#luke perry x reader

[vicioussimp79]

v. luke perry

❥ - fluff ꔛ‬ - smut ღ - imagine ♠ - sad

90s masterlist / masterlist

[supercutszns]

Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo

Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶

true colours; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader

synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.

warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending

notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈

You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky. 

This year, there were two. 

As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls. 

You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.

Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love. 

It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day. 

It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen. 

Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility. 

Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him. 

Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”

(You came in fifteenth.)

You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?

It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away. 

“You alright there, sunshine?” 

He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile. 

“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.

You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.  

The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you. 

Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes. 

“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls. 

Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does. 

They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”

Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him. 

So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice. 

You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you. 

Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”

It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer. 

Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.

Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun. 

“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt. 

You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”

He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh. 

“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on. 

Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear. 

You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.” 

If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is. 

"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink. 

You haven’t talked to him since. 

It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too. 

“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”

The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale. 

“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”

You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”

“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you. 

“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”

“Lee!”

“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.

You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”

“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.

The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next. 

“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”

There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek. 

“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin. 

“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?” 

“No to the first, yes to the second.”

You wish you said no to both. 

The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers. 

He will not. Stop. Looking at you. 

The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.

Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:

You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there. 

It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way. 

Luke, calling your name. 

At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”

He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”

There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him. 

His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear. 

“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”

His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks. 

“I’m not—”

“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.” 

He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it. 

“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!” 

His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”

“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”

“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm. 

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”

“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”

There’s a lull.

“What?” You blink stupidly. 

“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”

His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”

A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”

His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”

“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."

You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.

“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.” 

The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”

“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty. 

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”

The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”

“Not even a little.”

“But you’ve got so many other—”

“I want you.”

“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”

"Your knee is fine!"

"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"

“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”

It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in. 

He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.

“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”

Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”

He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”

You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.

“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”

Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth. 

In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.

When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.

She's given you two more rainbows.

[fishfooddude]

Anywhere

Rhett Abbott x Reader

A rejected marriage proposal and a desire to leave Wabang leaves Rhett in an interesting situation.

Outer Range MasterList

Directory

You were awoken by pounding on your front door. A low wince came from your throat as the pounding intensified. “I’m comin’... I’m comin’...” you groaned as you got out of bed, draping your quilt over your shoulders as you walked out of your bedroom into the open, free-flowing vibe of the rest of your small apartment. You paused before opening the door. You should take that picture frame down…

As you peered through the peephole, a mix of fear and resignation gripped you. “Com’on Sunshine- I know you’re home.” you sighed, your mind filled with weariness, as you opened the door to reveal none other than Luke Tillerson. “You gonna invite me in?” His voice, laced with a hint of charm, sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to slam the door in his face and go back to bed, but as he towered over you, you knew he could force his way into your apartment if he really wanted to. You stepped aside and allowed Luke into the foyer. He removed his hat and set it on the small table you had beside the door. 

You watched as Luke looked around your apartment. He scoffed slightly before putting his hands on his hips and turning his attention to you, “Why’d you say no?” he huffed. You took a shallow breath and watched Luke’s features harden. He was never your biggest fan, but when you’d told your now ex-high-school-sweetheart the infamous William “Billy” Tillerson ‘no’ to his incredibly romantic marriage proposal two weeks ago, Luke’s general dislike turned to hate. 

-

Billy had been the perfect boyfriend in high school and was really great when you’d gone away for college while he’d opted to stay home due to Wayne’s dwindling health. He was patient with you; he would drive from Wabang, Wyoming, to Vermillion, South Dakota, for every sorority event every softball game, and practically became your sugar daddy so you could focus on your studies. He was supportive in every way possible. He was proud of you and was content just sitting on your dorm room floor, staring at you as you did homework. As long as he got to spend time with you. After you’d graduated and moved back home, Billy thought it was time to ‘make an honest woman out of you,’ as Wayne would say. He didn’t want to rush anything; the two of you had been together for eight years, but he could wait another eighty if it meant being with you forever. You worked at the police station to get real-world experience before applying to either law school or the FBI- you still hadn’t decided what you wanted to do with your future, but you felt Billy wouldn’t be in it. 

