#kyle gallner×reader fics

[star-p3bbles]

Can't find enough Kyle Gallner character fics so I'm gonna do it myself

[houseofpsychoticwomxn]

♱ 18+ smut !! ♱

thinking about smoking with simon while u ride him ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ

♱⋰ ⋱✮ he’s convinced he’s corrupted you, turned you into some ‘cockdrunk stoner’, shaking his head at your insistent whines in his annoyingly clothed lap.

“you can’t get what you want all the fuckin’ time.” he griped, stilling your hips that seemed to have a mind of their own. of course he was a hypocrite, still-lit blunt gripped between his fingers pressing into your sides.

“why not?” you pouted, using the hands planted on his chest to lift yourself up and back down again, intent on torturing him just as much as he was you. he could be mean — deny you completely just so you’d really beg him for it, even make you get yourself off on his thigh without any help while he watches, but he couldn’t deny the effect you had on him; currently prevalent in his tightening jeans. he took another drag before grabbing your jaw, exhaling warm smoke into your mouth as your eyes closed.

soon enough you’re grinding on his dick — just lazily rocking your hips while he watches you. you take the blunt from his hand before he gets ash all over the couch, turning it towards him after tapping it against the glass tray on the table next to you, holding it for him so he can keep his hands gripped tight on your waist. your pace only gets more lax as you get higher, a loud smack to your ass reopening your eyes for you.

“c’mon ride it like you mean it. attagirl.”

˚₊‧꒰𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒱ ‧₊˚

[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.

Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!

Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.

In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.

Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."

"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.

"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.

You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.

"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.

"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.

You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.

It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?

After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."

"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.

"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.

"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.

"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.

"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.

"Someone's gonna see us."

"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.

"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.

"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.

"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.

"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.

"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.

"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.

"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.

Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."

"Tits."

"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.

"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.

"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.

"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.

"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."

"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.

"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"

"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"

"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."

"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.

"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.

"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.

"You're Frank's kid, right?"

"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.

"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.

"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.

"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.

"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.

"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.

"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.

"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.

"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.

"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.

"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.

"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.

"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.

"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.

"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.

"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.

"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.

"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.

"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.

"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.

"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.

"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."

"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.

When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.

"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.

"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."

"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.

"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.

"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.

"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.

"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."

"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"

"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.

"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.

"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.

"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.

"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.

You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.

His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.

You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.

"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.

Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.

Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.

Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.

"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.

After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.

[luvmoonie]

me finding out there’s no fics for kyle gallner and that he’s married all in the same day

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Red Lights

Summary: You're getting manhandled in a motel room 🤝🏻

Pairing: The Demon x afab!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat!, No Plot Only Porn 18+!, Smoking (Weed), Intoxication Kink, Slapping, Degradation/Humiliation/Praise, Crying (Dacryphilia), Oral (M Receiving), Breath Play, Pet Names/Honorifics (Princess, Daddy, Slut, Whore etc.), Cheating

A/N: So I watched Strange Darling yesterday :>

Tagging: @blueberrypancakesworld

Round and heavy tears pricked at your lower lash line before eventually welling over already-smeared streaks of mascara and eyeshadow and trickling down the sides of your face. The droplets ran past the curve of your ear until they eventually ended up soaking into crumpled sheets that had been washed with cheap chemical bleach a thousand times in the last month alone.

“Oh, look at you…” Your glazed-over gaze shot up, your body suddenly remembering the pressure squeezing down on your ribcage made you gasp for air out of pathetic instinct.

“So mushy and pliable today, baby.” The man who had introduced himself to you as Samuel months ago huffed in a painfully dismissive scoff.

You knew just as well as he did that the name he'd given you was an alias, a cheap cover to keep your lives from bleeding into one another too much. However, you had started wondering how necessary this act of play pretend still was because the two of you had simply skipped the part of slowly growing on each other and instead ended up fused together at the hip whenever possible - or hip to rib cage-like right now.

You stared up at him whilst he looked down, a crooked smile acknowledged how you fought to keep your little sniffles and sobs muffled.

“Need me to make it all better again, yeah?” You nodded slowly, head moving between cuffed arms that were tightly bound to the metal bed frame that was just as lacklustre as this whole rancid motel room.

“Use your words.” Samuel's free hand came flying down, the entire palm slapping against your already reddened cheek with enough force to likely leave an imprint.

“Mhm, need you to make it better, sir.” Your mouth dropped open upon impact, a thick string of saliva spilling over your bottom lip as your head lolled to the side and you winced.

“There you go. Taught you better than that.” For good measure and his sadistic pleasure, he smacked your other cheek as well, forcing your throbbing head back in his direction.

“ ‘M sorry, sir.” You felt the dollops of spit slowly growing cold against your chin; your normal reaction would've been to wipe it away but you knew he wanted you to sit with the uncomfortable sensation.

“Uh-Huh. Yeah, blah blah.” Samuel wrapped his hand along your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to ridicule whilst the other held a thick lighter to the tip of an equally thick joint.

It took but a few gentle puffs until the distinct smell crept into your nostrils, your facial expression pleading for some of it immediately.

With slightly widened eyes, you watched Samuel inhale deeply, filling his lungs with the fragrant smog until he stifled his breath and leaned down, arching his back in an almost impossible hunch downwards.

His plush lips hung in the air, right in front of your quivering mouth as calm, slightly droopy blue eyes inspected you. Quietly, you opened up, burning eyes fluttering shut as the herbal taste spread over a tongue that darted out like that of a dog panting in heat.

“And another one, babe.” Samuel started feeding you hit after hit, the chemical compounds seeping into your bloodstream within minutes and making you giggle as your whole body erupted in waves of comforting warmth.

“There she is.” The striking blue of his eyes got only accentuated by increasingly bloodshot lashlines as he sat back up, saving the rest of the spliff for later; god and he knew that you'd need it after he was done with you.

“That feels much better now, doesn't it?” He asked with a sly grin ghosting over his face and you nodded, your head feeling comfortably heavy and floaty.

“Good girl, now let me help you with that cottonmouth, princess.” Following his fingers, your eyes fell down to his crotch, a significant bulge already pressing against the fabric of tight black jeans.

Samuel palmed at himself through the fabric, shamelessly groaning out as a tide of pleasure washed through his lower abdomen, easily rendering him hungry for more.

“Open up for Daddy.” He pulled at the golden zipper, nimble and slender fingers freeing himself from the staggeringly uncomfortable confines.

It was pathetic, the way the saliva started flooding at the bottom of your mouth, slick moisture pooling from right underneath your tongue as the swollen and soft-to-the-touch tip of his pulsing cock brushed against your bottom lip.

“Such a whore for me.”, In one languid thrust Samuel spearheaded into the wet warmth of your mouth until you gagged just a little, “I know, shhh, I know. Issok.”

“No need to think. Let Daddy fuck your pretty face for a bit.” He'd conditioned you way too good already, it only needed a soft sprinkle of all your very favourite trigger words before you drifted off into comforting subspace, lips closing down around his girth as a new gush tears formed at the corners of your eyes.

“There, there…” Samuel's hips moved against your face.

If it hadn’t been for the layer of fabric, he'd shoves his aching cock down your throat until you'd gargle around a mouthful of curly, brown pubes.

“Gotta pick up the pieces again, don’t I?”, He uttered, watching the spit squelch and smear around your lipstick-stained lips, “Can’t fucking make sense how he can keep ignoring you. Daft bastard.”

You felt your oesophagus constricted around his dick, muscles slightly spasming as he bullied your dangling uvula against the roof of your throat.

“Playing with everything except you, no?”, He clicked his tongue and furrowed his brows, belittling not you but your straying boyfriend, “But don't you worry, sweets. You come to me and I'll give you all the things he won't do for you. Fuck you double and thrice for every time something is more interesting than you are.”

His wretched words dribbled down on you like a perverted shower of affection, causing your oozing cunt to clench around nothing.

“Can't have a pretty thing like you idle and miserable.”, His fingers pinched at your nose, shutting off any airflow, “Come on, suck me off, slut.”

Samuel rolled his waist against your head, his hips snapping back and forth in a brutal pace but the mellowing THC lacing your bloodstream kept the surge of panic at bay. Instead, you gave in to the rising dizziness, your conscience fighting with the aching burn inside your lungs that tried to gasp for air around his throbbing cock.

“Always so fucking good for Daddy, yeah.” He groaned under his breath, sensing how his balls started contracting, white-hot ropes of cum shooting against the back of your throat and right past the root of your tongue.

Samuel wasn't even done unloading himself on your mouth as he pulled back - rather safe than sorry - as he smeared milky droplets along your bottom lip.

“Breathe for me, baby.” To pull you out of your fucked-out trance, he landed a swift smack against your cheek, his spit and cum coated cock twitching underneath your chin.

The brief sting had your ribcage rising with much-needed oxygen but the clarity wasn't meant for you for long: Your blurry sight narrowed down on the halfway naked man towering above you - lighter in hand and the rest of the joint already back at grinning lips.

[colingrayscutie]

𝓚𝓐𝓨 𝓘𝓝𝓣𝓡𝓞 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

hi hi !! (≧∇≦) — my name is kayden , u can call me kay or KD 4 short . im 18 , luv pink & scene , and heart supes old men that r no way in my age range </3 new 2 tumblr and writing (>ω<)

𝓘𝓝𝓣𝓔𝓡𝓔𝓢𝓣𝓔𝓓 𝓘𝓝 ; KYLE GALLNER , HUGH JACKMAN , RYAN GOSLING , PEDRO PASCAL , OSCAR ISAAC , & JAKE GYLLENHAAL .

𝓐𝓜 𝓘 𝓦𝓡𝓘𝓣𝓘𝓝𝓖? ; yas butt not that gud @ writing (⇀‸↼‶) I write 4 the boyz & galz i luv , but more interested in supprting writers & luvrz !! here 4 a gud time \(∩_∩)/

♡⑅*˖•. mlist ; byf ; tagz .•˖*⑅♡

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

[fandomgirlz01]

By Your Side

(CSI: NY) Reed Garrett X Reader

Imagine on my fandom Instagram?: No  

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: No

Style of Writing: Fic (Potential Future Series)

Edited: Yes

Word count: 5,204

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings here

Listen to the story be read out loud here {coming soon}. 

