#like the side of sunset where the sun is falling

[robinsgrl]

Rafe with weird girl is a bit more nonchalant and tame compared to JJ with weird girl. he WILL match your freak and that’s a threat and yeah you might be weird but he’s much weirder he makes you shy. YOU.

weird girl masterlist

MDNI 18+

you’re talkative. You’re never not talking someone’s ear off. Most people can’t handle it. Sometimes your own friends need a moment of silence. But never JJ.

you’re laid back on your bed, legs spread open as his face hides between you. “deb deserves so much better. her boyfriend is such an asshole.” you breathe out shakily as he laps at your cunt.

he hums into you, nodding. “she does, mama. much better.” he dives right back in, your fingers threading through his hair.

“yeah, and the weird thing is she doesn’t think she does,” a small moan leaves your lips but you continue. “we tell her all the time. oh! I forgot the worst part! when they were on a break, he came to the store and-and bought condoms. at her register.”

this makes him pull his face from your heat, eyes wide as he looks down at you. “no fucking way.”

You nod, just as exasperated. “yeah, i know, it was fucking crazy” you tell him as you push his head back down

you’ve gone fishing with him and you’re so damn bored. you came to tan but the suns slowly going down and you're sure you’re as tan as you can be. he adds bait one last time and throws it far into the water. your eyes trail on his strong arms that are flexing under the soft hue of the sunset.

you dont even question your thought. you lean over and chomp down onto his bicep. he’s not even phased. “what’s my sunscreen taste like?” he asks as he glances over at you with a pretty smile. it makes your cheeks flush.

“delicious. wanna try mine?” it’s a joke. but you should know better than to joke like that with him. he doesn’t hesitate to drop his rod and rush to you.

a loud laugh leaves you as he tackles you in a hug, making you land on him as he falls to his back on the boat. he’s nipping at your neck, biting and sucking on you. “jj!” you can’t stop the happy laughs that leave you.

“you taste so good, mama!” he trails his lips down to your chest and bites the side of your boob that’s pressing out of your bikini. it doesn’t take long for him to fully take your tit out and bite your pebbled nipple.

“JJ!”

you’re in bed with jj when you realize something. he’s butt naked. “bro, where are your pants?”

“bro, i like letting my balls get air”

“bro, are you clenching your cheeks right now?” You ask with a laugh as you smack his ass. He lets out a fake moan and pushes his ass to you.

“Bro, i loved that. Do it again.” He’s laying on top of you now, feeling his everything against you. Your hands fall to his butt and you easily squish his cheek. “Bro, im getting a boner.”

“Your bro is giving you a boner? Bro, that’s fruity.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck as you keep smacking his naked butt. “Your little butt is so cute” you comment.

“My butt is NOT small”

“Yes, it’s a tiny lil bubble butt”

“There’s nothing tiny about me, mama” you laugh as he rolls his hips into you.

“JJ! Oh my god!” You laugh and try and push him off of you.

Yeah, no one can ever truly grasp JJ’s freak— he leaves you miles behind. Moral of the story…… he wins.

[daylighted]

─ FRIEND FROM COLLEGE, dad's best friend ! jackles

your welcome home party from college is joined by none other than the man your father based all of his warnings about boys around: his estranged best friend from college. little did he know that it wasn't the signs you needed to be warned away from, but the man himself.

warnings. ( 18+ ! ) pls for the love of god don't interact with this one if you're a minor. hefty age gap. unprotected p in v. semi - public sex (maybe?). choke kink. daddy kink (lite edition). spit kink? maybe? manhandling. creampie. romanticization of sneaking around. mentions of alc/hol & drinking. word count. 6.7k (SORRY.)

happy birthday to my bree bree, @titsout4jackles <3 thank u for forcing me back into writing smut with this one HAHAH.

OF COURSE YOU'D HEARD ABOUT JENSEN; an infamous character from your dad’s past, a faceless name that frequented in all of the stories that he ended with, don’t try that, or don’t repeat my mistakes. you’d heard infinite stories about your dad’s time in college involving that man, his name spoken around an exasperated sigh, so at adds with the story in mention. your father, wistfully telling you at the dinner table to not do any keg stands while you were away at school, because of the time jensen had done three in one night, somehow, and ended up in the emergency room.

it was just one of those things you accepted about your parents’ lives, before they met and made the family that was you: jensen was either a scapegoat character made up to teach you obscure life lessons, or those three keg stands in one night killed him, considering you'd never met him once in all of your twenty-something years. either way, those stories did have some sort of influence on you, because your years away at college went by without issue, or hospitalization from alcoholism. 

you were so happy to be back home. your term was up for the year, landing you back in the summery sunset heat enveloping your parents’ home, coating everything in a thick sheen of inescapable warmth. your mothers rose bushes in the front yard were blooming flowers of beautiful shades of pink and red, loose petals scattered across the bright green of their front lawn, the floral-and-pollen smell a warm greeting as you walked up the front steps. 

music drifted outside from the open windows, the navy blue shudders rattling against the creamy white clapboard siding on the house. you could see, just faintly, through the blinding white of the sun’s glare, the outlines of people in the sun-darkened interior. 

were you supposed to knock? this was the house you grew up in. your heights over the years were etched into the doorframe of the closed off upstairs staircase, the graphite of the pencil faded with time but the grooves in the wood a permanent staple. the living room’s cream paint job was dulling, too, except for that one spot by the warm brown skirting board, where a littler you had just learned that crayons and markers worked as well on the paint as they did on the papers you colored, and your parents had to cover it up. 

were you meant to knock on a door that held so many memories within its grasp? did it suddenly stop becoming your home just because you’d spread your wings and flown south for a little while? 

the debate is interrupted when a hush falls over the chatter inside, even the volume of the music dropping to a low murmur. before you can even process that your presence had been noticed by someone, the front door pulls open, putting a final end on the internal debate racking through you and gnawing on the inner workings of your mind.

“honey!” your mom exclaims, her arms tossing around your neck, dragging you in for a tight hug. she smells like the solo cup she has in her hand around you: malibu rum, with a twinge of sweet pineapple juice. when she tugs back away from you, the cup in mention is offered to you. "finish this for me, will you? your father's cutting me off."

your lips tilt up in amusement, taking a little testing sip from it. expectedly, your mother's unmistakable heavy hand is evident in that one sip, the burn of alcohol slipping down your throat with the faintest trace of coconut on your tongue. "i wonder why."

"hey," your mother scolds teasingly, her arms folding across her chest in a way so similarly to how you do, it almost aches, "you can't scold your mother before you give her a proper hug." you remembered a time when you were as tall as her hip, and attached to it too. growing up was as much a blessing as it was a curse, the memories of the simpler days like wounds that didn't ever fully heal. you supposed it was something that got easier to manage when every year circled around again.

you laugh, reaching around her to set the cup down on the entrance table in the living space, right beside the bowl of keys filled halfway, before you properly hugged your mother. you'd known that they were throwing you a welcome home party, but this many people? you can't draw your eyes away from the bowl, trying to pick apart the ones you recognized.

your father's and your mother's, of course; you were pretty sure that was your aunt's, with the frilly pink puff on the key ring, and one of your dad's friends, your honorary uncle tom—

caught up in the impossible task of assigning names and faces to a bowl of keys, you miss your father's booming voice, echoing through the scattering of people in the living room, eyes locked in your direction like they were waiting for their turn to say something to you while you were caught up in the embrace of your mother. "there is my little girl!"

you were hardly little anymore, you were over halfway through your college experience by now, quickly approaching the final year. like you looked at this house and saw all the remnants of your youth, it seemed that your father didn't look at you without seeing the girl you used to be.

your mom releases you, and you wait with bated breath to be crushed into your father's chest— but he's interrupted, and you're stuck holding your breath for no reason, by a voice you don't recognize.

"so this is her?"

he has a beer bottle between big fingers, a smirk poking through the scruff of dark facial hair smattering across his cheeks and jawline, dusting across his upper lip. his eyes are a piercing tea green, framed by dark eyelashes that only prove to emphasize their paleness. his hair is slicked out of his face, a couple of loose straggling strands hung over his eyes.

your mouth runs completely dry. somehow, like a piece fitting into the gap in a puzzle, you know without being told that this is—

"jensen," his free hand shoots out in greeting, and stirring you away from the muddle of your thoughts and out of the silent stupor you'd gotten stuck in, "it's nice to put a face to the name i've been listenin' to this guy rave about for the last few hours."

it wasn't embarrassing, per se, but you found your face warming with it, anyways. had your father shown him the doorframe with your heights etched into it? did he see the baby pictures on the coffee table photo album, and the ridiculous number of times you'd had birthday cake smeared all over your face in it?

you manage to find your voice at the same time as you clasp his hand, but it feels awkward in your mouth, like none of the right words are coming forward to claim the sentence you try to force out. "it's— yes. it's nice to have a face."

his mouth twitches. this was not supposed to happen. jensen ackles was never supposed to be real, or, hell — alive. you'd come to terms with the fact that he was as imaginary as the tooth fairy, a figure for life lessons like smoky the bear or something. he wasn't supposed to be standing in front of you, letting you make a fool of yourself in front of the entirety of your family and friends.

jensen keeps his hand around yours for a few longer seconds, the bigger palm hugging yours sending a rush of chills up your arm. he was so warm. and tall. and real. wasn't that crazy? "yeah, it is nice to have a face, sweetheart." he shoots you a wink that takes a detour from your eyes to your chest, sending your heart racing in a frenzy. "you've got a real pretty one, too."

your dad's lips thin, prying jensen's fingers out of yours. "that's enough of that," he grumbles, stepping in jensen's place in front of you to tug you into his chest. "welcome home, baby."

it's a wonderful distraction from whatever that was, clawing at your ribcage and threatening to steal your stuttering heart along with it. you take a deep breath and sigh, eyes closing. it was nice to be home. "i see you guys started without me."

"your lovely mother got excited," your dad explains, shaking his head as he steps back and releases you, "you know how excited she gets about a party."

hence why she'd disappeared, inevitably looking for the digital camera to document this. this was why the photo album was splayed on the coffee table, and why you had a picture for every birthday, every swipe of frosting smeared around your hands and face. hopefully, there wasn't any cake this time around.

like a warm balm to the racing beat in your chest, you could feel jensen's gaze on you still. you refused to meet it head on, though, knowing innately that the entire world would tilt on its axis and never return to its natural state. like the butterfly effect; something so small was capable of changing the world.

you're saved by your father's hand on your shoulder, guiding you toward the glass screen doors that opened up to a fully decorated back patio. fairy lights strung between the trees and over the navy blue awning, a full fold-out table underneath the awning with a big bowl of icy punch, and a cooler sat next to the table with bottles of beer coated in ice water and sweat.

snacks of all kinds lined the opposite side of the table. bags of chips lined out by flavor, a cooking tray with barbecue and hamburgers laid out on it, condiments on the opposite side. the air smelled like charcoal and food, and beneath it all was an underlying scent of—

"oh no."

your dad laughs brightly, clapping you on the shoulder. "your mom insisted. you know she couldn't have a party without her little girl having a cake."

"is she expecting me to drop headfirst into it again?" you weren't planning on doing that anyways, hadn't since you were too little to know how utensils worked, but with jensen here? you were definitely not doing that in front of him. no way.

he shrugs, slipping around you to steal another bottle from the cooler. "doubtful. she will want a picture of you with it, though." he tips the neck of the bottle toward you in acknowledgement. "mom's got more alcohol inside, if you don't want whatever the hell they tossed in that punch bowl or beer. i'm gonna start bringin' the smores stuff out, if you want to get situated by the fire."

you wave your hand in a polite dismissal, stepping out of the way for your dad to disappear inside again. standing in front of the refreshments table, you bend to grab a beer for yourself, cracking it open as the sweat coated your palm. it was a welcome distraction from the sun blazing one last time before it clocked out and the moon took its place.

you were a few steps away from the bonfire pit in the center of your backyard, the patio chairs entangled in with metal foldouts in a circle around it, when you sensed him behind you. it was impossible to not know it was him; he was the only person here whos eyes you weren't familiar with how it felt to be watched from. across from the patio chair you chose, the grill still smoked with the last of the charcoal cooking away, and in the haze of that smoke, he dipped into focus.

under the golden light of the sunset, he looked even more devastating, somehow. a maroon button-up with the top two buttons undone, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. khaki shorts that hugged his thick thighs, leaving little to the imagination as he closed the final remnants of distance.

"already so quick to run away?"

your back straightens, as if the idea of slouching in front of him was something detrimental. your fingernail swirled patterns in the dripping sweat on the bottle, eyes locked on the motion to avoid looking at him. you still heard it, though, when jensen's weight collapsed into a chair across the fire from you, his legs spread wide as he makes himself comfortable in his own patio chair.

"for your information," you say, your eyes flicking up to meet his finally, and it's just as intense as you remember, "i was not running away. i got told to sit out here."

"okay, princess, stand down." his eyes are sinful, raking up and down the length of your body. he was so shameless about it, like he didn't feel an ounce of guilt at all about the fact that you were his best friend's daughter. sure, he'd never met you before, but didn't that thought enter his head at all? wasn't he clinging to that little reminder like you were?

your eyes dance over to the patio doors, split open and inviting, letting the breeze into the interior of the home, deep blue curtains flapping. it was comforting for you, in a way, just as much as it was suffocating, knowing at any moment, someone else could step outside.

the nylon of the patio chair creaks across from you, and you glance over at jensen again, just to see him shift forward with his elbows on his knees. "what are you so scared of, beautiful?"

you were not scared. where he got that assessment was beyond you, considering you were ramrod straight in your seat, unable to look at him at all, finding every blade of grass in the lawn much more enticing. see? definitely not scared. "maybe," you start, tilting your head to the side in mindless thought, "it's because you're a stranger, following me around."

"do you want to get to know me?" his smirk cuts a dimple into his cheek. he’s captivating, utterly captivating. there was something so enticing about him, about the forbidden nature that came with everything about him.

you arch an eyebrow at him. “what’s to learn?” your finger circles the mouth of your beer before you lift it to your mouth for a quick swig of it. his gaze is locked on the bob of your throat. “dad told me plenty of stories.”

“i thought i was a stranger.”

“i thought you were smoky the bear.”

jensen’s laugh is music, echoing in the growing dark of the night. the golden cast over his face was now a warm orange, casting a darker shadow of the deep dark of his gaze. "smoky the bear?"

"i thought he made you up," you were not biting back a smile. jensen was your dad's former best friend, something potentially had gotten revived, considering he was here. off-limits echoed in your head like a mantra, growing quieter with each passing moment you tried to pretend that he wasn't looking at you like that. "since i never got a face to the name of the guy who supposedly ate a worm for three dollars."

you expect him to deny it. his mouth curves in a crescent, his eyes glimmering in the deep amber light. "three dollars and seventy five cents."

"no."

"bought myself a gumball that day."

your head tips back in a laugh, the harmony of yours atop of his sending a chill up the arch of your spine. you open your mouth to say something, beer bottle tilted in his direction in a half-attempt at a cheers, but voices start to filter outside behind you.

whatever you planned to say is swallowed down, the intoxicating energy of your banter sucked up like a vacuum. your mom hooks a hand on your shoulder, tugging your head toward her to kiss your temple. "i see you've been getting to know jensen," she hums, taking the metal foldout chair next to you. "i hope he's not giving you too much trouble."

you don't look away from him as you shake your head. "nothing i can't handle."

"of course," she agrees, taking up one of the metal prongs and sliding a marshmallow on each of the ends. "you got that from me, you know. your father was unbearable back in the day, to everyone but me."

jensen's chiming in draws your eyes back to him. "it's true. she domesticated him."

you cock an eyebrow at him. "who's domesticating you then?"

his only answer is a wicked grin. your mom, thankfully, says nothing about it, her attention on the marshmallows warming over the lick of the flames, stretching and sticking to the heated prongs.

"m'gonna go get another drink," jensen sighs, palms patting the spread of his thighs as he rises. after a long term of simplicity, no time to even ponder the idea of doing three keg stands, or something disgusting for a couple of bucks, the leash that jensen had around your interest was tight. you couldn't look away as he walked up the wooden steps of your patio, disappearing through the fluttering curtains.

next to you, your mother has captured the marshmallows between two squares of graham crackers, a piece of chocolate melting into the sticky sugar. "want one?" she asks, offering one out to you through the light pinch of her two fingers.

you wave your hand before you can think any of this through. "actually, i'm gonna go run to the bathroom, i think."

"of course," she says with a little smile, and you almost feel bad for denying her, knowing she just wanted to spend time with you on your first night back home. there was plenty of time still in the night, the fire only having just started, and the night having only just now dipped from warm oranges and pinks to deep blue.

the stars winked at you, knowing exactly where you were heading as you stood and started toward the sliding glass doors. they'd keep your secret, whatever that secret turned out to be.

somehow, even after having heard him announce where he was going, you're surprised to see jensen at the mahogany countertop, a crystal tumbler between his fingers that nurses a finger of bourbon. outside, you can hear the cackle of your uncle tom, followed by the hollering laughter of your father. the rest of the guests had settled into the spread of chairs around the firepit.

it was you and jensen in the dim dark of the house, the natural light having disappeared behind the horizon, drenching the both of you in a pale light that danced in the open space between the curtains.

"naughty girl," jensen drawls, his voice low and guttural at the base of his throat. he hasn't turned his attention away from his drink, watching you out of the corner of his eye. "runnin' from the party in her name to hang out with the big, bad wolf."

your heartbeat stutters in place in your chest, but you aren't so easily deterred or riled. your head tilts up in an air of defiance that only makes the wolfish expression on his face widen. the dull point of his canine clamps on his bottom lip. "for your information," you echo from earlier, "i'm going to the bathroom."

"this ain't the bathroom," he muses, nodding back toward the hallway like you were the one who needed directions in your own home. "gone so long you're gettin' lost in your own home?"

"i think you wanted me to come in here with you." you don't know where the words bubble up from, but they're out of your mouth before you can swallow the soap of them back down. "you had beer earlier. you could have gotten another."

jensen laughs, the sound of it pooling like heat in your lower belly. "dictatin' what i drink now? that's bold, naughty girl. we just met."

you stutter on a response. "i'm just saying—"

"maybe i wanted somethin' richer," jensen rasps, turning to face you now, the base of his spine pressed back into the edge of the countertop, "to try n' get another flavor out of my imagination."

every rational thought leaves your head. anything you could have said dissipates into vapor, floating back up toward the sunless sky. the innuendo is clear, written in vibrant shades like words atop a birthday cake — or, for today's sake, a graduation cake.

you're speechless, neither of you breaking the intense eye contact you shared. maybe he was a big bad wolf, what with the way he eyed you, all of you, like he was looking for the treats you'd tucked away underneath your red cloak.

"i'm gonna go to the bathroom now," you manage to breathe out, the crack in the center of your sentence shifting like tectonic plates. the earthquake was bound to hit any moment.

his eyebrows raise in his own amusement. "use mine."

the illusion cracks. the earthquake doesn't yet hit. you're both on one side of the plates, waiting to see who stumbles into the other first. "what?"

