her in all the love he could muster, pressing kisses to her face and promising evy that everything would be okay night after night, it still felt wrong. it was like there was an itch that could only be scratched by her grandma's voice. and now harry's.

“maybe she sent him to you,” her aunt’s fingers smoothed her hair away from her face before kissing her head. “go see him.”

harry looks up from his phone when he hears lynn step into the small room. “i’m so fucking sorry, lynn.”

his voice is raw and scratchy, and the thought of him crying over what she did to him makes her heart break. she climbs into the bed, sitting with her feet underneath her. “you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“but, i-”

“nothing, harry,” she stresses."you didn't do anything wrong. i just... i get in my own head sometimes. i'm sorry i left the way i did."

"it’s okay," he rolls over so he's facing her. his hand covers hers. "you can talk to me when you feel like that, lynn."

"the guy i dated before my last, he was," she clears her throat. "he was a friend. well, he is a friend and i think..."

she doesn't know how to say what she wants. lynn thinks dating her friend was one of the best decisions she's ever made. that relationship happened nearly a decade ago and she still secretly wishes that she was selfish and asked him to stay when he came to her door.

well, she used to wish. she hasn’t thought about it in a while.

she thinks that maybe her and harry could be like that. or they could try to be like that. they were friends. they knew each other and she was comfortable with him. comfortable enough to let his hand go up her dress. her cheeks warm at the thought.

she'll tell him that being with luke ruined their friendship and she was never close with him again. lynn never really minded the way luke slipped so easily from her life, but she’s terrified that the same would happen with harry. she really likes having him around.

she’s going to tell him regardless, and perhaps she’ll make him promise that trying wouldn’t ruin anything. that if their relationship went south, they’d still have their friendship to fall back on.

"i think that, um," she closes her eyes and harry squeezes her hand. “um, well-”

"it's okay. i'm still hung up on my ex, too. what happened between us doesn't have to mean anything."

oh.

"okay," she breathes, trying to make sure she didn’t look as devastated as she fucking felt. "good. that’s what i was going to say."

harry sighs, "i haven't been able to stop thinking about him recently, if i'm being honest."

shut up! shut up! shut up! shut up!

"why don't you tell me about him?" she gets under all of the covers, an excuse to pull herself away from him. "since you know about mine."

lynn doesn’t really know why she asks, but she did. so, she listens to harry talk about his stupid ex named oliver with a huge smile on her face. like she could not be more elated to be hearing about how much he loves him if she tried. lynn wipes his tears when he talks about how mean he was to the boy when they were in high school, and even holds his hand when he hiccups about how much he misses him.

“you should reach out to him,” she says, letting her fingers card through his hair.

“you think so?” harry sniffs.

“yeah,” lynn hums. “it might be good for both of you.”

when lynn mentions it, she doesn’t expect him to do it right then and there, but he does. he pulls out facebook messenger, and she has to pretend not to notice the way that oliver jones was the only saved search.

maybe they’ll meet up, oliver will want nothing to do with him. harry will have a cleared conscious and he'll come back to lynn. she’ll go to therapy as soon as the plane’s wheels touch down in westchester, so when he ultimately comes knocking at her door, she’ll be better. good for him. yeah, she thinks. that will totally happen.

she clings on to whatever little sliver of hope she had left because that stupid scenario was the only thing keeping her from bursting in to tears.

when lynn looks over at harry, he’s tapping away on his phone screen. the dim light illuminates his face, and she decides if that moment were to ever come around, she’d be selfish. just that once.

✰✰✰✰

a/n: this felt like sooo much information but! part six sooon (hopefully by the end of next week)

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tadpolesonalgae · 2 years ago

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Modern YA! Azriel x reader - Good, Little, Girl <3

A/N: I’m sure you’re all familiar with effects of this song, and if you aren’t, give it a go!

Warning: Az being a bit of an ass but it’s for reader’s sake, implied sexual harassment/assault, blasphemy

-Part 2- -Part 3-

Visual Prompt here!

His fingers fumbled with the set of keys, slotting them into the lock and opening the door, taking the umbrella from your hand and pushing gently against your lower back to guide you inside. You held the door as he shook the umbrella and stepped inside, leaning it against the wall.

Outside came the rumble of thunder, and peering through the large panel windows on either side of the dark, wooden door, you could see the already heavy rain become torrential. “Looks like we dodged the worst of it,” you tried to pick out the silver lining, however you had found yourself there.

Yes, there. Stuck with your only decent work partner until this storm blew over, and you could head back to your accommodation. You’d both been leaving the library, staying late in order to get your respective parts for the presentation finished up before heading out, when the heavens decided to rain down hell on you. And Azriel.

“It’ll get worse,” he spoke from over his shoulder, crouching down to remove his shoes, “give it a moment or two and you won’t be able to properly see the road.” You pursed your lips, again glancing anxiously out the windows. The rain had indeed already gotten heavier, making it look like a thin fog was rolling along the ground with how hard it was hitting.

A small droplet of guilt slid down your back as you marked his sodden hair, a clear line in his clothes where the umbrella hadn’t covered. You had a matching mark on your left shoulder. “And you’re sure it’s no problem me being here?” You knew you were repeating yourself, but you didn’t even really know him that well. All you were going on were the couple of late nights a week you’d been spending together at the library. He’d seemed fine…

Following suit, you crouched down to untie your shoes - also soaked - though your fingers were pretty numb so it took a while.

He stood, removing his outer jacket and hanging it from a coat hook, turning and holding out his arm. “Oh, thank-you,” you mumbled, handing him your thick, pale green scarf that was also partially soaked. He rose a single brow, mouth quirking up to the side as he placed the scarf beside his jacket, “I was intending on guiding you to the living room.”

Heat flushed your cheeks, “oh. My. God. I am so sorry.” You hid your face with your hands, feeling warmth ravish your skin. “It’s fine,” he chuckled, making you peek over your fingertips. “Really,” he laughed, gently, “don’t worry about it.” You closed your eyes for a moment, grimacing, before loosing your hands, though your cheeks were still warm.

Not hot though. That was good.

He turned, moving along the hallway before taking a left. You were about to follow, raising a foot to take a step, when a small droplet of rain dropped from your sodden tights. “Uh, Azriel?” You called, stepping back onto the mat, attempting to dry your tights. He stuck his head out from where you assumed the living room was, giving you a questioning glance. “My tights are kind of soaked.” You lifted a foot to show the water dripping from them steadily, “I don’t suppose you happen to have any…spare…” you trailed off, realising what a dumb question it was.

“Sure.” Your head snapped up to meet his serious gaze. At you confused expression, he waved his hand dismissively, “take those off. There’ll be some upstairs somewhere.” You swallowed. It made sense - taking them off - but, in front of someone you barely knew? He sensed your hesitation, “don’t worry,” he grinned, walking forward to the staircase, “I won’t turn into a drooling mut over your bare ankles.” He began ascending the staircase, leaving you flushed and confused in the entry hall.

After hastily, and awkwardly, removing your tights - thankful that the skirt you were wearing at least came down to your thighs - you quietly padded up the staircase after him. Looking down the long hallway, you decided to head to the door that was partially opened. Peering inside, you figured it must be his bedroom. You waited just outside, not wanting to intrude.

He turned to you, holding up a pair of fishnets. You swallowed. He laughed, re-folding them before rooting out a sheer black pair, they looked a little thin but you weren’t about to complain. “Thanks,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes on the tights and not nosing at the rest of his room. Bedroom.

In front of him, eye-level with his chest, you hesitantly took the elastic fabric from his larger hands, gaze flicking up to his, “is there somewhere I can change?” His brow narrowed at your question and you forced yourself not to shrink under his scrutiny, “are you purposefully acting dumb, or just being polite?” Your lips parted suddenly, a breath leaving you, “um?”

“Well, obviously there’s going to be a place to change? What, you think we don’t have a bathroom or something?” He questioned, and you couldn’t tell if he was being mean or genuine. “If you want something, just ask for it. It’s tiring hearing you dance around everyone’s toes.”

You remained frozen in front of him, not sure how to react. He cocked a brow, “the bathroom’s down the hall, fourth door on the right.” Confused, you turned, tights in hand, moving toward his door. “Do you always do exactly what everyone asks you to? Without question?” You paused at his door, looking hesitantly over your shoulder, “is it not the fourth door on the right?” He groaned, rolling his eyes. Shame flushed up the back of your neck. Had you done something wrong?

“God, are you seriously that much of a pushover?” He muttered, looking at you from beneath a lowered brow. “Um…I’m going to…change…” You began to move down the hallway, when he peered out of his doorway, “stop.” You stopped, looking back at him again. “Oh my god, you are,” a mocking grin lifted the edges of his mouth.

Your brow curved upward, confused. He’d seemed nice, cute even, on all those late study nights. So why was he acting like such an asshole now? You bit the inside of your lip, not deigning him with an answer. You’d go downstairs, text a friend to let them know your situation, and head out in to the rain. You were beginning to feel a little unsafe around him.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, making you turn to face him, “hey, if I told you to strip, would you do it?” Your mouth hung open at his crude words. His hand tightened on your wrist. This was too far, right? This sort of stuff wasn’t okay. But you were in his house… You’d put yourself in this situation, so…wasn’t it kind of your fault?

He laughed, a mean, taunting laugh, “holy shit, are you actually considering it?” His hand released your wrist as he backed up a step, “maybe I should have given you those fishnets.” Without thinking, you raised your palm, moving to smack him but he caught your wrist with slightly widened eyes. Too bad you’d already lifted your leg, slamming the heel of your foot down onto his toes. He released your wrist as pain lanced up his leg, downing him.

You took the chance, dropping the tights and running full-force down the hallway, practically leaping down the stairs as you grabbed your bag and dashed for the door, out into the storm. You didn’t even make it down the driveway before his hand was gripping your upper arm firmly, but not painfully. “Get off me,” you snapped, trying to swing your bag into his head but he caught it, tugging it from your grasp easily. You opened your mouth to scream, but his hand landed over your jaw, preventing any sound from escaping.

“Hey, calm down. I’m sorry, okay? Just calm down a moment,” he shouted over the rain, but you opened your mouth, about to bite him so he yanked his hand away. “Listen! I could very easily throw you over my shoulder right now and carry you inside, but I’m not doing that, am I?” He reasoned, hand still firmly wrapped around your bicep, “besides, how far were you planning on getting in bare feet?”

You levelled him with an accusatory look, “I wouldn’t have had to run bare-foot, if you weren’t being so insanely inappropriate,” you shouted back. “Fine! That’s fair. Just come inside at least, you’re soaked,” he returned, releasing your arm and holding up his hands as he backed away, giving you the chance to run. You glanced down the driveway, how the water was rushing over the brick red tiles, then back to him.

Turning back to face him, you stormed closer, jabbing a nail against his diaphragm, “you take one step out of line, and it’ll be an elbow to your mouth, understand?” His mouth kicked up at the sides, “is that a threat?”

“Normally, I’d say it’s a promise. But yes, it is a threat, dickhead.”

————————

You followed him into the kitchen-slash-living-room-area, the yellowy-orange lighting giving you an illusion of warmth that you appreciated, hands bracing your upper arms in attempt to keep warm. You went to the kitchen island, taking a seat and daintily crossing your legs. “So well behaved,” he remarked, watching as you neatly arranged your body so it was as tucked away as possible. You got the feeling he hadn’t intended it as a compliment. “Would you rather I threw those glasses on the floor?” You snapped, glaring at him, heart still pounding. You have him a once over, “from what I’ve heard, maybe that’s how you’d prefer it.”

He casually leant against the hob, crossing his arms over his chest, watching you from across the counter, “and what, exactly, is it that you’ve heard?” He challenged, raising a provocative brow. You probably shouldn’t answer that, it would come out as rude. Though you were still more than a little angry at the stunt he’d pulled. “That you’re a dumb, stereotypical, frat boy who doesn’t clean up after himself.” That wasn’t really true. All you’d heard was that he and his brothers threw great house parties - a lot of what you’d said had been based on various assumptions about him that you’d decided in the past minute.

But all he did was smile, as if he knew you were basically lying through your teeth, “‘a dumb, stereotypical, frat boy,’ huh?” You nodded, feeling heat build at the base of your neck. “Anything else?” You swallowed, not wanting to admit you really hadn’t heard anything bad about him, so you nodded, “I heard that you’re a boarder line alcoholic.” His grin widened into something more feline.

“Now that one’s interesting.” He moved forward, taking a seat across from you, watching you carefully, “any more you want to tell me about myself?”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his over the counter, “I heard…that you sleep around a lot…” Now you were really stretching.

“Slut shaming, are we?” If it weren’t for his teasing grin, you’d think he was serious. Instead you narrowed your brow, levelling him with an unimpressed look, “I’ve given you no indication whatsoever to whether I think that’s a negative description or not,” you countered smoothly. “Okay,” he propped his cheek with his hand, tilting his head to look at you, infuriatingly lazy grin still playing at the corners of his mouth, “and is it?”