Post Date & Time: May 20th 2024 at 11:14 PM

Summary: When Reed accidentally gets involved in something his friend died for the reader (his girlfriend) comes home to a very scary situation. Later they each help each other through forms of grief. 

Authors Note: There will be a lot of time skips and it mostly follows Reed’s story line in the show with just a few minor (very minor) changes to it. This will be part of a future Reed series, for now though please just enjoy this part as a little sneak peek to the future series.

Reed’s Pov:

“Did you talk to Mac like you wanted to, babe?” Y/n, my girlfriend, asks as I talk with her on the phone while walking up to our campus dorm room building. 

“Yeah, I did. Told him everything I knew,” I answer her and she sighs, making me imagine her frowning. 

“Reed, baby. Are you sure you should be getting involved with this?” she queries in worry as I open the door to the building. 

“I’ll be fine, babe. It’s for Brian. You know he’d do the same for us,” I beg her to understand and she sighs. 

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” she tells me in a sad tone and I stop walking up the stairs for a moment. 

“Babe. Mac won’t let me get hurt. I’ll be okay,” I calmly inform her in hopes of calming her anxiety. 

“How’d you even get into the lab, isn’t it hard to get into?” she asks and I smirk as I start walking up the flight of stairs again. 

“I told them I was family and they let me in,” I inform her and she giggles. 

“And they let you in?” she parrots in disbelief and I smile even more as I let out a chuckle. 

“That they did,” I reply to her in a smug tone and she laughs as I imagine her shaking her head in disbelief. 

“That’s crazy. It’s the top forensics building in New York and they just let you in if you say you’re family? Shouldn’t their security be a little better than that?” she asks in an amused tone that makes me chuckle and shake my head. 

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” I ask and we both laugh. 

“Now I’m second guessing my future line of work…” she jokes and I shake my head. 

“Awe, don’t do that, sweetheart. It’s all you’ve wanted growing up. I’m sure not much actually happens where they need hard core security there anyway,” I comfort to the best of my ability and she laughs. 

“Oh. Okay… I guess I won’t drop out of class,” she jokes and I chuckle, shaking my head at our playfulness. 

“Anyways… When will you be home?” I ask her and she hums. 

“I’ll be home in about a half hour, tops, honey. I promise,” she swears to me and I smile, shaking my head as I continue my walk up the stairs to our dorm room. 

“It’s okay, babe. I know work is demanding sometimes. We’ve talked about this. All I care about is that you come home safe,” I inform her and she giggles, making me smile.

“Ok. Well, I’ll see you in half an hour babe. I love you,” she tells me and my grin grows as I unlock the front door. 

“I love you too, sweetheart,” I respond and before I know it, she’s hanging up. 

I chuckle, shaking my head as I pocket my phone and finish unlocking the door before going into our room. I walk in and pull my bag over my head as I close the door, but I’m immediately in defense mode as the room feels off. I look over at my computer and find a sticky note stuck to it. 

At first I’m relieved, thinking y/n had just left me a cute note like she always does, but when I get closer it’s clear my laptop screen has been broken and as I read the note my stomach drops: keep your story quiet. 

I walk up a little closer as fear now courses through me and next thing I know, I feel a presence behind me. I quickly turn to look at what it is, but as soon as I do I’m punched, making me fall back to the floor. The person keeps kicking and punching me, but I can’t make out who it is because they wear a solid white mask. 

I try my hardest to fight back, but after a few hits to the head everything becomes blurry so I try to curl into myself and hide away. The person keeps kicking and I keep trying to move away, but to no avail. Soon before I know it, the person stops and I look up at them as black spots slowly fill my vision. The last thing I see is the person leaving the dorm room before finally my eyes close. 

Reader’s Pov: 

I smile as I walk up to our dorm room building, glad that my manager let me go home earlier than I was supposed to. I tiredly but happily drag myself up the stairs to surprise my boyfriend. Once I get closer, my smile falls as I see the door is cracked open. I immediately start to worry, seeing as Reed never leaves it open and I carefully push it the rest of the way open. 

“Reed,” I gasp out when I see him crumpled up on the floor.  

“Reed. Baby?” I call him again as I drop my bag aside before getting down onto my knees next to him. 

I shake him and he doesn’t respond so I turn him over. I gasp as I see his face clearly beaten and bruised up. Immediately I stand back up and at first I feel a little dizzy, but I push it off to walk over to the desk. Quickly I search for the card I know Reed has. It takes a few minutes, but I find it and hold it up. I quickly dial the number and it rings for a few minutes. 

“Hello? How can I help you?” A voice asks through the phone and I pause. 

“Hello?” The voice asks again and I blink. 

“H-h-hi, is this Mac Taylor?” I stutter out into the phone and he pauses for a moment. 

“Yes. This is he. May I ask who you are?” he asks and I look over at Reed. 

“I’m Reed’s girlfriend. He, uhh… said this morning that if anything happened to call you,” I quickly explain in a panicked tone. 

“Is Reed okay? Are you?” he asks me and I pause as I look down at Reed, now getting choked up. 

“I’m okay. I came home to our door open and him on the floor,” I explain as I hold my tears back so he can understand me. 

“Okay, listen to me. I’ll be there as quickly as I can and I’ll bring some others with me. Is he unconscious?” he asks me and I hold back another sob. 

“He is. I tried calling out to him and even shaking him, yet no response,” I inform him as I bite my lip, staring down at Reed with tears constantly welling up in my eyes. 

“Ok. Just stay with him. Me and a couple officers will be there in a few minutes, okay?” he calmly tells me and I continue to stare at Reed, not responding. 

“Can you do that?” Mac asks me again and I quickly straighten my back. 

“Y…yeah. Please get here quickly,” I reply as I now get onto the floor next to Reed. 

“Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he quickly promises before we both hang up. 

I sit against the side of our bed and lightly pick Reed’s head up to lay it in my lap. I hug his head close before leaving a light kiss on his forehead as I finally let the tears fall. 

“Reed. Come on, baby,” I gently coo to him in hopes he’ll start to stir awake. 

“Come on Reed. Please open your eyes for me,” I gently plead with him as I rub his hair back from his forehead. 

I sit with him for a few more minutes before suddenly he lets out a low groan. I perk up and gently shush him as I continue to rub his hair back. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here. You’re okay,” I coo softly to him as he slowly comes to. 

It takes him a bit, but finally he fully comes to and when his eyes are fully open, he starts to squirm in my arms. He freaks out for a minute, but calms when I hold his head so he can see it’s only me. 

“Shh. It’s only me, babe. You’re okay… you’re safe. I’m right here,” I calmly murmur to him as I rock us back and forth lightly. 

“No. You can’t be here. Th- they might come back…” he fights me again and I shake my head. 

“No one is coming back, Reed. You're okay and I’m okay. Mac’s on his way,” I inform him as I continue to play with his hair and he immediately calms again. 

“I’m sorry you came home to me like this, babe,” he groans out and I shake my head. 

“It’s okay, honey. I’m with you through anything, you know that,” I promise him and he smiles sadly up at me. 

“Reed,” a voice calls out, making me look up to see a man standing at our door. 

“Hi, Mac,” Reed replies with a sheepish smile. 

“He’s in here, guys,” Mac calls down the hall before walking into the room. 

“Hi. I’m Mac,” introduces himself to me and I smile lightly at him. 

“I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Reed,” I explain and Mac smiles. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, although I wish it was over lunch or breakfast instead of this,” Mac comments and Reed laughs lightly. 

“Yeah, that’s my fault,” Reed comments with a sheepish smile that also seems to be full of pain. 

“Do you wanna get up?” I ask Reed and he gives me a light nod. 

“Ok. Come on,” I nod back before standing by myself and getting ready to help him up. 

I help him until he stands with Mac helping from Reed’s other side. Once he’s standing, he staggers ever so slightly and I hold onto him tighter before he moves to sit on the bed. One of the paramedics that came with Mac walks over. Once Reed sits, the dizzy feeling starts to creep up again and now I stagger a bit. 

“Whoa. Babe, sit,” Reed tells me as he holds onto my hand. 

“Hold that thought,” I reply before rushing to the bathroom on the other side of our room. 

“Babe?” Reed questions as he gets up and rushes in after me. 

I drop down onto my knees in front of the toilet and my stomach releases the dinner I had before work. Reed quickly rushes to hold my hair back and rubs my back soothingly. It takes a few minutes, but soon I finish and sit back against Reed. 

“Babe. Are you doing okay?” he asks me with a furrowed brow. 

“I’m fine, honey. I think I’m just in shock mode. You know me. Let’s go back out,” I tell him as I wipe at my lips before standing and cupping some water into my mouth. 

“Are you sure?” he asks me and I nod. 

“Let’s go,” I reply before pulling him back out to the bed. 

“Babe. Sit,” Reed commands as he pulls me down next to him. 

“Okay. Let’s take a look at the injuries,” the paramedic comments as he pulls out a few things from his bag. 

The paramedic quickly looks him over, checking his eyes and has him follow the light. Then he checks Reed’s ribs for any that may be broken. Soon the paramedic packs his stuff back up and stands. 

“Okay, son. I think you are okay. Nothing major, just a few bruises, a concussion, and a few broken ribs. All should heal within the next month,” the paramedic informs Reed who nods and sniffles. 

“Make sure to put something cold on that forehead bruise and maybe that eye,” the paramedic finishes off before nodding to Mac. 

“Wait…” Reed calls out before the paramedic can leave. 

“Yes?” The paramedic questions as he turns back to Reed. 

“Can you please look over my girlfriend? She’s been having throw up episodes and dizzy spells,” Reed explains and I quickly try to hide the widening of my eyes by looking towards the fridge. 

“Reed, baby. I’m okay. I told you it’s just the shock, it’ll wear off. Really, I’m fine,” I tell him before turning around with a soda. 

“Are you sure, ma’am? I don’t mind giving you a look,” the paramedic butts in and I fight the huff I want to let out. 

“Oh. Thank you, sir, but really, I’m fine,” I deflect and the paramedic seems to get the clue. 

“Ok. Have a good rest of your night then,” the paramedic bids his goodbye, leaving before Reed can say anything. 

“Here, babe, put this on your face,” I tell Reed as I hand him a can and he gives me a look of disbelief. 

“What?” I ask when he doesn’t take the can. 

“You should have gotten checked out,” he tells me and I sigh, shaking my head. 