"your dad is a helluva host," jensen hums, downing the rest of his bourbon in one fell swoop, "invites me to a party and offers to let me stay a couple of nights too, to catch up."

you still don't say anything, the realization like a knife. you were home for three months; jensen was here for a few days, rekindling an estranged friendship with your father, assumedly going to be over often. your mouth felt like cotton, like you'd swallowed a handful of cinnamon, choking on the dry sweetness.

"do you know what he said?"

the glass clinks on the countertop when jensen sets it down, his footsteps echoing heavily on the linoleum beneath his boots. "he said," he continues without your prompting, close enough that his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, "he had a pretty daughter he wanted me to meet. thought i'd like her."

your voice is weak when you say, "he didn't say that."

"i took creative liberties."

your mouth opens, closes. nothing eradicates the dryness in your mouth, the plague of it starting to curl down your throat. finally, you manage to choke out in response, "what other creative liberties have you drawn about me?"

jensen smells spicy. cloves and musk and bourbon and cinnamon. you wonder, in a brief, fleeting thought, if he tastes like it, too. "little things," he finally breathes, "wonderin' if that mouth of yours sucks as good as it runs. how those legs would feel wrapped around me when i bury myself so deep in your—"

"there you are, jens," your dad's voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, his head peeking through the open glass doors of the back entrance, "everything okay?"

jensen settles back on the heels of his shoes as if he wasn't all but tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. "all good," he agrees, giving your father a smile that gave nothing away of how he'd been talking about burying himself in you. "we were talkin' about school. i held her up on goin' to the bathroom. that's my bad."

he lies so easily that you know it had to be a reason why he and your dad fell out. your dad hated liars, hated secrets. everything happening underneath his nose with this was soon enough going to break his heart when it came to light, but the thrill of that possibility sent electricity jolting down your spine.

"actually, i think i'mma head in for the night," jensen sighs, that smile of his becoming something lazier and more tired than what it'd been moments before. "thanks for invitin' me to stay the weekend again."

weekend. today was thursday. that meant...

you barely manage to move out of the way before jensen brushes past you, his fingertips ghosting along your ribs that were turned away from your father. the invitation was clear when you met his eyes for a final time. go to his bathroom.

"sorry about him," your dad says with a bemused shake of his head, "i've been invitin' him to come around again since we graduated, didn't expect him to actually show up today. hope he's not givin' you too much trouble."

your mother said the same thing. you wondered idly about what sort of trouble they must be referring to, and why it seemed to trail him. "he's fine. i was asking him about which of your stories were true."

he winks at you. "all of 'em."

"well, i learned that," you laugh, ducking your face in a useless attempt to hide the fact that he was more right than he knew. troublemaking womanizer from my time at college that once did three keg stands in one night, who spent his weekend in the hospital. nothing but trouble, doing anything for a dime or a laugh.

you nod behind you to the hallway. "i'll be out in a few, okay? i'm just gonna run to the bathroom and get a little snack first. i haven't eaten all day."

maybe you were doomed to fall out of your close relationship with your father, too, the easy way you lie to him.

he nods, patting the glass doorframe. "okay, sweetheart. mom's makin' enough smores to feed the town, so save some room."

over your shoulder, you smile warmly at your father. "okay, dad."

the house falls silent again. there's nothing but the thudding heartbeat in your chest, punctuating the decision you were dooming yourself to make.

all the bedrooms were upstairs. the guest room and its bathroom and your bedroom were on one side of the hallway, the main bathroom upstairs at the very end, and your parents' and the other guest room were on the other. you bypass your bedroom and hesitate in front of the cracked door of the guest bedroom.

anxiety ripples through you. bad decision, your head says again, one final time, before it vanishes completely, your subconscious giving up on trying to offer you the chance to back out.

you push the bedroom door open, and there was jensen ackles, the maroon button-up discarded, leaving the expanse of his abdomen on display in the reflection of the mirror he stood in front of. your eyes trace sinew and muscle in his back, how his shoulder blades shift beneath his skin as he stands a little straighter at the sight of you.

he doesn't say a word. doesn't move an inch. he can't be as bad as everyone says, you can't help but think, because he's letting you call the shots here. you could stand in this doorway and tell him goodnight, and he'd let you go.

you could do what you already were without realizing: step inside the bedroom and close the door behind you again.

again, he doesn't yet move from where he was, only turning around to fully face you. he was so broad, the muscles indenting his stomach sturdy and solid. he was shameless in how he eyed you up, so you didn't shy away from returning the favor now that you felt safe enough to do so.

there's a heated moment when nothing happens except the air in the room charges. heats and heats until it bursts through the wire coating and catches flame, burning everything in its path.

one moment, he's a couple of feet away, watching you like it was your turn to act on the chessboard. the next, his feet are carrying themselves over to you, his lips crashing against yours like a hurricane.

jensen kisses like he, too, knew that this was doomed. his palms slip under your thighs and hoist you into the air, and you break apart from him in a harsh intake of breath, your hands grasping at his shoulders for stability.

your back collides with a wooden door, and neither of you move for a split second. his tongue laps into your mouth, meeting yours stroke for stroke, his fingers squeezing handfuls of the skin of your thighs between them. he shifts after a moment, knees bending to reach better as he plants your ass on his forearm, his freed hand gripping tight on the doorknob and shoving you both through it.

two doors between you and someone who could catch you was better than one. this one, too, jensen locked behind him, before he slid you onto the marbled countertop of the sink.

there was no time for the simple luxuries of teasing. you were on a time crunch, and jensen seemed to guess such, too, as his big palms slide underneath the skirt of your dress and shove it upwards. the glossy marble is cold on your bare skin, but he doesn't give you any chance to adjust to it before he's shoving your legs open and stepping between them.

"i knew you were a naughty girl when i met you," he rasps into your throat, two fingers dipping into his mouth before he pops them free, a string of saliva following the motion. "show me how naughty you can be, baby girl. open up."

you would have on your own, but he pushes those two fingers between your lips and presses them against your tongue. his eyes are hooded, heavy and dark, as they take in the sight of your lips wrapped tightly around his fingers.

the thought enters your head on its own, like for once, your subconscious has decided to work in your favor tonight. wonderin' if that mouth of yours sucks as good as it runs.

your cheeks hollow as you suck on the digits, the taste of his saliva coating the inside of your mouth. it does taste spicy, the subtlest taste of bourbon burning as you swallow the mix of saliva down your throat.

jensen's head tips back in a groan, shoving his fingers farther into your mouth, enough to make you choke on a cough. his laugh is breathy, the sound of it intermixing with another sound, something metallic jingling.

his belt hits the floor and the sound stops. his fingers don't. "who would have guessed such a pretty little thing had such a filthy little mouth?" jensen muses, popping his fingers free from your mouth and thumbing away the tears that sprung in the corners of your eyes. "might just have to keep you. you'd like that, huh?"

his free hand shoves the dark, tight boxers hugging his legs down, and before your eyes can drift down to see what springs free, that hand comes up and holds your jaw between his thumb and index finger, making you nod in answer. "yeah, baby girl would like that."

you swallow thickly, your lips red and swollen from his kiss, parted to try and suck down a solid breath. you weren't sure you'd breathed since he kissed you, your chest aching with it.

the grip he has on your chin tilts it downwards, shaking it gently until your eyes drop his gaze and land on what you'd tried to get a look at before, and were denied. "might have to keep you regardless," he murmurs, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip, "'cause i don't think anyone else's gonna live up to me."

your lips twitch, some semblance of control reentering your system. "you're cocky."

his head dips downward, brushing his mouth over the swell of your bottom lip, the stubble of his facial hair tickling and electrifying the skin of your upper. "you don't know cock yet."

his two fingers, still wet with the mix of both of your saliva, are back under your dress, the cool wet of them tracing a line up your inner thigh. "say yes," he breathes, stopping just above where your panties cover the evidence of your arousal, "daddy wants to hear it."

you're not breathing again, at least not solidly. instead, your mouth opens and closes fruitlessly, a choke of a "yes" loosing from your throat. those two fingers curl underneath your panties and tug you closer to him by the hold on the fabric.

"good girl," he murmurs in his approval, and one more harsh yank draws a whimpering gasp from your lips, along with the sound of the thin fabric tearing.

the roughness is put on pause as jensen's hand grabs one of your thighs and hooks it around his waist. his two fingers stay between your legs, smearing your wetness along the slit of your folds, not dipping his fingers in like you wish he would.

you catch yourself watching his face again, like every microshift of his expression is something you want to witness. especially as you move your other leg for him, hooking your ankles behind the lower half of his bare back.

"i knew you were trouble," he says, nosing your chin up to take your bottom lip between his teeth. "stay quiet for me, yeah?"

it wasn't something you needed explained to you, but you don't argue with him. not when his fingers finally slip into the creamy folds of your pussy and drag upwards, lazily circling over the sensitive bud of your clit, and not when he captures your mouth in a proper kiss to swallow the squeak of a noise that breaks free from your throat, anyways.

jensen takes his cock into his hand and replaces the drag of his fingers with the sensitive tip of it, keeping up the slow circles with deliberate slowness. you're about to beg, your lips parting against his, when finally, with that same agonizing slowness, he pushes the tip inside of you.

and doesn't move.

when your eyes open, jensen is already staring at you, his pupils blown. "keep goin'?" he asks, as if this is something leisurely to him, as if you can't feel the throb of his hard cock just barely granting any sort of relief to either of you.

"don't be an ass," you breathe, your voice cracking on the words.

jensen's mouth quirks at the corners. "baby girl, asshole is my middle name."

there's no warning to the way his hips jut forward in one harsh movement, filling you completely. your back arches, pressing your chest into his, a choked gasp of a moan stuttering out of your mouth.

his pace is set and relentless, the obscene sound of his balls slapping against your skin as he ravishes you and forces you to stretch around his size. each thrust, your walls grant him more reprieve, the wet squelch of you squeezing around his cock joining the onslaught of obscene noises in the room.

jensen's eyes are laser focused on yours, watching the curve of your mouth to make sure nothing slips free. it's almost more intense like this, being fucked in silence than if he were making you scream and mewl.

you didn't doubt asshole was his middle name, either; not when his palms slip under your ass and squeeze handfuls of the flesh, lifting you off of the countertop. the shift in the position has you clawing at his shoulders for purchase, the only thing keeping you from stumbling to the ground being your legs around his waist and his guiding hands on your ass.

he held you like you weighed nothing, the muscles in his biceps flexing with ease, veins outlined beneath the skin. you were helpless to how he moved you around, using his grip on the supple flesh between his palms to bounce you up and down on the hard fullness of his cock.

the pace slows, just enough for him to maneuver your body down the entirety of his length, the tip of it buried in your cervix. it's almost enough to make you crack, your head pressing into his shoulder, but you bite it back. it was too detrimental to risk being caught just because he was right; he was ruining you for anyone else.

but jensen starts to move you again, starting that deep within you and guiding you back down to that spot, over and over again. you weren't going to be able to walk after this, didn't know how you planned to get back outside to enjoy your party, not with how you could feel the bruising pleasure of him splitting your puffy walls open and grinding into your cervix like this.

you can't even help it when the sharp moan falls out of your mouth, your lower stomach pooled with heat that only seemed to deepen each time he sheathed himself deep inside of you.

"shh," he rasps, the gravel in his voice an intoxicating mix with the strain of it, "don't make me make you quiet. don't want your family hearin', do we? wonderin' what their baby girl's doin' up in here with me?"

your whines are embedded with each harsh thrust of his hips into you. "can't help it," you try to answer, but you aren't sure at all if it came out in a coherent sentence.

his one hand stays cupped firmly over your ass, fingers denting the skin as they dig in. the other comes up to take your throat into his palm, thumb and index pressed hard enough to your pulse points to make you see stars.

"shh," he echoes, the same rasp to his tone as the last time, but much more gentle now, his voice only a whisper, "daddy's got you."

your eyes are wide when they lock onto his, every sound you want to make cut off with the grip he had over your skin. not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make your pulse beat harder beneath his touch. "y'wanna come, baby?" he watches your eyes, hissing in a breath when your nails bite into his shoulder again. "go on, baby girl, give daddy all y'got."

the heat builds and builds in your lower stomach, the pleasure roiling through you intensifying until you choke on a little sob, only barely heard over the pressure on your throat. everything explodes into clarity, every color in the golden-lit bathroom growing more vibrant, your body going slack in his grip. your legs tremble around his waist, each thrust past your orgasm making you soundlessly mewl and writhe against him.

jensen lets out a low groan, his head burying into the curve of your neck, his relentless pace stuttering to something slower inside of you, the warmth of his cum filling you and dribbling down the length of his cock, and your thighs. he doesn't fully stop, still driving into you, fucking every drop of cum back into you.

his nose traces across your cheekbone as he lifts his head from the smooth skin of your neck, his fingers loosening around your throat in the process. for a moment, he's gentle again, every trace of the man who defiled you for anyone else gone and replaced with a side you didn't have enough time to figure out.

his thumb brushes lightly over your pulse point, his gaze taking in the mess that he'd made you: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, fingerprint marks ever so slightly evident on the soft skin of your throat, the tears welled in your eyes.

"you should get back to your party, naughty girl," he whispers, wiping away a stray tear that'd slipped from your waterline, "they're probably wonderin' where the girl of the hour went."

all of the softness is clamped down again before you could catch a final glimpse of it. jensen, at the very least, helps to readjust your dress and clean you up, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead that he doesn't pay any mind to, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin. it's when you look presentable enough again, when you spin around to say something, anything, and his back is to you in the bathroom, closing the scene you'd both had without so much as a cut.

he doesn't meet your gaze in the mirror this time, either. you didn't think he was shutting you out for good — he couldn't, he was staying three more days — but you recoiled regardless. whatever he was going through, you weren't close enough with him to be a part of or know about.

you were just his former best friend's daughter, who he'd just thoroughly wrecked, in that friend's own home.

what had you done?

notes. IF THIS IS CRAZY I'M SORRY BUT NOT REALLY. pls let me know if u guys want part twos & threes & fours for this bc i have so much lore about dads best friend!jensen i cannOT BE FORCED TO KEEP IT IN. & IF U WANNA REQUEST STUFF FOR HIM PLS DO. HE'S TAKING ME OVER LIKE A DEMON. IF U READ THIS FAR GO SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO BREE RN. ───ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfeedback & reblogs appreciated <3 !!

tags. @deansbeer @figthoughts @ultravi0lence14 @whyyouegg @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @angels-silhouette @seven7lee @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @theosaurous @beausling @soldiersgirl @mahi-wayy @unfortunate-brat @losers-clvb @jensenacklesballsack @chevroletdean @h8aaz @stereotypicalbarbie @sunsbaby @samslovebug @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @bejeweledinterludes @bluemerakis @briisbananass @fuckedupfate @losers-clvb @blossomingorchids @bitchykittenconnoisseur @faiszt @moonstruks @chiierful @collywobblvs @severe-mental-illness @doublecrazyyymofo @whyyouegg

[iidilio]

𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯?| 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘴!reader| chapter: 01, (next part) 02, 03, 04, 05

[🌸] hi hi :> I wanted to upload this here, since probably many don't know it, haha

Summary: Perhaps the most important question is not; "How did you end up in this place?". it is; will you be able to finish the unfinished business that your self from this world left pending?.

...

..

.

You were exhausted, the movie you had gone to see with your friends had lasted longer than you expected. The duration had been three hours, and the idea of a hot bath made the somewhat stiff muscles from sitting for too long cry with joy. It was at least six in the afternoon, the sun was hiding, leaving behind a beautiful sunset.

The air was cool, giving you a little peace. The place you were walking through was lonely, there were no people around, which was weird, since you should be near the park and– oh, you can already hear the happy cries of little children playing. You felt safe, in a way hearing people nearby gave you some security because if someone strange showed up you could run to the park, you know; Just follow the voices and you'll be safe.

Although in extreme cases, you would just use the pepper spray you bought at that cheap store. Fortunately, for you, there has never been an edge case where you had to use it.

You were very close to the park, there was only one more block left for you to arrive. The screams of the children were getting louder, indicating that you were close, you could already hear the adults talking and some dogs playing with their owners.

You were about to get to where the voices were coming from when you felt the air changing and suddenly, you no longer had a ground to step on.

The ground had simply disappeared, leaving you to fall into a black abyss. The laughter of children, the happy voices of adults, became more and more distant until you simply remained in deathly silence. The peace you had before had been giving way to confusion and terror.

The feelings and questions racked every fiber of your being until you simply couldn't take it anymore and passed out.

You didn't know what was in store for you or what would happen once you opened your eyes, if ever.

Maybe when you open your eyes, everything will be alright again.

.

.

.

.

Maybe...

...

The old woman who found you was looking at you with pity... again.

You simply decided to recap what had happened these last few weeks in a lousy attempt to ignore the look 'Laura' was giving you. Apparently, you had woken up in a small town called 'Bibury'... which was in England.

'England?!', was your first thought when you found out where you were, your shock was so great that you couldn't speak for a couple of hours. The kind old lady named Laura had given you some tea to calm you down.

She had practically stayed by your side, patiently waiting for you to come to your senses, for which you were profusely grateful. Sometimes you needed alone time to process things, but not this time, you needed company and before you knew it you were hugging Laura and crying like a baby. She didn't care that you wet her soft coat with your tears. Your worries, your fears began to surface, how-how would you get back home?

You cried for what seemed like the whole day until the moon came up and it was only at that moment that you fell asleep, but before doing that Laura had taken you to a rather dirty and small room, she practically tucked you in like a small child while you sobbed and held on to everything you could reach. She had stayed close to you until you closed your tired eyes.

The next morning, you had a soup for breakfast that Laura had made for you. Having already had breakfast, you called the first number that appeared to you with your phone, which turned out to be your mother's, it rang a couple of times before—

'Sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable or disconnected. If this is an error, try calling to...-'

"What?" It had been the first thing that had come out of your mouth, this was definitely not something normal. Deciding that maybe it was just a mistake, you called back, only to get the same message as before. With a tired sigh you called your dad, and they answered- but it wasn't your father's voice, you called each of your friends or acquaintances that you had in your contact list, but none of your contacts answered, not even your boyfriend who answered the first two or three rings.

Strangely, your dad's number kept calling your phone, you answered twice before giving up. The voice on the other end that belonged to a man sounded strange, almost as if he was in...shock?, although thinking about it, perhaps it was just confusion. The last thing he said to you before you hung up was a "who the fuck are you–?". You just turned off the phone after the last four calls because it wouldn't stop ringing.

Leaving you in your current state, unable to communicate and in a town you didn't know. Laura kept looking at you worried from her seated position. Deciding that enough of wallowing in misery was enough, you got up from the comfortable sofa you were on and sat down next to her. Perhaps socializing with the only person you knew would be better for now, plus when your headache subsides you might think better of what to do next.

Grabbing the small notebook together with the pen you wrote <<don't worry, everything is fine>>

When the old lady took you in, you learned many things about her.

The first thing you learned was that she was 98 years old. And that she was deaf due to an accident she had as a child.

The second thing you learned was that her husband had been killed in World War II. And all because he was enlisted in the army to fight for the allied countries, he had died due to the impact of a stray bullet.

And the third thing was that his son died several years after his father's death, due to lung disease. You felt bad because you were using her son's room, but Laura had told you not to worry about it.

Clutching the small notebook in her wrinkled hands together with the pen, she wrote to you <<you can always tell me anything>>

It could be said that you were lonely and somewhat hopeless, but with Laura by your side you felt that very soon you would be able to find a way to return home.