You knew Billy was planning something. He was never really the subtle type; the bells rang when he’d asked you on a picnic one warm spring afternoon. You’d been back home for a few months and were officially independent from your parents. You were itching to get out of Wabang again. Billy drove the two of you out into the Northern pasture of the Tillerson Ranch, a vast expanse of green that stretched as far as the eye could see. In the spring, a large patch of wildflowers would bloom just outside the woods, adding a burst of color to the landscape. It was beautiful and secluded. Billy pulled out all the stops- it had been a great afternoon until he got down on one knee and presented you with a goddy diamond ring. He made a speech about how you were the love of his life, and he wanted the entire world to know. You watched the hopeful boyish smile leave his face as you started apologizing- “You don’t wanna marry me?” “No, Billy- I’m so sorry I just… I don’t know what I want.” 

You got up, wrapping your cardigan around your body tightly before running away from Billy. Your dress was riding up, but you didn’t care. You needed to get out of there. You weren’t sure how you’d managed to get to the road between the Tillerson and Abbott ranches before dark, but as you started the daunting walk back to the city, you’d absolutely shattered Billy’s heart, and you didn’t know if you’d ever forgive yourself. A horn honked behind you; as you looked over your shoulder, you paused in your step as none other than Rhett Abbott pulled up beside you. “Shouldn’t your guy be drivin’ you home?” 

When you burst into tears, Rhett stared at you like a deer in the headlights. He put his truck in park before hopping out and guiding you to the passenger’s side door. He helped you into the cab while you continued to sob fat tears, your body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. You didn’t care that Rhett saw you ugly crying- he didn’t know what to say or what to do. He thought about how he’d comforted Amy the first time she’d fallen off a horse, he figured since you were crying in a similar way- maybe it would help. You retracted when you felt his large, calloused hand pat your shoulder. He pulled his hand away, shifted his truck back into drive, and slowly made his way down the dirt road that led back to the city. He let you cry, unsure of what to say or what to do. He turned on the radio and drummed his thumbs along to the song that filled the cab. 

When Rhett pulled up to your apartment complex, you whimpered out a ‘thank you’ and reached for the door handle. “Do you want me to come inside with ya?”

-

Luke stared at you, waiting for a response. You sighed and wrapped yourself tighter, “Luke- I… uh, I just-” you stared before Luke cut you off with a loud scoff. “Billy has treated you like a goddam princess since high school! Just fuckin’ marry the poor kid!” he yelled, stepping closer to you. You shuttered at the sudden movement. Luke noticed and pushed a hand through his hair, “Look, Billy stopped singing. Don’t get me wrong- I like the quiet, but the crying… just tell him you’ll marry him.”

You shook your head, “I’ve hurt him enough, Luke… please leave.” you instructed as you opened the door. Luke huffed one last time before taking his hat from the table, “You should take that picture down.” he retorted before slamming the door behind himself. You sighed and looked longer at the picture frame by the door. It was a simple silver frame engraved with 9/2/16 at the top. In the frame was a collage of pictures of you and Billy from high school and a few from when you were in college. You couldn’t take it down but couldn’t look at it.

It had been a long week at work; you were tired and lethargic and absolutely did not want to go out with your friends that Saturday night. Walking into the bar that night, you saw Trevor Tillerson trying to cozy up with Maira Olivares. One Tillerson was one too many for tonight, you just hoped that Billy stayed home tonight. You followed your friends over to a booth in the back and quickly put in an order for drinks. 

After a couple of hours, you’d begun to enjoy yourself- your friend Sara was indulging the group with a story about some guy she’d been hooking up with as the five of you were throwing back shots when a waitress walked up and handed you a drink and handed it to you. “Guy at the bar sent this for ya.” she winked before walking away. A choir of ‘oooooo’s filled your booth, making you roll your eyes. “50 bucks; it was one of the Tillerson boys.” your friend Amanda laughed.

 “Fuck off, Amanda- Trevor and Luke both hate my guts, and I don’t think Billy is here.” you craned your neck over to the bar and felt the air leave your lungs when Rhett tipped his hat in your direction. “I need some air,” you said abruptly as you got up and quickly headed toward the exit. You weren’t looking where you were going when you bumped into the last person you wanted to see right now, “Hey, Sunshine…” you winced at the low voice of none other than Billy Tillerson. You didn’t respond to his greeting as you exited the bar. 

Rhett watched you from the bar. He’d always thought you were pretty back in high school. He was a couple of years older than you, and you’d been practically inseparable from Billy Tillerson since the two of you had gotten together during your freshman year- Rhett’s senior year. Since that night he drove you back to your apartment and hung out inside for a few hours. He couldn’t get you out of his head. When he saw you walk in with your girlfriends, he felt it was safe to make a move. He and Perry had come out to get a beer and unwind. Perry knew about his little crush on you, before a few weeks ago he’d thought it had gone away. Rhett had told him about a date he’d gone on with Maria, but it was like a light switch went off when he found out about you and Billy breaking up; he was over Maria and now head over heels with you. Perry found it amusing; he figured his brother would never tie himself down with a wife or kids, but when he saw how Rhett was looking at you, he was second-guessing himself. 