“Reed. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m okay. A little shaken from finding you unconscious on the floor? Hell yeah. Other than that, I’m fine. I have a doctor's appointment set up tomorrow, remember?” I tell him and he sighs, shaking his head. 

“I just want you to be okay,” he whispers out and I smile softly as I sit down next to him. 

“And I am. So let’s get you in the same boat, okay?” I ask him as I reach forward and squeeze his hand. 

“Okay…” he agrees softly before pulling me into his side. 

“Here, baby. Put this on your face,” I almost command as I put the soda into his other hand and he chuckles. 

“Okay. Okay,” he agrees as he wraps his fingers around it and pulls the can up to his face. 

“Are you two sure you're alright?” Mac asks and we both look up at him. 

“Yeah. I think we are,” Reed tells him before putting the soda back on his face. 

“Reed. I want you and this beautiful girl of yours to stay at your parents’ house tonight,” Mac tells him, pointing at him. 

“Yeah. I’m keeping y/n safe,” Reed comments as he takes the can from his face and stands. 

“This is my first Geraldo, you know. Beat up for a story. Making my girlfriend have a freak out when she just wanted to come home and sleep,” he explains as he looks at himself in the mirror next to our bed. He rubs at his face before I stand just a bit to smack his hand away from his face. 

“What’s this about?” Mac asks him as he leans over the desk and uses tweezers to take the note off the broken screen. 

“I have no idea. You know, I’m not even writing on the Kings and shadows. My piece is about students paying other students to take their exams for them,” Reed explains as he sits back down next to me and I cuddle into his side when he puts his arm around me. 

“Brian Miller know this?” Mac asks as he closes up the yellow envelope he holds. 

“I told him as soon as he told me what he was writing about,” Reed replies with a head nod and Mac pauses as he looks at our floor. 

He soon moves and bends down to it. He uses the tweezers to pick up what looks like a crumb of some kind and lifts it up to his face. 

“Let me see the bottom of both your shoes,” Mac tells us and Reed nods. 

“Yeah… ow,” Reed winces as he lifts his leg and I rub his chest lightly before lifting my own. 

“See, Brian and I, we were pretty competitive,” Reed explains and I scoff. 

“Pretty, baby you were more than competitive, admit it. You know I’m right,” I jump in and Reed looks at me before laughing. 

“I mean, she’s got a point… anyway, like I told him I wouldn’t mention him in my piece if he quit,” Reed goes on with his explanation again, wincing as he switches legs for Mac to look at. 

“But he said he’d already agreed to take two more exams. Then he was out,” Reed ends his explanation as now both his feet are down again. 

Mac looks over my first foot real quick, then I switch to the other and he looks at that one too before letting me put them back down. 

“Eddie Williams and Thomas Brighton were Brian’s last two clients,” Mac starts and Reed puts his head down, letting out a low ‘Yeah,’ as he does. 

“But only one of them had reason to want both stories killed,” Mac ominously comments as he stands up and puts the envelope in his pocket. 

After Mac and the rest of the CSIs left our apartment, we quickly packed our bags before heading to Reed’s parents’ house. Now we lay on his childhood bed together and Reed rubs my back lightly. 

“I’m thinking of going to Brian’s funeral…” he comments out loud and I move my head so I can look at him, letting my chin rest on his chest. 

“If you want to go, baby, we’ll go. When is it?” I inform him and he smiles softly at me. 

“How did I get so lucky?” he asks me as he rubs my arm ever so lightly and I smile. 

“I think I’m the lucky one,” I inform him and he smiles again, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“How about we’re both lucky?” he asks in a cheeky tone and I grin, giggling. 

“Agreed. Now, when’s Brian’s funeral?” I ask him and he pauses. 

“Tomorrow afternoon…” he admits, almost like it’s a bad thing. 

“Why do you say that like it’s bad, babe?” I ask him and he shrugs. 

“I mean… you have your appointment tomorrow, right?” he asks me and I perk up, sitting up fast. 

“Babe? What’s wrong?” he asks me with confusion and worry written all over his face. 

“I have something for you. I was going to give it to you tonight, but then everything happened,” I quickly explain as I dig around in my bag for the small gift I have for him and his face relaxes. 

“Babe, you didn’t have to,” he denies, shaking his head as I finally pull the small gift bag out of my bag. 

“Oh, but I did. Open it. I think you’ll be plenty surprised. I know I was,” I tell him as I sit on the bed with my legs curled up behind me and bite my lip. 

He starts to open it and soon before I know it, he’s pulling the little onesie out. He pauses to read it before looking up at me. I smile a shy, worried smile as he looks at me in awe. 

“Babe, is this real?” he asks and I giggle, nodding as tears well up in my eyes. 

“I had the same reaction. I know we said we’d wait till after marriage, but I know you’re the only one for me and I’ve known that since 4th Grade,” I ramble as I play with a loose string on his blanket. 

“Babe-” he starts, but I quickly cut him off. 

“That’s what the appointment tomorrow is for. First scan…” I trail off before I let out a gasp as he uses his finger to guide my face up to look at him. 

“Honey, I’m not mad. I’m elated, like you said I’ve seen us together since forever,” he tells me softly as he rubs my cheek ever so slightly and the tears start to fall. 

“I love you Reed, so, so much,” I inform him softly as his eyes fill with tears too and he wipes at one that falls down my cheek. 

“I love you too, so, so much pretty girl, always,” he replies, rubbing my cheek and I grin. 

He sets the onsie and its bag aside before turning back to me. He pulls me back into the hug and kisses my forehead before slowly laying both of us back down onto the bed. He lightly rubs my arm that lays across his stomach along with my lower back. We lay there for a few minutes, both grinning ear to ear as he now rubs light circles on my stomach, making me laugh every few minutes when it tickles a little. Soon he leaves another kiss on my forehead as he moves back to just rubbing my arm. 

“I was also thinking of asking Mac where mom was buried,” he mumbles out, breaking the serene silence as I draw shapes against his covered stomach. 

“If you want to, honey. I think it’d be nice to know,” I agree with him and he sighs. 

“It’s just… I wanted you to meet her just as bad as I did myself. It might… be the only way for me to introduce you and myself to her,” he explains and I shake my head. 

“Reed, baby. That’s very sweet, but you don’t have to explain to me. I get it, I know you,” I softly tell him as I lay my chin on his chest to look at him again. 

“And I’d love to meet her, although I’m very sure she’s looking down on you and watching over you,” I tell him softly as I reach up and caress his face. 

He leans into it before kissing my palm and a tear falls from his eye. I quickly catch it and wipe it away. He shakes his head and I smile softly at him. 

“What?” I ask him as he just stares at me like I hung the stars just for him. 

“I think she sent me you, knowing I’d need you. So she sent your stubborn little self my way…” he tells me softly and I huff. 

“I wasn’t that stubborn…” I fight back with a roll of my eyes. 

“Oh yes, you were. Still are. I remember your little first grade self marching up next to me and little Hero Mckinley telling him he should laugh at someone who clearly needs help and pushing him,” he jokes with a smirk and I roll my eyes. 

“Well he was making fun of you! I wasn’t just going to stand by and let my best friend get made fun of. Plus, he’s the one that egged me on,” I grunt as I cross my arms and Reed chuckles. 

“And who the hell names their kid Hero then teaches him to be an absolute asshat? Like that’s just stupid. Heroes are supposed to be the one saving the day, not the villain. I mean it’s literally in the name,” I complain and Reed laughs, making me slap his shoulder. 

“I mean, I can’t say I don’t agree with you, baby. He was the absolute worst,” he adds with a dramatic eye roll before shaking his head and I sigh. 

“Really, he didn’t wanna be pushed, he shouldn't have been bullying you and other kids, let alone tell me to fight someone my own size,” I add on and Reed laughs again. 

“Really, he shouldn’t have. You’ve always been good at taking down people half your size…” he agrees though his laughter and I shake my head. 

“Damn right you are, baby. He should have known not to mess with you,” I tell him and he grins as his laugh dies off. 

“See I told you, she must have sent you my way. Must have known that little me would be a sissy pants,” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and I sigh. 

“Reed, you weren’t a sissy pants. You were an only child and you were seven years old,” I deadpan and he chuckles. 

“So were you!” he fights back and I shake my head. 

“Yeah… but I had two brothers… who still like to kick my butt when they see me. I literally had to learn to fight back,” I humorlessly tell him with a raised eyebrow and he pauses. 

“Yeah, I guess that changes things a bit…” he comments and he chuckles when I smack him again. 

“Ya think?!” I playfully ask him as if he’s stupid only making him laugh again.

“I really do think mom sent me you though,” he seriously informs me when he’s done laughing. 

“Well, maybe she knew we were made for each other, then. I know myself that we are,” I tell him and he smiles. 

“I love you, you know that?” he asks me and I smile softly. 

“Yes, I know that, and I also happen to know that I love you just as much,” I reply to him and he smiles before stretching his neck just a little bit to kiss my nose. 

I giggle and scrunch up my nose, but kiss him back when he kisses my lips next. He then lays back and I cuddle in a little closer. 

“Sleep honey, sleep, we’ve had a very long day,” he informs me and I nod sleepily against his chest. 

“Very, very long indeed. You sleep too, Reed,” I tell him in the most stern tone I can manage though my sleepiness and he chuckles. 

“I promise, baby. I will,” he replies and it makes me grin before my eyes slowly close as sleep soon takes over. 

I hold onto Reed’s arm as we walk out of the church behind the family and the pallbearers. He stops at the top of the stairs and puts his hands in his pockets as he lightly kicks the ground with the tip of his shoe. I squeeze his arm and he takes his opposite hand out of his pocket. He grabs my arm lightly and squeezes it back as I lean against him. I nuzzle into his side and turns to me, giving my forehead a kiss before leaning his cheek against of my head as I close my eyes. 

I open my eyes again and see he’s tearing up again as he watches them put the coffin in the hearse. I rub his arms for a few minutes before he gives a small nod of his head. 

“Mac’s over there,” he comments and I look up at where he nodded. 

“You wanna go talk to him?” I ask and he nods solemnly. 

Reed takes his hand out of his pocket and reaches down to mine, gripping it softly as we walk down the steps. 

“Hey, Mac,” Reed greets his somewhat surrogate dad as we come to a stop. 