...

You didn't know what to think when a blond man appeared at the house that same afternoon. What caught your attention the most about his appearance was his beard and the long jacket he was wearing.

"Shit– I was right". Ah, he had the same voice you heard, he was the man of the phone.

Wait- what was he right about?

- - - - - - -

// curiosities //

World War II ended 79 years ago (1945 - 2024), Laura was 20 years old when the war ended. Her husband died when she was 19 years old, her son died of a lung disease that slowly became terminal when she was 27 years old.

- - - - - - -

I want a Laura in my life~ 😩

reblog and give me a big heart if you like it <3 and also comment and tell me what do you think! you can do it in this post or write it in my inbox!

[parkersbliss]

if you’re willing to, how about 141 reacting to you saying “no one will hear you scream”? i know they’d all play the biggest uno reverse card, especially gaz because he just has such a sweet face you wouldn’t expect it.

I am always willing to!!! anon thank you for blessing me with this. you're so right like don't threaten the military men who are masters of stealth, now that's asking for trouble...

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x reader 

warnings: um, gaz threatening you? actually, all of them threatening you bc you threaten them

a/n: see me personally I would not mess with this. and certainly not price.

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Gaz:

It was easy to convince Kyle to come out here. In fact, he didn’t even think twice when you asked to go out on a hike. He had grabbed a light jacket, laced up his boots, and was out the door. He was an outdoorsman, after all, and any time he could spend with you was well spent. You weren’t going to hear an argument out of his pretty mouth. 

It’s nicer this time of the year. Not too hot and not too cold with the leaves changing into the sunset colors. Honestly, you were glad you had come out here, even if it was because you had other intentions than some fresh air. 

You were lagging behind Kyle, his hand flexing and calling for yours. You jog to grab his when you notice, swinging them as you approach a viewpoint. 

You can overlook the area below you, coming up on a small cliff that showcases the changing leaves and sun. There’s a slight breeze that ruffles your hair, making the tips of your ears a little cold. 

“It’s so beautiful,” Kyle breathes, taking in the view. 

You nod, gazing out at the leaves tumbling in the wind. Then, with a practiced ease, you say: “No one would hear you scream out here.”

Kyle steps back from the edge, whipping around to look at you. “What?”

“What?” You ask dumbly. 

“Don’t “what” me.” He points a finger at you. “I heard that shit.”

You step toward him, feeling guilty when you see his face. “Kyky-” you call. 

“Nope!” He grabs something from his pocket, pointing it at you.

You put your hands on your hips, scoffing and stepping back. “You brought a taser?”

“And I’m not afraid to use it.” He continues to point the weapon at you as you take steps back. You were messing with your boyfriend, but your boyfriend was not messing with you. 

“Babe, it was a joke!” You protest. 

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, not so funny now, huh? No one could hear you scream.” 

“Kyle!” You hiss at that, his point made.“Please put the taser away.”

“Please don’t threaten me,” he retorts, but relents and slips the taser back into his pocket. 

“Why do you even have that?”

Kyle shrugs. “You never know. As you just proved.” 

“Oh my god,” You said, walking back over to him tentatively. Once you’re close enough, he grabs your waist pulling you to his side. “Don’t ever say that shit again,” he whispers. 

You glance at the taser in his pocket. “Lesson learned.” 

Kyle smiles, kissing your cheek. “Ice cream?” 

Ghost:

You take a deep breath, letting the crisp autumn air fill your lungs. It’s cold, cutting through the skin of your throat, yet at the same time it’s comforting. It’s much better than the humidity-laced air of summer at least. Where each breath you took felt like you inhaled oven air. 

Simon glances over at you, cocking his head to silently ask what you were doing. 

“Just taking in the air,” You said. “’s nice.” 

He hums an agreement, walking along the stream you two were hiking. A few birds were chirping, leaves crunching under your boots, and the sound of water running over rocks. It’s a quiet you’re not used to from being in the military. That still doesn’t stop the idea from forming in your head. 

“No one would hear you scream out here,” You muse, falling in step beside Simon. You say it casually, not looking at him. You act as if you had just asked where he wanted to get dinner tonight. 

Simon, of course, is aware of everything. He stops walking, turning to you at an agonizingly slow pace. “Excuse me?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.” And continue along the trail. 

He doesn’t follow you. You can tell when his footsteps aren’t echoing yours, a little slower and more steady. Instead, they fall silent on deaf ears. You can’t hear anything and the hair on the back of your neck stands up at the sudden stillness of the forest. 

“Simon?” You call, turning to face him. And of course, he’s gone. You curse under your breath, spinning around to find him. You walk back to where he was, checking around the trees and the bushes. You shouldn’t threaten a lieutenant, the master of infiltration nonetheless. You peek around another tree, trying to get a view of him when a hand grabs your shoulder. You scream, throwing the hand off your shoulder and raising your fists. You come face to face with your boyfriend and drop your hands. 

Simon stares at you, a deadpan look on his face with arms crossed. “What was that about no one hearing me or, should I say you scream?” 

You swat at him. “It was a joke.”

“Damn right, it was. You think you could take me?” He begins walking again, offering his hand to you. He was a true gentleman even after he pulled that stunt. You really needed to learn to keep your eyes on him. 

You lace your fingers together, sighing. “No.” 

Simon is content with the answer, placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Let’s finish this hike without any other threats, hm, sweetheart?"

“It was a joke.” 

“Mine wasn’t.” 

“Simon—!” 

Soap:

Johnny took convincing to go out for a walk. He was more inclined to spend his days on the couch, relaxing next to you. Not some boring “walk for fresh air.” He would argue he’d already gone on plenty of walks while deployed. 

You dragged him out anyway, saying it’ll be good for him to do one without worrying about being shot at. 

So here you are, on a quiet trail in your local park, pointing at the various colored leaves and their unique shapes. 

“This is stupid,” Johnny said, kicking at a pinecone on the ground and sending it flying. 

You roll your eyes, squeezing his hand, which was intertwined with yours in his jacket pocket. “You could humor me a bit.” 

“What good would that do?” 

You huff. “I actually quite like it out here.” 

“‘m sure you do, love.” 

You tap your chin with your free hand. An idea forming in your head to spice things up a bit. Or at least raise the stakes for your walk. “Like, no one would hear you scream out here, you know?” A mischievous grin curls on your lips as you look at Johnny with innocence. 

“What?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed. He knew what you said, just hadn’t quite processed the implications yet. 

“I said, we can go get ice cream. As a peace offering.” 

Johnny removes his hand from yours, taking a step back. “I don’t think so.” 

“You don’t want ice cream?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m actually tired. Thinking we should head back now.” 

You jut your bottom lip out, enjoying the slight panic on his face. “Already?”

He spins on his heels. “Yep! Right now. Let’s go. Back in public. With people.” He urges, walking away from you at a brisk pace. 

You laugh to yourself, jogging after him. He glances at you over his shoulder, clearly paranoid and you feel a little bad about it. His pace quickens and within seconds, he’s out of your line of sight and you sigh. Damn him. 

You exit the trail, and back into the regular park, squinting your eyes to spot your boyfriend. You can’t find him anyway, which is weird because his mohawk makes him unmissable. 

A hand taps your shoulder and you jump. 

“Oh, relax,” Johnny said, holding out an ice cream cone for you. “We’re out of the woods now. Everyone would hear you scream here.” 

You take the ice cream from him, glaring at him and his smug look as he remixes your words against you. “Not funny.”

“Now imagine how I felt. Except I wouldn’t really have a problem if people heard.” 

“We’re going home.” 

Johnny laughs madly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That’s all I wanted.” 

Price:

You stand at the end of your hike, overlooking the view beneath you. The cliff dips into a valley, scattered with red and orange trees, the telltale sign of the approaching cold. The sun sits high in the sky, blessing you with a little warmth as the clouds drift through the breeze. 

Price stands next to you, hands on his hips like a proud dad after completing the hike. He pushes his sunglasses to sit on his forehead, taking a deep breath. 

“We should do this more often,” he said.

“We should,” you agree, watching a pair of hawks circle and dive. “It’s so peaceful out here.” 

“So quiet,” Price added. 

You hum. “No one would hear you scream.” 

You knew the risk of saying something like that to your boyfriend, but you couldn’t help it. A little challenge for him. 

Price doesn’t hesitate, he takes a step back from you, putting considerable distance between the two of you. His eyes scan the trees, the valley below, the space behind you — he’s clearly checking for any threats. 

You take a step toward him and he holds up his hand. “No. Empty your pockets.”

“What?” You asked with a laugh. 

“You wanna say shit like that? Empty your pockets,” He said again. 

You stare at him, and you can see the serious look on his face. Within the minute you had uttered that sentence, you already regretted it. Leave it to John Price to take everything so seriously. Even when it was his girlfriend who could never hurt him. You sigh, dropping your phone, wallet, keys, tissues, and everything else. You stare at him. “Happy?” 

“Hands up.” 

“John!” 

“Not hearing you out, darling.”

You begrudgingly raise your hands as he steps towards you, patting you down and inspecting the things you’ve dropped. “It was a joke.” 

“Am I laughing?” His hands come to rest on your shoulders, squeezing them slightly. “Believe me, darling. You wouldn’t be able to scream before I drop you.” 

You spin around to face him, a shocked look on your face. He had gotten you there. Price wouldn’t be stupid enough to let you make any noise. 

“It was a joke,” He mocks you, a sly grin on his face. 

You purse your lips, grabbing your things off the ground. “Point made.” Price grabs the rest of your belongings, handing them to you with that sweet smile of his. 

“C’mon, let’s hike back down. We can go to your favorite sandwich place.” He places a hand on your back, leading you off the cliff.

“As long as you don’t slip poison into it.” 

“No promises.” 

-- END --

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🏷 taglist: @trxpslxt @looking1016 @the-kakawshi-bird @Bitchyzombietaco

[comatosebunny09]

I can’t get this montage out of my head.

Of you and Sylus, bathed in the afterglow of sex, tucked away in some island far away where his “family” resides.

Cuddling, your cheek pressed to his chest, hands splayed at his back, a smile rounding your lips. And he runs lazy fingers up and down your spine, kissing the crown of your head and murmuring the sweetest things there. You’re both watching the sunset as waves crash onto the shore beyond the safety of your beach bungalow; the air is thick with fondness.

Fast forward a bit, and you’re bounding around your bungalow tidying up, Sylus’s shirt sliding off your shoulders, and you’re oblivious to everything outside your earphones. Don’t notice Sylus watching you over crossed arms, leaning against the kitchen island. He’s smiling because you’re adorable, and your cute ass cheeks are spilling out of the bottom of his shirt. And he can’t help himself as he embraces you from behind, exhaling into your hair.

“What are you listening to?” he says all low, swaying your bodies to an unheard song. Snags one of your earphones, and a woman’s melodious, husky croon fills his ear.

Cue the montage of said song transitioning from a dull buzz in the earphone to something full-blown. It plays as Sylus sweeps you away in a souped-up El Dorado, and you’re sitting on the headrest, the breeze blowing over your skin as you dance to your favorite song. And Sylus reaches over to squeeze your knee from the driver's side, the content flicker in his eye hidden behind his shades.

Next, you’re doing a little jig at a restaurant by the window because you’re eating something delicious. And you’re wearing a beautiful, simple dress that boasts your curves, and Sylus can’t keep his eyes off you. Chuckles as he reaches across the table to swipe some sauce off your chin. You lock eyes like magnets drawn to each other, and the air grows thick with passion as the musicians playing at the restaurant shift tempo.

And then, you’re on a shopping spree. In a fancy boutique, doing a little twirl for him in a dress he couldn’t live without you having. And he’s all smiles and lowered defenses, motioning for you to sit in his lap so he can hold you to him and kiss you silly.

Then, you’re at the beach as the sun sets. At a local market, being surrounded by kids begging you to buy their seashell necklaces. And you’re laughing all pretty because they’re all adorable, and you somehow end up roped into a game of soccer with them, playing along the surf.

And Sylus just sits back like, damn, I think I’m in love. And he’s happy for moments like this when you both can steal away, falling off the grid for a little while. He likes it when he has you to himself.

[aeribbon]

bf!oscar headcanons on vacation

warning; english isn't my first language

navigation / masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who is the type of boyfriend who is organised on a trip, he likes to plan out the whole trip with activities, restaurants, list of places to check out, in order to relax with you (which you aren’t against)

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who will always make sure you both applied sunscreen, and never forget to remind you to reapply sunscreen again

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who snaps candid photos of you at all times, without you noticing and keeps the pictures in his favorite folder to watch when he’s away for races

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who prefers to play it safe and eat familiar foods, but does the effort to try new cuisine when you really want him to taste your food

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who loves taking peaceful walks and holding your hand, whether it is night walks or daylight walks, he just enjoys your presence and the pretty streets. he even gently sways your arm back and forth playfully

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who acts like he’s an early riser, but on vacation, he’ll 100% sleep in if you let him. if you wake up first and try to pull him out of bed, he’ll groan, mumble something incoherent, and pull you back under the covers

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who buys you ice cream by the beach every nights

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who will always switch his vanilla flavoured ice cream when you want to try new flavours and end up not liking it

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who naps every single day after lunch, in the hammock, on the sun bed, on the sand, and ask for your hand when he starts falling asleep

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who wanders off when you stop at little cute shop, and come back with a little random gift he thought you would like

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who pretend he doesn’t like the spa lounge at your resort, but never hesitate when you ask to go for a couple s’ massage and says afterwards how he never felt this relaxed before

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who lets you put on face mask on him every nights, lying there with his arms crossed, acting all serious while you’re giggling

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who is not usually one for pda, but in the relaxed setting of your vacations, he’ll put an arm around your chair, play with your fingers absentmindedly, and lean in to press a kiss to your temple

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who loves reserving cute dinners with a beautiful sunset view, where you can enjoy a slow dinner and reaches out to hold your hand, while you both enjoy the moment

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who lets you take pictures of him even tho he’s a bit camera shy, but eventually poses sometimes for your camera, only because it’s you

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who says no when you ask to go for a late night swim in the sea but in the end, ends up in the water by your side, splashing water playfully at you

꩜.ᐟ BF!OSCAR who falls asleep with one arm draped over you, completely at peace, whispering a lazy “i love spending time with you.” before dozing off.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[sukunas-wife]

Sealed 2

1 3

“Year after year after year the hours pass and it never ends, I’ve been here for millennia is Ryomen even trying?” You sat down onto the pile of bones, skeletons supporting you the best they could. The Prison Realm had become your domain, you’d molded every bone and skeleton to do your work. Your elbow resting on the spine of skeleton your cheek pressing against your fist as you stared bored.

Looking down the pile of bones and skeletons holding up your throne that you had formed to match Sukuna’s you saw two Skeletons battling for your amusement. Sighing you slouched back in your throne, watching the two headed four armed skeleton using sharpened bones as spears, fighting a towering 6 armed Skelton. His arms like vices ready to grab and shove whatever into its gaping rib cage to crush it. “This needs more!” The two skeletons looked up at you, before the rumbling of the skeletal centaur could be heard, a centaur of bone, his torso with 4 arms, it held an extended spine as if it were a chain. Lower two arms ready to grab at anything, more specifically rip off the head and spine of its opponents.

“YES! THIS IS what we need!” You smacked the skeleton who stood near you on the back. His bones shaking as you leaned forward, you’d find out soon which of your creations was truly the strongest. “Let’s get this show started-“ it was quick blur of red and black before you were standing head tilted to the side as you stared irked at the man in front of you. “Do YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID.”

“PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I BEG FOR MERCY I SPENT MUCH OF MY LIFE LOOKING FOR THIS TREASURE THATS BEEN hidden away heating the tales of how the sourcerer’s of old time had wrongly imprisoned a Diety of Fertility separating her from her son. I just come to beg and ask you give my wife your blessing to have a child were old in age but she’s always prayed and begged. I’ve run out of hope until i heard you tale, i beg and hoped you’d have mercy- Sit up” was all you said. The man went from groveling to sitting back on his heels. Sighing the conflict inside of you was great. You looked around tucking your arms into the sleeves of your worn Kimono. “Bring me your wife,” you looked up through the canopy of the trees you see the sun at mid day, “you have two sunsets and then I leave.” The man quickly bowed again at your feet thanking you before running off. You kicked the prison realm box “Damnit who won!” You snatched it up, the air was familiar, you started to look around. The reason it was so familiar was because it wasn’t to far from where you had been sealed. The skeletal remains of the sourcerers made you seethe. You found the remains of the man who sealed you grabbing his skull with your free hand making it look at you, “my child my husband,” you crushed it without fail, “you took it all from me and now everyone will pay.” Th tears falling down were hot. Dropping the remains you started your first technique “Reanimate.” A wave of purple radiated from you, hitting every border of the palace. Skeletal remains shaking and coming together to stand, “Get this place back into shape.” They started moving, you made your way inside the palace the inside help had been reanimated also, your ladies in waiting now remains, standing beside you as you enter “Find fabric I need new robes.” They rushed off and you made it to your old room, the massive bed your son had fallen off many times when he would try to sleep with you and his dad. The wardrobe filled with your husband’s old robes. The room was dusty and smelt humid, shoving the window open you tried not to cry, on the window sill was a talisman Sukuna had created for Yuji. Sniffling you turned your head, finding a small blanket and stuffed Tiger doll Yuji carried around that morning. A gift for his 2nd birthday that he loved and it showed on the tigers rugged appearance.

“My Yuji..” your faint whisper sounding so loud in the silence as you ran your fingers of the stuffed doll holding it close to your chest as you made your way around the room planning your moves. Your plans had always been to follow in similar steps to Sukuna. Except that you’d be known for good to balance out the evil perspective they had of your husband. First, fix your palace. Second, create miracles in the closest town or village to make profit and move into a bigger city to improve profits. Find wherever Sukuna had been sealed away, and break him free. Find Yuji and take him back from this cruel world.

❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️

It’s been over 100 more years and you’d grown accustomed to the changing in technology and times, passing the crowds into your shrine you smiled ruffling the heads of kids who smiled up at you, rubbing the plump bellies of pregnant women you passed and “blessing” the sick with instant health with simply laying a hand on them and smiling kindly.

Entering your shrine for the last time your Gentlemen in waiting was packing up what was left. The last thing left was the main room where your wide throne sat, you’d be leaving it being to your followers, the cushions you provided for your followers during your sessions. “Morí.” You called out and he came from the room he was in bowing and holding his hands out in front of him. “Yes Lady Y/n?”

“Morinozuka, we’re leaving tonight to Sendai City. The mark of my binding vow is burning more, but are you sure that’s where we need to go?”

“Yes Lady Y/n.” He spoke not looking up from his bow. You nodded, “then it’s final.”

❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️

“So this is the place?” You turned to Morí and he nodded. “It’s not as lavish but this is the closest we can get… Your excellency.. I strongly recommend you continue to hide your cursed energy until I suggest otherwise.” You nodded getting out of the car “Very well, I will.”