You pushed your hands through your hair as you took a deep breath outside, you were trying to ground yourself, but all of that went to shit when Rhett walked outside. “Hey.” he greeted you with his crooked smile. You groaned and walked in the other direction, “Rhett, please just leave me-” Rhett cut you off midsentence with a deliciously sweet kiss. His lips tasted like the beer he’d been drinking. With one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, he pulled you close to his body as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. You kissed him back and looped your arms around his neck as the kiss raised in intensity, Rhett was the one to end it. “Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere,” he mumbled.

“Rhett- I - I can’t.” you studdered as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Runaway with me, Sweetheart. Anywhere you wanna go, we’ll go.” Rhett said as he ran his thumb against your cheekbone, “Anywhere you want, Baby. Anywhere.” 

“You fuckin’ whore.” Trevor howled. He’d come outside to smoke but to discover you in Rhett Abbott’s arms was a slap in the face. “My brother isn’t good enough for you, but this fuck up is? You broke his fuckin’ heart, you fuckin’ whore!” his yells got louder, and you pushed Rhett away before wiping the corner of your mouth to wipe away your smeared lipgloss. You looked between the men and felt shame crash over you. Rhett walked up to Trevor and pushed him back, “Don’t call her a whore.” he spat. Trevor rolled his eyes as he chuckled, “Well, she shouldn’t act like one then.” he pushed Rhett back. The two stared each other down as the bar doors opened. 

Perry joined the group in the parking lot. “Everythin’ okay out here?” he questioned as he adjusted his hat, “This don’t concern you, Perry.” Trevor spat in his direction. Perry shifted his gaze to you. You shook your head, hoping this wouldn’t become a parking lot fight. There was a moment of silence before the other Tillerson brothers came outside. You looked at Trevor and pleaded with him not to tell Billy what he’d walk in on. He shook his head and didn’t bother to stifle his laughter, “Your little girlfriend here is just a worthless whore, Billy.” 

Billy shook his head. He didn’t want to believe what his brother said. “Don’t say that Trevor…” he stared at the ground. His stomach twisted as Trevor continued ranting about your supposed promiscuity. Billy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before looking up at you. Your hair was longer than he remembered. Although they were filled with tears, you still had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. Billy wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug you until his arms fell off. “Guess you lucked out, Billy- she probably woulda tried passing off Rhett’s kid as yours.” Trevor laughed. He was trying to get a rise out of you, “Shut the fuck up, Trevor!” Billy yelled, closing the distance between the two of them before finally punching him. 

Billy shook his hand out as Luke finally intervened in the situation. Billy pushed Luke away from him before turning his attention back to you. “Are you okay, Princess?” 

You slowly nodded, finding comfort in the pet name. “Okay,” Billy sighed. He glared in Rhett’s direction before walking off in the opposite direction. You’d had enough for the evening. Rhett reached out for your hand only to be smacked away. “Just- just leave me alone, Abbott. Please,” you begged. Rhett took a step back, and you went back into the bar to find your friends and go home. 

-

You couldn’t take it anymore. After weeks of gossip behind your back and judgemental stares from the older women in the community, you needed to leave Wabang. The day you’d gotten your acceptance letter to Texas A&M School of Law was the best day you’d had in weeks. You found an off-campus apartment and a job at a local law firm. Everything was set for the big move, but there was still one thing you had to do before you could run away to Texas for your new start. 

“Hey.” you half-heartedly grinned when Billy opened the door. “Hi,” he said as he stepped onto the front porch. “I got into law school… I’m leaving tomorrow, but I wanted to say bye to you.” 

“I knew you’d get in. You’re smart.” Billy chuckled as he rubbed his arm awkwardly.

“I love you so much. Thank you for everything you did for me. I couldn’t have done it without you.” you softly smiled as you reached out for one last hug. Billy smiled the goofy smile you’d loved since the day the two of you met in freshman biology. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“If you love something, let it go…” he mumbled into the crook of your neck, making you giggle as you gave him a squeeze. “I love you Y/N. I’m always gonna love you.”