Mac spares a look over at the casket as the pallbearers push it the rest of the way into the hearse. Reed chokes up again as he too watches and I start to choke up as well. I rub my cheek lightly against his shoulder while holding his hand a little closer for comfort. He pulls his hand away from mine so he can put his arm around my shoulder. I nuzzle into his neck as I try to hide my face and he squeezes my shoulder. 

“I wanted you kids to know that we’re going to make an arrest,” Mac informs us and Reed lets out a long sigh. 

“Good. I’m glad,” Reed comments, squeezing my side lightly as he lets more tears flow. 

“Maybe I should have just turned Brian in for cheating, you know?” Reed adds on as he starts to cry even more and I squeeze his side with the arm I have wrapped around his stomach. 

“He would have been kicked out of the university, but he never would have been in that hedge maze,” Reed finishes his thought with even more tears running down his face and I kiss his cheek lightly. 

“You’re taking a lot of responsibility, Reed,” Mac comments and Reed shakes his head. 

“It’s ‘cause I feel bad… I feel I shoulda stopped him. I feel like I shoulda done something, but…” Reed trails off as he looks down for a moment and I hug him a little tighter. 

“I’m gonna miss him,” Reed comments and I finally let out a broken sob. 

“Goodness, Reed. I’m gonna miss him too,” I add and Reed hugs me closer as I cry into his shoulder. 

“I know, babe. I’m so sorry,” Reed tells me as he rubs my lower back and I shake my head. 

“Don’t you dare say that. It’s not you who should be sorry. It’s whoever killed Brian who needs to be sorry,” I sternly tell him, hoping it’ll change the way he’s thinking. 

“I’d listen to your girlfriend. She speaks the truth,” Mac tells Reed and he lazily points at me. 

“She always does… look, we gotta go,” Reed tells him. “We’re gonna head over to the cemetery before y/n’s doctor's appointment,” Reed informs him and he nods solemnly. 

“Reed, if there’s anything I can do for you two…” Mac sympathetically promises us, Reed looks at me for a moment and I nod at him. He looks down for a second, thinking it over before looking up. 

“I’d like to know where my mom’s buried,” Reed finally asks and Mac looks away, sighing for a moment. 

“She wasn’t…” Mac somberly states and Reed sighs before turning to me to lean his forehead against me. 

“Her body was never found. No trace at all…” Mac explains in a tone of melancholy before pausing. 

“But they’re…” he tries to continue, but stops to sigh. “We’re still looking,” he finishes, looking away as his own grief hits him. 

Reed sighs before letting go of me and taking a few steps forward. He reaches out and pulls Mac into a hug. It takes Mac a second before he hugs back and squeezes him a bit with both hands. Reed sniffles as he and Mac hold each other in the hug for a few minutes before hesitantly parting. Reed steps back and puts his arm back around my waist, pulling me into his side. 

“Thanks for everything,” Reed gives Mac his appreciation and Mac nods. 

“Ok. Then we gotta get going. Ready, babe?” Reed comments as he turns to me and I raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh! Can we, ahh, do lunch or breakfast tomorrow?” Reed asks and Mac smiles softly. 

“Yeah. Of course. Just text me the time and place,” Mac agrees with a smile and Reed nods happily. 

“Ok then, we’ll see you tomorrow, Mac,” Reed promises with a smile and Mac nods. 

“See you tomorrow, kids,” Mac replies and Reed gives him one last nod before starting to walk away. 

After leaving Mac we quickly head to the subway and get on. We ride it all the way to the street my doctor’s office is on before getting off. 

“Are you excited, babe?” I ask Reed, who squeezes my hand. 

“Of course I am. What kind of question is that?” he jokingly asks and I playfully roll my eyes. 

“Oh of course, I’m so sorry,” I reply with a grin as he opens the door and holds it open for me. 

“Let’s go see our baby,” he tells me with his own grin as I walk through the door. 

The end…

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[boypied]

TALK DIRTY TO ME.

pairings: kyle gallner x male reader

summary: kyle and male reader have hot phone sex (that's all).

warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, edging, masterbation.

You and Kyle had been on a off for a couple of months, and yet you always went back to each other, most of the time it was whenever you were both horny and in desperate need of your balls draining. Kyle was the only guy who could practically make you cum in an instant, it was like he knew your body better then you which is crazy to even think about. With one thrust of his hips he had you shooting thick creamy ropes of cum all over his and your chests, he was an incredible lover. Now Kyle is on the other side of the world filming a movie and you are desperately in need of... release.

"So... what are you wearing?" Kyle mutters out through in a breathy whisper, he palms at his clothed bulge, wanting to hear your sweet voice. "Just a jockstrap... your favourite one." You say in a seductive tone down the phone, hearing Kyle squirm through the phone. He slowly wraps his veiny hand around his rock-hard member, giving it a couple jerks before the real fun begins. "Are you touching yourself?" You ask him softly, "mhm" he mutters out as he strokes his cock gently back and forth imagining your ass wrapped around his cock.

"fuckin' hell. I wish I had you bouncing on this cock" Kyle murmurs out, "you want that daddy?" You tease him "imagine me riding that big cock, feeling it ruin me" you say seductively in a whisper causing his body to shiver with pleasure as he beats his meat, edging himself closer and closer to the climax. "We've been talking for hours now and you've only just started touching yourself?" You murmur out hearing his cute moans and the sound of pre-cum coating his cock.

"You close?" You ask Kyle, "y-yes" he whimpers out beating his more for an inch of its life "cum for me daddy" I say seductively hearing his whimpers "y/n!" He coos out a couple more times before shooting thick ropes of cum all over his chest, "A-AH" you bite your lip hearing the sound of his cum hit his chest "sounded like a big load" you giggle out causing him to chuckle sounding out of breath "the moment I'm done with this movie I'm going to fuck you so hard... you won't be able to walk" Kyle says seductively causing you to bite your lip "I'll be waiting stud."

taglist - @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronaaaaaaa @irlsamcarpenter

it's been a while (SORRY). Here's a cute lil' fic.

[auroracalisto]

aurora's masterlist

all fics attached to this masterlist will be based on fics posted from november 2024 onward. if you'd like to view old masterlists, find them here:

masterlist one - from june 2020 to october 2020; 90+ links - VERY old fics. masterlist two - from november 18th, 2020 to september 22nd, 2021; very specific, based on fandoms, characters/people, and events. masterlist three - from march 12th, 2022 to november 22nd, 2023? missing some fics that I wrote after that time, so they will be posted here for easy access.

go to this blog here and you will be able to search through ALL of my fics without a masterlist.

DISCLAIMER: most of my fics are written with a gn!reader in mind, unless otherwise stated.

AMERICAN HORROR STORY

xavier plympton

coming soon

BALDUR'S GATE 3

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BULLET TRAIN

tangerine

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simon - john q

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MARVEL

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1. runs in the familiy - dad!otto 1.5k words

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TOP GUN

jake "hangman" seresin

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1. imagine: sharing a bed with your husband. 2. you've got this 407 words

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

klaus mikaelson

1. yandere!klaus mikaelson headcanons

WICKED

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1. with all the power in oz 2.2k words 2. secrets and scars 847 words 3. life is so much simpler without a brain. 365 words 4. to be changed. 3.4k words 5. MDNI smut with fiyero, 1.4k words

25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS WRITING PROMPTS 2024

coming soon

[inertiabug]

intro ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐

♱ max — 19, he/they, local horny goth.

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i won't write drunk fics! drugs r fine though no scat or ddlg the only other specific kinks i won't write for are heavy breathplay & ageplay i won't really write character x character alone, almost always a reader has to be involved i'm comfortable writing for any type gendered reader ! :)

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[deadbydatelight-blog]

Hey Now!

Quentin Smith x Reader

Hey Now!

Features: Nightmare on Elm Street, except in a Nothing Went Wrong AU, and Y/N is in a band

Waking up in the morning, Quentin felt like hell. He was even more convinced of such when he passed by the mirror in the bathroom, discovering that his current state was actually much worse than he initially thought. And, with a glance at the watch on his wrist, he realized he didn't exactly have time to fix it. "That's fine. We'll just put a beanie on, and it'll be---" He muttered to himself, travelling back to his room, only to find that the designated spot for his beanie was vacant. "Fine?" He finished his statement late, confused, knowing that that was the last place he left it. There was no way it could've been anywhere else, he was sure. "So where is it?" He asked himself, recalling Y/N, who'd came over the night before. "But why would she take it?"

"Fuck it. We don't have time." Quentin thought aloud, scooping his backpack off of the ground and sliding it over his shoulder. Before his dad could start yelling at him to hurry up, he was already out the door.

×

Walking through the doors of the school, sure to trail far behind his dad, the first familiar face he saw was Nancy. His locker was down the hall, and Nancy was busy talking to Kris and Dean, but Quentin didn't quite care. This, in his mind, was more important. "Hey, Nancy, have you seen Y/N?" He tappen his foot anxiously, unaware that he was even doing it.

"No, she's not gonna be here today. She... Didn't tell you?" Nancy looked confused, pulling away from her conversation. Kris seemed to be in the loop, a knowing smile on her face, while Dean was just as lost as Quentin was.

"No, I guess she didn't." Now that he'd been there for a minute, this entire situation felt weird. His face twisted into one of confusion. The more he was standing there, the weirder this situation felt.

"She's not gonna be here. She's got a show tonight, and she's taking the day to set up." Nancy explained with a curt nod.

"A show?" He was taken aback. "For what? She didn't tell me about any show, and we just hung out last night." Guilt began to set in, and Quentin began to wonder if Y/N actually had said something to him about it, and he'd just missed it.

"Don't sweat it. I'll give you the address." Nancy offered, retrieving a pen and paper from her locker. As if on cue, the bell rang, warning them to get to class.

"Shit." Quentin muttered to himself. It looked like he wasn't getting his beanie back as soon as he thought.

"I'll get it to you at lunch, okay?" Nancy promised, an apologetic smile on her face. Quentin couldn't help but give a soft smile back. He could swear up and down, if there were a universe out there where Y/N didn't exist, he could almost see himself falling for Nancy.

"Thanks, Nance."