It was morning when you had arrived, standing in front of the door to the house you looked over an elder man was walking out of his house he looked over and you smiled at him and he had a very faint twitch of his lip. Until a man with pink hair came out, follows by a woman with black hair and you felt it. The pulse of cursed energy and instinctively you grabbed Mori by his robes and pulled him towards you, “That woman, she’s no woman that- is the carrier of your child.” You head snapped instantly to him, “The father of my child, that’s the sorcerer who knew Sukuna, and he is going to mother my child?” Your face showing your exact emotions Mori placing a hand over yours, “Lady Y/n, please recollect your thoughts. I can assure you he will NOT be mothering your child, and her husband will not be fathering him either.” Letting go of his robes you nodded. Looking over your shoulder you watched the couple get into a car the elder man scowling when they started to drive away.

Turning to look at you he tucked his arms behind his back walking over, “Good Morning I’m L/n Y/n.” You greeted bowing after you moved closer, he dismissed you with a wave of your hand. “Morning, Wasuke Itadori.” He cocked a brow and looked over at your house, “It’s been up for sale for a long time. Almost 3 years before someone has moved in.” You looked back at your house, “I moved in to get closer to work. I thought it was just a blessing for everything to line up so perfectly.”

He nodded, “Well, blessings only go so far here. My son’s wife is something I’d consider to be a curse.” You nodded, “oddly enough I wouldn’t disagree. I know a snake when I see one and from a brief glance I wouldn’t trust her at all.”

He nodded, “Have a good day moving in, if you need help my son and his wife will be returning soon. I’m sure either of them would be willing to help with any problems.”

“Have a good day Mr.Itadori.” You bowed your head slightly and you both went separate ways.

“Mori,” you sighed entering your house “count these days.”

[pitchsidestories]

for the girls II Kika Nazareth x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1347

a/n: dear readers, this is for the girls..and for the anon who asked if we'd write another Kika fanfic. 💜❤️

“Chicas, you haven’t. told us about your Portugal trip yet!”, Mapi clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

It was the dinner night after a big game at the team’s favourite restaurant. Far away from the buzzy and touristy La Rambla, in one of the less busy neighbourhoods where you football players could eat and yap in peace. In this minute the candles were lit by the waiters and turned everything into a warm glow.

“True, did you two enjoy it? Were you girls surfing? The water must be cold by now.”, Ellie mused with a dreamy look in her blue eyes.  

“We did. And it was amazing.”, Kika affirmed.

“Yes, we’ll go there again over the Christmas break. The waves were the best I’ve ever ride on.”, you enthused thrilled.

“You two went surfing?!”, Alexia gasped outraged by your recklessness.

“Yeah?”, the Portuguese forward cleared her throat nervously.

“It was super fun, Ale.”, you replied nonchalantly, slightly annoyed by the older Spaniards mothering, for some time her overprotective side always came through when it came to you.

“Can’t you do something less dangerous?”, Alexia sighed.

“We had everything in control.”, you tried to assure the midfielder.

“Still. In the middle of the season.”, she pouted.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t spend too much time on the water anyway.”, Kika intervened, smiling cheekily, holding your hand in hers.

“Kika.”, you exclaimed blushing deeply.

“That’s too much information.”, Mapi chuckled amused.

“Wait, what?!”, Alexia asked shocked.

“Stop acting like a mum.”, the Portuguese laughed.

“You’re lucky I’m not.”, your captain said through clenched teeth.

In your mind you reminisced about your trip to Portugal which felt like ages ago but was only a week prior. How could you explain to Alexia that every day spent with Kika felt as fresh as a summer’s day no matter the actual weather?

“I was faster than you, Kika!”, you grinned triumphantly, your feet had reached the sea water before your teammates.

“You started early!”, she shook her head heavy breathing.

“Lies.”, you countered smiling innocently.

“It’s true.”, the brunette insisted smirking.

“Whatever.”, you shrugged. What you didn’t plan was to get lost into your friends’ brown eyes. They’re so beautiful you thought to yourself.

“You know that friends don’t look at each other like this?”, Kika observed.

“Looking like what?”, you asked biting your lips anxiously. 

“The way you look at me right now.”, the forward replied earnestly.

“I.. sorry.. I think.. I forgot something at the beach.”, you mumbled.

“Y/n..”

“Do you need something as well?”, you turned your head around to look into her eyes.

“No.”, she denied.

You nodded slowly: “Okay.“

“Okay.“, she replied.

There was nothing else to say so you waded out of the water, forcing your heart to stop hammering against your chest.

Kika joined you a bit later, both of you laying on your beach towels and letting the sun dry the water off your skin.

She never mentioned it again and as the day went on, you started to wonder if you had imagined the conversation you had earlier.

You stayed out at the beach to watch the sunset together but once night started to fall, the temperatures dropped and a slight breeze rolled in from the sea. Kika and you found shelter in the van you rented. It was just big enough for the two of you with a twin mattress in the back and a makeshift kitchen where you prepared a quick dinner for the two of you.

Parked a bit away from the actual beach, you had a perfect view at the waves but without heating, the van cooled down as quickly as the outside temperature.

“It’s getting kind of cold… Do you want me to get another blanket?”, you asked Kika who was, like you, sitting on the mattress with a thin blanket wrapped around herself.

“Uhm… sure.“, she nodded.

Wordlessly, you got up and pulled out another blanket.

“Here you go.“

“Come here, we can share this one.“, Kika decided as she unfolded it and gently placed it over both of your legs once you sat back down.

“Thanks. Who thought it would be this cold in our van at night?”, you asked while sucking in a breath.

Kika laughed: “Definitely not me.“

“Me neither. But now we know.“, you joined the laughter, shaking your head about how unprepared you both were.

“We do. Are you still cold?”, Kika asked while her eyes searched your face.

Your grip tightened around the edges of your blanket, a desperate attempt to keep your hands from shivering: “No…“

Kika clearly looked right through your lie. “Move over.“, she demanded.

You did as you were told while the football player moved closer, pulling you into her.

You cheeks started to burn which you chalked up to Kikas body heat.

“Why are you so hot?”, you laughed.

“I’m Portuguese.“, she replied plainly, shrugging.

“Of course.“

“That must be it.“, she grinned.

“Appreciate the heat though.“, you answered, finally laying down. Kika did the same, never letting go of you.

For the shortest moment, you thought you would both fall asleep until you could feel the football player stir close to you. Her chest was so close to yours that you could essentially feel her rapid heartbeat against your ribcage.

“Why are you so nervous? Can’t you sleep?“

“I..no. There’s something else I’d like to do.”, Kika admitted quietly in the dark.

“What’d you like to do?”, you asked her nervously.

“I’d like to kiss you.”, the forward confessed.

“What about the being friends talk from earlier?”, you raised an eyebrow.  

“Well, what about we stop being friends and start dating.”, she suggested boldly.

“You mean like Marta and Caro, Mapi and Ingrid.”, you began listing the couples in the team with your fingers.

“Yes.”

“I like that. So, you didn’t mind when I glanced at you earlier.”, you realized.

“No, not at all.”, Kika insisted.

“I want to kiss you too.”, you smiled sheepishly at her.

“When what are you waiting for.”, the brunette chuckled.

You didn’t need more than this, you left a featherlight kiss on her lips. “Do you want more?”, you gave her a challenging look.

“Please.”, she responded promptly. Now it was Kika who entangled you in a kiss. The Portuguese tasted like never-ending summer; the warmth spread through your whole body chasing the cold away.

“Wait, so you’re together now?”, Keira’s question brought you back to the present evening.

“Jep, we’re.”, Kika confirmed with a proud grin on her lips.

“If you hurt y/n, Kika…”, Alexia warned her.

“Stop, Ale. You’re neither my mami nor my big sister.”, you interrupted the captain annoyed.

“I promise I’ll not hurt her. I couldn’t be happier.”, your girlfriend declared solemnly.

“Good.”, the blonde nodded satisfied.

“You can calm down now.”, you rolled your eyes at her.

“We should order another round of drinks.”, Mapi suggested enthusiastically.

“Sounds like a good idea.” Kika waited until everyone had a newly filled glass in their hands to toast. “Cheers to the power of love and friendship.”

“To another Barca couple.”, the defender from Zaragoza added smirking.

“You look like a proud aunt.”, Ingrid observed smiling.

“I feel like one.”, Mapi acknowledged, resting her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

The rest of the evening was a joyful time with teammates who become friends and some of them lovers.

“And that’s a wrap.”, your girlfriend confirmed once she took a mirror selfie which had the whole team in it.

Slowly each of the women went down a different road which would lead them home so by the end of your walk it was only Kika and you walking hand in hand through the streets which were lit by the lamplights.

“That was nice.”, you hummed.

“Agreed, come on time to go home, meu amor.”, she replied. At the end of the road, you both knew that your place was waiting for you.

“I’m coming.”, you told her, almost running now, because you couldn’t wait to be in the four walls you called your home now with the woman you loved.

[neptuneiris]

Cruel Summer (01/10)

Sunset's Bay

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: There are two sides to the city of Sunset's Bay, the rich who live in 'Crown's' and the poor who live in 'Black Waves'. What happens when a rich guy and a poor girl meet and inevitably fall in love? In the city where they live and with their status, that can't be possible.

words: 5.8k

series masterlist • next part

I wasn't sure about posting this but if you like the story I will continue with it, it all depends on how you receive it😬

in case you like it, I want to advance that the story will be a kind of forbidden love by the fact of rich and poor hehe and I have a lot prepared, basically everything is already written, I just need to structure it in a better way

this has only been an introduction to the world of Sunset's Bay, so I hope you enjoy it and the warnings will be added as I post the chapters if you like it🤗

so enjoy!

Sunset's Bay.

The hidden but mostly inhabited beach on the California Coast, with golden and white sands that slide into crystal clear waters of such a deep blue that it seems infinite.

According to Google, it is one of the most beautiful beaches in Northern California and where teenagers living in surrounding cities yearn to come every time a new summer begins.

Sunset and sunrise on these waters are beautiful, as they transform the horizon into a palette of vibrant colors, from warm shades of gold and pink to soft purple and the deep blue of night.

Every summer, the beach comes alive with exciting surfing tournaments, as well as Sunset's Pier, the midpoint of the beach where everyone mingles, transforms into charity events with live music, fireworks and lamp shows that illuminate the night with a mesmerizing light show.

Boat and yacht rides add a touch of sophistication to the coastal scene. This allows tourists to explore the waters beyond the beach, visit small islands up close and enjoy the serenity of the open sea.

But on top of all that, everything is meticulously maintained, most of it, like the clean, spacious beaches, adorned by palm trees swaying gently in the sea breeze.

And your favorite section, the volcanic stone cliffs that are distributed in specific locations on the beach, offering rocky walls as you sit on the seashore behind you and all around, emerging as natural guardians of the beach.

And from their heights, you can take in panoramic views of all the beauty of the landscape, encompassing the vast endless ocean and coastline to the endless horizon.

You always looked forward to coming here as a child when a new term at school ended and your mother was always willing to come and spend the vacations with your relatives, the Blackwoods.

They always welcomed you and your mother and together with your cousin Alysanne, you had an amazing summer.

Ever since you were little, you have always been tattooed with the memory of the sand on your feet, the salt air in your nostrils, the water enveloping you completely and the sun in full sunset caressing your whole face as you watched it on the horizon starting to descend on the shore of the beach with the cliffs behind you.

And now, that's all you know, a life in Sunset's and your frequent days at the beach.

Living with your aunt and uncle and Alysanne in a house big enough to also make room for you on the beach shore, this has been your home for exactly a year now.

And now summer has begun.

"Sam has sent a message."

You raise your gaze to Alysanne as you finish cleaning one of the tables.

"He says to meet him at the beach with the others in the evening. Do you want to go?"

You place a small smile on your lips.

"Sure."

"Table nine!"

You both turn your heads toward your boss, who looks at both of you as if he wants to kill you at any moment, and you quickly rush to serve the food, briefly wiping the sweat from your brow to keep working.

"Hurry up, Blackwood," Mr. Frey tells you reluctantly as you begin to pick up the orders on the tray.

You let out a long breath and glance at the clock briefly before going to serve, realizing that you will have to put up with this for four more hours and for the rest of the summer as well.

Unfortunately you and Alysanne have to work, as it has been for some months now at a seafood restaurant where the 'rich' people from this side of the city come to enjoy the delicious food.

And because of the summer, the work has increased. But that doesn't stop them both from having fun now that summer has begun.

So as soon as you and Alysanne finish your shift, you head home as soon as possible and start getting ready to meet your friends at the beach.

Previously going out and having fun was a problem for Alysanne's parents, your aunt and uncle were not the liberal type, but as soon as you both started working and helping them with the household expenses with what you could, they started to be more permissive and understanding.

And this is your home, the less ostentatious side of the city, but still genuine.

Once you join Sam and all the boys on the beach, you head for the small boat floating near the shore.

It is not a luxurious boat, much less can it be compared to a boat or yacht of the latest model, but it is a modest boat that has seen many summer seasons.

And it has taken them all to many spots on the beach and you have shared many anecdotes on it.

And as the boat glides through the calm waters, you and Alysanne enjoy the laughter and stories shared by the boys from the neighborhood, Sam, Daniel and Chase.

The three of them have been childhood friends of Alysanne's and when you came to live with her officially, she introduced you to them and now you all have formed a group of friends where you enjoy afternoons like these with Sam's boat and where you also go swimming and surfing all together.

The sea breeze caresses your faces and the sun slowly begins to descend as it paints the sky in warm golden tones, until the afternoon turns into night.

And on the beach, with a campfire in the center, the starry sky above and all together in a circle, you start burning marshmallows and drinking beer.

"And tell us..." speaks Daniel, watching you both curiously, "How about the slave life for the rich people?"

You and your cousin let out a small laugh.

"Slaves?" you repeat amused.

"Well yeah, come on, you said your boss... what's his name? Grey? Payne?"

"Frey," Alysanne corrects him.

"Yeah, that," he points to her, "He's a jerk or not?"

"And no concept of patience and prudence," you add.

"I imagine the ones who eat there are worse, no?" asks Chase.

Daniel snaps his fingers at him.

"Lannister?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. Jason Lannister has that vibe."

"I put him in the top one of the most hated, along with the Baratheons. And I have a feeling the Arryns do too, I don't know why," Daniel again looks at you both, "Right?"

"You work for them," Alysanne tells him amused, "Don't you know that?"

"Well, it's not like they can tell me much for cleaning their boats and yachts but... no–they're extremely nice, though..." he holds up his finger with a thoughtful expression, "Though I think there must be something wrong with them."

Alysanne lets out a snort.

"They're rich and live at Crown's, practically owning all the establishments on the beach just like the Lannisters, Baratheons, Tyrells and others leaving nothing for us, the poor ones, because they despise us," she says with an ironic but true tone "Of course there must be something wrong with them."

"One time one of them didn't leave me a tip," you say, remembering, "The Tyrell's."

Sam looks at you amused.

"Tips are not obligatory."

"Oh come on," you retort, with a touch of irony, "They're rich, they can have yachts and mansions, but can't they at least give me a five percent tip?"

"Yet it's not obligatory."

Everyone lets out a laugh.

"Yeah, it's not the nicest place to work and the customers aren't necessarily nice but the pay is good, after all," Alysanne says as she shrugs.

And that's true.

Even though it's not a good work environment, the necessity is what makes you not quit and endure as much as you can. Even though your aunt and uncle are taking care of you and taking responsibility for you, you know you can't continue that way forever.

You want to be independent, pay for your own things, especially you want to pay for college, but to do that, you have to work and now this is the job.

Besides it's useless to find work elsewhere when the owners are still the same; rich and arrogant. And you can't find work on your side of the city because the pay won't be much or maybe they won't even hire because they can't afford it.

But right now, being here enjoying the summer with your friends and your cousin, you allow yourself not to think about it and just continue to criticize the rich people.

And after many cans of beer, Chase picks up his guitar and you all together start singing in the most off-key and horrible way possible, laughing amongst everyone with the jokes filling the air, just like the heat of the flames and the aroma of roasting marshmallows.

"You had a party and didn't invite me!?"

Almost everyone together turns their heads unexpectedly toward the approaching outside voice laden with amusement and mild reproach.

And then they all see Cregan Stark with a huge grin and a bottle of beer in hand.

The guys soon start showing off at the mere sight of him, making jokes and greeting him with great enthusiasm, as Cregan greets them.

And you just watch Alysanne with a sly smile, amused by Cregan's sudden appearance, but of course, she quickly hides all traces of whatever her reaction is to seeing him, adjusting her expression to one of neutrality as she tries to appear disinterested.

But you know.

And you're amused at how she acts as if you don't know her.

Cregan Stark is the spoiled son of one of the wealthiest families in Sunset's, living in one of the most exclusive areas on the Crown's side.

His appearance reflects his status; brand name clothes, really expensive accessories, late model car and an attitude that denotes familiarity with luxury. However, despite his wealth, Cregan has proven to be different from other boys in his social environment.

Although he has access to all the luxuries, he does not carry with him the air of superiority and arrogance that many would expect from someone like him and that those of his class usually display.

In fact, Cregan became friends with Chase, who works for his family in the ports.

And it was Chase who introduced him to the group and although at first no one felt confident with him, Cregan instead of imposing his status, imposed a genuine and friendly demeanor that won the friendship of everyone in the circle.

Later everyone understood that he doesn't really enjoy being with people from the same environment as himself. The wealthy teenagers he usually hung out with, for the most part, were overly judgmental and arrogant.

So thanks to Chase, he found company with all of you, the guys from across the city who don't have a mansion and all the money in the world, but who are genuine and free of pretense.

Despite the looks people give Cregan for not understanding his choice of company, he deliberately ignores them. His parents don't say anything to him either, although he says they clearly prefer that he stop interact with you.

"I am deeply, intensely and extremely offended," he says expressing mock indignation, holding a hand to his chest, watching you incredulously but amused.

"Come on, man, don't get dramatic," Chase tells him giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder.

"Yeah, we're just getting warmed up," Sam encourages him.

"Besides..." says Daniel, in an exaggerated tone, "We can't send messages across the beach, us poor people have to use carrier pigeons like the olden days to get anything to you, but guess what... we're so poor we can't even afford pigeons."

Everyone lets out a laugh, enjoying Daniel's humor in implying the differences between the poor and the rich on the beach.

"Stop, seriously, why didn't you guys tell me you were doing this?" Cregan asks, taking a seat on the logs.

"I heard there's a party on your side of the beach and I figured you'd be heading over there," Chase tells him, "Which you did, didn't you?" he points to the beer in his hand.

He lets out a long breath.

"Yeah but it was pretty fucking boring."

"Boring?" you repeat incredulously, "A party with a DJ, champagne and yachts I highly doubt is boring."

"Well, not that it wasn't fun," he says looking around and observing everyone, "But I wanted this, to be with you guys, the atmosphere."

"And how did you know we were here?" asks Alysanne curious.

"I didn't exactly know," he smiles at her, "So I just decided to come and try my luck."

"Oh man, stop it or you'll make me cry," Daniel jokes, holding a hand to his heart.

"He loves us, doesn't he?" asks Sam, with a smirk.

"Yeah, he definitely loves us."

Everyone laughs and you watch discreetly as he and Alysanne start throwing their little looks at each other.

"Party with DJ and yachts? Man, if I were you, I'd be enjoying that," Sam confesses, shaking his head in a gesture of incomprehension.

"It's not big deal and people are hateful, believe me."

No one argues with him about that but you too sometimes wish you could have fun like that, have the experience of going to a beach party like the rich kids in the movies, just once.