You cocked your head, “is it what?”

“A negative description.”

You blew out an exhale, “that’s none of my business.”

“You aren’t interested?” He countered.

Scowling, “you don’t even know if I’m interested in men.”

He smirked, making the tips of your ears heat, “I meant you aren’t interested in verifying that particular rumour.”

Insufferable.

“You should have clarified.”

His grin widened, “I think I like knowing that your mind went there first.” Your scowl deepened as you glared at him over the counter top, “you’re acting surprisingly arrogant, considering we hardly know each other, Azriel.” His mouth quirked. You flushed, realising how much you’d been admiring looking at that particular feature. “‘Azriel’? I thought you were set on calling me dickhead?” You sent him an overly sweet smile, “forgive me, they’re synonymous with one another so I didn’t think you’d mind. I can continue using that name, if that’s what you’d prefer?”

His grin expression turned feline, “a nickname, how adorable.”

“There’s nothing adorable about it,” you snapped, “it’s an insult.”

Sparks danced in his eyes, “adorable,” he repeated, smiling, “adorable, little thing.”

Your brow dipped, “don’t call me that,” you snapped at him, regretting it as his smile widened. “What would you prefer, then?”

“My name, would be a good start.”

He sighed, “so mundane.”

You rose your brow, “big words,” you taunted, a grin lighting your mouth. He gave you a wicked smile, “I’m very familiar with big things.”

The grin was wiped from face, a scowl replacing it, “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked a little puzzled, “now, I can’t tell if you’re being genuine or just baiting me.”

You quirked a brow, “baiting you…?” He dragged a hand over his features, resting over his eyes, though a slight smile was dancing on his lips.

Once he’d reigned in his smile, he looked up at you, “I’m going to take a leap of faith and assume you understand comedic effect of an innuendo?”

You gave him a look of confusion, then made an exaggerated look of realisation, “oh! I get it now!”

He threw you a mischievous grin, “you manage to connect the—”

“You were trying to be funny!” You offered him an obviously fake laugh, which became a little too real when a scowl marred his beautiful features, brow dipping and lips tilting downward.

“Aww, can the mean man not take a joke? Surely you understand the comic effect—”

He waved his hand, “I get it. You don’t need to put me through a condescending explanation,” he gave you a pointed look. You leant forward on the counter, resting your jaw against your palm as you gave him a provocative look, “big words indeed.”

Azriel’s scowl deepened, but something mischievous sparked in his eyes. You didn’t like that look, it made you wary. “You know, I was going to offer you a change of clothes.” He leant further across the countertop, voice dropping to a melodic drawl, “but I think I’m enjoying the sight of you soaking wet.”

You flushed, hot blood rushing to your face as you physically recoiled in the chair, making him chuckle. “Do you have to be so crude?” You broke eye contact with him, casting your gaze across the living room mixed with the kitchen area. A shiver wracked your body as you remained in your wet clothes. “And what clothes would I even change in to,” you muttered, “I’d need a little more than a pair of fishnets.”

There was an intensity in his gaze; a slow, but wicked grin spread across his mouth. Your lower belly fluttered as you nervously leant back in the chair, “stop looking at me like that.” The grin widened as he leant a little lower on the tabletop, “like what?” You attempted to glare at him but you knew the flush was undermining its authority, “like you’re having some less than savoury thoughts.”

He hummed, the grin remaining on his mouth as he straightened, smoothly standing from his chair, prowling around the counter. You slipped from your stool, trying to hide your bare legs behind the chair, “what are you doing?” His smile appeared innocent enough, except for that damned glint in his eyes. “Don’t you want to get out of those?” He asked instead, softly; your arms came up to cover your chest apprehensively. “I’m not sure I trust you after last time,” you countered, quietly.

Azriel straightened, the glint vanishing from his eyes, leaving them a warm hazel from the yellow and orange lighting of the room you were in. “You don’t stand up for yourself enough,” he spoke, turning to head for the door, “I’ve already told you: it’s tiring watching you dance around everyone’s feelings.”

“So you’re saying you acted that way for my sake?” You shot back skeptically. He threw you a glance over your shoulder, his gaze serious, “yes.” He disappeared out into the hallway, leaving you standing behind the chair, confused and a little freaked out.

You followed him out in to the hallway, keeping a safe distance behind him as he ascended the stairs, “do you really expect me to believe you?”

“I know you do,” he called over his shoulder, “or you wouldn’t have come back to me.”

You frowned, “your house,” you corrected, in a low mumble, “I came back to your house.”

“Call it what you want.” You could hear the grin in his voice.

“And I can stand up for myself perfectly fine,” you snapped, “I don’t need you inserting yourself into my life because you think you know better.”

“You can’t tell me that you seriously believe that the work distribution was fair,” he muttered over his shoulder, “everybody knows you took on a disproportionate amount for the project.”

“I’m handling it fine,” you spoke primly.

“Please. In the past month how many late nights have you spent at the library?” It was a rhetorical question, but you answered anyway.

“Enough to get the work done to an appropriate degree.”

“Meanwhile the other three haven’t stayed past 2 P.M..”

“Okay, but that’s not your problem is it??” You snapped.

The two of you had reached his bedroom door again, Azriel moving toward the wardrobe, “it’s painful to watch.” He opened the door, fumbling inside, “not to mention dangerous,” he added. You rolled your eyes, “I’ll stop if I think I’m about to keel over from stress.” He turned to look at you, alarmed, a large, black, leavers jumper in hand.

College of Illyria.

“I’m talking about, had I been some other guy, you might not have even been able to reach the front door,” his voice was lethally soft. You blinked, unconsciously yielding ground to him. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” you replied, though your voice lacked the necessary conviction.

He sighed heavily, closing the wardrobe door, holding out the jumper, “for your sake, I hope so.” You hesitantly stepped closer to him, delicately taking the soft fabric from his outstretched arm. You didn’t thank him as you turned, quickly walking out the door and heading for the bathroom. Fourth door on the right.

In the hallway, you spotted the pair of tights you’d dropped when you’d made your hurried exit. God, why did he have to be such a dick about it? He couldn’t have just brought it up in conversation? Like a normal fucking person? Did he even understand how scared you’d been?

Your brow furrowed.

Maybe that was the whole point.

You bit the inside of your lip, unsure what to make of him. It seemed he did have good intentions. Like your flatmate would say: he’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit.

You bent over to pick the tights up.

“Jesus Christ.”

#azriel #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #modern! Azriel #young adult! Azriel #Shadowsinger #modern! Azriel x reader

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futureplayboibunnie · 2 years ago

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‘Unpredictable’

Dr Strange x fem!reader

- me when i get carried away again. lord this one has me in my feels cause its so angsty and cathartic and smutty and all that jazz. possessive Stephen is my niche, nuff said. i also took some inspo from the song ‘body paint’ by the arctic monkeys cause i got a request from it and a few other requests for a hurt/angst/ smut fic. ENJOY

You were so predictable.

Being a complete master of deception, subterfuge and trickery, it was only you could ensure such things on the conscious of whoever was stupid enough to fall into your traps.

Stephen Strange fell for all your traps, and if he could he would be so idiotic to fall for them over and over again.

Again, you were so predictable. The walls building up again that took him so long to tear down, one thing goes wrong and you put up that sad dreary face as well as your need to be a hermit, hiding away from the sun so it wouldn't be able to see you cry. It was tragic, almost Shakespearean, a Greek anthology of love, lust and whole lot of broken trust. Clumsy with the heart that lead him away from his troubles, the heart that can be as bleak and black as the darkened sky- switching up whenever it was deemed necessary. Said once again, you were predictable.

He really fucked up this time. Friends with benefits was never a mutually exclusive deal in the first place even though it was always advertised to be. Stephen was lying with you in bed, stroking straying strands of hair after a wild ride of heady and intimate sex, everything was so perfect- too perfect to the point he said the fated words of 'I love you.’

The words just fell out. Did he mean it? No, yes. Probably. You were just…so good for him, he needed goodness in his life, you make him good when all he wanted to do was take his anger out on the world that made him who he is. You could read him like an open book, letting him take all of this frustration out on you when all the fights and threats made a cyclone of panic and grit swirl in the caves of his chest. You were there, ready to take it all away.

You missed him, but you lay your bed...now you needed to lie in it. What made it all the more ironic was that it was Valentines Day, how delightfully cliche.

It isn't the fact that he said 'I love you', it was that he was in love in the first place. He felt it, identified what it was and he said it- he shouldn't have felt love for you in the first place. You'd only disappoint him, you wouldn't be able to give. Stephen what he wanted. A relationship. This deal is now null and void, letters addressed to the fire. Forgetting about it seemed like the only way out of this hellcasted abyss.

You could let yourself grieve or you could fumble about with the piano in the centre of your apartment. Bored of all the thoughts, you wandered to your piano, sat yourself down and fiddled with a few random keys- losing yourself in the music. It was now just dawning on you. The moon wasn't as bright as it used to be since you left Stephen, the windows from ceiling to floor being evident of that- the stars were twinkling but barely. It was so dark, the array of lit candles strewn around the place were enough to make the atmosphere much less stark. The neon lights of the high street adding a faux glow.

Being sad made you annoyed, you needed to suck it up. It was just an entanglement after all. Your fingers pressed against the ivory of the grand piano, setting the same note over and over again- as if it were a reflection of your days without him, one note, the same, monotonous, tedious. He really lit a fire under your ass, catching you out as a means to make you smarter. Now it was as if you were stuck in a doom and gloom 50s neo-noir, you had the sexy self loathing all you needed now was a lighter and a pack of Parliaments.

Stephen was outside your door. He never chased after a woman, but your loss hit him harder than ever, unlike anyone else. The image of you leaving surfaces in his minds eye as he stares: your sad, ashen face stricken with hurt and confusion. The memory burned- it was painful and unwelcome. Stephen portrayed himself as noble, willing to sacrifice the one for many but when it comes to you it was damn near impossible.

I made her that miserable.

He frowned at the thought.

He took everything too far, too quickly. It fills him with the dread he's become all too familiar with since you left him. His reunion with you is something he didn't want to mess up, he didn't have the tip to straighten out the kinks of what he was going to say to you...because he didn't even know what he was going to say at all.

Maybe you never wanted to see him again. Maybe you were fucking someone else.

He winces at the thought. He would much rather have you never see him again than anyone else laying a finger on you, touching you, fucking you. A carefree exchange with anyone else made his concern and sadness turn into rage.

I'll break their fingers off from the fucking knuckle.

Stephen knew he was being an asshole when he didn't give the grace of knocking on your door, he just opened it.

Lost in your idle overthinking, the dim lights of the candles and the music flowing from your fingertips, you were too distracted to see that Stephen had let himself in. You peered up and stopped the movements of your hand, eyes widening slightly, but you didn't show him any of your thoughts or feelings even though you were filling with rage at his gall- you just acknowleged him blankly, as if he were a stranger. Your eyes stripped him bare and left him raw as they did the first time he saw them.

‘’Get out.’’ You said meekly but your words didn't offer enough strength to fill it through, you were becoming red with fury and blue with sadness all at once.

Stephen closed the door, letting himself flow into the scent of candles and sombre music.

God, the fucking cliche of it all.

He didn't talk, he just let himself wander to you. You were stilling with every step he took near but you were too tired to fight him off when he sat next to you, growing closer to your body heat. Not acknowledging his presence, you continued playing as a means to drown him out. Stephen sat with you, staring at every move you made intently through blackened eyes.

The scent of her.

Stephen took your hand and you freezed, playing uneven notes, shock causing you to halt in your tracks as he clasped your hands in his and held them together tightly. The physical reaction Stephen teased out of you was irritating- your lips loosened immediately, and you found yourself expaining your feelings.

‘’I don't want you to go.’’ Your voice seemed certain.

Again, switching up- predictable and ironic.

‘’The last time we spoke, you left me.’’ He murmured, the colour draining from his grief stricken face. ‘’Forgive me if I'm a little nervous.’’

Man up Strange! Look her in the eye and tell her what you want.

Your eyes locked with his, a perpetual and never ending battle between two sad people aching for an escape. A relationship with him would make this dream of yours all too real, when it was just hookups and when it felt clandestine. It felt like a dream you could indulge yourself in every now and again, and it was so good- no strings tying you back to reality...but now he wants to pull the rug from under you and wake you up from it. The two of you in love would mean that it would make you weak, someone could take him and strip you of all your humanity- you would go insane if anyone took him from you. With all of these threats in the world, it wasn't an option you were willing to entertain.

You loved him. You did.

‘’I don't want you to go.’’ You repeated again, this time your voice was wavering and cracking from the pain, or hurt or confusion, the want, the need for him...you didn't know what you were feeling at this point...all you knew is that it was a heavy feeling on your chest.

Stephen kissed your hands and smoothed your fingertips with his thumb, he peered back up at you, he was watching your every move. You were sure the tears were about to fall down the skin of your cheeks but you sucked them back in.

‘’I'm not going anywhere...Just tell me what you want.’’ He attempted to coax you out with reassurance.