×

Like promised, at lunch, Nancy handed Quentin a neatly folded piece of paper, containing an address he wasn't sure he recognized, and a note telling him to be there at 7:00 pm. After lunch, it was decided that he would just catch a ride with Nancy, Kris, Dean, and Jesse, much to his initial disapproval. But at 6:30, he found himself piled up in a car with the group. The reasoning, he told himself, was solely because he wasn't sure where this place even was. It wasn't so he could hang out with Jesse and Dean; oh no, definitely not. Especially not after their relentless teasing, asking him exactly why Y/N was hanging out with him the night before, and why he was so worried where she was now. Quentin could certainly live without Jesse's fake, high pitched moaning, thank you very much. He appreciated Nancy and Kris' silence on the matter, the two going as far as making the other two boys shut up, though the girls secretly made a bet on the status of Quentin and Y/N by the end of the night.

Arriving at the venue, it became obvious why Quentin hadn't heard the place before. It was on the opposite side of town, for one,  and two, it didn't seem like his scene at all. To be fair, it didn't really seem like Y/N's either, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that Quentin didn't know as much about her as he thought he did. "Are you sure we're at the right place?" He paused outside the car door, almost hesitant to move.

"Yes, Quentin. Don't worry, we didn't lie to you. Your girlfriend's here." Dean joked, nudging Quentin's shoulder jokingly on his way around the car. Quentin didn't even bother to correct him, knowing he had to have said "she's not my girlfriend" at least twelve times already. Nancy and Kris seemed to know what they were doing, so when they arrived to the security that demanded tickets. Quentin, then realizing that he definitely didn't have one, just tried to look like he knew what he was doing, trailing behind Kris and Dean with Jesse, hands shoved in his pockets. The burly security guy looked between the number of tickets and the group, obviously noticing the difference in numbers. Quentin just stayed quiet, counting the amount of hits on the bass drum that was still loud outside, mimicking it with his feet to distract his mind. The noise stopped a minute later, signaling the end the band's set time.

"Don't worry, I'm on the list." Nancy spoke up, noticing the security's unamused expression. She quickly moved to her purse, pulling out her ID. With a quick inspection and a curt nod, security let them pass.

"So, you're on the list for.... Whatever this is, and I didn't even get to know what this was?" Quentin walked alongside Nancy, who just grinned cheekily. He didn't even notice how Dean, Kris, and Jesse parted ways with them as soon as they walked inside, Quentin following Nancy to the bar.

"Oh, if only he knew," She found herself thinking. "Yeah, I had a conversation with Y/N last night after she left your place. She said, and I quote, 'my friendship with Quentin is cancelled. Nancy, you're my new best friend'." She imitated Y/N in an overly dramatic manner, Quentin just rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, somehow I don't have a hard time believing that." He was only partially joking, but seeing as how the joke actually resonated with his feelings, he decided to change the subject. "So, any news from Y/N? Where's she at?"

"Backstage, silly." Nancy rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her newly acquired drink, handing Quentin the second one. "Where else would the band be?"

"Y/N's in a fucking band? And I didn't know this?" It was a struggle not to spit his drink out, eyes blown wide. At this rate, Y/N very well might have decided to cancel their friendship and choose Nancy as her new best friend instead, maybe deciding to steal his beanie as a final act of revenge. "When you said she 'had a show', I thought it was possible that she'd gotten a job setting up for a band or something. Not that she is the band." He was still just as amazed.

"If it makes you feel any better, she had a reason for not telling you." Nancy offered. Quentin didn't say anything, hoping she'd elaborate. She didn't. "I wanna tell you, but... I think Y/N is the only one who can. Sorry." She grimaced, and Quentin decided to lighten up on the death stares, figuring he got all of the information he was going to get.

"Yeah. Thanks, I guess." He grumbled, running a hand through his hair. Feedback from a microphone resonated through the air, and his attention immediately averted to the stage where a chick with blonde hair and almost a full sleeve tattoo was carrying a bass guitar. Very country. For the atmosphere of the venue, she looked extremely out of place. With the blonde, the rest of the band went to their places, saving one spot open at the center mic, reserved for the lead singer. He watched curiously, assuming that that was where Y/N was supposed to go. The blonde started a riff on the bass, and the drummer followed. After a few seconds of instrumentals, a new person walked out onto the stage. It was none other than Y/N, who, to Quentin's disdain, was sporting a gray beanie. His beanie.

"Hey now, What's your name? You're really cute and really nice, I think we should go on a date," Y/N sang, and Quentin couldn't help but smile just a little bit. He had no idea that Y/N had an interest in music outside of listening to it, but now, it made sense that she would. He made a mental note to ask her who this one was written about, just bopping along to the beat with Nancy in the meantime. "Oh, hey now! You've got it going on, Hey now, You're like my favorite song-" He noticed Nancy in the corner of his eye trying to get his attention, unable to actually hear her over the band. He leaned down just a bit so he could, Nancy yelling in his ear.

"Come on! Let's try and get closer!" He wanted to protest, but she was already dragging him into the fray before he could get a word out.

"Hey now, What's your birthday? Because I read in the book That my most compatible month is May, Oh, hey now! Do you like my dress? Hey now, Because earlier I looked a mess." True to her word, Nancy had managed to squeeze the two of them into the general population, fighting off the sweaty bodies with apologies to get as close as possible. Now, it was much easier to see Y/N. Despite the fact that she was wearing a beanie, the multicolored lights gave her hair a glowing halo, and she was smiling, Quentin realized, at him. The two maintained eye "Oh baby, you got me going crazy, Oh baby, I want you now now now now now now now. Oh save me, won't you help me? 'Cause baby, I want you now now now now now now now-" A hand on his shoulder told Quentin someone had walked up behind him, Kris pushing her way past him to stand next to Nancy, the two dancing together. And suddenly, Quentin felt extremely out of place.

"Hey now, How are you? I want to know your life story so tell me everything you do, Oh, hey now! You're so much fun, Hey now, You're as bright as the sun, Oh baby, you got me going crazy Oh baby, I want you now now now now now now now." Trying to appreaciate the music that was obviously very important to Y/N was extremely difficult. He felt like he was standing in one place, unable to move. Everything felt so... Awkward. Nancy seemed to notice and tugged on his sleeve, trying again to get closer to the front. With Kris now in tow, they were much more successful in their efforts to say the least. Kris, unlike Nancy, gave little to no fucks when it came to pushing people out of the way. Needless to say, Kris had worked until their bodies were pressed against the barrier seperating the crowd from the band. Y/N's eyes found Quentin's again, and though he hadn't noticed, Nancy had watched her try to find his face in the crowd. All the while, she lowered herself to the ground, sitting on the edge of the stage.

"Hey now, Come over here

Hey now, You're my biggest fear

Hey now, Tell me how you feel

Hey now, Make sure what you're saying is real." The beat picked up again, a grin growing on Y/N's face. She jumped to her feet again, jumping off of the stage all the while jumping back into the chorus. It was only about two or three feet higher than ground level, but nonetheless, a good portion of the crowd cheered. Y/N must've been the security's worst nightmare, with how often she was jumping and climbing on things, now standing on top of the barrier meant to seperate her from the crowd. She stood a little wobbly on the edge of the metal, with people trying to reach her from behind it, but she stood strong anyway, hands reaching back. All the while, she maintained eye contact, and it became obvious who she was reaching for. Quentin, who seemed unable to crack a genuine smile all night, held her hand, an honest and reassuring grin on his face. He noticed how badly her hand was shaking, and he couldn't be sure if it was the adrenaline or fear that caused it. The song ended, and Y/N let out an obvious sigh of relief, her eyes drifting closed. When they opened again, she saw Nancy, absolutely ecstatic for her, and Quentin, who had a look of sheer admiration and awe. Her heart swelled at the idea, and the rest of the show continued without a hitch.

×

At the end of the show, Y/N was surprised to see that Nancy and Quentin had waited, sitting at the bar together.

"Hey, guys." She walked up almost awkwardly, interrupting their conversation about the show. She almost felt bad, thinking how she knew of her two best friends feelings for each other.

"Y/N!" Nancy hugged her tightly. "You did so great. I'm so proud of you." Y/N smiled, thanking Nancy for coming.

"Quen, you made it!" She used her old nickname for her best friend, surprised when he pulled her into a hug.

"Yeah, I didn't mean to crash it or anything. I guess my invite got lost in the mail or something." His tone sounded almost clipped, and Y/N almost felt bad for not formally inviting him. He released her from the hug, much to her dismay, a look of guilt on her features. A silence drifted between the three, Nancy being the one to disrupt it.

"... I'm gonna go make sure Dean and Jesse haven't killed each other yet. I'll see you guys in a minute?" Before either could answer, Nancy had already gone.

"I wanted to ask you to come. I really did." Y/N said immediately after Nancy left, crossing her arms over her chest awkwardly.

"Then why didn't you? Y/N, you're my best friend. I didn't even know you were in a band." Quentin sounded hurt, mimicking Y/N's actions.

"I just... Had to make sure everything was perfect, okay? I didn't want you to show up if we weren't at our best. And we're honestly not yet." Y/N found it hard to breathe, and her eyes were burning, trying not to cry. She hated arguing with people; Quentin especially.

"Are you kidding me, Y/N? That was fucking amazing. And even if it wasn't, I want to be able to support you. You're my best friend. It's like my job." He scoffed, glaring daggers.

"Yeah. I guess." Y/N kept her eyes on the ground, biting her lip. In her head, she just kept repeating, "Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry." Over and over like a mantra. "It's just... You matter a lot to me, and your approval matters the most out of everyone's. I don't want to give you a reason to be disappointed."

"Disappointed?" Quentin scoffed, then went silent. "I don't think I could ever be disappointed in you, N/N." Y/N didn't say anything.

"So can you look at me now?"

She still didn't respond.

"Y/N."

Nothing.

Quentin rolled his eyes, picking her head up with his finger. He began to understand why she wouldn't lookat him; she was crying. "Shit." Realizing what he'd done, he pulled her into a hug, letting her cry on his shoulder. "Don't cry. Please don't cry. Then I'll start crying because you're crying, and I promise I don't look as cute as you do when I cry." He almost whispered, rubbing Y/N's back in his attempts at calming her down. A few minutes had passed, and he'd noticed that Y/N had stopped crying. "Better?" He asked. He felt her lightly shake her head no, still hiding her face in the fabric of his shirt. "Okay. Just let me know when." He responded, feeling no need to say anything else. So, he just held her in a comfortable silence. A few more moments had passed, and he heard her audibly sigh, and let him go.