But the time will come, someday, there are still many summers left to enjoy.

The conversation flows as the boys settle around the campfire, the warmth of the fire contrasting with the cool night breeze blowing in from the sea.

The atmosphere is filled with laughter and banter, and the relaxed beach setting becomes the perfect backdrop for a night of genuine camaraderie.

Cregan, with his carefree and genuine attitude, seems to fit right in with all fo you and that he values sincere company over superficial luxury.

And you don't know exactly how much more time passes or how many beers that Daniel brings back the theme of the rich party on the other side of the beach.

"Hey, Cregan," he says, leaning forward with a mischievous expression, "Since you're here, why don't you take us to that party? I'm sure it's not as bad as you say."

Cregan raises an eyebrow, amused but surprised.

"What?"

Something about Daniel's words clicks in everyone's head, even yours, so you quickly exchange glances with Alysanne. And Cregan notices how everyone starts to truly consider it.

"Do you guys really want to go to that party?"

"And why not?" asks Alysanne, with an grin, "I'm sure we can have fun, even if we're not part of the rich circle."

"Yeah, and besides..." adds Sam, with a persuasive tone, "It would be interesting to see what the other side of the city is like from the inside. We've never been to a party like this."

Cregan seems to think about it for a moment, looking at the boys with a mixture of doubt and amusement.

"Seriously you guys are telling me this? The rich haters?"

You shrug.

"The rich hate us too."

"And that's precisely why we want to go," Sam says, gesturing animatedly, "We want to try something different. And who knows, maybe we'll give you a good reason to have a little more fun at that party. Right, Chase?"

Everyone looks at Chase, who shrugs.

"I guess that wouldn't be bad."

"But you haven't thought this through," Cregan insists, "As soon as they see you all, they'll know you're not like them."

Everyone looks at themselves and well... he's right.

The rich, especially those who are the same age as you, have a radar to recognize someone who is just like them... or not.

But you don't blame them, since you have them too, the difference is that you don't make disgusted faces or criticize in whispers as soon as you notice.

You notice your two-piece bikini top is wrinkled and is clearly second hand, besides your worn-out sandals. Alysanne is also in the same condition as you and the boys... well, they're worse.

Sam's shirt is torn, Chase's is torn, and the clothes are visibly secondhand.

"We have better clothes at home," you tell Alysanne and she nods.

"And we take our shirts off and stay in shorts," Daniel says, in solution, "Are we at the beach or not?"

"And if something goes wrong, we can always run out and come back here," Alysanne suggests.

Everyone nods and basically watches Cregan with puppy dog eyes, hopeful that he will take you to his kind of people.

"What do you think, Cregan?"

Cregan is silent for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping over the group around him, analyzing and thinking about all the things that could go wrong. And he doesn't pass up the abandoned cat look that Daniel and Sam throw at him.

And finally, he lets out a laugh and a resigned sigh.

"All right, all right. I'll take you. But if we have a bad time, don't say I didn't warn you."

"That's what I like to hear!" exclaims Sam, raising his arms in victory.

"We won't regret it."

"We may not but the rich will."

"Thanks, Cregan," says Alysanne, patting him on the back.

You frown as you watch her gesture and also notice Cregan's confused look for a moment, but go back to watching the boys.

"Well, then let's go before I change my mind."

You put out the campfire, pick up the trash and with laughter they all very animatedly walk away from your spot on the beach, heading first towards the trash cans and then towards Cregan's car.

"You do know Cregan likes you, don't you?" you say to Alysanne, walking a little further away from the guys.

She gives you an incredulous look.

"What?"

"Oh come on and you like him too, don't deny it."

"Of course I don't."

"Of course you do."

"You're crazy."

"And you won't stand a chance if you keep treating him like just a dude."

"Oh yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

You let out a laugh, understanding that it will be difficult for her to accept and share it with you, so you give her time. The guys behind you laugh too, with the echo fading into the salty air, leaving the sea breeze and the sound of the waves behind.

The difference in locations is completely noticeable.

You leave behind the small wooden houses, the unkempt streets, the establishments where you and your friends can shop, the bicycles and old cars, to move to large neighborhoods with green grass, trees and bushes on every corner with huge luxurious houses, almost mansions with modern cars and expensive decorations.

The guys are excited and so are you, as you have never explored these sections of the beach before, which are completely exclusive and with access for the rich people.

Obviously there are entrances with booths and security guards, so Cregan's appearance alone proves he's a Stark and he's allowed in without objection.

And soon enough, you arrive at the party.

"Oh my goodness, look at this," exclaims Alysanne, wide-eyed as she takes in the scene.

"That's a Prestige F4?" asks Sam in surprise, eyeing the luxurious yacht in the distance.

"Seriously, how much money do these people have?" mutters Daniel, in shock.

"More than you'll ever have," Alysanne tells him with a smirk as you all walk onto the beach illuminated by the party lights.

"You don't know that," Chase replies to her, pretending to be offended, "Maybe someday I'll get rich and buy one of those," he points to the yachts.

"I'm very offended that you didn't invite us to your parties sooner," Daniel says to Cregan, putting a hand to his chest as if he were badly wounded, "How could you hide all this from us?"

"Don't draw too much attention to yourselves, guys," Cregan asks with a mixture of concern and amusement in his voice.

"We won't," says Sam, "We'll just enjoy ourselves apart from the others but inside, you get it?"

The music starts to get louder and soon enough, we are inside the party.

Blue and purple neon lights illuminate the white sand, creating a dazzling contrast against the night sky. Waves break gently on the shore, almost muted by the music vibrating through the air.

There is indeed a DJ from a raised platform and most of the people here dance in the center to the music, some with cocktails in hand, bottles of champagne or recording the moment on their phones.

Near the dock, several luxurious yachts are docked, all decorated with lights flashing to the rhythm of the music. There are people inside them, enjoying the party from right there.

Some people get off the yachts to join the party on the beach, while others stay on board, enjoying the view and the exclusivity it offers.

If not beer, there is a bar offering a variety of exotic drinks and gourmet appetizers, such as sushi, caviar and canapés.

And throughout the party, groups of people are spread out, chatting animatedly, laughing, toasting and dancing. There are also party games, such as beer pong and spin the bottle.

While others gather around improvised campfires farther away near the sea, where the atmosphere is more relaxed, watching the spectacle around them.

The air is permeated with the smell of sea salt mixed with expensive perfumes and the sound of laughter and music all along the beach.

It is a party that clearly reflects the wealth and status of their hosts, as well as the people present; pure spoiled kids with rich parents.

"Are we going to have fun or what!?" exclaims Sam excitedly, fully entering the party and everyone follows.

Chase convinces Cregan to be worrying since most of the people here are in their own world and he doubts drunkenly checking to see if they have the latest model Iphone or what.

And honestly you relax too as everyone here is having fun and you along with Alysanne look more presentable in nice bikinis.

They are second hand still but they are more cared for than the others you have.

Sam quickly orders drinks, surprised and excited to have gotten a bottle of champagne, then Cregan and the others take him and you and Alysanne to a more secluded spot.

You make a space for yourselves on the sand, a bit secluded from everyone, having the view of the huge luxurious houses, the cliffs in the distance and also the illuminated yachts on the dock behind you.

Pretty soon you have your beer and start enjoying yourselves just like everyone else, not worrying too much and just pretending you are one of them all.

Mingling with the rich at Sunset's pier is one thing, since the pier is the center of the entire beach and there are no prejudices there, but now pretending to be one is completely different.

You find yourself watching everyone around you when Alysanne nudges you slightly and points her gaze to a specific spot.

"Look at that."

You follow her gaze and see a group of girls.

"That bracelet is from Pandora, I saw it on Instagram."

From here you can see how their gold and silver necklaces and bracelets sparkle. Also the bikinis they have on are beautiful, certainly brand name. There is also a girl with a Guess bag and they all have the latest Iphone model in their hand.

And you turn to Alysanne with a shrug.

"Why are we judging when it should be the other way around?"

"We're not judging, we're just noticing the differences between girls like them and girls like us."

You both let out a laugh.

"You definitely want that Pandora bracelet, don't you?" you look at her amused.

"And you don't?"

The two of you continue to observe or rather admire all those rich girls who have fancy accessories when suddenly you hear a specific boast behind you.

You turn your head and see the dock, noticing how some impeccably dressed people are boarding one of the larger yachts docked near the shore.

And there they are.

You think as you make out those distinctive black, red and silver hair.

Of course they couldn't miss a party like this, the sons of the most influential families in the city, the Lannister's, Baratheon's and Targaryen's, practically the elite of Sunset's.

You've seen Cerelle, Tyshara and Loreon Lannister before on the Sunset's Pier, their red hair gives away who they are instantly. They always brag about their luxurious yachts, cars, jewelry stores and everything else they own.

Their father, Jason Lannister, has built an empire based on shipbuilding and port development.

From what you understand, his company designs and manufactures some of the most advanced and exclusive ships for the world's elite.

In addition to this, Lannister also owns a network of ports and shipyards on several coasts, allowing him to maintain a steady flow of wealth through port fees and contracts with global corporations.

This influence has given him a prominent place among the city's powerful and his family has inherited not only his fortune, but also his imposing and domineering character.

So it is no surprise that the Lannister's are typical spoiled children with clearly very wealthy parents, as are the others, especially the Baratheon's, Cassandra, Maris and Floris.

Known as much for their tanned skin and peculiar dark hair as for their arrogant attitude, they always seek to be the center of attention at any such social event.

Cassandra, the eldest, has a dominant bearing and never misses an opportunity to show off her status. She is also the best known of the daughters to go out every now and then with a boy from an important family either from the city or abroad.

Next, there is Maris, the quietest of the three and the most reserved, but still, as you have heard, just as spoiled and boastful as her older sister.

And finally, Floris, Cerelle's best friend and supposedly the most arrogant, capricious, shallow and boastful of the three.

She is the one who seems the sweetest at first glance, but her spoiled nature soon becomes evident when something doesn't go her way.

You also know that there are two other children, a daughter and a son, Ellyn and Royce, but apparently Ellyn prefers to stay at home and Royce does not live here.

Her father, Borros Baratheon, is a most important and influential shipping magnate and merchant in the region, known for his connections with outside businessmen.

He owns one of the largest commercial fleets operating along the entire Pacific coast. You don't know exactly what it's about but the guys have talked about how his company specializes in logistics and shipping goods across the ocean or something like that.

And finally, the sons of the most powerful family in the entire city and the entire country, the Targaryen's.

Viserys Targaryen is known as the most powerful man in the entire country and by extension his entire family as well. He owns one of the largest and most influential corporations in the region.

Your uncle Ben always had a kind of admiration for him, though your aunt always expressed her dislike of him, as well as the other families, for simply being other greedy money-rotters who drive up the costs of the city for all that they invest to elevate their status and leave you poor people increasingly difficult to make a living.

You honestly couldn't agree with her more, but the Targaryen's have been forging their main empire here in Sunset's for a very long time now and there is nothing that can really be done about it.

The Targaryen business empire focuses on multiple sectors, but they are best known for owning a very prestigious bank, where they serve wealthy elites and large corporations, as well as financing large scale projects, such as real estate developments, technology or even public infrastructure.

You understand that he has built and manages shopping malls, corporate skyscrapers and exclusive developments in major cities across the country, as well as high profile tourist destinations like Sunset's.

So basically all of them and him especially have total control over the financial resources of the region, as well as infrastructure and development in the most luxurious sectors.

Although Viserys and his wife Alicent are no longer seen as much at events this side of Crown's and on the pier, their influence still shapes everything that happens here.

"Hey."

Sam snaps you out of your thoughts when you feel him tap you on the shoulder and you turn your head towards him, confused and attentive.

"Hm?"

"What are you looking at?" he asks you amused, sitting down next to you and offering you a new bottle of beer.

"Oh, no, nothing, just..." you shake your head, taking the beer and not paying attention to the son's and daughter's of rich parents.

But Sam had followed your gaze before.

"I know, they're beautiful, aren't they?"

You immediately watch him intently.

"Who?"

"The yachts," he tells you as if it's obvious, "Imagine spending a whole weekend on one, just doing this..." he points to the beer and all the partying, "In the middle of the ocean."

You let out a small laugh.

"That's your biggest dream, isn't it?"

"And for the yacht to be mine, obviously," he says excitedly, turning his gaze back to the dock where they all are, "If I used to see them from afar and feel envious, now it's torture to have them so close."

You look to where he sees and he has a very good point. They could live perfectly well on one of those yachts and there would be no problem, which is also one of your dreams.

"Oh, come on Sam," you give him a friendly smack, looking at him again and you notice the gleam of longing in his eyes, "Surely your charm can make a girl from Crown's fall in love with you and let you enjoy the amazing yachts."

He looks at you incredulously.

"A Crown's girl with someone like me? Are you kidding?"

"It's not impossible," you shrug.

"Oh yeah, here at Sunset's everything is impossible if you don't live on this side of town."

And that's another good point and very true.

Daniel joins you and Sam's little group and you stop paying attention the moment you turn your gaze back towards the yachts and them specifically.

This time you focus on the Targaryen's, Helaena, Aegon and Aemond.

Surprisingly, despite being in the top tier of the wealthiest and most powerful family in the entire city and country, compared to the Lannister's, Baratheon's, Tyrell's, Arryn's, Stark's and Greyjoy's, they are not so smug, superficial and arrogant.

Although, come to think of it, the only exception is Aegon.

The eldest of the brothers, he is characteristic of his carefree and arrogant attitude. His life is summed up in parties, girls and excesses. Everyone knows him, he is the soul of the party and drives all the girls crazy.

For him, life is a game where he always wins. Sometimes he seems like the typical privileged son who has never had to strive for anything, but his power lies precisely in that.

Then there is Helaena, the only sister among the Targaryens who has a pleasant and gentle presence.

Although she is rich, the richest of them all and extremely beautiful, she doesn't abuse it, she doesn't show it off, she's not shallow or arrogant, besides she's always looking out for her siblings.

She is the kind of person who doesn't need to shout to be noticed and with just a quiet smile, she earns the respect and admiration of those around her.

You know a little about her as Chase has a little now not so secret crush on her and honestly you don't blame him, she is absolutely beautiful and even kind, which is rare due to her provenance.

And finally there's Aemond, who of all them, he's always been... different.

Where Aegon is shameless and carefree, Aemond is calculating and serious. Always impeccably dressed, with an expression that doesn't say much and keeps him at a safe distance from most.

From what you've heard, he's extremely intelligent, he's also reserved and quiet, the complete opposite of Aegon.

There is also a rumor about him about his left eye, something about an accident as a child and where he apparently wears a prosthetic.

You don't really know much about it or him but he's always been intriguing and mysterious, in a way.

You focus on him specifically, watching him from a distance, curious, as he takes a seat on the deck with an expression you can't read as it doesn't tell you much.

You watch as his short silver hair moves slightly in the wind and breeze, as well as he watches everything around him intently, to again focus on his siblings and Floris.

Floris is his girlfriend, apparently they have been dating for a few months now and have given a lot to talk about since no one expected Aemond to even date anyone.

But there they are.

You watch as Floris approaches him and takes a seat on his lap, looking radiant in a tight dress and a huge smile on her face, but he, on the other hand, remains expressionless.

Floris murmurs something in his ear, to which he responds with a slight smile, but averts his gaze to the horizon. However, she gently takes him by the jaw and leaves a soft kiss on his lips.

They begin to kiss and you look away, trying to refocus on the party and enjoying yourself here with your friends.

However, being here with all these wealthy people, especially the Targaryen's, you can't help but feel that divide about the rich and the poor at Sunset's.

You feel like you live in two different worlds, where they, the rich, live a life completely oblivious to the concerns of the people on the other side of town, in Crown's.

While you and the others work in the restaurants, clean their yachts, boats, houses and make sure their lives are comfortable.

They float above it all, the Targaryen's, Lannister's, Stark's, Baratheon's and so on, attending parties and making decisions that only benefit their own.

But you, the poor, the ones who live in Black Waters have nothing, you don't have the money, the influence or the power. Even the name of your side of town is a mockery to them, the rich, in despising even more the poor who don't have what they have.

But that's the life in Sunset's Bay.

[evie-sturns]

skinny dip - Chris Sturniolo

summary: where a late night beach trip with your boyfriend chris turns into skinny dipping with him.

contains: fluff, swearing, skinny dipping, a bit short cause i’m busy as shit.

————————————-🌊————————————-

8:55pm

i lay a pink striped towel across the cool sand, the entire beach is completely empty except for chris and i.

chris flops down on the towel,

“chris! you’ve put sand all over it!” i groan,

he almost giggles, a stupid grin on his face as he lays back on his elbows.

i huff sarcastically before sitting down beside him,

the sun rests on the horizon, creating a glaring sunset.

“you know, this sunset is almost as beautiful as you.” he smirks,

i burst out laughing, “you are such a cornball oh my god.” i say in between laughs as i clasp a hand over his mouth.

“what!! i thought that was a good one!” he pouts, trying to hold back a smile.

i wrap my arms around his waist and cuddle close to his side, resting my head in the crook of his arm.

a peaceful silence stays between the two of us, the only sounds being the waves crashing on the shoreline, alongside seagulls squawking.

“did i ever tell you about my fear of seagulls?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“no….” i say back, my eyebrow quirking up.

“oh god, well when i was like 6 or something at this beach, matt decided to throw his whoooole lunch into the sand and all the seagulls came down and took over our setup”

“you are JOKING.” i laugh, he shakes his head

“i wish i was.”

i giggle before sitting up,

-

10:56pm

by now the sun has almost fully set

the water looks crystal clear from what i can see, and the moon is casting light on the water.

the waves are small and clean, and i’m overheating on this towel.

“chris.” i say,

he looks up at me with a small hum,

“i wanna go swimming.” i state, he shakes his head,

“we can go back to the house for swimsuits, but i didn’t bring ‘em.” he replies,

“let’s just skinny dip then i don’t know!” i grin,

he laughs it off as a joke,

“no actually, just think-“ i start but chris cuts me off

“last one in the water is a rotten egg.” he says,

“you are an ACTUAL child.” i reply with,

i look over at him and he’s frantically tugging his shirt off,

i pull mine off, discarding it on the towel, my bra follows shortly after.

i scramble up onto my feet and undo my shorts, letting them fall to my ankles, doing the same with my panties.

just then i see chris charging past me, his feet kicking up sand as he runs down the beach.

i almost fall over the towel as i run after him, catching up to him.

our loud laughs fill the empty beach as he wraps his hands around my waist, picking me up as he keeps running,

“chris!” i squeal, he throws me over his shoulder as he runs into the water with us.

the waves hit his knees forcefully, causing us both to tip over into the sea.

he finally lets me go, i float up to the surface where chris is spluttering out water.

“i think i just drank half the ocean-“ he coughs,

“that wouldn’t of happened if you didn’t snatch me up!” i laugh, looking at chris.

his features are barely lit up from the lack of light, but i can see the outline of him.

the water sloshes around my waist,

chris reaches behind me and grabs my ass, picking me up, i wrap my legs behind his back.

suddenly he launches me two meters in the opposite direction, i scream as i hit the water.

he ducks under the water as swims over to me, grabbing my leg.

i squeal, he comes up to the surface with a wide smile,

“christopher- i swear to god i thought you were a shark i’m gonna kill you.” i breathe heavily, inspecting his face as he holds back a laugh.