Your mind was travelling to a million different places at that request. What do you want? You wanted Stephen to stop this ever immortal White knight quest, you wanted him to fuck off and get out, you wanted your love for him to be his only constant, you wanted him to fuck all of the sadness out of you right now...make you his.

‘’I don't want you to love me, I don't want to love you but...I need you.’’ You whispered as your fingers found its way out of his hold and went straight to his hair, playing with tufts of it to absolve you of your irrational fear of losing him forever.

Stephen was rendered speechless, your hold on his hair being his only anchor to reality.

You loved him? The world wasn't spinning right on its axis, he was sure it was a one way street, but you proved him wrong. Unpredictable?

His palm was twitching, he wanted to get his hands on you- feel you. It was as if the sun hadn't risen for days, he was in perpetual night without you.

So help me God, if anyone even thinks about hurting you.

You made him jealous. He lost control. Impossible, confusing woman. But you needed him now...that was enough. Stephen's bodily reaction was visceral.

‘’I need you.’’ You whispered softly against his lips as reassurance, his eyes were still transfixed on yours.

‘’Good.’’ Stephen said simply. He'd care about wanting to love you forever later, right now all he wanted to do was feel you- even if it was for tonight.

Your lips connected with his, a brutal clash of pent up frustration, sadness, jealousy, pain rendered physical through mouths. It almost felt metaphysical, something beyond purpose and reason. His hands fell to the sides of your neck, grasping tightly as you clambered onto his lap. You settled there as if it was home, big arms holding you steady- melting into him already. Your blood was burning, yearning for a future that wasn't possible- but in this moment it didn't matter. He tugged on your hair harder and it made him open your mouth that much wider to taste at you, it was as if the stars were aligning once more- the thought kickstarted your heart.

Stephen kept replaying your words in his head, it's not right for both of you to fall for each other, but you did.

She loves me. He thought, it was almost dreamy.

Even though you could take care of yourself and he hated cliches, he wanted to be the one to find you over at a bar...save you from the resident asshole that's been stripping you naked with his eyes and wants to get in your pants; Stephen would drape his arm around your shoulder and pull you towards him, freeing you from unwanted advances.

Hey, baby, is this guy bothering you?

You'd melt into him, relieved. Stephen would most likely want to rip the 'fuck you' expression from the asshole's rugged, smug face, he would fall into that macho hubris of protecting what was his. Being a show off wasn’t foreign to him. You would be pissed, obviously...but the asshole wanted what Stephen had.

Keep your hands off my girl.

My girl.

It was Valentines Day after all, he was brimming with overused romantic cliches- no matter how much he hated them. The hero of the story. Being a real life superhero meant nothing if he wasn't the Knight in shining armour. How beautifully ironic.

Now this was something unpredictable.

You were becoming more desperate now, eyes darkened with desire, feeling the heat from his body, the way he was hardening under you. It was searing you white hot forever. You wanted to be bathed in it but Stephen has always been into delayed gratification- that one time he edged you for a week suddenly popped into mind. He fucked you over your own kitchen counter after his torture. The thought was simply spurring you on, you ground down on his rough jeans, internally relieved that you weren't wearing any pants and only a shirt. His hands roamed free on your body before grabbing you and laying you down on top of the grand piano.

Stephen's mouth was still bound to yours, as if witchcraft. You wondered at how in his presence he made you feel an entire spectrum of emotions: from angry, to sad, to fearful and to carnal. Before Stephen, life was but a bore, a monotonous mission to get through every waking day, but when he scooped you up everything changed. Being with him is like being in a storm, all emotions colliding and crashing together, then surging and ebbing away. Right now the only emotion he felt was intense arousal.

‘’You see what you do to me?’’ Stephen panted into your skin, fawning over your body in the dim moonlight, impatient fingers itching and clawing to get your shirt off. He got it done in half the time.

‘’Stephen, I haven't stopped thinking about the way you know exactly how to get me like this...it's hell.’’ You whispered as you helped him get off his shirt.

Hell? Perhaps. Sometimes he thinks he was made in hell...but you were an angel.

‘’I'm not stopping now.’’ Stephen bit are your jaw and neck, littering you in the marks he knew you loved but forced him to avoid. No. Not anymore.

The possession in the statement made you shiver, your fingernails dug into his shoulder blades as a response. Lust and need was thickening your blood and it made you moan into his mouth; he took it as a wake-up call when your tongue wrestled with his- erotic, raw, intense.

Stephen's nimble fingers stripped you of your underwear, you were naked and begging under him- the way he likes it. His whole body tightened at the sight of you, he just needed to be buried in you. He felt pathetic letting you get under his skin but he couldn't find it in himself to care- not when you perched yourself up and your hands flew to hasitly and roughly unbutton and unzip his jeans.

‘’Whoa..easy, easy.’’ He said in an attempt to tame you, finding an aburd amount of pleasure in the way you just couldn't wait.

‘’Don't make me wait.’’ You said, deadly serious as you got it off for him.

Relentless and infuriating. Perfect.

Your legs parted further for him and he nestled between the sweet valley of your thighs once more, it was automatic at this point. You attempted to create friction but Stephen, being shameless as always, wanted to drag it out.

Your whole body buzzed, when his beautiful fingers played with your pussy, dragging up and down and toying with your clit as a means to see you fall apart. You whimper at his intent focus on your face, the reaction he pulls from you when he plays and teases you like this. It makes his ego soar. You had the ability to make him feel ten feet tall.

‘’I missed the face you make when I touch you.’’ He grunted and he swallowed your moans and sharp exhales. You were so wet, it was bordering on dangerous. ‘’Beautiful...and mine.’’ Stephen didn't mean to say the last word but it just fell out, he'll deal with the ramifications later.

You were tense. Too tense. That stretch he moulded was making you unrevel, his cock entering and exiting you without any avail. One hand on your waist and one hand in your hair, swollen parted lips meeting with his in a fit of neediness and desperation you haven't felt in time. It was a burning and overwhelming feeling; his rutting inside of you felt so brutal and so good it was intoxicating.

‘’Fuck me harder.’’ You blinked up at him. ‘’Please?’’ You smiled bashfully, remembering the delightful importance of politeness. The last time you felt yourself smile seemed eons ago, but here you are.

He let out a breathy chuckle at your impatient request, but he let you have your fun considering he did as you asked. It was much harder this time, the pump of him hitting that spot that made you see the sparkling of stars.

Stephen let go of his control, his surpression of impulses, he completely lost his mind when you wrapped your fingers in his hair and bit his ear. A turn on you teased out of him of course. Stephen put you out of your misery, stretching you in a way you didn't think was humanly possible; you often thought of him as unhuman- his name was Strange after all.

‘’That's my girl.’’ He panted and with those three words you felt yourself come undone.

His girl.

You were swooning.

Fuck Valentines Day.

An overwhelming heady feeling awashed you with the feeling you've been craving, he worked you through your orgasm, that scream ripping through your throat told him all he needed to know. A collision of moans and prolonged pants symphonised in the air as you both emptied yourselves.

Shit.

Stephen lay down next to you on the piano, it was like you were both in a smoky, jazzy vintage Hollywood film. Again, fuck Valentines Day. You spent no time clinging onto him desperately, it felt so wrong and so right- an impossible mindfuck. He held you in his big arms, drunk off the feeling you gave him.

You needed to tell him how you felt about him, about the possibility of a relationship. A frown contorted on your face at the thought that soured your mood.

"My girl''

‘’I-‘’ You started but he cut you off almost immediately.

‘’Don't...’’ Stephen muttered under his breath. ‘'Just don't say anything...Let me just lay here with you, even if it's the last time.’’He sounded forlorn and melancholic, accepting of his fate that he's lost you.

‘’No…Just listen to me.’’ You peched yourself up to look at him in his eyes, swirling in a cyclone of quiet sadness and loss.

‘’I don't need to tell you I love you... I'm just scared that loving you is going to make me feel weak, like I can't protect you. Like I have the chance to lose you. Saying we should be together, makes it real and when it's real...all I can think about is losing you.’’

Your face was etched in guilt and anxious uncertainty, so afraid of what the future may hold for both of you. Stephen was sure he couldn't love you anymore than he did right now. You were just as overprotective and crazy as he was, crazy in love, crazy for you- it was all intertwined.

‘’You should be more worried about what I'll do to anyone who touches you rather than me.’’ He smirked slightly and it made a scoff fall from your lips.

‘’Stephen. I'm serious.’’ You glared at him through heavy and exhaused lids. Oh, he could be so obtuse and pious sometimes.

‘’So am I. You make me stronger, you make all the wars worth fighting for and that is the thing that gives me strength. Maybe you should let it give you that strength too...’’ He trailed off, actually registering and acknowledging his feelings when he said them out loud.

‘’How philanthropic.’’

‘’Shut up and listen. I love you. I don't care what the future holds but all I do know is that I want to be next to you day by day, night by night.’’

You'd never seen him so certain ever, it made a swollen bubble of light swell in your chest, the heaviness gone.

Okay. Whatever the future holds, you would wait for it when it comes.

‘’Okay.’’ You whispered with a weak smile on your face.

'’Okay.’’ Stephen repeated with a shit eating grin that threatened to split his face apart, he was attempting to contain how surreal he felt. He was giddy, he wanted to jump your bones right now and take you again just out of pure happiness. He pulled you into his arms and you let out a playful yelp, peppering kisses over your skin as you laughed.

Unpredicatable...huh..

‘’You being unpredictable...I thought that I'd never live to see the day.’’

——-

me when i get carried away again.

#dr stephen strange #dr strange angst #dr strange fluff #dr strange x fem!reader #dr strange x y/n #stephen strange smut #dr strange smut #stephen strange

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novacorpsrecruit · 1 year ago

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You and Me (In the Center of the Apocalypse)

[stuck in the upside down AU, read on ao3]

“Parents suck, man,” Eddie exhaled.

“I bet they don’t even know we’re missing,” Steve mumbled. He moved forward, changing his demeanor as he knelt in front of the couch, looking expectantly at Eddie. “Let me take a look at your bandages. You soak through them?”

“I think I’m fine,” Eddie said, letting Steve pull back the blanket to eye the bandages. “Steve, you really should clean yours.”

“I’m fine, Eddie,” Steve said. “We need to save resources for you —“

“If you die on me because you get an infection, it’s gonna be fucking ironic,” Eddie said. “Look. Two trailers down, there’s gonna be like a shit ton of pink flamingoes outside. That’s Ms. Maggie’s house. She’s a nurse. She’s gonna have a shit ton of supplies there.”

“Eddie —“

“Two houses down,” Eddie said. “You’ll step on the porch and see it. Take Wayne’s gun.”

Steve snapped his head to look at Eddie. “Wayne has a gun?”

“Two. There’s a shotgun and a pistol,” Eddie said, lifting his chin gently to point. “Behind the TV stand.”

“Eddie, I can’t leave you—“

“I swear to God, Steve, if you die, I die!” Eddie gritted through his teeth. He sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back into couch. He soften his voice, his harsh words barely louder than a whisper. “If you die, I die.”

And for a while, he couldn’t hear Steve. As if he turned into stone in the living room. Maybe Eddie was too harsh. Maybe he should apologize. Eddie went to open his mouth before he heard a rustle of clothing and heavy footsteps. Eddie opened an eye, cautiously watching as Steve approached the TV stand to find Wayne’s shotgun. He opened the barrel, ensuring it was loaded. “Just two houses down?”

Eddie nodded. “Flamingoes lining the yard.”

Steve nodded, standing in the doorway hesitating. He looked out towards the Upside Down before turning back to Eddie. “Do you got a spare key around here?”

“What?”

“A key,” Steve said. “Can I lock you in?”

“To keep me safe?” Eddie said with a soft laugh. “Stevie the bats came through the vents. A locked door isn’t going to keep them out.”

Steve nodded, pressing his lips together. He took a step towards the TV stand and retrieved the pistol. Steve nearly shoved it into Eddie’s hand, holding Eddie’s hand around the grip. “I’ll be quick. Do not fall asleep.”

“Got it, big boy.” Eddie deepened his voice, as if he was a horror film narrator. “Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.”

Steve glared at him.

Eddie playfully winced. “Too on the nose?”

“A little,” Steve said, stepping back and towards the door. “Tell me that joke next week when we can rent Elm Street back home and maybe I’ll laugh.”

“Back home,” Eddie mumbled, resting the gun in his hand across his stomach. “Yeah. Got it. Go on, big boy. I’ll protect the castle.”

Steve pressed his lips together once more before nodding and taking off. He was so scared of leaving Eddie. He hated stepping too far into the kitchen, Eddie barely out of sight when he boiled the water. He was scared that at any moment, Eddie’s body would give up and let go. Steve could do CPR, but he didn’t have the power and the resources to keep him alive. There were no doctors or nurses in the Upside Down. Just him, Eddie, and the monsters that inhabit it.