"I'm sorry." She sniffled. "I kinda made a mess on your shirt." She muttered, trying to sound strong, but she still looked as miserable as before.

"It's okay." Quentin smiled softly, a laugh escaping his lips. Y/N couldn't help but smile back. Quentin didn't laugh as often as she'd like, so during those rare moments when he did, she made sure to savor it each time. "So, wanna tell me what got you so upset all of a sudden?" He made sure not to sound too pushy, Y/N just biting her lip and sighing.

"Well, no time like the present, right?" She muttered under her breath. "I... Was... Sad, I guess," She tried to push past the lump in her throat, building back up. "Because... I made you miss out on something... Monumental for me, because... I was scared." She admitted, eyes looking anywhere but his face. When Quentin stayed silent, she let out a deep sigh. "And I was so scared, because I love you. And... I've written a couple of songs about you, and I didn't want you to hear them and think 'oh, she's gotta be singing about someone else,' or even worse, I thought... You might figure me out. And I feel so selfish now because now I'm telling you this, and I know you don't have feelings for me like that. I know it's Nancy that you're after, not that I could blame you, and Jesus; now you're mad at me because I never told you, but surprise! Our friendship is probably over now because of it all and I'm just so-" Y/N rambled, Quentin suddenly cutting her off.

"Y/N." He grabbed a hold of her shoulders, shaking her out of her rant. He'd been calling her name during different points during her speech, but she was so wrapped up in it that she hadn't noticed. "You're not selfish, okay? And I'm not mad at you. I mean, I am mad at you, just... Not in the way you think." Y/N blinked, confused. "I'm mad that you never invite me to your concerts, but Jesse, Kris and Dean get invited, and Nancy's on the guest list. I'm mad because you never let me support you. I'm mad... I'm mad because I never knew how you felt, and I'm mad that I never acted on how I felt."

"Oh?" Y/N looked confused. "Oh." The message set in, and Quentin scratched the back of his head nervously. He didn't even know how red his face was at this point, but it couldn't have been more red than Y/N's. "Well... Uh... Just so you know, Nancy's only on the guest list because she's my other best friend, and Kris only got a ticket because Nancy got one, and Dean and Jesse only went because, well, when you ask Kris to come to something, it's like a package deal." She shrugged. "And I never told you how I felt because I was just so sure you had a thing for Nancy." She raked a hand down her face, stifling a laugh. Now that she knows what she knows, the idea did seem kinda farfetched. "But you also never told me how you felt, so I guess I'm mad at you too."

"That's completely fair." Quentin agreed, standing up so he wasn't leaning on the bar counter anymore. "So, since we've decided to just be mad at each other, how exactly do you propose we go about patching it up?"

"I believe there's a saying, goes along the lines of 'kiss it and make it better'? I could be wrong." Y/N shrugged slyly, taking one step forward, making the two of them chest to chest.

"Nope, I definitely think you're onto something." Quentin nodded. Leaning down to Y/N's height, planting a soft kiss to her lips. She seemed to smile into it, and he couldn't help but reciprocate the action. When the two pulled away, he couldn't help but look at her curiously. "What's got you so giggly, N/N?"

"Nothin'. Just nothin', Q." She shook her head, reminding Quentin of his initial mission.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot." He snatched the beanie off of Y/N's head, placing it back on his own.

Y/N gasped in false shock. "Rude." She grumbled, crossing her arms. Mood = killed. She slung her guitar case over her shoulder, walking to the exit of the venue. Quentin followed, letting one arm hang around Y/N's waist.

"You're the one who stole my beanie." He countered.

"I didnt steal it! It fell into my bag!" She accused, turning her head slightly to get a look at him again. "I can't say I'm not glad you got it back, though. I knew something about you looked off."

"Yeah. Okay." Quentin snickered, shaking his head. "I defintely think it looks cuter on you, but, I can't survive without it. Sorry." He teased, earning a light punch in the side from a snickering Y/N "Ouch! Who's the rude one now?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll get that damn hat back if it's the last thing I do."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Challenge accepted."

I love The Regrettes, and I love Quentin. So I decided to combine the two. Everyone is extremely ooc, butttt staying in character isn't what cures my depression, Susan, it's the contennttt that makes me happy, davidddd

Anyway, if you were wondering what the song was, it's Hey Now by The Regrettes

[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss Me Off (Pt. 1)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: DRUG USE!! Y/N smokes weed and does coke. Don't do drugs, it's for the bit. Drugs are bad. Don't be stupid. This is self indulgent as fuck. Simon is mean, obvs. Y/N is also mean.

Summary: You're back in your hometown for a few weeks to house sit for your parents. A rivalry dating back to your high school years makes an appearance, but this time, he's met his match.

Notes: I finally found someone angry and hot to fill the Billy Hargrove shaped hole in my fanfic writing heart. Fuck ST. Free Palestine.

You invited everyone to this party. An absolute rager while you're house sitting for your parents. Their home is huge compared to your humble two bedroom house, states away. You've reached out to everyone you can remember from your hometown, and it's surprisingly a lot. The house is packed by the time all the guests arrive. A feeling of accomplishment straightens your shoulders as the music surges through the house. Your pride is promptly diminished when a familiar face you specifically didn't invite steps through the door. Simon.

"Why is he here?" You whisper to the nearest person, but somehow, through the music and loud conversation, he hears you as if you whispered it directly to him.

"I heard there was a party. I followed the clientele." He winks, patting a pocket on his dirty bomber jacket.

"Are you selling drugs inside my parents' house?" You ask, acting mortified. He just smirks, basking in the idea of setting you off like he used to, years ago. Long before you left this town. "Let me get an eighth of smoke and a gram of whatever I can put up my nose." The request visibly caught him off guard. He stares at you with a raised eyebrow as he rummages in his pocket for your order.

"Y'know I don't really-"

"What? You stop selling weed?"

"No, it's just," he tilts his head before shoving the illegal contents into your hand. "You seem different."

"Different?"

"Yeah, like you're not a whiny fuckin' kid blowing up my spot anymore." He chuckles as he slips past you, and dissolves into the party. That's right, years ago, when the two of you were in high school, he was expelled when administration seemingly randomly brought in drug dogs, and his locker was raided. To everyone's surprise, he still graduated from the alternative school and even went on to college, but apparently his pursuit of education stopped there when his well-known temper earned him the boot.

Sure, you were a bit of a late bloomer. A classic loser amongst your classmates. The poster child of people who took D.A.R.E extremely seriously, even though you'd never once given a shit about it. You knew he always blamed you for his getting caught, he made your life hell in college before you moved. You forgot all about him before he stepped through your parents' door.

He's already here, so you decide to let him make his money and spice up your party. It's not like you'll run into him again with the way people keep showing up. A bored town, a boring town seeking any kind of thrill outside the two bars that close at 11 PM.

You're not much of a drinker, so your eighth and blow do exactly what you need them to. The coke keeps you chatty and energetic, while the weed mellows that swinging jaw you'd have. Coke is a special occasion drug, your tolerance isn't something to brag about. You sneak off to the bathroom every once in a while, and no one seems to notice, so you get a little brave, slipping away on the empty back patio to cut out a quick line on your mother's hand mirror.

Your technique is swift, muscle memory from your harder partying days in college. The entire time, Simon watches through a window. He'd caught you in passing, and watched in curiosity as the girl he knew with big, innocent eyes and a loud mouth rails a sizable line of hard drugs. He's dumbfounded, laughing lightly to himself. You clean the glass of the remaining powder with your index finger and rub it against your gums, lifting the mirror to check your nose for evidence of your patio soiree. Just as your eyes meet your own, the patio door slides open, and you're no longer alone in the safety of darkness. "Not your first time with that shit." It's not a question, but it sounds like it was supposed to be.

"Far from it," you sigh, relieved. You don't mind smoking with others, but the coke is something you'd prefer to keep to yourself.

"Could'a fooled me," he strikes a lighter, cherrying the end of his cigarette. "You used to be a fucking bitch." He wraps his lips around those last two words, really annunciating each syllable. It's dark, but there's enough moonlight to see the dark circles around his eyes as he displays that same threatening look he used to shoot at you in college between shoulder checks and vulgar insults.

"This 'fucking bitch' will beat your ass now, Kenny. Watch ya' fuckin' mouth," you mock his accent, as yours thinned out after being away for so long.

"Who the fuck is Kenny?" He looks genuinely thrown off.

"No fuckin' poise. Stay focused. Don't insult me on my own patio, I'll fuck us both up." You're speaking almost gibberish, but the only way to knock him down is to throw him off.

"Who the fuck are you?" Simon chuckles, taking a drag of his cig.

"It's been a long time. I'm surprisingly not 16 anymore. You don't seem very young yourself."

He takes a drag, eyes widening as if he's watching a TV show that caught him pleasantly off guard. "Yeah, okay."

"How are sales?" You ask, running your tongue across your teeth to disperse the numbing of the bitter substance.

"Not bad. You just invite everyone whose name you could remember?"

"Everyone but you, Simon." You sigh.

"Well, I hate it for you, Queen Bitch. But I've gotta make money somehow."

"You could try a job," you say, but after you look him up and down, you change your mind. "Nevermind." He releases a genuine laugh, puffing plooms of smoke from his lips with each heave of his chest. "You still doing that band thing?"

"'Band thing?'" he huffs. "Yes. I'm still doing the... Band thing."

"Yikes, soft spot, huh? Not going great?" Years ago you took his verbal beatings with a cowering stance, and often, tears. Today you're giving it all back to him. The reason for your vitriol is not lost on him, so he takes every blow.

"It's going fine. You should come to a show. Get out of your little rich kid bubble for two seconds." Clocked. You've been clocked. Your stunted social skills stemmed directly from how sheltered and spoiled you were until the age of 18 when you finally realized what your life was, compared to others. You worked and saved your own money and moved away at 20. Away from your shelter, away from your helicopter parents, and realistically, away from Simon.

"Yeah, that'll be the day," you're laughing until you notice something going south right inside the door. A fight seems to have broken out. You burst through the entryway, shoving yourself between the two men. One of them, a tall, broad man steps back, acknowledging the escalation at hand. While the other, shorter, almost shorter than you, seems to only get more angry. "You need to calm the fuck down!" You yell, only trying to be heard over his own volume.