“i’m sorry for scaring you sweetheart.” he grins, grabbing my hand.

my teeth chatter together, “are you cold?” he asks,

i nod, he spins around and i jump on his back.

i slide down his bare back as he attempts to take us out of the water,

he finally makes it up onto the sand, and i slide fully off of him, my back hitting the sand

“oh-“ he says, looking back as i lay in the dry sand.

he flops down beside me, the sand sticking to our wet bodies.

he rolls over to me, coating himself fully in sand

“you’ve made it worse!” i smile, he pulls me close to his waist and press a kiss to my lips

“i love you” he pecks kisses all over my face,

“love you to.” i grin, taking handfuls of sand and sprinkling it on his chest

———-

@jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow w @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz z z 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsforlife e v @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos

[totaly-obsessed]

Good Luck, Babe!

➳ Nika Mühl x reader

➳ pt. 2 of Casual

➳ Summary: A complicated, on-again, off-again relationship where they try to move on but keep getting pulled back together. There’s jealousy, mixed signals, and heartbreak, but no matter what, they can’t seem to fully let go - until maybe they have to.

➳ Word count: 4.178 (idk how I got here)

➳ Warnings: A lot of cursing? Pls be nice to me, it's my first fic in like 6 months...

It's fine, it's cool You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth. And I guess I’m the fool

Ignoring someone who was such a constant in your life turned out to be much harder than you expected. Sure you were convinced you were done with her and didn’t need her anymore, but pulling through with it? It was a whole different world.

The Huskies had just played a fantastic game against Creighton when the brunette finally managed to catch up to your friend group outside in the hallway. Nika had put in a shift in the game, giving her all on the court, so she was already out of breath, when she called out a sharp “Hey, stop!”.

A deep sigh left your body, there was no way out of this now, once she set her eyes on something, there was no other option in the basketballer's mind. “It’s alright, I’ll catch up to you guys later.” They didn’t seem too sure to leave you alone with someone who just a couple of weeks ago had brought out a side of you they had never seen before.

“You’ve been acting like we’re nothing. Like I don’t exist.” Nika’s arms were crossed over her chest, clearly frustrated and ready to defend herself. And the scowl on her face told you that she did not like the scoff you let out, or your rolled eyes.

“Isn’t that what you wanted? Casual, no attachment?” You hadn’t even noticed the hallway emptying, leaving just you and Nika. Carefully you tried to shift away from her, putting a bit of space between the two of you, trying to save yourself some embarrassment. But the brunette was quick to follow your movements, forcing you closer to the wall behind you.

“It’s fine. It’s cool,” and just like that her eyebrows that tend to make her look angry relaxed, and that damn cocky smirk won over her face. By now you were completely pressed against the rough wall behind you. Nika came closer and closer, eventually leaning down, her face only a couple of inches away from yours.“You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth.”

She was right. You did know.

That didn’t mean you could continue being toyed with.

You took a deep breath and steadied yourself before finally locking eyes with her. Christ. You had nearly forgotten just how deep they were, and you could feel yourself slipping. But your voice was firm, unwavering “Yeah, I know the truth, Nika. And I guess I’m the fool but I’m done being something to you only when it’s convenient or you’re bored for 5 seconds.”

The Croatian’s smile nearly fell off her face, and you swear if you squinted you could see a quick flash of hurt on her face. But you decided not to wait around to question it, instead moving past her - ignoring the pain in your chest and the way her hand twitched in your direction.

But walking away didn’t feel like you were winning like you finally stood your ground. It really fucking hurt.

With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof

After you got back to your friends they decided to do something against the tears streaming down your face. And what better thing is there to do in Storrs Connecticut than 5 young adults in a car chasing sunsets?

By now the sun had been long gone, and the cold night air bit at your stretched-out arms, but you barely noticed. The trees flew by in a blur as Daisy held on to your legs, terrified that you would fall out of the sunroof of the car.

Just for a second, it was as if you were flying. Like you were free like an angel.

But was freedom supposed to feel this empty? Were angels truly free or just servants of god?

The howling wind tangled your hair, as you squeezed your eyes shut - trying to get rid of the ache still left in your chest as if someone was squeezing you too hard. Maybe you could leave it all behind. But who were you kidding? As dramatic as it sounds, right now there was not a possibility in your mind to get over Nika.

Daisy’s grip on your thighs tightened, pulling your attention away from the star-painted sky. “Alright, I think that’s enough main-character moment for one night,” she yelled over the blaring music and the roaring winds. You could hear the slight concern hidden behind a laugh.

With a sigh you let her pull you back down to earth, but also back in the car as you collapsed against the worn leather seats, your heart still racing. The others were singing along to some old song, not hitting any note of it and laughing about themselves. It was warm and safe in the chaos of it all.

But the emptiness was still there.

Maybe angels weren’t free. Maybe just like you, they were stuck between wanting to fly and staying.

I don't wanna call it off But you don't wanna call it love

It turned out, that Nika isn’t all that calm, cool, collected either. Her performances in recent games had been sloppy and everyone was able to see that something was off with their secretary of defense.

The worst part of it all was seeing her get frustrated with herself. Whenever Geno took her out, she had tears in her eyes as her jaw clenched on the bench.

Giving up, however, didn’t seem to come to her mind. At any party, game, or lesson she had a glimpse of you, Nika tried to find excuses to be near you.

Oh, look! You’re here too, directly next to the fan whose shirt I’m signing. What a coincidence!

And it was safe to say that you weren’t oblivious to it. The way she lingered just a second too long when you were close, how her eyes automatically looked for you in crowds (just to find that you were already looking at her once she actually found you), the way she laughed extra loud, hard and fake at people, trying to act unbothered, just to stop once you turned away. 

At first, you thought this was just Nika being Nika - dramatic, relentless, and not accepting of a loss even if it wasn’t on the court. But the coincidences started to pile up.

Oh wow, the only open seat in the dining hall just happens to be at your table? No way.

Oh, she’s just suddenly best friends with the person sitting next to you in class? What a small world!

Oh look, you’re leaving a party at the exact same time, at the exact same exit, and she just has to walk in the same direction as you? Who would’ve thought?

Despite her games, her need to be close and her pure annoying-ness, she never actually said what you needed to hear. She never called it what it was.

“I don’t wanna call it off,” she had once told you in passing, the first thing she actively said to you after the hallway conversation, her voice low and her gaze unreadable.

But she never called it love either.

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling

If the dumb universe wouldn’t help you get over Nika, you would just have to do it yourself, or at least that was the plan. Which is why you ended up at some Alpha Delta Phi Frat party - halfway through your third drink that you barely liked, in a mass of sweaty people with hands on your body. 

You were trying to pretend that the warmth of someone else’s hands on your waist would be enough to make you forget.

Of course, it wasn’t.

But it was better than nothing, which is why you still threw your head back, downing whatever vile concoction was in that cup, and dragged the guy, whose hands were currently trying to find a home on your hips, off the dance floor. He was cute enough, said the right things, well as far as your drunken mind cared, he leaned in a little too close - but none of that mattered.

Because even with the bass running through your body, and unfamiliar lips brushing against yours, all you could think about was her. 

Daisy caught you when you stumbled your way back over to the bar, promising the guy to get some drinks. “You done?” she asked unimpressed, arms crossed over her chest. She seemed strangely sober. Or maybe you were really drunk. 

“Not even close”, you leaned over the counter so that the barkeeper, who really was just another frat boy, could actually hear you as you ordered more drinks.

These were supposed to help, right? This is what people did when they wanted to move on. But it didn’t work, not for you at least. You could kiss a hundred different people in a hundred different bars, take a hundred shots, but the feeling never left. 

No matter how you tried to drown her out, or maybe drown yourself with other sensations, she always resurfaced.

And the worst part? You knew exactly where she was.

Just across the room. Watching you. 

You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, 'nother stupid reason Good luck, babe

She was staring.

And it wasn’t an ‘oh I was just looking over, and there you are! What a surprise!’. No. Nika was standing on the other side of the room, arms crossed, jaw tight and eyes locked with yours. She was daring you to keep going.

Like she was waiting for you to break first.

Fuck this. Instead of breaking, you took the shot instead. The burn in your throat was nothing compared to the ache you felt in your chest, as you made your way back to the guy from before.

Finally meeting her gaze again felt like a crime, but you could see it. The frustration, the jealousy. But she didn’t move. She didn’t storm over like you had thought she would. 

She just stood there, watching.

The smirk made its way onto your face before you could control it - just to piss her off even more. You let the guy, whose name you still didn’t know pull you closer, feeling him breath down your neck, and you prayed that the Croatian didn’t see the way you grimaced. If she wants to pretend that everything is fine, then two can play that game.

You could nearly hear the scoff all the way across the room - Well you couldn’t hear it, but you saw it, and you knew exactly how that expression sounded - before she turned her head and walked away.

What you didn’t see was Daisy pulling the tall basketball player back inside by her arm before she could fully escape.

“You just gonna stand there all night?” Daisy snapped, her voice low but sharp.

Nika clenched her jaw, ripping her arm away. “What do you want me to do?” she muttered, eyes flickering back toward you, wrapped up in someone else’s arms.

Daisy scoffed. “I don’t know, maybe stop acting like a fucking coward.”

Nika’s glare snapped to her. “I’m not—”

“Oh, spare me,” Daisy cut in, shaking her head. “You can say it’s just the way you are. Make a new excuse, ‘nother stupid reason.” Her voice dripped with frustration. “But you and I both know that’s a load of shit. So… Good Luck, Babe.”

Nika didn’t respond, just tightened her fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.

Because Daisy was right.

And she fucking hated that.

I'm cliché, who cares? It's a sexually explicit kind of love affair And I cry, it's not fair I just need a little lovin', I just need a little air

To no one's surprise, you didn’t last much longer at the party. Maybe it was the thick air or the alcohol in your system. Or maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t think straight. A certain brunette is always present in there. 

So you left. Slipped out the front door silent as a grave. But before you had reluctantly taken the guy's phone number that he had scribbled on a piece of paper ‘just in case’. The cold air had hit you in the face. This felt nice, to finally be able to breathe. Clearly, you needed this.

You didn’t expect her to still be here, after seeing her leave earlier. But of course, she waited. 

“You think that’s funny?” Nika's voice had cut through the night like a blade. And you didn’t even need to turn around to know that she was right there, just a step behind you.

“What?” You decided to play unknowingly, pretending not to know what she was talking about.

“You know what,” As the last few times you’ve spoken to her, her voice was sharp but you could hear a slight wavering. “Dragging some random dude with you, making a show off it.”

With a scoff, you now fully turned around to her. “What I do, is none of your business.” She let out a dry laugh, not the kind of laugh that you liked, but a mocking one. “Bullshit. You were looking at me the whole time. Don’t lie to yourself.”

And that was the problem. You were looking at her. All the time.

“God, you’re so fucking - “ you stopped yourself, hands gripping the hairs at the side of your head in desperation, trying to push down all the feelings. Make them go away. “I don’t get you, Nika. One minute you don’t want anything to do with me. The next-”

“I never said I didn’t want anything to do with you.” Her interruption was sudden, but not unexpected. Her voice was quieter than before, but it sounded dangerous somehow. “I never said that.”

“No?” It was your turn to chuckle now. “Then what the hell is this,” you pointed wildly between the two of you, becoming aware of the lessening distance, “Because I can’t keep doing whatever this is.” Your chest was heaving up and down, so fast as if you had just run a marathon.

The brunette didn’t say anything for a moment, she was just looking at you, trying to find the right words, and just when you thought you had broken her again - “I’m cliché, who cares?”

“What?” You were the broken one now.

“I’m cliché,” she said again, repeating herself, her lips curling into that goddamn smirk you loved so much. “Dramatic, stupid, jealous as fuck - I’m all of it, you’re right. But you -” She took a step even closer, and suddenly, there was barely any space left between you, to the extent that you could feel the warmth radiating off of the tall girl in the cold night. “You make me lose my goddamn mind.”

And instead of heaving like before, your chest stopped moving as you held your breath. Fuck. If she had said this a few months ago, you would have folded instantly. Maybe none of this would have happened and instead, you’d be - No. You couldn’t even think about it. 

But it was too late, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, well,” you took a step back, ignoring the pain. “Maybe you should have figured that out before you decided I was only good for convenience and in private.”

The smirk fell off her face.

“That’s not-”

“Save it, Nika.” The words hurt in your throat. And seeing the hurt on your face nearly killed you. But you were doing this for yourself. Too long you had yourself as a last thought. “You don’t get to be mad. You don’t get to act like I did something wrong when all I ever did was want you.”

Something behind her eyes snapped, and her right hand went up to grasp at her shirt. “You - You think I don’t want you?” Nika’s voice broke slightly as she demanded an answer “You think I don’t feel this?”

You stared at her. “Then say it. Tell me what you feel.”

She hesitated. Of Course, she did.

Because that’s what she always did. That’s what she’s good at. Dancing around the truth, playing games, got close but never too close or close enough. She was a coward. And you were so fucking tired of it.

"Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You turned on your heel, ready to walk away. For real this time. But then -

“I just need a little lovin’,” she said, with a voice so quiet that you nearly missed it. 

You froze.

“I just need a little air,” Nika’s beautiful eyes were glued to the ground, hands fidgeting with each other when you turned back around. She looked wrecked. 

Something in you twisted painfully. Because god you understood.

You understood what it was like to want something that scared you. To be so afraid of losing it, that you ruined it yourself before anyone else even had the chance to do it.

But that didn’t change the fact that she had hurt you. And she knew that it hurt you. She made you believe that she didn’t care all this time when in reality she did.

“I cry,” the admittance made her scoff at herself, but seeing you smile, made it feel a little better. “It’s not fair.”

“No,” you agreed, the cold night wind carrying it over to the brunette, “It’s not.”

The silence felt suffocating between both of you, the tears in your eyes were begging to be set free. But then - 

“It’s a sexually explicit kind of love affair,” she said like she was confessing something like she was finally laying herself bare.

This was her way of saying It was never just about sex. It was never just a fling. It was always more than that.

The noise you made was somewhat between a laugh and a sob “Yeah,” you whispered. “It is.”

When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife

The sheets felt wrong. Too crisp, and not familiar. The room was bathed in soft moonlight, casting shadows on the wall. But it was all strange, hazy, like a blur. Like she was watching it, instead of actually experiencing it. 

Nika turned over in her bed, expecting to find it empty, but the weight beside her made her stomach sink. His breathing was steady and peaceful. It was like he belonged here, the room was colorless, without character, which fit to him. But she didn’t belong here. This wasn’t right.

The Croatian squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her temples. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. 

When she was lowering her hands, the wedding band on her finger caught her eye, the moonlight reflecting off of it.

No. No, no, no. 

Suddenly she felt as if she was suffocating, the breath getting stuck in her lungs. The air in the room was thick, pressing down on her chest. She didn’t know who was beside her, didn’t know his name, and she couldn’t remember how she got there. She couldn’t feel anything besides the aching hole inside her. The one that has been there before.

The one that has always belonged to you.

She stumbled out of the bed, feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. Nika could feel her heartbeat in her ears. The reflection in the mirror was a stranger - with tired, empty, and lifeless eyes. 

And when you think about me all of those years ago You're standing face to face with "I told you so"

And then she saw you. Standing in the doorway like you had always been there, always waiting. 

She couldn’t read your face, but your eyes - god your eyes - held everything. The frustration, the hurt, the longing, the knowing.

She had fucked this up.

You tilted your head, arms crossed over your chest, lips parting just a tiny bit like you were about to say something. But Nika already knew what you were going to say.

“I told you so.”

It wasn’t smug, you weren’t trying to hurt her more. It was just the truth. A truth that crushed her.

Her throat tightened again like she was drowning. It came so suddenly it felt as if she let go of something that wasn’t just important, but vital - necessary.

The brunette wanted to reach for you, take you in her arms, and tell you that she was sorry. That she never stopped thinking about you. But before she could move, say something, you were gone. And you took all the warmth and light with you.

You were gone.

And she woke up.

You know I hate to say, I told you so

Nika jolted upright. Her chest heaving as if her air was cut off in real life and not just her dream. Sweat clung to her skin and her heart was racing, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the dream or the realization that came with it.

Shaky hands ran through her hair, blinking at the darkness, but familiarity of her room as she was trying to calm herself down. But it wasn’t working. Because she knew.

This wasn’t just a dream, this was a fucking warning.

If she didn’t do something, that’s how she would end up. Incredibly unhappy, a wife to some dude. Without you. If she didn’t stop running or hiding and she stopped being a coward, this would be her future. 

And she would lose you for good.

She wasn’t going to let that happen.

Not now. Not ever.

Nika threw the covers off and grabbed her phone.

It was time to fight for you.

You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

“Can you meet me?”

It was nearly 3 am when you got the text. Of Course, you were still awake. After coming home and explaining what had happened to Daisy, the two of you decided to watch some movies. 

The answer was easy, “Yes.”

“I’m outside.”

The next minutes were a blur as you grabbed your keys, got some shoes, and put on a jacket. Why were you so nervous? This was only Nika.

Walking down the flights of stairs to get to the front door of your student housing felt endless. Outside you could see her. Standing on the sidewalk, hands gripping the strap of her bag, shifting on her feet - you feel it before you even reach her. That pull. That undeniable force.

After seeing you, her face lights up. But you could still see the dark circles under her puffy eyes. 

At first, neither of you speak. Just standing across from each other, reveling in the comfort the others' presence brought. Then with a deep breath, Nika took an uncertain step forward before finally pulling you into a hug, resting her head on yours, while you buried your face in her neck.

“You’d have to stop the world just to stop this feeling,” she whispers against your hair.

And right then, you know - you never want it to stop.

You held her tighter as the world outside kept moving. Every now and then cars zoomed by or people walked past you. But for you and Nika time slowed down. 

She pulled back just enough to be able to look at you, one of her hands cupping your cheek so gently, that she must have thought you would break. There’s something unreadable in her expression. Something raw.

“I was scared,” she admitted. “That if I said this out loud, it would disappear. You would disappear.”

Your fingers brush a strand of her behind her ear “It’s real,” you say softly. “It’s been real the whole time.”

She exhaled shakily, but the hand that was holding onto your jacket didn’t let go. Instead - she smiles. A small one, but it was there, and it was as if a boulder was lifted off of your chest. 

“I don’t want to run from this anymore,” she murmured before pressing a kiss on your forehead. You could feel the heat shoot up to your face, knowing she could feel it too, one hand still cupping your face.

“Then don’t.”

A beat. Then she laughed, and it’s the kind of laugh that melts through every doubt you have ever had. “Okay.”

You had to laugh too, and before you could think, before fear or hesitation could creep in, you cupped her face right back and pressed your forehead to hers. The warmth of her skin, the way she sighed like she was finally home - was enough to make your heart ache in the best way.

“This is crazy,” she whispered, but she was smiling.

You grinned. “Maybe. But I don’t care.”

And then, finally, she kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It was slow, filled with every unspoken word, every moment that led you here. 

It was a promise, a beginning.