Steve cautiously made his way over to Maggie’s trailer, gun in hand, aimed cautiously. It was too quiet in the Upside Down, the storm finally passed, but the dark clouds still loomed above. Like Eddie said, pink flamingoes lined the entrance to Maggie’s trailer. He slowly approached the door, hesitating before shoving his shoulder into the door, breaking the door and entering into the trailer.

He aimed the gun up, fully expecting something waiting to tear him apart, but was met with black vines and more flamingo décor. He mumbled to himself as he carefully stepped over the vines, and towards the bathroom. His first instinct told him to check every room to ensure it was clear before he started to search for the first aid kits. But he didn’t have time. He couldn’t, knowing Eddie was waiting on him. He set the gun down as he dug through the bathroom cabinets, finding a decent selection of bandages, topical antibiotic creams, and medication. He pulled out one of the plastic totes that held the majority of the supplies and piled the rest on. Steve wondered about getting a second container together, but if they need more, they could come back. By then, Eddie should be feeling good enough to go with Steve.

Or maybe the party would be able to retrieve them. He guessed that’s the good part about waiting near the gate. They will know as soon as they’re able to break through.

Steve picked up the supplies and his gun and went into Maggie’s kitchen, digging through her cabinets to find anything that had a strong shelf-life and required little to no prep. He piled as much as he could into her stock pot before taking the short journey back to the Munson Trailer, gun in one hand, and supplies carefully balanced in the other.

The quiet of the Upside Down made Steve’s steps sound so loud. The awful silence was welcomed, maybe the monsters died with Vecna. Steve and Eddie had nothing to worry about. All they needed to do was survive until the party comes back for them.

With the supplies balanced on one hand, he shifted the gun in his hand, holding it by the barrel as he pulled the door open —

BANG!

Steve collapsed to the floor, dropping the shotgun and the supplies. The shot still ringing through his ears. His hand immediately went to his cheek. He removed it, blood coated his fingers.

Eddie shot him.

[continue reading on ao3]

Current WC: 14,565 * Chpt 2/5(?) * Mind the tags

#steddie #steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #stranger things #steddie fic

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caitlin666 · 4 months ago

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Ellen Schreiber On Her Website For Vampire Kisses Inspiration

In the summer of 1998, I wrote Vampire Kisses. It was published in Belgium in 2000 (YAY!) and the fabulous Katherine Tegen of HarperCollins bought it in 2001 to be published in the fall of 2003.

The idea for Vampire Kisses came to me in three ways...

1. A character. 2. An image. 3. An obsession.

THE CHARACTER

In the late 90s, Id read an adult novel that I thought was kind of bland except for a very minor character--a rebellious teen girl. I thought if the book was about her, it would be interesting. That thought must have stuck with me--the idea that Id like to write about a character I thought would be interesting to read about. Beyond being rebellious I wanted to make my character confident, feisty, headstrong, fearless, and an outsider. And of course, shed have a sense of humor. And instead of her being the sidekick, the friend, or even worse--the antagonist--shed be the heroine!

THE IMAGE

At the time I was living in a four family apartment building which had a view of a small playground. It was the beginning of a hot and sizzling summer and I saw two goth girls standing on swings and swinging. The contrast of their black outfits, make-up, and hair against the rays of the blazing sun really caught my eye. At the time, I thought one day I might write a poem and call it Dark Angels.

THE OBSESSION

The character and image merged into my head and I couldnt get it out. I was ready to write. Once I married my character with the goth image, I decided she would be obsessed with something--and then it popped in my head--vampires!

THE ROMANTIC VAMPIRE

When I wrote Vampire Kisses all the vampires I was familiar with were bloody, violent, and negative.

I wanted to write about and explore the romantic vampire, without the gore. I liked the idea that a guy could be in love with a girl for all eternity and wanted to write about that kind of strong internal and eternal drive and relationship. My vampire would be rebellious too--in his own way--not the typical violent vampire--but the thirsty for love kind. And of course, hed be hot, hot, hot!

So the hot and sexy vampire that Raven would fall for wasnt going to be malevolent. He was looking for true love and a relationship he could sink his teeth into. That set him apart from other vampires in his world, and like Raven, hed be an outsider, too.

RAVEN

That was how Raven was born. Back in that summer of 1998 when everyone was out getting a tan and jumping in the pool, I was holed up in my apartment with my computer that faced a bare white wall. I began writing and creating the kind of character I wanted to read about-- a headstrong girl, who was fearless, feisty, and confident. I decided shed live in a conservative environment and dress differently than those around her. And to her it wouldnt matter. She wasnt about to conform--because that was who she was.

ALEXANDER

When I wrote Vampire Kisses I imagined Alexander as a young Johnny Depp. Hello! Need I say more?

Again, he wasnt going to be the typical vampire--he was going to be searching for a girl who he could love for eternity. Wed see him from Ravens perspective, hed be sexy, dreamy, and of course, mysterious.

TREVOR

I started with his appearance. He was based on a guy Id met while waiting for a plane at the airport. He had blond hair and piercing green eyes. I used him for the physical attributes of Trevor. Trevor was intended to be a character that offered romantic tension for Raven in the beginning of the novel. However, when I write I just sit down and put fingers to key board and Trevor began showing up in every scene! He was originally intended to be a small part, but he just kept showing up and driving Raven--and me-- crazy. Ultimately, by the time I finished the book, he had became a major character in the novel and now the series.

AUNT LIBBY

Aunt Libby is a combo of my Aunt Esther and my long time friend in Chicago. Everyone should have an Aunt Esther! Shes really loving and kind and always into talking about my love life. My friend, Andrea, is a totally hippie-girl, but much more successful in the arts than Aunt Libby. I think shes Jim Morrison reincarnated.

JAGGER

David Bowie has two different eye colors and I always thought that was cool. And twins always fascinated me--the bond that they must share must be so intense. So I had Jagger and Luna be twins--only one was born a vampire and the other born a mortal.

RUBY WHITE

Way before I wrote VK, I spotted a woman who was dressed head-to-toe in white. She was so striking I guess she stuck in my mind. When Raven got a job at Armstrong Travel, suddenly that lady showed up. She wound up being a great contrast to Raven, who is always in black.

DULLSVILLE

I placed Raven in a small town where it was most likely shed be the only one like her and could really stand out. And in a small town rumors spread quickly.

At the time, I felt like I was living in my own Dullsville. Even though I lived in a city-- I was pining for my own true love. The one that you can truly be yourself with and that you cant stop daydreaming about!

I always get the question... where is Dullsville? Is is based on a real place?

Dullsville is a state of mind. Most of it lies in my imagination, but a few parts are based on places Ive driven past. My mom came from a small town in Illinois and she told me they had events like a spring carnival. So I used that as a setting for the end of VAMPIREVILLE.

My husband and I would go for rides in Ohio--corn fields, barns, and pastures for miles. I used one of those houses for Beckys.

HIPSTERVILLE

Again, a town I created that isnt based upon a real place. Its a mixture of my imagination and streets in Chicago. Some readers ask if its Yellow Springs, Ohio. It isnt but Id love to go there--as it sounds like an awesome place!

As I began writing the novel, I didnt have any idea of plot or other characters. I just sat down and began to write. Trevor was a very minor character--just meant to be a blip on the radar screen. And at that time, I hadnt even thought of Jagger, Luna, and Valentine--or the Coffin Club.

VAMPIRE KISSES was first published in Belgium by Facet in 2000. It was called- De kus van de vampier.

Since my friends and family cant read Dutch, my brother Mark was kind enough to print some up in English. I didnt have an agent (here in the US).

I remember thinking, when I originally began writing Vampire Kisses... I thought maybe I could submit it to Facet, the publisher in Belgium that published Johnny Lightning. I had no idea it would go further than that. Now there are going to be at least eight novels and six volumes of mangas and both are published in other countries.

Im so happy I chose not to get a tan that summer. It pays to stay out of the sun, just like a true vampire!

#vampire #vampire kisses #goth #gothic #emo

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itsthestutterforme · 2 years ago

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Trip to the Bahamas (Jake Seresin x black!reader)

Prompt credit @prompts-in-a-barrel : “Please send help” “Babysitting not as easy as you thought.” “They’re so small. Anything could kill them. I’ve never been more stressed in my entire life.”

Summary: Jake is babysitting his niece while his sister is in the Bahamas, and he is severely inexperienced. So he makes a call.

Notes: GIF is not mine, mistakes are my own, flufffff

—

A blaring ring jolted you from your sleep, a scowl making its way onto your face as you searched the room for the culprit. “Y/N, help me!” Jake screams from the small screen of your Alexa. “How did you drop in on me, Jake? I could of had a guy over or something,”

“Yeah right,” he retorts. “You know what? Bye, I’m going back to sleep.” “Wait, wait, I need help.” You heard a distressed baby crying in the background. “Jake, why do you have a child?” “My sister is in vacationing in the Bahamas and dumped her eight month old on me. That’s why I haven’t been texting you back. I don’t know how she does it. I just want to sleep,” he whines.

“How long have you been babysitting?” “Two days,” “Wow. I’m surprised you survived that long,” “Wise ass,” the baby wails even louder and you cringed at the incessant sound. “Please send help,”

“Babysitting not as easy as you thought, huh?”you taunt. “They’re so small. Anything could kill them. I’ve never been more stressed in my entire life.” he says, practically on the verge of tears.

“Okay, okay. I’m on the way.” You groan, putting on your slippers. “Thank you,” he says in relief before hanging up. You reached for your keys and your phone, leaving your apartment in your bonnet, your 2x t-shirt and loose shorts. You looked down at your phone, groaning ever louder when it read 2:47 a.m.

“Jake, I’m going to kill you.” You say as you stepped into the elevator. You drove to Jake’s house in twenty minutes time. You lifted your hand to knock on the door but the door flew open before you had the chance.

This was the most disheveled you’ve ever seen Jake. His dirty blonde hair fluffed out, a few strands tucked to the side. He had dark circles under his eyes and even some peach fuzz growing in. He had god-knows-what stuck to his shirt. He made it his mission to keep up an arrogant, perfectly Texan performance so no one can see how much of a sap he really is.

And because of that, it made it really easy to hate Hangman. That was until you caught him crying in his car outside the liquor store rambling on about not feeling worthy of love and for the first time ever, you could relate to him. And you felt something besides hate for Jake Seresin.

Since you took him back to your place and talked with him until he fell asleep, you nurse his hangover the next day, he’s never left your side.

He gripped your hand and yanked you inside. “I don’t know how to make her stop crying,” he runs a hand over his face anxiously. You took a look around his house to see toys everywhere, dishes scattered throughout the kitchen and living room. Clothes draped over the floor from his room to the living room too.

“Jesus, Seresin, it looks like the Grinch threw up in here.” He sighs and drops his head in defeat. “Hey, just relax and take a deep breath. I got this.” You patted his back for a moment before approaching the wailing child, her face red in distress.

You took off her shirt and pants to check for any scratches or cuts. Nothing seems to be hurting her and there’s no wheezing indicating that something was in her airway. Her diaper is changed. Everything seems fine.

“When was the last time she was fed?” You asked him, picking the baby up and placed her on your chest. Her little baby arms began squeezing at your boobs, her cry faltering a bit. You quietly shushed her while you used your arms to rock her. “She refused the bottle all day. Barely drank anything.”

“Okay, I’ll go make a fresh bottle then.” You made your way over to the kitchen, shifting her from your chest to your hip. Her head remained resting on one of your boobs. You spied a binkie on the counter and rinsed it off before offering it to her. You smiled when she gently took the binkie from you and put it in her mouth.

Jake was flabbergasted by the scene in front of him. This was the first time he’s heard silence since his sister swung by. He took a much needed deep breath.

“Good job,” you told her and she quietly whined when she saw the bottle. “I know but I need to make you a new one, okay?” She began to cry again but not as loudly as earlier. You dumped the bottle in the sink and rinsed out the remaining formula before making a new one.

You continued to shush her while you waited for the bottle to warm up a little in the microwave. Once you took it out, she spit out the binkie and took the bottle into her hands to drink. You caught the binkie before it hit the ground and set it back on the counter.

“How did you do that? I thought you hated kids.” Jake questioned, raising a brow. “Oh I do. I still think they’re little goblins, but they’ve always tend to like me ever since I was in high school because I had large boobs. Boobs are comforting to them.” You said with a shrug, giving your hip the occasional bounce.

He neared you, watching as his niece drank down the 12 ounce bottle like it was nothing. And sure enough, she was drinking the bottle but still rested her head on your boobs. “Huh. And you haven’t babysat before, I’m assuming?” “Nope, never did. It just came naturally I guess.” “What’s her name by the way?” You added. “Grace,” “Grace Seresin, hm? Let’s hope you don’t turn out like your uncle,” you teased.

“Thank you,” he said with a sigh. “Go take your shower. I’ll do some tidying,” you gave him a nudge and he made his way over to his bathroom, stepping on a Lego on the way there. “Ah shit,” he groans, making you chuckle. Grace looks up at you with amusement on her face, her eyes matching Jake’s shade of green.