"Get the fuck out of my face, bitch!" The short man spits like venom. You look at him with a raised eyebrow, and something takes hold. Before you know it, your own fist is connecting with his jaw. The crowd is rallying you on, but your hit wasn't enough to knock him out. You're aware that your swing warrants a swing back, but God, you know it's about to hurt even with this dude being the size he is. He swings his fist under and hooks you in the stomach. It's painful, but you can't help but heave a wheezing, breathless laugh at the idea that he swung low because he might not have properly reached your face. He's not even that short, but you can't stop the laughter. That only pisses him off more, and he swings again, this time catching your cheek.

By now, you've both been separated as the spectators realize it was kinda strange to watch a man fight a woman, regardless of how it started. You're still laughing, breathless from the hit and sweating from the cocaine. When you're finally released, the laughing returns to anger and you run half of the party off.

"Party's over, fuck outta here!" You call, harshly pushing the power button on the stereo. "Short stack ruined it for all of you. Get out of my house!" You leave the passed out guests alone, they're safer here anyways. Once you return to the patio, you take your same seat and return to the conversation as if nothing happened. "As I was saying, no. I won't be at a Psycho's show."

"It's Psyops and you fuckin' know that." He speaks harshly before reeling it in, and clearing his throat. "What the hell was that?" He gestures to the door with his thumb.

"I told you I'll beat your ass now, Kenny."

"Was that Kenny? Who the fuck is Kenny?" It's clear he hasn't stopped thinking about "Kenny" since the first time you said it.

"I don't know who that guy was," you shrug. "Can I have a smoke?" You rub your sore cheek.

"Whatever," he tosses a cigarette your way. "What was with the laughing? You just fuckin' insane or something? You been in the asylums this whole time?" He looks almost serious with his inquiry. Like he wouldn't be surprised.

"No, I just-" you start to laugh again. "I imagined him punching me in the gut because he couldn't reach my face." You graze your fingers over your cheek again. "But clearly I was unaware of his lengthy arms or something. He seemed shorter from far away," you chuckle.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," Simon laughs with you, shaking his head.

"Yeah, thanks for jumping in, by the way." You joke, cutting out another line on the small silver mirror.

"Jumping in? For you? A fuckin' snitch?" He raises his eyebrows, as if he's been waiting to address this.

"Oh, fuck off. I didn't fucking snitch on you," you announce before inhaling the line.

"Y/N, it's been years. Just fuckin-"

"Simon, I didn't snitch on you. I didn't know you sold drugs at school. I thought they searched our lockers daily, I didn't think anyone would be able to sell drugs that easily at school." As you're explaining, you realize you never denied telling on him, you just silently took his punishment, hoping it'd eventually stop.

"Are you a god damn idiot? You thought they searched all those lockers every fuckin' day?" He's in disbelief.

"That's what my parents told me," you shrug, rubbing the powder from the mirror on your gums again.

"I ain't buying that shit," he mumbles like a growl. "You got that Mickey kid expelled too. Year before." He's staring you down like he's got you cornered.

"Yeah, because he pushed me down the fucking stairs, Simon. I was in the hospital for a week. He broke my arm." You're shocked that it wasn't common knowledge why Mickey was expelled. "He's in jail right now for the armed robbery of a church."

"Wait, seriously?" Simon huffs a chuckle as he pieces it all together and finally, finally considers the fact that you weren't the snitch.

"Have you ever considered that maybe you weren't very good at it? Selling drugs at school, I mean." You tilt your head, awaiting an answer.

"You really didn't do it," he exhales a cloud of smoke from the cigarette he'd just lit.

"No, I didn't. And you made every single day hell for me. You ran me out of town." You're laughing as you say it, looking down and focusing on rolling a joint, but he keeps his eyes on you. A glint of guilt flashes in his pupils, but you'd never know. He used to wonder if he had a hand in your running off, and today it was finally confirmed. Your laugh carries the weight of everything you were getting away from. A man that feels anger as deeply as Simon does, incidentally, comes with the ability to empathize with pain.

"Alright. Next time, I'll jump in." He relaxes, leaning back into the chair.

"Sounds good." You spark up your joint and take a long drag before passing it to Simon. An olive branch. A silent truce. Forgiveness that he didn't deserve. He takes it from your hand and takes a hit. The usually smooth smoke scrapes into his lungs from the guilt. The feeling quickly dissipates as the two of you get stoned.

You both stay there in those seats all night. You hardly realize the passing of time until the sky begins to light up a pale morning blue. "Holy shit, how long have we been out here?" Simon asks, noticing his empty pack of cigarettes. You throw a five dollar bill toward him.

"I owe you. I smoked over half of those." He stuffs the money in his pocket with a nod. "You can stay here, but if you knock on my door at any point after I go to sleep I will fight you like the little guy." Simon looks around and shakes his head.

"No thanks." He nods and heads towards the door.

"See ya' around, Simon." As he closes your door behind him, something sends a tingle down his spine when he hears you say his name again. A softness directed towards him that he's not used to. It's uncomfortable and new and the sensation of craving more pisses him off. He shrugs his shoulders, physically shaking the feeling from his body before heading off on foot. To where? Who fuckin' knows.

The next day, or that same day, way later when you wake up, you're already planning your next get together as you clean up from last night. It's not as bad as usual, but probably because it got cut a few hours short after the altercation. A feat that you had forgotten about until you caught your reflection while brushing your teeth. A small bruise has formed under your eye where you were hit. "Ha, what a pussy." You lift your shirt to examine your stomach and there's not even a semblance of a hit. "Pussy!" You repeat, louder.

After getting ready for the day, you head to the store to replenish the stock for your next shindig. Your parents always leave their credit card when you house sit. It's the only time in your adult life you don't mind using their money. They hardly notice it anyways.

As you're strolling the aisles of the bodega, you spot Simon. Something in you feels awkward about last night, so you hang back until he leaves. He looks tired and disheveled. More so than usual. And he's a little out of breath like he'd been running. He buys a pack of smokes with the five you gave him and disappears out the door. You make your purchase and tote two 30 packs to your rickety, old van. A vehicle you were proud to buy yourself before you moved out. Simon watches you from the corner of the store, having a smoke before continuing his trek across town. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to remember when he saw you drink anything at all at the party. "She can't seriously be throwing another shit show," he mumbles.

He bolts when police pull into the lot, no doubt still in pursuit of him. They pull up to your van and you stand outside, defensively. Unsure of what in your van could get you in trouble at this moment. "Have you seen this guy?" They hold up a picture of Simon. The way he looked in college, anyways. He's shaved his head now.

"No, I can't say I have." You shrug.

"Take this and let us know if you see anyone suspicious." The cop hands you the paper and you take it with a flat smile. Once they leave the lot, you crumple the paper into a ball and toss it in your van.

Simon just can't shake the image of you he's had in his mind all these years. Shy and afraid. Avoiding eye contact and clutching your books to your chest when he'd loom over you and whisper vicious cruelties. Now you walk with your back straight. You look him in the eye, even when he tries to make you uncomfortable just for fun. You fist-fight people and laugh because you imagined something funny in the middle of getting an uppercut to the stomach. You bought drugs from him the second he walked in the door. You're hardly recognizable.

That night, you're settling in the living room with a movie on the TV. It's a quiet, peaceful evening as you smoke a joint on your couch, enjoying the silence of your own company.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock!

Someone frantically bangs on the door before bursting in and slamming it behind them. "Hey! Are you home or what?" Simon yells into the foyer.

"I'm right here, you scared the shit out of me!" You throw a handful of popcorn at him. "Why are you inside my parents' house? What time is it?"

"I don't know what time it is. Shut up, listen, I need to," he seems to search for a softer word than 'hide.' "Stay in here for an hour or two."

"I saw your wanted poster. You're a real outlaw, huh? Arson, right? Hard." He rolls his eyes. "I told them I hadn't seen you."

"Yeah, thanks. I'd hope so."

"You gonna sit down or what?" You ask, annoyed that he's interrupting your movie. He huffs and joins you on the couch and you pass the joint to him.

"The fuck are we watching?" He raises an eyebrow. You stare at him for a second before answering.

"Firestarter."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he sighs.

"Yeah, I started thinking about it after I read your charges. Fucking idiot." You laugh. "Broad daylight is brutal."

"Their house was fine."

"Well, you can hide here as long as you need to. I'll be here for a few weeks. But I am throwing another get together tomorrow, so be down for that."

"Again?" He scoffs.

"Yeah. It's way more fun to party in this giant house than my fucking double wide."

"You live in a double wide trailer?"

"Yes. I got out on my own dime. Options are limited where I ended up." You always tell this story like a brag. It's something you're proud of. After all, it's a nice double wide. It's not even in a trailer park... This time.

"Hard." He mocks you and you laugh in response.

"So these are your two options? Party or a movie with barely any volume while you get high?" He leans across the couch to pass you the joint, unknowingly scooting closer with each reach.

"Normally I'm not talking over the movie so the volume is just fine." You shrug. He takes the hint and finally shuts up, watching the movie and keeping panicky eyes on the windows. By the time the joint is finished, the two of you are much closer than before. Not too close, but gravity seems to be doing its thing. Simon can finally see the small bruise under your eye.

"Is that from that guy?" He laughs.

"Yeah, I know. He tried his best," you join in the laughter. Simon raises a hand to brush his thumb over it, never minding to invade someone's personal space.

"There's not even a welt. What a fuckin' pussy," he says as he lowers his hand. You're not sure if you're blushing or not, but you do know that you're frozen for a moment after the sudden, close quarters. You may have grown out of a lot, but you're still pretty fucking awkward sometimes. Simon notices right away. God damn it.

"That's exactly what I said! There's nothing on my stomach either. It's like I fought a toddler." You laugh, your head is clearing up, but not for long. Simon leans in closely, sliding closer to you than before and invading your personal space much more boldly than when he touched your bruise.

"You know how to take a hit, huh?" He whispers, inches from your face. Your eyes are wide and you feel the heat rise in your cheeks when you feel his hand on your thigh.

"You're about to take a hit if you don't move that fuckin' hand," you snap with a wavering voice that you hope he doesn't notice.

"I'm just fuckin' with you. Had to find some way to do it. You're all... difficult now." He laughs at your still red face. He backs down and you roll your eyes, defeated by your own bodily reactions.