[fragrantdream]

prince xavier

The rustling leaves of the weeping willow shelter you from the sun and the gentle afternoon breeze. You sit beneath the magnificent tree with your legs crossed and head leant back against its’ trunk. The sun starts to waver in the sky, its light turning from bright white to a much more comfortable orange. You can’t help but fall into the clutches of a light sleep while you wait, but after a while the tranquillity of the gardens is interrupted by a restless presence. Opening your eyes, you look up to see Xavier standing before you, the loose white fabric of his undershirt billowing around him like a halo, and his skin tanned rather strongly in of the dwindling days of summer. He smiles down at the disorientated look on your face, admiring the way you look up at him in awe. 

“Have you been well?” Xavier asks with a smirk, sitting beside you comfortably.  

“I should stand to greet you.” You aren’t sure who is watching you, so you do just that. You bow, trying to greet the future king with the proper protocol.  He chuckles at the sight of you standing before him with your clothes stained by the dampness of the ground – a leaf hangs from your shoulder. He stands and returns the bow mockingly, before reaching out and picking up the leaf between his fingers to let it flutter to the ground. 

“Nobody is watching.” Xavier silently hopes that he’s right, and that his minders hadn’t followed him into the woods. He grips your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, which forces you to smile despite your anxiety. You know you aren’t permitted to see him, and you let the fear of being caught flicker over you for a second before the feeling of his head nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck makes you forget. You both stand still for a moment, taking the moment as it is – beautiful, and fleeting. Birds and bugs begin to chirp louder as the sun continues to set, the air growing colder. Naturally, and as you have many times before, you lay side by side for a while to silently watch the stars as they appear. It’s easy to lose track of time chatting about the upcoming winter, and anything else that comes to mind. You eventually light the oil lantern he’d hidden in the trunk of the willow months ago when you’d first met in this meadow. It is the only way you’re able to stay out just a bit longer past sunset. 

You look over at Xavier, now illuminated by the warm glow of the fire with an arm resting behind his head, eyes trained on you as you lay back down beside him. His hands grasp yours tightly, and he pulls them to his lips where he kissed them, before letting them rest on his chest over his heart. Even after all this time, he was yet to kiss you, so although foreign the action was not undesired. Propping your head up on your elbow you look down at him, and he’s surprised you’ve let go of his hand and wonders if he’s done something wrong. You start to think about how it wasn’t long before he’d no longer be your prince, but rather, a king. He’d be betrothed, and running the country. You wonder how much he might change when that happens though you quickly dismiss your doubts because it’s Xavier, and he has a habit of handling anything life throws at him. You find yourself lost in the sentimentality of the moment and lean down to press a kiss to his lips, certain that his father the king would be disgusted at the thought of his son being touched by a commoner. He winds his hand behind your head and sits up, and you quickly realise he wants to kiss you too – you both slowly test the waters, and relish in the feeling after so many years of imagining it. The feeling is completely different from those daydreams, yet it is a thousand times better at the same time. 

Xavier opens his mouth first with a loud exhale that tickles your face and sends shivers down your spine and neck. You both straighten up and readjust for a moment while he moves his open mouth against your lips, waiting for you respond, and you cave in an instant and open your mouth to fully taste him. The remnants of wine and fruit from his lunch linger in his mouth, and the tastes are richer than anything you’d ever had access too before. He whines slightly at the feeling becoming enthralled with your mouth and softly guiding you to lean back against the now dewy grass. You follow his lead, stretching your legs beneath him as he straddles you, lips never leaving your own. This doesn’t last long however before he pulls away, asking if you’re okay as he lays himself atop your body and guides your legs to wrap around his waist. You nod in an instant, hastily pulling him back to you. This pulls forth more prominent groans from his throat as his lips venture to press open-mouthed kissed to your jawline. You open your eyes for a second to watch him move to your neck, before immediately scrunching them back closed when you feel him sucking on your skin. Unsure of what to do with your hands you reach down to grip at his hair, though he grabs hold of your wrist before you get the chance to tug.  

“I must be presentable for dinner with my father tonight.” Xavier reminds you, and you let out a breathless laugh at the thought. He tightly clasps both of your hands together above your head between one of his own, fingers cold yet strong whilst holding you in place. He kisses your upper arm, letting out a sigh and opening his eyes to look at you below him, already completely wrecked. There is something wild and unfamiliar in his expression, even with only half of his face visible in the light of the nearby oil lamp as it grows dimmer over time. He reluctantly lets go of your wrists to feel your waist and chest, imparting only the softest of touches before moving your arms over his shoulders. You run your hands over his upper back and grip onto the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling it up slightly to feel the buttery skin of his lower back. 

You are interrupted by the sound of Xavier's name being shouted from the woods, and quickly reach for the lamp to extinguish it, breaths heavy and eyes wide. He shushes you while standing and offering you a hand to help you up, before guiding you behind the great tree. He adjusts himself and calls out a haphazard “I’m coming now”, before reluctantly walking towards the clearing. He makes it over to his minders but turns back, telling them he’d forgotten something after falling asleep. They dismiss him with a sigh, arms folded and posture trying but failing to intimidate him. He rushes back to the tree and grabs hold of the brass handle of the oil lamp. When he is certain he is out of view, he hooks it between your trembling fingers to leave it with you. 

“Please find your way home safely in the dark.” You press another kiss to his lips as a thank you, hoping that he’d hurry back to his minders before he gets in trouble, though as the crown prince you suppose he is always in trouble. He smiles in return. 

“I love you.” Xavier turns and begins walking back before you can respond, hoping you managed to hear him over the sound of the crickets. 

[autumnscribbles]

the one | drew starkey

part 2

pairing: drew starkey x married!reader

summary: after drew picked you up after your husband hurt you, it’s time to face him together

warnings: mentions of abuse, slight physical violence, not really proofread

wc: 1.9k

authors note: thank you guys so much for all the love on part 1!!! it truly means the world to me! it took me a while to think of where to take part 2, but i wanted it to be somewhat open ended so i hope you still like it!!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

The sun broke through the slight crack of the curtains, making you squint despite your eyes still being shut. Your eyes slightly opened, your mind instantly disoriented. You gasped as you quickly sat up, nervously taking in your surroundings. After a few seconds it came back to you. Derek. Last night. Drew.

The bed was vacant beside you. You remembered falling asleep with Drew last night, but you had no idea what he did after that. You smelled coffee wafting into the room, instantly craving it. You quickly threw the blankets to the side and found the kitchen, Drew’s clothes still on your body. His familiar scent comforted you and made you feel nostalgic for simpler days. Before Drew left to pursue acting, before you married Derek, before everything. You missed being carefree, riding your bike with Drew to go watch the sunset as you sipped on takeout milkshakes together. You missed when your biggest worry was what you would wear to school the next day, or what your weekend plans would be. You missed your life before all of this. Before you had to walk on eggshells around your husband, or spent every day trying to please him, or now thinking of him hurting you. You couldn’t even recognize yourself anymore.

“Morning,” Drew smiled over his shoulder. “Did you sleep okay?”

You nodded sleepily, rubbing your eye as you held back a yawn. He passed you a mug of steaming hot coffee, an attempt at latte art on the top making your lips curl up. Your eyes drifted to a blanket on the couch. Drew must have left the room once you fell asleep.

He knew you were vulnerable, and he didn’t want to take advantage of you. Didn’t want there to be any expectations or precedent for you sleeping in his bed. He didn’t want to use this as a way to insert himself in your life romantically. You needed space. Out of respect, he gently slipped out of the bed after you fell asleep, taking his place on the couch.

You sat on the couch with your coffee mug, tucking your feet under you. You let out a heavy sigh as the first sip warmed down your throat.

“Are you hungry?” Drew asked. “I can make you something.

You shook your head quickly. “I don’t think I can eat right now.”

Drew nodded solemnly, but told you that you couldn’t go the whole day without eating. At some point, he was going to make you something, no choice.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” you said, a lump forming in the back of your throat. “I don’t know how to face him after…”

Drew sat down beside you, leaving a comfortable space. He was treating you like you were fragile, and maybe you were. You appreciated how gentle he was being, even if the behavior usually would anger you. You never liked being treated differently, or like you were delicate.

“You can stay here as long as you need,” he told you. “And when you’re ready, I can go with you.”

“Maybe I’m just overreacting,” you sighed. “I probably deserved it, and he’s probably feeling guilty.”

“Stop,” Drew whispered, placing his hand gently on your shoulder. “You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves to be treated that way. I’m not saying this for my own benefit but you can’t go back to him.”

You nodded, knowing he was right. You always thought it would be easy to walk away in a situation like this, you didn’t realize all the nuance that came with it. Your own feelings of shame, of failure.

“We’re married,” you sighed, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. “It hasn’t even been that long and I’m already in a failed marriage.”

“You didn’t fail anything, y/n,” Drew said. “He failed you as a husband. You did everything right. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I know,” you admitted, agreeing with him. You knew Drew was right, he always was. He was always the voice of reason, the little angel on your shoulder saying all the right things.

“I think I should go over there,” you uttered after a few moments of silence. “At least to get some of my stuff. I can’t just wear your clothes.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙

Drew pulled up to your home, which suddenly had a cold aura around it. This wasn’t home anymore. It never would be again. You spotted Derek’s car in the driveway, meaning he was likely still home. You wondered if he went looking for you last night, if he called anyone to see where you were. Or did he just go to bed soundly, not even thinking of you?

Dread filled your body as you looked at your house from the passenger window. How were you supposed to face him?

“I don’t think I can go in there,” you mumbled, your voice laced with fear, shaking slightly. “Maybe we should come back when he’s not home.”

“Want me to go in?” he asked. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll grab it for you.”

“I don’t think it’s safe,” you replied. “He’s been giving me a hard time…about you lately. He’s going to get angry and think I cheated or something.”

Drew clenched his jaw, anger fuelling him. The audacity Derek had to be jealous of him when Derek was the one who manipulated everyone to get what he wanted. Drew had a bad taste in his mouth at the thought that they were ever friends. Now that Derek hurt you, there was no going back. No pretending.

“If he’s actually sorry, he won’t say a word,” Drew told you. “I’ll be fast, we’ll just get the essentials today and we can come back when he’s not here, like you said.”

You finally agreed, somewhat reluctantly. You didn’t want Drew to go in there alone, but you had to admit you needed some of your belongings. You needed clothes, stuff to take a shower, your phone back. You listed a few things off to Drew, explaining to him where he could find everything. He nodded quickly, telling you everything was going to be fine before he hopped out of the car, crossing the imaginary yellow tape onto your property.

Drew rapped his knuckles on the door, anxiously awaiting who would appear on the other side. The door opened to reveal Derek, looking disheveled. His hair was all over the place, a white tank top on with a stain on the front, his breath smelling like booze.

“Do you know where y/n is?” he asked frantically, not noticing you in the car on the street.

“I do,” Drew answered stoically. “I came here to pick up a few of her things.”

“What?” Derek’s voice had bite to it. “She sent her little puppy for her? Too much of a wimp to face me herself?”

Drew had told himself he would remain calm, but something broke inside him. Hearing Derek still speaking that way about you after what he had done. He couldn’t tolerate it. Drew grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him on the wall.

“You touch her again I’ll fucking kill you,” Drew sneered. “Don’t call her, don’t look for her, it’s done.”

“She can tell me that herself,” Derek chuckled. “You just think there’s hope for you. She’s my wife, Drew. I don’t care how whipped you are for her.”

“It’s not about me,” Drew said, shaking his head. “It’s not about me, or about how you lied to me our entire friendship, lied to her. You crossed a like, Derek. You were a piece of shit before but now…you’re just a monster.”

Drew could barely finish his sentence when he was blinded by the punch to his face. He groaned as he lifted his hand to his eye, his vision white and searing pain shooting through his face. Stay calm.

“Nice, Derek,” Drew nodded. “You gonna hit her like that next time? Real great man you are.”

“Don’t talk to me about my wife.”

They didn’t notice you at the door, letting yourself in. You had started to get anxious sitting in the car. You were worried about Drew. It was time to be brave, and to stand up for yourself. You gasped by the scene you were met with. Drew’s left eye was discolored, bright crimson leaking from his nostril.

“Derek,” you breathed. “What did you do?”

“Babe,” Derek smiled, rushing over to you, placing his hands on your shoulder. You noticed the blood stained on his knuckles. Drew’s blood. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean anything I- can you just come home to me? We can figure this out.”

“You punched him,” was all you could manage to choke out.

“Seriously?” he scoffed. “I’m trying to fix things and you’re focused on him? Here we go again with your little boyfriend.”

“There’s nothing to fix, Derek,” you said sternly, removing his hands from your shoulders and taking a step back. “I’m grabbing some things, and I’m leaving. You’re never going to touch me again.”

“You’re leaving me for him, right? That’s what this is?” he asked. “You’re just looking for the easy way out. I knew you were cheating on me.”

Drew stepped in to defend you, but you raised your hand at him. You knew there was a high likelihood Derek would hit him again if he had the opportunity.

“This has nothing to do with me and Drew,” you said calmly. “I was loyal to you, and a great wife. This is all your own doing. You’ll never be even a fraction of the man Drew is.”

Venom dripped in your words. You knew comparing him to Drew would hurt him, and maybe that was the point. He was constantly in competition, trying to one-up Drew, or to get you to think negatively of your friend. You were tired. Derek’s face twisted in anger, but you walked away before he had the chance to retort. You rushed to your room, quickly shoving what you needed into a bag. You felt dizzy, unable to process any of the events that had unfolded. When you came back to the foyer, Drew was by the door. His hand on the doorknob, waiting for you.

“Let’s go, Drew,” you whispered. “Goodbye Derek, don’t contact me. You can talk to my lawyer.”

With that, you were out the door, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you sat back down in Drew’s car. He slid in the drivers seat, hissing slightly as he brought his hand up to his eye.

“I can’t believe he hit you,” you muttered, tears filling your eyes, but not quite falling. Just teetering on the edge. “I shouldn’t have let you go in there.”

“It was worth it,” he said, giving you a weak smile. “I’d take the hit a thousand times over if it meant he’d never hurt you again.”

The tears spilled over, but you couldn’t help but smile anyway. “My hero.”

The tension in the car was heavy. You were unstable, feeling so many things at once. When you leaned in towards Drew, he placed a hand on your thigh, his blue eyes boring into yours.

“Take your time,” he whispered, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “You’ve been through so much. I wouldn’t feel right taking advantage of this situation after everything you’ve been through.”

“As much as I want to. I’ve been thinking about kissing you for most of my life it feels like,” he continued, letting out an airy chuckle. “But I’m not going anywhere. So take your time.”

More tears spilled down your cheeks. Drew’s slightly calloused thumb brushed them away. He leaned forward, his warm lips connecting with your forehead. The warmth lingered as he pulled away, making you shiver.

“Let’s go home.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

taglist: @percysley @snowtargaryen

[azullumi]

“withering desires of a cruel man with broken confessions” ; aventurine

to you : 🧀 nonnie !! i hope you had a wonderful birthday and i’m sorry for taking a long time to finish this but hey, it’s done now (finally). belated happy birthday and i wish you all the best <33

premise — his belief that he doesn’t deserve the good things is rooted deeply underneath the dirt where he buries his corpse, and he doesn’t deserve you; this is an ode to clementia and he wishes that his song reaches you.

tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, fluff to angst, friends to friends that knows they like each other, orange as a metaphor for love, angry and forced love confessions, aven my self-sabotage and mixed signals king, 1.5k ; one-shot

note — made while listening to phoebe bridgers, faye webster, adrianne lenker, and ichiko aoba. this was supposed to be a short drabble about peeling oranges and sharing with them what happened

They say clementines are a symbol for mercy—gentle, soft, and sweet, like an echo of the sun. 

There’s the fresh smell of citrus in the air as he delicately pulls its skin to reveal its form, a warm burst of sunset trapped within its fragile walls, and his nails will be tainted by the color of its penance and he’ll forget what it feels like to only have hatred in his heart. Maybe that’s how forgiveness tastes; salvation will fill his blood as he sheds tears that carry his sins (they were never his).

“I don’t know how you can do that flawlessly.” You say, your voice drenched in wonder and amazement as you watch the movement of his fingers, adeptly peeling the fruit. The sections come apart neatly and perfectly in his hands.

He smiles, “It’s easy.”

“It’s not.” You insist, reminding him of the horror of the state the orange has become when you tried to share it with him. “Did you see the holes I tore through it? I was left with nothing but the mere coat because the juice sprayed in all directions.”

The sound of laughter forms in his throat and escapes, “It’s because it was small and the skin is hard. Come on.” He holds a small piece near your face and you part your lips open enough for him to feed you; a warm feeling resides in your cheeks as you chew. There’s a burst of sweetness, with hints of sourness that lingered in its nature in your mouth—it reminds you of the night when he held your form and gently guided you to the melody of the song. 

“Is it sweet?” He asks, his head tilted a little to the side as he bores his gaze at you. There are lingering touches, whispered honey-coated words, affectionate gestures, and eyes painted of different vivid hues and contrasting pristine tones that never seem to hold the light, only reflecting your form within. You hum, nodding your head as you answer, “You should teach me how to peel them, you know. I don’t want to be calling you everytime or having to rely on you too much.”

(Truthfully, and hopefully so, may you never learn so he’ll get to be this close to you always.)

He smiles, sunshine peeking through his expression, “I wouldn’t mind.” He wouldn’t mind if it were just a small matter or nothing at all, you can keep on calling for him, ask for his assistance or simply just his presence—he’ll come running to you. He whispers, “Use me as you wish,” and his words shatter as it falls to the ground. (See him as a tool that has never known its purpose. See him as worthless but mere dust that covers your window sills. See him as nothing but a fool who never understood the lines in his heart.)

You say, “You know you’re not just as little as that to me.”

“Then what am I to you?” The comfort of silence settles in the gaps of his fingers and he finds himself seeking, waiting, with bated breath. His gaze seems to still at your eyes before falling to your lips, lingering for a few moments before meeting your eyes once more, and your hands tremble; you know the answer, you know what to say, you know, you know, you know, you know—and, at once, there’s the warm feeling of his lips on yours as you pull him in, as he pulls you in.

It’s gentle, soft in all of its edges and cracks. He holds your face in his hands and you intertwine yours in his locks, and you pull at his hair, eliciting a hum from him. It’s a burst of warmth, the taste of something sweet still left in your tongue as he kisses you. It’s short yet it will be engraved and buried in the depths of your mind for eternity.

“I like you.” You whisper against his lips as you part, eyes heavy on each other yet his gaze wavers and his breath shudders.

“I…” Why else would he continuously seek your embrace? Why else would he prefer to be alone with you even if it’s just silence between you and him (your presence alone brings him comfort)? Why else would he take such time to understand your form and cradle your being as if you were born from glass? He didn’t have your hands carve the shape of his thoughts into the form of your being just so he wouldn’t capture the feeling of your touch on his skin and how he craves, yearns for it like a starved man—and yet, he’ll hold his head down in humiliation as he looks for the words on the ground. He’s worthless, useless, nothing like his ‘luck’ that seems to curse everyone around him, and you’re everything he’s not. “I’m sorry.”

His hands fall from your cheeks and he stands up, saying, “I’m sorry, I have to go.” 

The chair screeches beneath him; his thoughts remain silent yet deafening, your voice fading into white noise as you call for him. He has to leave—each of his footsteps are heavy, echoing back to him as if a semblance to contempt and mockery that trails his wake.