“You want another bottle?” You ask and she gave you a swift nod. “Okay,” you scavenged the diaper bag for a six ounce bottle to make for her. When she was drinking that down, you tried to put her down on the couch so you could clean up a bit. She whined as soon as you put her down and extended her arms over her head.

“Just as clingy as your uncle, I see.” You said before picking her back up and balancing her to your other hip. By the time Jake finished showering and shaving his peach fuzz, the dishes were piled in the sink instead of all over the house, his clothes were in the laundry hamper and you used another laundry basket to put all of the toys in.

It even looks like you swept too. Women are superheroes, Jake thinks to himself. A tired smile makes it’s way to his face when he sees you sleeping, sitting down with Grace sleeping soundly on your chest, her head buried into your neck. He pulled the blanket off the couch and draped it over your lap.

He grabbed two pillows and an extra blanket from his room. He lifted your head to cushion it with the pillow. He settled into the space next to you, laying another pillow on your lap. He gathered the blanket around his body and laid his head on the pillow in your lap. The smell of your vanilla body oil you put on before bed lulls him to sleep.

Who would have thought that one person would change an entire situation from chaos to peace? Who would have thought that person would be you?

Should I do a part 2? 🤔

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imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs · 1 year ago

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AxZ Week Day 7: Umbrella

@senshixshitennouweeks

Rain.

So many things that people connected with the rain.

Some people saw it as something depressing. An ill omen and a spoiler of plans. What simple lives they must lead.

Rain could replenish the land, inspire paintings and atmosphere for movies.

Though some inspiration could be welcome now.

Zee drummed absentmindedly on the piano, trying to capture the quickening drip-drip-drop of rain. If he was ever stuck on a composition, he would sometimes open the window and play to the sounds outside. The bustle of the city, the sound of the wind, maybe a bird song he could use for rhythm if he was lucky.

Right now, though, it sounded more like chopsticks being played for the first time with one hand tied behind his back. A sure sign that he was just plain stuck.

A green eye flitted over to the couch.

Ami sat on the couch, her expression similar to what he felt, as she stared down at the book in her hands.

“How goes the studying?” he said, his finger landing heavily on the b-flat key.

Ami looked up and heaved a sigh so heavy it would need a forklift.

“This is horrible,” she said, holding up the book. Chariots of the Gods? Unsolved Mysteries of the Past read the cover.

“Ah,” Zee said, nodding. The old ‘pyramids built by aliens’ angst.

“It’s bad enough that most of it is based on speculation,” Ami continued, “but then he says that black people were an alien experiment!”

“If he only knew,” Zee said.

Considering that any and all remnants of the Golden Kingdom and Silver Millennium were by now dust, and that little if any of what the two of them remembered had no pyramids to speak of, he could see how the scholarly love of his life found that particular work so frustrating.

“I think we need a break,” she said, putting the book down and rising from the couch.

Zee smiled and closed the lid on his piano.

“I think I’ve got a pastime that will really shake out the cobwebs,” he said, heading for his room.

He returned with a portable boombox that had seen better days.

“Don’t bother taking your umbrella,” he said.

Ami frowned.

“And why wouldn’t I need my umbrella?”

“My sister and I used to do this all the time,” he said, as the two made their way to the elevator and Ami pushed the ‘down’ button, “trust me.”

When they had walked out the front door of Zee’s apartment building, he sat the boombox down and hit the play button. The voice of Rihanna began to beat from the speakers as Zee dashed out into the rain.

You have my heart

Zee grabbed her hand and sprinted out into the falling water. In her mind, Ami knew running would make the two of them more wet than if they just stood still, but the energy Zee was giving off was infectious. In spite of herself, Ami found herself laughing.

And we'll never be worlds apart

Puddles exploded under their feet as they jumped and stomped in them.

Maybe in magazines, But you'll still be my star

Zee took her in his arms and spun, their movements becoming some sort of off-kilter dance.

Baby, 'cause in the dark, You can't see shiny cars

Memories sprang into Ami’s mind; memories of the first time on Earth back when it was new; of seeing rain for the first time and the feeling of wonder it created. And for a brief moment she pondered if this was how the princess of Mercury felt all those millennia ago.

And that's when you need me there

Musical notes filled Zee’s mind and a story to go with it. A girl made of rain drops and the blessed calm she brought. But the worry of whether he would be able to remember it later was paltry compared to the beauty in his arms.

With you I'll always share

The rain seemed to speed up, but neither party cared, too wrapped up in having their fun. Soon, frustrations and boredom evaporated, replaced by the euphoria of simple pleasures.

Because

The warmth of their skin under the chill of the rain.

When the sun shines, we'll shine together

A young man and woman, barely done with being a boy and a girl.

Told you I'll be here forever

Minds racing with emotions.

Said I'll always be your friend

Invigorated by the seasonal rain.

Took an oath, Imma stick it out to the end

Troubles past and present far away.

Now that it's raining more than ever, know that we'll still have each other

And only the now, in this moment of fun, holding each other, dancing to the sound of an old Rihanna song, mattered, as the two leaned in for a kiss.

You can stand under my umbrella

They’d probably be sneezing and stuffed up by the next day. But between the two of them, who needed an umbrella?

You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh

#senxshiweek2023 #sailor moon #senshi x shitennou #ami x zoisite #sailor mercury #Ami Mizuno #zoisite #reincarnated!Shitennou #my writing #bssm #bishoujo senshi sailor moon #bishojo senshi sailor moon #Amizoi #fanfic #fanfiction #reincarnated!shitennou #rihanna #songfic

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theoneforwriting · 2 years ago

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When you still want time

Ao3

Summary: Ava had wanted to start smoking.

“Ava?” It was a slow night, they were on Earth in what looked like the middle of nowhere. Which meant there was a middle of nowhere gas station that had cigarettes. Ava had gone outside to sit in one of the parking lot’s dark corners, amplifying the temporary stillness the night produced. “Gloria?” She parroted back, she flicked her cigarette and the ashes landed on her bare feet. Gloria ignored her and sat next to Ava on the large parking block. “Why did you start smoking?” “Does anyone really start smoking,” she waved her hand about leaving behind a smoke trail only seen by the distant lights shining from the diner “or does it just happen?” “Well for you, yes, it’s one of the first things you ever said to me.” “Mmm, you sure have some elephant brain up there.” Ava responded, knocking the side of Gloria’s head. “And you sure are dodging the question.” Gloria said, she raised an eyebrow. Ava put her hand to her chest in mock offense. “I am wounded you would-ow?!” Gloria cut Ava off as she clambered over her. Ava’s dramatics had given Gloria enough time to steal a cigarette. “Hey!” Ava yelled. Gloria stuck her tongue out and then put the cigarette in her mouth. She gave an expectant look. Ava sighed, leaning forward with her cigarette in her mouth she lit Gloria’s with hers. Now there were two dim ends of cigarettes that were only bright enough to illuminate their fingertips. “Something wrong with your lighter?” Gloria asked as she leaned back into her own space. “It’s finicky as all hell.” Gloria hummed in understanding. A few minutes passed in silence before Ava groaned, sounding frustrated. “What?” Gloria asked, bemused. “Fine, you have forced my hand Gloria, but you are one of the only two people I would ever tell this to, so you better keep your mouth shut.” Gloria mimicked zipping her mouth shut, locking it, and then throwing away the key. “I am sealed.” Ava rolled her eyes at it but nodded in satisfaction. Ava layed down with her bottom still on the parking curb and head on the concrete, she looked like a strange bridge for tiny people. “I was giving myself an out.” Gloria tilted her head. “An out?” “Cigarettes are, no duh, not the best for your human body, but they’re also not as horrible for it as some alien shit we’ve seen.” Ava smushed her cigarette in the concrete next to her head. “But these things” she pointed to the dimming cigarette without looking “are slower, if it did something to me it would be a while before it did.” Gloria remained quiet. “I was, do not ever tell Caspar this, at my wits end with the diner, at that point I was messing around with everything else other than the diner.” She swung herself back up into a sitting position. “But then you came and knocked over the radio.” Although Gloria couldn’t see it she could tell Ava had a sly grin on her face. “Now I don’t need my out anymore,” she picked up the box and rattled it “but damn these things are good.” There was a heavy silence, then Gloria laughed. Her laughter sounded genuine but mostly hysterical. But it was enough to get Ava laughing too. Soon they were both struggling to get air and leaning on each other for support. They were wheezing and rocking back and forth. It was as if the cloudy sky opened up in response to the mirth between the two. The crescent moon was bright enough to show the tear stained face of Gloria. But Ava wouldn’t say anything about it, as long as Gloria didn’t say anything about her own glossy eyes.

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predoom · 3 months ago

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ohoneohone

Thursday, February 2nd, 2006 1:16 pm this city helps me forget love doesn't bore me. it disappoints me.

there is a pile of lamps and clocks stuck on 11:11. cause i wish i could fucking believe you. Saturday, January 21st, 2006 12:17 pm i hate you and i hope you die. yes. i realize that you will make fun of me/take stabs at me/post ridiculous pictures of me. i realize that because of this band i have given up some of my privacy and personal life. i accept that. i can laugh at myself. i realize i will get called a douchbag. i get what i get.

i have begun reading things about my friends and family.

that i will not accept.

i read things written by people who kiss my ass to my face. i remember who you are.

fuck you.

bring it on me. please leave my friends and family alone. it is extremely hurtful to me.

if anyone is a friend of mine out there please tell your friends.

i on the otherhand am open game. i have a good laugh at all of the stuff written about me. i am silly, i realize that.

thank you.

peter Thursday, January 19th, 2006 1:55 am wahahahahaha. i laughed for like a million hours at the shittalking over at: www.friendsorenemies.com

its way fun to see your friends make fun of you. it keeps you levelheaded.

it has gone live. Sunday, January 15th, 2006 3:23 pm its too hard living where we don't belong i fear this may all have been a mistake.

love,

little Saturday, January 14th, 2006 4:14 pm "noones ever been this good for this long" this is everything i am thinking right now with out transition. i apologize for my brains lack of linear thought processing: i hate the way it gets dark so early here this time of year. i guess "seasonal depression" kind of falls under "ADD" and "post tramatic whatever disorder" for me. i feel like its science from the madhatter down the rabbit hole. not too real. but lately i just wake up blue - my only thought is- how soon will the day be over so i can get back into bed. i open my eyes just a tiny bit and blur the numbers on the clock with my eyelashes. every word you say rolls off of my back - the praises and the barbs. i don't hear either, ever. sometimes the tips of my fingers itch from the back of my head- just to get the chance to tear someone to pieces and just barely let them off the hook. i swear to god, i was asleep alone. quick text me an alibi and oh god please don't dust the keyboard for prints. sometimes i stare out of the frosted window and make up stories as people walk by. the bottled blonde, park ave. princess walking whichever dog matches her coat. you know how i could turn your world upsidedown. its not love if a day goes by when you don't think about dropping it. its not the world keeping you on the outside, its you not wanting to be on the inside. everyone wants to be the first. buts its okay to be the second if you understand it better, if you make it look prettier. worn down doesn't even touch this. and theres nothing worse than when someone acts like they have you figured out, when you haven't even figured yourself out. nice boys don't write good stories or sing good songs. and his songs are boring. and his stories are just personal ads set to background music. i found the skeleton key for wedlock but i am holding off on telling her. on telling anyone for that matter. consistent inconsistency. thats all you ever have to remember and you'll do okay with me. dancers are always strippers. and paying their way through college is the BE VE. oh and hey pete do you remember the way the world used to trick you with fifty degrees in january and orange leaves in june? button your jacket tight, don't believe everything you read... don't even believe everything you wrote. i'm tired of always leaving. i'm tired of the way things always/never change. swim upstream until your gills bleed just because thats what genetic encoding commands. there aren't any trophies that are really worth it in the end. they can put you in a box when you are very young, so you'll be a pretty corpse but there are too many pages filled with too many words to lie beside you forever. intelligent design is the last great joke i heard. but honestly, no one will ever stay where i tell them, least of all the years. they keep moving. worlds greatest liar and how do you know i'm not lying when i tell you this right now? and thats coming from the king of one-liners. copy and pasted - long live the away message. kiss the monitor. fast asleep baby. Friday, January 6th, 2006 8:11 pm i am just a hot mess. i woke up to the feeling of myself throwing up today. pretty much put a damper on the entire day. i ate about 50 stomach pills and then threw them all up- it was a pretty color in the toilet. my toungue is black on the top right now. i am pretty sure thats a bad thing. i watched way too much gastinaeu (however you spell it) girls today. i think it made me sicker. it took me awhile to realize that they were mother and daughter and not sisters- but the mom is kinda hot in pissy kind of way. my mom is out of town so there was noone here to take care of me- my brother was around but hes pretty much always bongzilla'd. so i waited for back-up caretakers to arrive- one of them was busy cutting hair and the other has like a "real" job besides being dad.