"You are God damn difficult, Simon." You jam your finger into his chest, sizing him up, invading his bubble. "You're difficult and it makes you angry. Now, I'm letting you hide in my parents house from the fuckin' police, so please, for the love of god, tone that fuck-shit down." He can't help but grin at the tables you've turned. Your forehead might as well be pressed to his as you tell him what for.

"Calm the fuck down, Y/N. I'm just fuckin' with you. Thanks for the safehouse." His thanks sounds like sarcasm, but you decide it's the best you'll get from him. He keeps his distance after that, but doesn't shift away from you. For the rest of the movie, you catch him stealing glances your way. He's silently reliving the moment you pushed back, a smile cracks across his lips, but you're too focused on the movie.

The two of you fall asleep before the credits roll. You're baked and glued to the couch, he's exhausted from running all day. It's barely dawn when Simon shakes himself awake, startled by something only a mind as paranoid and volatile as his could dream up. He looks at your sleeping form on the couch and checks his watch. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mumbles to himself. As he quietly steps toward the door, you call to him from the couch.

"You can shower here if you want. You look like shit. It'd probably be harder to spot you if you weren't filthy." Simon rolls his eyes, but you're right. You rise and stretch from your blanket cocoon. "Fuck, what time is it?"

"Early."

"Useful. The bathroom's down the hall to the right. Toss your clothes in the basket and set it outside."

"Alright," he huffs, unsure how to process your balance between "fuck you" and "I'll do your laundry for you so you can shower."

Simon leaves his clothes in the basket just like you asked and you toss them in the washer with a few of your clothes to fill it up. It'll take longer to wash and dry his clothes than it'll take for him to shower, so you rummage through some of your dad's PJs and leave a pair of soft pants and an old Harvard T-shirt in place of the basket. After a while, Simon emerges from the steamy bathroom, towel-clad. "Are you serious?" He asks, holding up the clothes you've left for him.

"Don't you wanna know what it's like to wear a Harvard shirt?" You jest. "It'll be another 30 minutes on your clothes." Simon rolls his eyes, and tosses the clothes on the couch.

"I'll wait." He takes a seat next to you, the towel secured around his waist. "Give me that." He takes the joint you've barely just started rolling out of your hands. It feels more like a "thank you" than a "I'll do it better" so you let him roll it. It's a gesture of kindness from him, and you accept it.

After a joint or two more, the buzzer sounds on the dryer. "I'll be right back, I threw some of my clothes in there too." You leave and return with a basket of fresh, clean, warm clothes. You dig through and find Simon's belongings, tossing them to him piece by piece. Once he slips off to the bathroom again, he comes back fully dressed. A cleaner, easier to look at version of himself.

"Thanks," Simon nods, but he doesn't retake his seat next to you. "I'll catch you later."

"You coming to the party? For the money?" You grin, secretly hoping to repeat your patio soiree from before.

"For the money." He chuckles as he steps out the door, leaving you in peaceful silence. You fall back asleep right away. Hours later, when you finally awaken, some people are already in the house.

"Jesus Christ, you guys don't knock or nothing?" You rub your eyes. "Don't fuck up my parents' house. I'm gonna go get ready."

"Yeah, yeah," your friends chant back, picking out music to play on the stereo. Once you're dressed and made up to your liking, you return to the party. The size of the crowd doubled in the hour it took you to get ready. As you play hostess, you're secretly searching each room and hallway for Simon, hoping he'd show up, though you're not sure why you're so eager. He was a dick for most of the time you've known him, but even back then, he's a very attractive man.

You pour a round of shots and pass them out, making sure each of your closest pals gets theirs first. You're holding onto one last one, searching for Simon, when you round the corner and see a familiar face. It's the short little shit you just fought the other night. "Aw, god damn it." You sigh, already anticipating the spectacle that's about to unfold.

"You got a lot of fucking nerve throwing another party after the shit you pulled," he says, cracking his knuckles, but you're looking down at him almost, so it's not very threatening

"What? Nerve? Aren't you trespassing right now? Get the fuck out of my house. We're all pushing 30." You're dumbfounded by this weird turf war happening inside your childhood home.

"You think just 'cause you're a broad, you can mouth off to anybody you want and get away with it."

"No, I didn't 'get away with it,' you left a faint little freckle on my cheek with that crabapple you call a fist." And with that, you catch another swing. Just as painful, and this time, no laughter follows. The shot glass is knocked from your hand and shatters on the floor just before you land, cutting up your hands pretty good. "Ah! God fucking damn it!"

"Fuck you, bitch!" The man shrieks, kneeling over you to beat you senseless, but he doesn't get a second hit in before someone's grabbed his shoulders and ripped him off of you. Simon.

He has the short man pinned against the wall receiving hit after hit to the face and stomach. "The fuck you come back here for, dumbass? Playground's already closed?" Simon taunts as he lands blow after blow. The rage in his eyes is palpable. You're on your feet in no time, folding your glass-filled hands in on themselves to swing brick-like fists at the troublesome man. It's you and Simon vs that guy until his friends eventually join in, knocking Simon around and finally dragging their friend out of the function. You wonder what the point of showing up was at all.

Simon helps you wash the glass and small traces of blood from your hands. There's only one significant cut, and a bandaid will have it fixed up in an instant. "Why and how did you manage to land on a pile of broken glass?" He asks, frustrated with the tweezers he's using to remove the tiny shards. "Who keeps inviting that fuckin' guy?"

"I saved you a, uh... I saved you a shot." Your voice lowers as the sentence goes on as you realize how desperate it sounds.

"Saved me a shot?" He laughs. "You were waitin' for me." He grins.

"Yeah, I was hoping to sweeten you up and get a heavier gram this time." You reach into your pocket for money and shove it at him, leaving your bandaged hand in front of him, awaiting your drugs.

"I'll share my personal with you, how about that?" He tilts his head up, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes as he raises a cigarette to his mouth. He already knows you'll be pulling him onto the patio, so he wastes no time lighting it.

"Sounds good, let's go." You lead him to the dark backyard and the two of you take a seat at the table, but you're a chair closer this time, making it easier to share the little mirror. You cut out two lines and pull your hair away from your face. Once the substance enters your body, you're ignited into conversation. You drone on and on, and Simon listens to every bit, quietly hitting his cigarette as he watches you go. Slowly, the adrenaline wears off, and the reality of the ache in your face settles in. "Oh, my God. My fucking face." You brush a finger over the inevitable darkening black eye on the right side of your face.

"Yeah, they uh, kinda fucked us up." Simon speaks through cigarette smoke.

"Do you even know who they are? The short guy?"

"You keep calling him short. He's your height." Simon squints.

"I just feel so much taller than him. Maybe it's the shoes, I don't know." You shrug, snorting another line with the side of your nose that hasn't swollen shut from the fight.

"It's clearly a sore spot for him, regardless."

"You jumped in," you smile, feeling as if this "friendship" has finally been validated.

"Said I would," Simon responds flatly. You roll your eyes and stare up at the night sky for a moment. Inside, the party rages on. Music thumps from indoors, but the sound is well sealed from where you two sit.

"This is gonna hurt so bad tomorrow, huh?" You ask, sniffing through your coke and blood-filled nose.

"Oh, yeah." A drag of his cigarette. "It's gonna fucking suck." He can't help but chuckle, having lived through an ass beating or two in his life.

"You gonna be here when I wake up?"

"Stop asking me so many fucking questions." He waves his hand dismissively.

"Not even to hide?" You smirk.

"I'll come back to hide." He exhales smoke through a small smile. You two are up long past sunrise, and when the last of the coke finally begins to wear off, you head to bed.

"Goodnight, Simon. Don't go to jail today." You chime behind you as you head down the hall. Simon scans the living room and it's emptier than the last party. As in, no one stayed the night. He shifts uncomfortably for a moment, unsure of his next move. Before he knows it, he's face down, passed out on your parents soft, leather couch.

You can hear the familiar sound of falling face-first into that exact couch, and you feel a sense of comfort knowing Simon won't be running from the cops while you sleep. He's gone when you wake up and to avoid any more drama, you hold off on planning your next party. Days go by, and your time house sitting dwindles. Simon hasn't come back, not even to hide.

Weeks pass and you're packing your belongings into your van, giving your parents a hug and assuring them that nothing went awry. They shower you in thanks and love, sending you on your way back home, states away. It feels bittersweet, and you wish you got to tell Simon you were leaving. Maybe give him a phone number or something stupid like that.

Before you leave town, you stop by a gas station to fill up and grab a snack. At the register, a tall man with long locs peers at you from behind the counter. "Is that everything?"

"Yeah, and the rest on pump four." The man nods at your request. You'd be lying if you said you weren't looking for Simon to pass by outside, or hopefully catch him walking somewhere so you can say bye. It's a strange feeling in you to want his presence. As you reminisce about the sheer rage in his eyes as he pulled that guy off of you during the fight, your eye catches something behind the register. A poster for some gritty, underground band. And opening for them... Psyops.

The cashier hands you your bags and you point to the poster. "What's the date on that? The concert thing."

"I think it's tonight," he answers flatly. Your shoulders fall, wondering if this late in the evening means you've already missed him. You shake these weird feelings from your head, reminding yourself that a few days of liking each other doesn't make up for all those years of torment. You continue down the road for a few miles more.

"God damn it!" You burst, cutting a U-turn in the middle of the street, barreling your van back into town. He said he'd jump in, and he did. You told him you'd go to a show.

(Part 2 is HERE!!)

[houseofpsychoticwomxn]

omg u write for simon .. he’s so bf ౨ৎ

i just need to follow him around like a lost puppy and he’s just like get tf away from me i’m a bad influence and ur just tilting your head like “but your nice to me :( and u make me happy :(“

i do and he is !!! this is so sweet </3

“come on, si, just let me come with you. you’re not that bad.” you protested, stomping behind him as he walked to the truck. he usually stayed over after a fun night together, even took you out to breakfast the next morning, but tonight he insisted that he had some business to take care of that you were just ‘too good’ for.

“look- I am, and you can’t. I’ll be back real quick and we can do whatever you want then, yeah?” he was always annoyingly persuasive and even though you wanted to cross your arms and get in the truck anyway, the smoke scented hands coming up to grab your face for a kiss were convincing you otherwise.

“you promise?” the everpresent pout on your face made his eyes roll, nodding your own head with his hands.

“yeah, yeah. now get back inside, got somethin’ real special with your name on it for when I get back.”