Fear and shame forms at the bottom of his lungs. What even is he afraid of? Is it the lack of experience? The fear of abandonment? But humans are not strangers to those thoughts, people are bound to leave and Aventurine wasn’t unfamiliar with that, so how could he be afraid of something that has become a friend to him? Maybe it’s when he’s torn apart from flesh to bones and they’ll see there’s nothing in him—he was born out of barren wastelands and dust, his form has been long since buried under the golden sands. Maybe it's when he’s shown everything to them and they seek for something that he doesn’t have; the disappointment that lies in their expression will forever haunt him. Was it fear or was it worry that nobody could ever love him for what he truly is? Behind the expensive clothes he wears, the shining and heavy jewelry on his wrist, the suffocating rings on his hand, maybe they prefer his skin tainted with letters instead of wounds that brands him as human.

“—Rine.” A hand grasps at his wrist, preventing him from leaving. He stills in his position, feet glued to the floor and his back turned against you. Your voice breaks, “Stay, please.”

He’s stuck, sutured to the ground, hesitation sewing his mouth shut. You urge him to turn around, your fingers tugging at him, so he could face you, so you could see him—he’s tattered, torn and conflicted over something you’ll never know. The unfriendly air of the cold night wraps around his figure, but your hand eases warmth and comfort in his weary bones.

“Why did you kiss me?” You seek for something in the gaps of his expression, looking for a falter in the lines of his features to know the thoughts that he hides beneath all the charades and facades.

“…It was a mistake.”

You answer, frustration slowly seeping into your tone, “You know damn well it’s not.” He knows completely well it’s not and it will never be. And you don’t cry nor plead, you beg with sore, trembling palms for an answer to soothe the disturbance of the waves that will come to swallow you, drowning you in the murky waters of your mind. “You don’t get to hold my hands and cradle me in yours and tell me it’s nothing. You don’t get to look at me in a way that is reminiscent of lovers and tell me it doesn’t mean anything. You don’t get to kiss me and say that it’s a mistake. You’re a cruel man, Aventurine, and you’re unfair for telling me that it was all nothing but a mistake when you haunt my dreams.”

“…I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes for a moment, darkness swallowing his vision yet his mind conjures an image of you in it, berating him. The broken pieces of your words are left scattered on the bottom of yours and his feet.

You ask, voice low, “Do you like me?”

“Why—“

“It’s a yes or no question, ‘Rine. Do you like me or do you not?”

“I love you.” His voice is raised and cracks start to form on the surface of his expression, “and it’s scaring me.” Forgive me. The clock continues to tick despite the world seemingly coming to a still at his words.

The air is suffocating and the silence sits on your shoulders before he says, whispering in a broken tone, “I’m leaving.”

And this time, you don’t stop him. His steps are rushed against the flooring, the sound of the door closing echoes throughout the corners of your mind. The walls of your home stand tall over you, his confession written and tearing through all over your wallpaper, screaming at you; you’re left crumbling on the floor. The sweet scent of citrus lingers in the air, the mess the two of you made still on the counter tops, and you wished you told him you love him too.

tagging @toorurs, the loveliest and sweetest of all. i hope you know that you're cherished and loved by me, and i'm so glad to have you and the sun that touches your skin must be too <33 always be reminded that you're beautiful and i appreciate everything that you do and say (you always make me laugh even when it's just the smallest and useless of things like wow you must have a special talent in making someone smile) !! thank you for always being there for me too and always cheering me up, and also making my day because everything for me nowadays is becoming unbearable and you're the only one that keeps me sane (fk exams and projects and research im going to cry)

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 16)

summary: an article comes out about you and your relationship with hugh while he's away and you know just exactly who it was. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: reader's insecurities come back, brief mention of physical abuse (not with hugh!), mention of age gap, implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), no use of y/n. word count: 2.8k a/n: so... jack is back y'all and we've got a few more parts left of this story, so stay tuned! as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part. - next part.

Hugh’s been gone for a couple of weeks now and you both manage to create a routine to speak with each other every day, depending on the time zone that he’s in. He continues to send you photos of where he’s been, wishing that you were with him, but despite the distance, it never does feel like he’s away. Hugh makes sure that you know that you’re his priority and you never have to second guess what he’s doing or where he’s at because he’s always communicating with you.

You’ll send him a text every morning you wake up, counting down the days until he gets home. You spend most of your time either editing, at a photoshoot, or working out with your personal trainer. It helps to keep yourself busy because the home you now share with Hugh is just too big for you alone. You miss his presence, miss his touch, falling asleep and waking up in his arms. 

You miss him. 

Today, though, you have nothing planned and you know Hugh has a day off from press so you decide to give him a call through FaceTime. He’s in Brazil, which just happens to be only two hours ahead. Dialing his number, you’re sitting out on the balcony, eating your dinner while watching the sun set. This still doesn’t feel real, like one day you’re going to wake up and realize it was all just a dream. 

You hear his voice and then look down to see him through your phone, your entire face lighting up at the sight of him. You prop your phone against your water bottle and take another bite of pasta as you bring a leg up on the seat. 

“Hey, baby,” he says with a smile. “Whatcha eating?” 

“Made some pasta,” you answer, showing him your bowl. “Eating out on the balcony, watching the sunset. Wish you were here though.” 

“I know,” Hugh sighs. “Wish I was there too. Just two more weeks, baby, then I’ll be home.”

You nod and then set your fork down, turning your entire attention on the man through your screen. “Just two more weeks,” you repeat. “How’s it going so far?”

“It’s been so much fun,” he answers. “Ryan likes to bring you up in every conversation we have almost daily,” Hugh chuckles. “Says you should be here with us, with me… and I agree with him.”

You laugh quietly and shake your head. “We both know that if you had it your way, I’d have gone with you.”

“Well…” Hugh smiles, leaning back against the bed that he’s lying on. “I did say you should come with me.”

“You know, usually the honeymoon phases out by now…” you tease. “I think you’re obsessed with me, Hugh Jackman.” 

He laughs quietly, turning to lie on his side instead as he keeps the phone facing him. He is so enamored with you, that even through a simple FaceTime call, he can feel the amount of love he has for you. You’re so beautiful, the sunset casting a glow around you. 

“Oh, I’m obsessed with you, huh?” 

“Oh yeah,” you grin. “What is it about me, hm?” 

“Everything,” he answers honestly. “I can’t just pick one thing, baby.” 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you wrap an arm around your leg and rest your chin on your knee. “Still the smooth talker, I see.” 

Hugh rolls his eyes playfully. “I’m just tellin’ the truth.”

“I love you,” you blurt out instead.

His eyes light up – he’d never get tired of hearing you say those words. “I love you too, baby.”

“You know, the house feels so empty without you,” you admit. “I don’t know how you lived here all by yourself.”

“It was hard,” Hugh answers. “Kept myself busy most of the time, but you– you’ve made it a home. A place where I want to spend most of my days at, as long as you’re there.” 

“When you say things like that, it makes me want to kiss you. So, what am I supposed to do if you aren’t here?” you smile. 

“Use your imagination,” he teases. 

“Ah, so I guess I’ll just have to entertain myself.”

Hugh’s gaze darkens as he shakes his head. “Don’t you dare tease me.”

“Or what? You’re not here,” you grin mischievously, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Guess you’ll find out when I get home then, won’t you?” 

“Fine,” you huff. “My fingers and toy aren’t the same anyway.” 

“Y–You have a toy?” 

You giggle. “Actually bought one a couple of days ago. Figured we could try it out together when you get back.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you grin excitedly. 

Hugh groans. “Two more weeks… just two more weeks.” 

You laugh to yourself and then tilt your head, eyes staring at the screen. You wish you could reach out to him, to feel his strong arms around you. “Got a full day of interviews tomorrow?” 

Hugh nods. “Yeah, but you know I’ll make time to give you a call.”

“I know, Hugh,” you smile. “But it’s fine if you don’t, you know. I know you’re busy and–”

“You know I can’t go a day without talking to you, baby,” Hugh interrupts. “I’m never too busy for you.” 

“I know, I just–” you sigh. “Just don’t want you to feel like you have to talk to me if you’re tired.”

“Never,” he answers. “Never too tired to talk to you. I’m already miserable without you here. If I don’t get to talk to you every day, I think I’d lose my mind.” 

“Okay, Hugh,” you nod. “My perfect man.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Hopefully only perfect for you.” 

“Oh, I think you’re it,” you admit with a smile. 

“Yeah?” he grins. “You mean that?” 

“Oh yeah,” you nod. “So don’t go and break my heart, okay?”

“I don’t ever plan to, baby,” he answers. “Because I think you’re it for me too.”

“Yeah, I wish you were here,” you sigh. “This would be a perfect moment to kiss you.”

Hugh chuckles. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too. Just two more weeks,” you repeat. “Then you’re all mine.”

“Oh, I can’t wait. We’re not leaving the house for a week, at least,” he winks.

“What did you have in mind we do for an entire week?” you ask innocently. 

“I think it’d be better to show you when I get back,” he grins. 

“Well, I can’t wait,” you smile. “You should probably get some rest, Hugh. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Hugh nods. “Yes, baby. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too. Good night, Hugh.”

“Night, baby. Sweet dreams.” 

“I’ll be dreaming of you,” you wink.

“Good because I’ll be dreaming of you too.”

—

A week later, you’re sitting on the bed re-reading the story about your relationship with Hugh in a well-known online published article. You can feel tears stinging your eyes, can feel your hands tremble as you read every single untrue word.

They call you a gold digger due to the age gap. 

They say that you’re too ugly to be with someone like Hugh. 

They say that Hugh’s only having fun with you. 

That the relationship isn’t serious. 

That you’re not enough. 

That he’s going to realize that he deserves better than a nobody like you. 

And the words stay with you because it all sounds so familiar. You’ve heard it before and there’s a dreadful feeling in the pit of your stomach when you realize who might be behind this article. 

An article that’s now gaining more and more traction. You shouldn’t have googled Hugh’s name because all you can see in the search results are different variations of the same article. With your name plastered all over. 

You’re only with him for his money. 

The age gap is too ridiculous and Hugh’s just messing around after his divorce. 

You’re not enough. 

You’re not enough. 

You’re not enough. 

You finally toss your phone aside and curl into the sheets, eyes staring out the large window. You’ve never felt more alone than you did now. You can hear your phone ringing but you don’t bother trying to answer it; you just want to disappear and you certainly can’t call Hugh. 

You can’t tell him; he’s already got other things to worry about. 

Your tears trickle down your cheeks and stain your pillow as your breathing picks up. The article brings up a lot of feelings that you’ve tried so hard to work through because you know who’s behind it. 

Jack.

It’s always going to be Jack. He just can’t leave you alone. Despite him being the one to end the relationship and the one who has verbally and physically abused you, he’s still acting like you’re the one who hurt him. 

It just seems like he can’t let you go, like he still has to have some control over you. 

Your phone goes off again and you turn around to grab it, seeing Hugh’s contact on your screen. You don’t answer, afraid that he’s going to tell that something’s wrong so instead, you send him a quick text to let him know that you’re busy editing and that you’d call him back once you’re finished. 

It’s a lie and you hate lying to him, but you can’t tell him the truth. You can’t tell him that there’s rumors about you, about your relationship with him and how you want (and need) him so badly to be here. 

He reads your message, but instead of sending a reply, he just calls you again. You don’t answer, letting it go straight to voicemail. He doesn’t leave a message, but you see that he’s begun typing – the three dots appearing on your text thread with him. 

Four simple words. He texts four simple words that make your heart ache even more: You’re lying. Call me. 

With a heavy sigh, you wipe your tears away and then begin to dial his number. It barely rings once before he answers the phone, his voice immediately coming on the other end of the speaker.  

“You saw it,” he says. 

“Yeah.” You don’t need him to clarify what he’s referring to because you know exactly what he’s talking about. 

“I know you’re not okay, so don’t tell me that you are.” 

“Well, what else am I supposed to say, Hugh?” 

“The truth,” he answers. 

“What good will that do? You’re not here.” 

You hear him sigh. His voice sounds tired. “Baby, please. Just–”

“It was Jack,” you interrupt. 

“What?” 

“The article. It was Jack. It’s gotta be.” Your voice trembles. “I’ll be fine and–”

“I’m coming home,” Hugh says. 

“You have one more week left of press.”

“I don’t care. You matter more. I’m coming home,” he repeats. 

“Hugh–”

“No,” he interrupts. “Don’t defend him again. You shouldn’t even be defending him.” 

“I’m not.”

“Then tell me what’s on your mind!” He raises his voice and your eyes fall shut, gripping the phone close to your ear. You know that he’s frustrated at being so far from you, for allowing you to deal with this all by yourself. He should be there with you. He needs to be there with you. “I’m sorry, baby. I just– Fuck, I feel helpless here.” 

“Well, I’m feeling helpless too,” you admit. “That article… Those rumors, maybe some of them are true. Maybe you do deserve better than me.” 

“Stop.” Hugh sighs. “You know that’s not true.” 

“You’re you and I’m just… I’m just me.” 

You can hear ruffling on the other end of the phone and when he goes to speak again, his voice sounds more distant, like he’s not holding the phone directly to his ear anymore. “I’m coming home. I already told Ryan and Shawn.” 

“Hugh,” you sigh. “Baby, please.” 

“No,” he says. “Don’t you think that article hurts me too?”

“B– Because of your reputation? Because of what it says about you?” 

“No,” he sighs. “Because of what it says about you. It’s not fucking true. None of it is, and it hurts me because I know that it’s hurting you. So, yes, I’m coming home so that I can be there with you.”  

You don’t answer because you finally feel yourself begin to break down. You put the phone on speaker and set it aside, burying your face into your hands as you let out an inaudible sob. 

“Baby?”

“Don’t come home,” you finally answer. “Let me– Let me handle this on my own. Let me work through this on my own. Please, Hugh.” 

“Baby,” Hugh sighs. “I can’t–”

“Hugh, I need to do this for myself. Please, can you do that for me?” 

“I don’t want to,” he answers. 

“I know, but you need to.” 

“I can hear you crying, baby.” 

“It just hurts. All of it, but I can do this,” you sniffle. You want so badly to just feel his arms around you. 

Hugh sighs in defeat. “I love you,” he whispers quietly. “So much, okay?” 

“I know,” you answer with a slightly trembling voice. “I know you do.”

“I won’t come home today, but I will be home by the end of the week. Can we come to that compromise?” 

“Yeah,” you answer. “I think that’s okay.” 

“You know you’re the best person I’ve ever met, right?” Hugh asks. “You’re kind, thoughtful, considerate… so passionate and I love everything about you. Flaws and all.” 

“Even when I get into my own head and–”

“Yes,” he interrupts. “And I wish that you can see what I see in you, what everyone sees in you.” 

You shut your eyes and imagine him there with you, arms wrapped around your frame, lips near your ear as he whispers. You lie on your side and wrap the sheets further around your frame as you keep the phone on speaker. 

“I’m sorry I’m broken…”

“Baby,” he sighs. “You’re not broken, and you shouldn’t be apologizing. Someone who you trusted, who you loved, hurt you over and over again. He manipulated you, took advantage of you and–” he has to stop himself from talking because he can feel himself getting angrier and angrier. “Jack never deserved your love. He never deserved you.” 

“Hugh…” you whisper. “I love you.” His words awakens something inside of you, something that you never thought existed. You thought you had done a lot of reflection on your relationship with Jack, but you never looked at it from your perspective in this way. You always wondered what you could have done differently, what you could have changed about yourself that it wasn’t until you met Hugh that you realized the issue was never you. 

It was Jack. 

And it will always be Jack. 

“I’ll be home soon, okay?” Hugh sighs. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Hugh,” you sigh. “More than you ever know.” 

“I’m one lucky man, I’ll tell you.” He replies. 

You bite your lower lip and take your phone off speaker to bring it close to your ear instead. “I’ll call you later?” You ask. 

“Yeah, baby. I’ll be here.” 

“Got another full day of press?”

He sighs. “I have time for you. Always will.” 

“You sure?” 

“Positive, baby.” 

—

For the rest of the day, you steer clear from your phone and laptop. The only time you’d reach for it is to respond to a text from Hugh or from your trainer. You distract yourself by watching movies, but even in the living room, you’re missing Hugh’s presence. 

The movies only do so much for so long when your mind begins to drift to Jack. For the longest time, you’ve tried so hard to ignore it, to just move on without ever reflecting on just how toxic that relationship was for you. It was easier to just forget, but when he decided to force himself back into your life, you realized just how many unresolved emotions lay dormant. 

You can still vividly feel his fist connecting with your cheek, can feel his entire body weight behind the punch. You should have left him then, shouldn’t have even let it go that far, and you wished you had a good enough reason why you didn’t leave. 

Part of it was because Jack had made you believe that no one would ever want you if you did decide to leave on your own… and he would tell you how worthless you were over and over and over again to a point that you started to believe it. 

But him ending the relationship had been the one of the best things to ever happen to you. You know that you still have so much to work through, but you’re no longer the same woman you were when you were still with Jack. 

You try to remind yourself of that. Jack doesn’t have authority over you anymore (and he never should have). He never should have laid his hands on you. Never should have repeatedly put you down with his words. 

And you’re tired of letting him get away with it. You’re tired of letting him win.

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1

@wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf

@needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom

@sue8724 - @squishyfruitloop - @sylviavf - @emotrash1 - @dissentientss

@sir-thisisadndserver - @absolutepie - @millajay - @itsallyscorner - @haytchee

@wolverigrl - @its-in-the-woods - @d3ad2you - @definitely-not-chill - @khxna

@jules-and-gemss @keerygal

[machveil]

I don’t really write for Price but I had a thought

Retired!John Price that takes up gardening. he’s got a fenced in backyard in the suburbs, enough room for backyard barbecues and get-togethers. he likes working with his hands, planning out where different bushes and plants will go. getting his hands dirty after a hard days work leaving a satisfied warmth in his chest

Retired!John Price that decides to set up some privacy bushes along the fence line, smiling when you bring him a cool drink in the afternoon sun. he insisted that you lounge on the shaded patio while he worked - planting shrubs and flowers you helped pick out. a variety of lush plants lining the yard for summer

Retired!John Price, jean clad knees dirty, walking over to you. he’s careful about his hands, making sure not to dirty your clothes. he leans down to peck your lips, hands on the armrests of your chair, caging you in. your own little secluded garden, hidden away from nosy neighbors and the rest of the world

CW: semi-public

Retired!John Price might have had an ulterior motive for the privacy bushes. sitting on your patio, the sky clear and dimming as night creeps up into the sky. the moons already shining despite it being sunset, but you’re not focused on the gorgeous sky. your face is tucked against Price’s neck, mouth latched onto his neck to keep from moaning too loud

Retired!John Price is sitting on a patio chair - cushions you picked out cutely decorating it - his hands on your hips. he’s gently guiding you up and down, lips pressed to the side of your head as you quietly whine. he’s shushing you, voice low as he tells you how good you’re being for him. the cool night air around you as his warmth seeps into you

Retired!John Price that admires you as you fall apart on his lap, smiling softly when you babble his name. you hadn’t expected this when he retired, your gentleman of a husband holding you as he grinds up against you, the sound of distant cars in the background. his strong arms wrapped securely around your waist as he bucks up into you