the best part about vomitting alone in the morning is the way the bathroom tiles feel kinda cool in a pleasant way so i took a nap there for a bit. i want to see hostel tonight but the problem is all the vomitting- see its not that i mind so much its just what if i run into someone in my sicky gear and puke on them?

wow. i am glad i did this update. arent you?

im gonna leave the comments open cause i never do- just write down the first thing that comes into your mind when you see that reply button- heres mine:

i am just a hot mess. (1330 Comments |Comment on this) Saturday, December 24th, 2005 9:57 pm blue christmas so i was sitting around this christmas. just kinda getting bummed out looking at the lights outside of shiny houses in my neighborhood and decided that it was time fall out boy gave somethng back. we decided to pick a cause that we feel is often overlooked- education of poor people in africa (specifically ethiopia). we feel like education is one of the most important building blocks in change- so after doing some research we found and organization that we felt really was doing it right: www.a-cet.org - this isn't some glossy amazing press piece it is doing something quietly to make a change- and we loved that. so we decided to put a couple of old and rare FOB and clandestine items up on ebay. here's the deal- if you dont see the link off of a fall out boy site than don't trust that it is us doing it- part two- keep bidding the more we can help the better. and three we will keep adding more items up here for a bit so keep checking back. they are all legitimate and endorsed by FOB and all items will come signed. happy bidding:

a clandestine shirt sample that was never made: http://cgi.ebay.com/never-produced-clandestine-shirt-sample-fall-out-boy_W0QQitemZ4812617551QQcategoryZ52473QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

breakdance not hearts shirt worn on big in 05 awards: http://cgi.ebay.com/clandestine-breakdance-not-hearts-shirt-fall-out-boy_W0QQitemZ4812615104QQcategoryZ52473QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

giant moonman pez dispenser given to nominees at the VMAs http://cgi.ebay.com/giant-VMA-moonman-pez-dispenser_W0QQitemZ4812612435QQcategoryZ52473QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

complete set of take this to your grave trading cards. including rare card: http://cgi.ebay.com/fall-out-boy-trading-card-lot-takethistoyourgrave_W0QQitemZ4812607828QQcategoryZ52473QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

new:

original bleach "i am the dream" shirt clandestine: http://cgi.ebay.com/original-bleach-clandestine-shirt-i-am-the-dream_W0QQitemZ4812798220QQcategoryZ52473QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

original secret order shirt http://cgi.ebay.com/secret-order-of-FOB-shirt-hyper-limited_W0QQitemZ4812800208QQcategoryZ52473QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

alternative press poster signed by entire band http://cgi.ebay.com/alternative-press-poster-fall-out-boy-limited_W0QQitemZ4812796786QQcategoryZ52473QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

spend your xmas cash... Thursday, December 8th, 2005 3:34 am last week i got to hold a baby orangatan (spelled completely wrong).

that was the best moment of my life.

ill try to find a picture.

try to imagine a regular baby, mixed with a puppy, mixed with the song "dont stop believin" by journey. Tuesday, November 22nd, 2005 12:59 am sometimes my own words dont suffice. "i hope that our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us i hope we come up witha fail-safe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us i hope the fences we mended fall down beneath their own weight and i hope we hang on past the last exit, i hope its already too late and i hope that the junkyard a few blocks from here someday burns down and i hope the rising black smoke carries me far away and i never come back to this town again. in my life i hope i lie and tell everyone you were a good wife and i hope you die. i hope we both die" Sunday, November 20th, 2005 1:36 pm sometimes its like never started sometimes it like its never gonna end Friday, November 11th, 2005 12:35 pm i won't tell a soul if you dont want me to. hearts between our knees sticking to summer sheets. Saturday, November 5th, 2005 4:59 pm keep me fast the way he runs his mouth its a wonder that i havent caught a flight home just for a second alone the way he runs my mouth makes me hate you just as much as him thank god i spend most of the daylight dreaming in wine colored beads the sun never caught me right when i was little i splash water on my face in sinks in green rooms like pinching yourself or trying to wash the miles off down a dark hotel hallway the finger prints in pink and blue like skin and veins i try to jump from the doorway to the bed so i dont leave footprints so i dont disturb the carpet like sand you want shyer eyes you want bigger "im sorry"s and regrets for things that i.Yo.u. did you want survivors in the wreckage you want flashlights in the cave you want second chances for second chances i loved everything about you that hurts your scars, your flaws, your not so subtle attempts at wit and irony that always fell a bit short and felt forced your insincerity, your imitation that you passed off as exploration your morning smile 3 year stand (off) her breathing is shallow she shakes whenever i get near- i guess its an occupational hazard its okay we dont have to talk. youre just a body. heaven sent and percoset. even though we're fading fast.... im sorry "pretty"- you were just a canary in a coal mine. Tuesday, November 1st, 2005 7:57 pm there are many things that i would like to say to you but i don't know how im not even too sure what goes on, especially in my own head. one second its one way and the next its another. i have a funny way of showing i care. but i do. i have to say it- halloween wasn't the same this year with out you. i i had the best time ever in southern california. but it wasn't really halloween with out you. and new years won't either. my calls go out today but they'renot picked up. i get what i get. i got some friends who are wearing their egos on their sleeves. its ok. i'll play dumb. you are a shadow of who you once were. "can we start agains" ive had my share. for the past month my mood has been however our phone calls ended. it felt like i was dying inside when i hung up the phone on you. but i have to make a point. you can only act like dirt for so long before you become it. but theres nobody like me and you. i feel like veins and ligatures when you aren't around. and breathing in isnt the same when you're not breathing out. percoset revolutionary. "look mom, no breathing". fucking fading. fucked up, but not cool fucked up. maybe we rip the map in half and someday we meet up in the middle. by accident or just because. everything and everyone ends up faced down on the floor in the end.

you are my wonderwall. Wednesday, October 26th, 2005 6:51 pm my mom said 'make sure you go to sleep smiling tonight baby cause you'll wake up feeling better" i just re-read everything you wrote over the past two months.

i miss my friends.

there is life after this. i promise myself. Tuesday, October 25th, 2005 10:51 pm everything they say about us is true im watching scary movies like every afternoon. i got some new slipper and pants. i look ridiculous. dreamboat. the inside of my head is always changing. even right this second. when i go back over all the details it makes me so glad im not in that town anymore. all of a sudden we're always in the crosshairs. it kinda feels normal now. we used to goof around about killing ourselves off. but sometimes it wasn't a joke. i can't sleep when the bus isn't moving. went to the fender offices today, they are gonna make me some basses. pretty exciting. the only thing ive ever learned is that its pretty easy to say "i love you" its alot harder to mean it. my friends are dropping like flies. everyone looks good when they are the one with their fingers on the keyboards. history is written by the conquerer. we're headlining an amphitheater tommorrow. thats retarded. fistfightking. makeoutqueen. past midnights. get amazed.

Current Music: 2sweet

#ohoneohone #itiswhatitwas #content and formatting unchanged from original #pw #blogs #archive

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jamiesfootball · 1 year ago

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@thetarttfuldickhead for the tags

I could talk about this scene all day.

First off it were up to me this alone would’ve gotten Bret the Emmy. Because I could look at Roy’s expressions here for hours there’s is just so much going on

The Roy we see in that episode is depressed. He’s refusing help from people. He’s throwing himself into the world of his niece’s football team. He’s on a double date with Keeley, Rebecca, and that other guy and he is just barely restraining himself from openly judging the guy Rebecca is seeing when he admits he supports ‘whichever team is winning at the time.’

The underlying knot of these scenes is how Roy is struggling to navigate retirement when his passion for football is still very clearly what gets him up in the morning. He’s mad, he’s sad, but it’s all stuffed down like a shark underwater, the way he holds himself back from expressing any of it.

Then we get to the end of the episode with the Lust Conquers All thing and OH BOY WE SEE IT. Did you think he was actually coping? Well FUCK THAT.

So there’s Roy and he lost his career but there’s Jamie and Jamie FUCKED UP HIS CAREER ON PURPOSE? Really Roy could kill him. He could actually kill him, if sitting in front of the tv with the yoga mums and watching Jamie make a full of himself on national tv wasn’t the closest thing he had to catharsis these days—almost a religious experience, getting to feel so strongly and clearly when most days he’s stuck in an endless fog.

And like the tags said he HATES that Jamie has thrown away what Roy wants back, and he’s barely restraining himself with the yoga mums and there is that dark satisfaction of seeing your rival fuck up.

But there’s also the bit of you that’s always invested in where your rival is, and if they’re winning so you can know if you’re winning, and Roy doesn’t have to wonder now — they’re both losing. He hates it but he loves it. They’re both stuck on the outside together. It’s schadenfreude at its finest.

And Roy’s face? There’s this thing he does with his face that’s incredible to me, because the only way I can put it into words is-

“Oh, you.”

It’s irritated and annoyed and borderline fond, the way he hates this guy, yeah, but he also gets a kick out of him. The way he’s not funny, his jokes are bad, but Roy is low key amused about them and annoyed that he’s amused and annoyed that Jamie makes him feel amused and annoyed Jamie makes him feel anything, really.

Roy hated that he’s out of football but somehow Jamie Tartt is still here and Roy is struggling he’s sad he’s angry he’s devastated he’s a million feelings he can’t get off his chest-

-but there’s one thing about football, one small piece of his previous life that he can still have, unchanged and unsullied by his retirement, and that is Jamie Tartt

fave Ted Lasso moments 27/? : I'm the island's top scorer. Sexually.

#the insane tangle of emotions indeed #and this is just some of it. this is scratching the surface #It’s like a Rorschach test the way I’ve always got something new to say about this scene #roy kent #jamie tartt

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ellie-wallace · 7 months ago

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It was 11:57 pm, and the four of us were stranded in a broke down car in the middle of nowhere.

"What's wrong?" I asked my boyfriend as I leaned forward.

"I don't know," he replied, twisting the key on the car. The engine made a clicking sound, but nothing else.

"Are we stuck here then!?" My sister asked, glancing nervously outside the window beside her. The bamboo outside was just barely visible in the moonlight.

"It'll be fine," Timothy, my boyfriend's friend said as my boyfriend pulled a switch in the floorboard, and the hood popped up a few inches. “We'll figure it out."

I don't want to be out here all night, especially not with whatever lives out here.

Timothy opened the passenger door and stepped outside. My boyfriend reached down and pulled on a lever, there was a low pop sound, and the hood of the blue Plymouth Barracuda lifted up.

"Try cracking er again!" Timothy shouted from outside, I could only hear him because the passenger door was left open. Which didnt seem to be loud enough for my boyfriend, who after attempting to start the car again with no luck, turned the crank on the car door, rolling the window down to hear him better.

The car just made clicking sounds, but that was it.

"Dadgum it," I could hear Tim shout from under the hood.

"Do you think you know what's wrong with it?" My boyfriend asked, getting out of the car and walking over to where Tim was.

I couldn't catch everything they were saying, just a few words here and there.

"-What?-"

"-Sounds like-"

"-walk-"

Their words were also drowned out by the sounds of crickets and distant frogs, but I could hear the words "walk".

There's no way in hell I'm walking anywhere, especially not here of all places!

I looked over at my sister Kylie, her face told me she heard it too.

My heart began to beat faster at the thought of being stuck here; having to walk sounded worse.

I looked nervously at the bamboo beyond the window, I could almost see the eyes Grouchy staring at me.

I knew It was just my imagination. Those types of monsters don't exist. We came here specifically to try to find out of it's real, sure; but I never really believed in those sorts of things. My boyfriend told me stories about demons and things he's seen growing up, but I always assumed most of those had to do with his- less than legal hobbies.

But still, the feeling that something was out there was so strong..

It's paranoia, I told myself. Grouchy is not real.

Tim stuck his head through the window into the car and said, "Me and Charles are going to the store up the road."

"Not without us!?" Me and my sister both said in unison. I remembered passing a convenience store on our way here before we decided to turn back around.

And before the car broke down.

"We'll only be a few minutes, it shouldn't be far," Tim replied.

"You two can come with us if you want," my boyfriend said from beside where Tim was.

I wasnt sure which was scarier. The thought of being stuck in a broke down car on the Mc Murry bridge, where Grouchy supposedly roamed- or the thought of walking around the the darkness, without a good flashlight to help us see: And within that second, I made a decision I'd soon regret.

"We'll stay here," I said.

"What!?" My sister turned to me, "Have you gone mad!?"

"Well, I'd rather be in here with locked doors, than out there without anything to protect us."

"I'd protect you," my boyfriend said. "It'll be okay either way, that critter's just a myth anyways." I knew he was just trying to make me feel better. There wasn't a doubt in my mind he believed something like "Grouchy" could be real. Charles was obsessed with those types of stories. He was basically a real-life version of those 'there are aliens in my corn' type of people that southerners are often portrayed as in cartoons.

"Alright, I guess," my sister sighed. "If it'll be quick."

"It should be." Timothy told us.

"We'll be back soon honey," my boyfriend said, giving me an air kiss before he closed the car door, turning around and disappearing into the darkness ahead. As soon as they closed the doors, I reatched up and pressed the small, silverlocks down on both doors.

Neither I nor my sister said a word for the next ten minutes.

The sound of a stick cracking in the woods beside the window sent a sense of unease through my body. I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached into the front to crank the windows up.

The forest sounds silenced away, and the inside of the car felt so quiet that I could hear my pulse.

"So, what now?" I asked, desperate to break the ominous silence.

"We sit here, I guess," Kylie replied, before coming up with an idea. "Maybe we could listen to music or something?" She picked up the yellow radio from off the car.

"Sure, why not?"

I covered my ears as a loud hiss filled the car, making my heart skip a beat as the radio spat a deafening static. Kylie quickly turned it down with one knob, then began twisting the other. Every now and then we'd hear words- some sports game, a guy preaching about Jesus Christ, someone talking about U.F.Os: Finally, she tuned the radio to some decent music. It wasn't getting the best signal, but it worked fine enough. We were listening to a rock song- not one I'd ever heard before, but it was alright. The lyrics were quite depressing though.

The next song wasn't as depressing; in fact, it was one I actually knew of, called Dear Toby. It was one my boyfriend used to listen to a lot on one of the CDs he had.

We listened for a while, none of the songs were great, but they were something to keep us distracted from the fact that we were stranded alone, right beside the Mc Murry bridge of all places.

The music was cut off as static took over the speaker. "Maybe I bumped the knob?" Kylie asked, picking up the radio. She carefully fidgeted with the knobs, but no music came out.

"Weird," I said after a while of rough, monotone white noise.

"I can't even get anything to-" Kylie's sentence was cut short as a noise broke through the static. A noise that sent chills all the way down my back and arms.

Growling.

"Turn it off!" I said, snatching the radio from Kylie, flipping the power button off, and the growls were cut out in an instant.

Me and Kylie didn't move for a long time. My heart was racing. There's a logical explanation to this, I thought to myself. Maybe it was just some signal, and the radio was just messing up.

But it sounded a lot like growling- like a dog or something, but it really did sound like growling.

"What was that?" Kylie asked. Hearing something other than my own heartbeat was nice.

"It probably just picked up some signal from something and played it weirdly. Radios do stuff like that, right?" I knew I had to at least pretend I knew what I was talking about. I didn't want Kylie to get scared. Even though she was fifteen now, she was still my younger sister.

"Do speakers usually growl?" She demanded; then after a few moments of silence, she asked the question I didn't even want to think to myself. "What if it was Grouchy?"

"It was just some radio error, that's it," I said matter-of-factly, no matter how much part of me wondered if Kylie was right.

We waited for a while, not talking about anything. My heart was pounding in my chest, starting to feel sore by now.

"I wonder if there's a storm or something messing up radio signals," I suggested, desperate for a theory that actually made sense.

"Maybe," Kylie said, looking out the window, toward the bamboo forest outside.

"It's okay," I told her, but seconds later, neither of us were thinking anything would be okay.

The car began shaking back and forth violently, as if someone were jumping on the hood.

"Charles!" I screamed as I wrapped my arms around Kylie, my heart feeling as if it had stopped, along with all the blood inside my veins. “If this is a prank it's not funny!”

We ducked down as the shaking continued for another minute, before finally stopping, as suddenly as it'd began.

Neither me, nor Kylie didn't dared to move.

What felt like hours passed as we stayed there, frozen in fear. My heart had continued pouding again, though my blood still felt idle and frozen, and I worried I would pass out if it didn't slow down soon.

"What was that?" Kylie whispered, looking at me as if she were about to cry.

"I- I don't know,” I stuttered, my words getting caught it my own throat.

My body pulsed with fear yet again, making my heart freaze again as a sound came from inside the car.

Static.

Me and Kylie both turned our heads in unison, staring at the radio that was still turned off. But static was now coming through the speakers.

I tried to say something, but I couldn't. My body was completely locking up with fear and terror.

Then, the static faded and changed, as if someone had turned the knob to a radio station.

"It's out there."

The words didn't sound like a normal person's voice. It gave off the same feeling as those hyper-realistic dolls my aunt used to have. It sounded so real, but something about it sounded- off. Goosebumps rose along my arms.

"W-what's it?" Kylie asked me, though we both had a good guess.

"The god of midnight."

The voice answered us as if it were a phone. But it's not connected to anything.

None of us spoke after that. We waited for what felt like an eternity, listening. But the static was gone, the voice was gone, and the car was so quiet my ears began to ring.

"W-where is he now?" I asked the radio, and after about a ten-second pause, the box answered.

"It's out there."

The voice said out there differently than it did last time, and me and Kylie both knew what it meant. Not out there as in, he's in the bamboo, but rather out there as in, he's right outside the car.

We turned our heads at the same time, as if our fear had connected out minds. We both sat up to look out the window where, standing about six feet away from the car, stood Grouchy.

It was standing on two legs, the way a bear might. Its nose covered half its face, like a deformed bat; and when it growled, it showed a mouth full of teeth- I didn't see how so many of its teeth could be shown without opening its mouth- like its cheeks were curtains, revealing a performance of dancers: only these dancers could kill us in less than a second. Each tooth looked at least a foot long, its mouth reminding me of an anglerfish almost. A really big anglerfish.

But Grouchy- or the 'god of midnight' didn't move. It only stood there, watching us; its eyes no more than just red circles.

I tried to speak, but I couldn't. The creature stood at the edge of the bamboo forest, its silver claws like razor blades.

Grouchy's head turned suddenly, like an owl. Its body stayed still, but it turned its head, glancing toward the road ahead. I held my breath, completely frozen with fear.

Suddenly, Grouchy turned around completely, dropped down to four legs, and walked into the darkness surrounding the bamboo, disapearing into the shadows.

My paralysis was broken the second I heard something grab the driver-side door of the car, and I jumped, screaming as the door flew open.

"It's okay it's okay! It's just me," Charles' voice entered the car.

"Thank God you're back!" I practically screamed at him, my voice sounding strange. I didnt realize until then that I had been crying. "We need to get out of here now!"

"Why? What happened?"

I pointed toward the bamboo, and my boyfriend looked back at me, and his face told me he believed me- and maybe my face told him I saw something. "Alright," he said. "We got the part, so we'll be out of here as soon as we get it replaced."

I let out a huge sigh of relief. My veins had finally thawed, and my heart was pumping blood through my body faster than it was supposed to.

My heart didn't slow down until the car was driving down the road and me, Kylie, Charles and Tim were all far away from that place.

Even when my heart eventually calmed down, I couldn't get what I saw out of my head.

Those red, circular eyes- the curious, yet dangerous gaze-

I never did anything like that again. Me and my boyfriend used to always enjoy searching for monsters and demons people told stories about- the thrill fear gave us was like our version of watching horror movies.

I used to love those kinds of stories.

Until I was the one telling one.

#short story #literature #author #writing #writers on tumblr #horror #scary stories #fiction

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nightcall99 · 1 year ago

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Dreams from 25.7.23

Dream 1: I’m trying to find to my car from where I had parked it in a previous dream. In that dream (which I did not remember until now), I had it parked in the driveway of a random house but when I went back to get it, it was trapped into it's spot by two other parked cars. These cars presumably belonged to the people who lived in the house. I would not be able to get my car out at all. But this time when I go back to the house to check on whether my car is 'free' to move, I find a car has been parked directly on top of mine. It is night time, so I can barely see anything but I can see that half of the car is resting right on top of mine. It's a convertible sports car, dark in colour. It must belong to a girl who lives in the house. Whoever they are, they're well off. I have a feeling that they did this to get back at me for parking my car in the driveway in the first place.

I really need to set my car free so that I can drive it to work. I creep into the house. I don’t know why, but I do. I am trying to get to something that’s inside. Maybe the car keys of the convertible so I can somehow move it off my car. Then I realise the people inside are awake and I'm actually terrified of them. It's two women. I really don’t want them to catch me inside of their house. I figure they might kill me if they find me. While I am creeping around, I realise that the women inside are blocking the way out. In that, even if I find what I'm for, from where they are standing, I won't be able to escape unnoticed. I keep thinking about how I really need to leave, free my car and go to work. I assess the situation, trying to find another way out. I pull the curtain back on a window to see if I can leave through it, but the opening is too small. Even if I can get it to open without making a noise, my body won't fit through.

Then there is someone who suddenly appears beside me, its not the people who live inside this house. It’s a girl from outside. I don’t know why but I trust her and recognise her as a friend even though I don’t know that I've met her before. We seem to communicate telepathically. Is she really there? I don't know. She encourages me. Now I feel brave. She says, the way to the front door, the way that you came in, it's free now. Those two ladies are having an argument in the other room, distracted, and you can make a run for it. I'm going to do what she says. I’m scared but since it’s really dark and they wouldn't be able to recognise me anyway, I gain a bit of confidence and make a run for it. I’m successful, I leave. The girl, the friend, she appears again. Now she’s outside with me in the driveway but there is still the issue of the other car being on top of my car. I think the girl helps me lift the other car off my car. Or somehow I realise I am able to do it because due to her presence, I realise that I can.

While I’m freeing my car, I’m terrified that the people in the house will hear what I am doing and come out and catch me. I pick up my car with my bare hands (it’s not even heavy) and take it out of the confines of the property and out onto the street. I place it on the street to make it look like I had done a parallel park. I hope that this will be enough to protect my car from being noticed and prevent anything happening to it because I realise I don’t even have the car keys in order to start it in the first place.

I start running in the dark towards my workplace. But I'm not sure where that is. I have the vague idea of where it is but not the exact position. It’s sunrise now. Actually it’s 9:06 and I’m late since I start at 9. I think about texting my manager to let him know that I’m stuck in traffic but I'm too stressed to even take out my phone and do that. It feels like it’s a waste of time when I could be concentrating all my energy to finding the whereabouts of my workplace. I am still confused about where I am going. I’m in some strange part of town. Somehow I end up at home and now I'm in bed with my pyjamas on. And I am drifting off to sleep, extremely comfortable, but a part of me wants to get back out there. Go back to the house and get my car. I am thinking about getting up right then and there and go running in the street towards that house. With my pyjamas on. I won't even waste time changing because I need to get this done immediately. But then I start thinking about how vulnerable I would feel. What if someone were to attack me. I’d feel less secure than if I was in regular clothes. But I am still going to do it, I don’t care. I just need to make sure my car is okay and those two ladies in the house don’t vandalise or 'murder' it.

Dream 2: A while ago I planted an area in the backyard with kale, strawberry, corn and some other edible plants. After a short while when I returned to the patch, it had overgrown. Everything was ripe and ready for harvesting. The patch had randomly become muddy. There appeared to be some water drainage issues. My mum was there too. We both tasted some strawberries which were overly ripe but they still tasted great. There were strawberries everywhere. Our dog was taking huge bites of the corn which I was annoyed about. I was trying to move the corn away, but it kept managing to take more bites of it. Then the area was increasingly filling up with more water, to the point where it was now basically a pond. Everything was getting waterlogged and ruined. I needed to save it. I got a bunch of pots and I was going to transfer all the plants into them. Then the scene changes and now this patch is not in our backyard, but in the front yard which looks completely different to how it usually looks in real life. It looks more open and spacious. I don't skip a beat and I start to mash up the strawberries into the pots. These plants will basically have to regrow themselves from scratch. From the seeds on the fruits. I make sure the strawberry flesh is mixed into the soil evenly. I transfer what’s left of the kale into a pot. Mostly I am concentrating on the strawberries.

While I am working on trying to save my patch, I realise that the family dog is in the front pocket of my hoodie. It had been sleeping in there and as I peeked and checked up on it, it woke up. It started getting restless and wanted to get out from my hoodie so I let it out and then it started swimming in the pond. The pond is so thickly shrouded with strawberry runners that I am a bit fearful of the dog getting tangled in it and potentially drowning. I didn’t even know that the dog could swim in the first place. It seems to be managing fine though. I am looking around us now, at the change of place that just happened, and I see that a few meters away from our house there is a caravan with some Chinese writing on it. Was that ours? No, it belonged to the Chinese workers who were renovating the house next to us. There is this feeling that they are being exploited. Now the scene has changed again and the patch has moved inside and onto the floor of our bathroom. But all that's left of it now, is a bunch of dirt which I'm cleaning up from the tiles. It seems that in this setting, the plants had been growing from where the plaster wall meets the tiles on the ground in the corner. I was making it clean now. Spick and span. There was to be no trace of anything ever having grown here.

Dream 3: A car showed up and a small group of us were going to a bar to celebrate something. It was night. I was walking down the staircase into the bar. Of the group, I remember a girl the most. I think she was my friend. She looked liked Lea from the TV show TGD.

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earlgreydream · 4 years ago

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mission.

| stucky x reader | fluff | smut |

oh no, there’s only one bed trope

“James!” You screamed, your voice getting carried off in the wind. You kicked backwards, knocking free from the grip of a Hydra agent. You ducked as a bullet whizzed past your head, slicing through the skull of your enemy.

A hand wrapped around your arm and dragged you forward, forcing you to break into a run. Blinded by the storm, your lost your footing in the slick mud. If it wasn’t for Steve’s grip on you, you would’ve fell face first into the ground.

“Be careful!” The shout was stressed, impatient.

You swore and ran through the field after the soldiers, nearly tripping over the uneven ground. Your muscles were burning along with your lungs, and the rain was so thick you couldn’t see.

“We can’t drive in this!”

“We don’t have another option!” Steve shouted back, his grip on you tightening as he helped you onward.

The mission had gone to absolute shit before it even started. Stark sent you, Steve, and Bucky to hunt down a Hydra agent, which you’d just taken out in the field. However, he’d gotten wind of your arrival, prepared with an elite security team you had to get through. They had nearly succeeded in killing Bucky, throwing the three of you off from the beginning.

The storm had made everything nearly impossible, and it wrecked any chance of you getting home soon. No plane, not even one designed by Stark, could fly you overseas when you couldn’t see two feet ahead of you.

You couldn’t see Bucky, or Steve really, only knowing he was there by the hand on your arm. You trusted Bucky was nearby, making his way back to the car with you to try to get out of the middle of nowhere.

You were exhausted, hardly able to stand, let alone run through the storm, covered in heavy mud and gear. You finally made it to the car, your shaking hands coming into contact with cold steel.

The three of you managed to get inside the vehicle, though it didn’t feel like it was going to do any good. You were soaked from the rain and covered in mud and blood, and you were shivering from the icy temperature.

Bucky turned the key in the ignition, deciding that you needed to drive to shelter, even if he couldn’t see the road ahead.

“Fuck! Bucky!” You yelled as cold air blew directly on you from the AC, making you feel like you were going to freeze death.

“I’m fucking taking care of it, Y/N!” Bucky snapped back, raising his voice at you.

“Hey, that’s enough, Buck.” Steve interjected, despite being on edge himself. Bucky turned off the air, pulling out into the road and blindly inching back toward the small eastern-European town.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said through clenched teeth, and you shook your head.

“It’s fine, we’re all just exhausted.”

You didn’t even realize you were clung to Steve until Bucky parked, somehow managing to get you three to a motel, alive. You muttered an apology, grabbing your backpack off the floor and running into the front office.

The desk manager eyed the three of you warily, and you sagged against the wall, struggling to stay upright. The floor felt like it was rocking under you, and you grabbed Steve’s arm to try to steady yourself. You were so cold, you felt like you were about to freeze to death.

Bucky started speaking to the main in fluent Russian, the conversation growing sharper and more annoyed as they argued. You didn’t understand what the problem was, and you started to cry, overly exhausted, dirty, and weak.

“Stevie,” Bucky whined at Steve to take care of you while he continued to deal with the manager.

“Y/N, take deep breaths,” Steve hugged your shivering body to his, and Bucky gestured at you and shouted at the manager.

He flashed his gun before he was finally given a room key, and he threw the door open, motioning the two of you to follow. Steve carried your backpack for you, gently pushing you after Bucky and praying you didn’t collapse.

Bucky unlocked a room, pushing you inside ahead of him, and you stared at the one bed. You were too tired to truly care, lethargy threatening to drag you under.

“It was all they had. He’d barely give me this last room.” Bucky’s tone was apologetic, albeit frustrated.

“It’s fine, one thing at a time,” Steve sighed, and you dropped to the floor, working your boots off.

“I need a minute, you can shower first,” you said hoarsely, and the boys nodded, Bucky tenderly touching your head as he walked to the small bathroom, tearing off his ruined clothes. He was quick, and Steve was in and out right after, both of them clean in under fifteen minutes. You sat on the floor, trying to catch your breath and drink the water bottle that Bucky had forced into your hand.

“Can you stand for a shower?” Bucky asked you, and you nodded, taking his hand as he helped you off the floor. You grabbed your one change of dry clothes from your backpack and set them on the sink.

“Don’t lock it please, Y/N,” Steve called, worried you would collapse.

“M’not!”

You stripped out of your ruined uniform, discarding it with the boys’. You stepped under the hot water, a moan escaping you as you finally got some relief from the freeze deep in your bones. You washed the mud off of your body and out of your hair, nearly crying from the relief of the hot water.

“Oh my god, fuck!” You shrieked when your clothes fell off the counter and onto the wet floor, the drain not doing much good.

“Y/N?!” Bucky’s concerned voice came as he cracked the door open.

“I’m fine, I...” you started crying again, feeling defeated and worn out.

“Doll, what happened...” Bucky’s voice was soft, the rare term of endearment making you cry harder.

“I dropped my clothes!” You shut off the water and peered around the dingy curtain. You grabbed a dry towel from his hand, staying behind the curtain as you dried off, the steam keeping you warm.

“Just leave your clothes. You can have Steve’s sweater. That’s all we’ve got, but it’ll be big, so...”

You were wrapped in the towel as you took the fluffy white sweater from Bucky, pulling it over your head once you were given some privacy.

It fell almost to your knees, the sleeves covering your hands. You wished you had something to put on under it, but this was the best you could do right now. You squeezed the moisture out of your hair before joining the boys in the small motel room.

“You okay?” Steve asked, and you nodded, thanking him for the sweater. They had only managed to raid a vending machine outside, and you were handed a package of crisps and another bottle of water. The television in the corner was playing some Russian telenovela quietly, the scratch of the fuzzy connection interrupting it.

You sat on the edge of the bed, eating the crisps and wishing you had some real food to satiate your stomach ache. You pulled an extra band from Bucky’s wrist, tying your damp hair up on top of your head, getting it off your neck.

Your two best friends wouldn’t let you lay down until you’d finished the second bottle of water, paranoid of your possible dehydration. You ignored their anxious nurturing, getting under the covers as soon as you’d finished it.

You had never felt so exhausted in your life, and your eyelids were heavy as they fell closed. The two super soldiers laid down on either side of you, surrounding you with warmth. They were like two individual heaters, pressed against your back and front in the small bed.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but it was pitch-black when you woke up. You stirred, your eyes still heavy with sleep. The storm was loud outside, covering the soft breathing of the soldiers.

You felt metal between your thighs, Bucky’s hand gently rubbing your inner thigh.

“James?” You murmured, stirring.

“Mm?” He was barely awake. Steve’s arm tightened around your waist, holding you closer. You rubbed your eyes, snuggling deeper into Steve’s soft sweater.

Your mind was thick with sleepiness, and you were still stuck in a half-dream state. It was warm, dark, and heady, surrounding you in a settled calmness.

You felt Bucky’s fingers trail higher, finding you bare after the clothing mishap. You didn’t register what was happening at first until you felt him sliding along your skin, finding your bundle of nerves. You whimpered softly, your mind melting and your legs parting even though you didn’t know what was happening.

“James, what are you doing?” you whispered breathlessly.

“I can’t keep my hands off of you, doll. You’re just too irresistible,” Bucky murmured into your chest, curling up closer into you. His lips ghosted over your neck, hot kisses dotting along your skin. Your body ignited with the touch, and you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

“Wanna feel you,” Steve’s sleepy voice hummed through your hair, his hand moving up your sweater up to your chest. A noise escaped you as you felt Steve slowly begin to grind against your backside, hardening against your soft skin. You realized they were naked too, and you began dripping on Bucky’s fingers.

“Sweet girl, does that feel good?” he smiled against your throat, marking you up with hickeys.

You nodded, tipping your head down to kiss him. It was a bit hesitant at first, but you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into Bucky. Your lips molded together, his gentle movements easing any doubt in your mind. Steve squeezed your breasts, teasing your nipples and making you sigh against Bucky. He slid his tongue past your lips, the warm muscle exploring your mouth. Metal fingers pressed slowly inside of you without resistance, stretching you out and rubbing your velvety skin.

Your soft sighs and moans filled the motel room, and you reached behind you to pull Steve into a searing kiss. Bucky pulled your leg over his, giving them better access. You whined a complaint when Bucky pulled his fingers from your heat, causing the boys to laugh softly.

“I’m just going to get you ready for Steve, doll. Is that alright?” Bucky’s silver eyes locked with yours, searching for any hesitation.

“Yes, but... go slow?” you whispered shyly.

“We’ll be gentle, sweetheart,” Steve promised, and you leaned your head back against his shoulder. You trusted the men, knowing they’d never hurt you, not purposely. Steve’s hand smoothed over your side, kissing the skin of your shoulder that peeked out above the neckline of his sweater.

Bucky’s slick fingertip traced around the tight ring of muscle before carefully easing it in. Your fingers snaked into Steve’s hair, tugging lightly as Bucky worked to loosen you up.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Bucky asked when your face squeezed up as he added a third finger.

“No, it just feels... strange,” you squirmed between the boys. Steve dropped his hand between your legs to distract you from the discomfort Bucky was causing. You slowly relaxed around him, smiling into Bucky’s gentle kisses. You adjusted your leg over his hips, pulling the soldier closer and smoothing your hands over his chest.

You were restless, anxious for them to be inside of you. Your quiet begs sent shudders of anticipation through the boys, giving in without hesitation.

“I’m going to slide in first, it’ll go easier,” Bucky waited for your permission and you agreed, tugging on his long dark hair. He loved it, a deep growl coming from his throat as you pulled on the locks. Your giggles abruptly cut off as Bucky wrapped an arm around your hips, pulling you close as he sank inside of you. He mumbled profanities in Russian, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warmth surrounding his cock. Your leg draped over him allowed him to get a deep angle, feeling like he was splitting you open in the best way. He was bigger than anyone in the past, and you swore to yourself you could never go back after this.

“You’re fucking huge, James,” you whined into his ear, gasping as your words caused him to thrust against you, the friction sending electricity to your nerves. Steve laughed at that, waiting for Bucky to still before rubbing his leaking head against your other entrance.

“Just breathe, okay?” Steve could see the nervousness in your eyes, even in the dark. You hid your face in Bucky’s chest as Steve pushed inside of you, squeezing your ass in his large hands. Bucky felt the friction against him, and he struggled not to thrust into you.

The foreign fullness had your thoughts disconnecting, your body being overwhelmed with arousal. Your loud moans filled the silence, and you squeezed around them as Steve’s hips met yours.

They only gave you a moment to adjust before both soldiers started moving, thrusting in and out of you, making you scream with mind-numbing pleasure. Bucky’s movements became more forceful, pulling sounds from the three of you. You couldn’t think or move, your only ability was to take it, soaking it up and igniting your body. You throbbed around them, throwing your head back against Steve.

“You feel so good, sweetheart, you’re so tight and warm around us,” he praised, kissing your cheekbone. Your mouth opened with a choked moan, and he connected your lips, moving his tongue against yours. Bucky swore, even more turned on by the sight of his two lovers making out.

He lifted your knee higher, thrusting impossibly deeper. The pressure that had been building snapped, and you screamed as your orgasm hit you like a train.

“Fuck, I’m so close, doll,” Bucky knew he couldn’t last long as you tightened around him like a vice.

“Come inside of me, please, I want-” you didn’t finish your sentence as he came, throbbing inside of you as he filled you with hot ropes of release. You were reduced to mindless, incoherent begs, pleading for Steve to do the same. His strong arms held you still against him, keeping you from writhing as he came deep inside of you. Bucky swallowed your screams, and you sank weakly against them as you came down from the high that had all of you wrecked.

You woke up slightly dazed from the post-sex sleep, exhausted from the mission and getting fucked by the two super-soldiers. You opened your arms with a sleepy whimper, making the boys laugh softly. Bucky pulled you into a hug, letting you drape your arms around his neck and cling to him.

“How’re you feeling, doll?”

“Like I’ve had the life fucked out of me,” your voice was soft and amused, making them smile tenderly at you.

“In a good way?”

“In the best way,” you assured Steve.

“I want all of our missions to end like that.”

Bucky grinned cheekily, kissing your head and making you giggle.

“The storm’s let up. I’m sorry, but we’ve got to get you out of bed,” Steve peeled the blankets off, making you cling tighter to Bucky in protest.

“Your clothes are dry. C’mon, up, now.” Steve slapped your ass, and you slowly let go of Bucky.

“Help me, my legs are weak,” you held Steve’s hands as he assisted you in climbing off the bed.

“We break you?” Bucky teased, and you shook your head. You kissed Steve lightly before getting dressed, opting to leave his sweater on.

Within an hour, you were on your way back to Stark tower, curled up on the private plane, your head in Bucky’s lap as he stroked his fingers through your hair.

“So, everything went as planned on the mission?” Stark asked, debriefing with the three of you. You fought back a laugh, and Steve placed a hand on your back.

“Everything went great, Stark. We assassinated the target, and we all made it back alive,” Bucky confirmed.

As the three of you were walking out the door, Stark’s voice made you turn.

“Don’t think I’m stupid, I can tell what the three of you are up to!”

You squealed, running out the door with the super soldiers, away from Tony’s amused judgement.

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mercy-burning · 3 years ago

Text

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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