The two of you stood there longer than you should’ve; it felt nice and nostalgic. When he released you from his grip, it was freeing. “Just promise you aren’t movin’ to Texas with Rhett Abbott,” Billy pleaded as he walked you back to your car. You laughed and said, “No, Billy, I’m not moving to Texas with Rhett Abbott.” 

While you hadn’t planned on moving away with Rhett, he had other plans. You didn't know what to say when he showed up on your doorstep a few weeks after you’d settled.

 “I said anywhere, Baby, and I guess that’s Texas.”

[supercap2319]

"So, Arch? Your principal told me you and Y/N were late for the first few periods of school. What were you both doing that resulted in a tardy?" Fred Andrews asked his son and his best friend.

Archie and Y/N looked at each other and then looked away, not answering Fred's question. Fred knew this tactic. He focused his gaze on Y/N's. "Y/N? What were you and my son doing?"

Y/N looks from Fred to Archie, who gives a look that says 'You better not say anything.' He couldn't do it.

"We were late because Archie and I were having morning sex, Mr. Andrews!"

"Y/N!"

"I can't lie. It's Mr. Andrews. I've never not lied to him before." Y/N said.

[greenandsorrow]

Not a request, but can you make a list of the fandoms and characters you write for? Not to be rude! <333

Disclaimer -> There are fandoms I've already written stuff for, or I will in the future, but they're not in the following list because I don't take requests for them (the Matrix, Prometheus, DC, Marvel, etc.) There's no particular reason, I just don't feel like it.

character x reader only, unless I say otherwise (Be as creative or as specific as you wish with the reader. Your request = your personal treat!)

FANDOMS & CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR -alphabetical order

DEAD POETS SOCIETY:

Neil Perry

Todd Anderson

Charlie Dalton

The poets x reader

Mr. Keating (platonic!)

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S:

William Afton (either from the game or the book trilogy, not movie Willy -still love him tho)

Springtrap

The Puppet

Comfortingly scary stuff with the animatronics of the first six games.

GAME OF THRONES:

Petyr Baelish

Varys (don't ask me why, probs platonic?)

Jorah Mormont

Sandor Clegane

Brienne of Tarth

maybe Arya Stark (for smut only S8)

maybe Eddard Stark

maybe Tormund Giantsbane

GILMORE GIRLS:

Luke Danes

Lorelei Gilmore

Emily Gilmore

Paris Geller

Michel Gerard

The reader being a citizen of Stars Hollow/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

GRAVITY FALLS:

Stanley and Stanford are the only two characters that smut is permitted (even threesomes)

The reader being part of the town/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

HAZBIN HOTEL:

Alastor (human, giant demon, cursed cat, something from your imagination)

Lucifer Morningstar

Angel Dust

Vox

Sir Pentious (can be shipped with Cherri)

The Hazbins x reader

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON:

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Aegon Targaryen

Scenarios that include multiple characters

?Dragon bonding¿

HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE:

Anything that you desire

IT:

Pennywise

Not sure about any other ships but shoot your shot ig

The reader being a citizen of Derry/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

LEE JINUK:

Pyeon Sang-Wook (and I'm open to writing for Sweet Home in general)

Player 246

LOTR/ THE HOBBIT:

Bilbo Baggins

Thorin Oakenshield

Fili Durin

Kili Durin

Thranduil

Gandalf x reader (platonic!!)

Thorin & company x reader

The fellowship x reader

Sauron in any form

The Witch King of Angmar (🤭)

OMORI:

I'M NOT AGING ANYONE UP FOR SMUT/ I WON'T PUT ANYONE IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS (aging up for character development is acceptable ig).

Omori (can be shipped with Aubrey)

Sunny (can be shipped with Aubrey/Basil)

Stranger

Basil

The group x reader

The reader just experiencing or being part of Headspace, Black Space, White Space and the characters there.

PEDRO PASCAL:

Joel Miller

Din Djarin

RYAN GOSLING:

Ken

Officer K

Sierra Six/ Court Gentry

Colt Seavers

SHERLOCK BBC:

Sherlock Holmes (platonic mostly)

John Watson

maybe James Moriarty

maybe Molly Hooper

SQUID GAME 2:

The Front Man/ Player 001

Player 246

Thanos

The Salesman

Hit me up with anyone from S2 actually. Men and women.

Scenarios that include multiple characters.

STAR WARS:

the WHOLE Skywalker bloodline (expect Ray, but no hate to anyone who likes her)

Han Solo

Ahsoka Tano

Captain Rex

Obi wan Kenobi

General Grievous

Darth Maul

Darth Malgus

Din Djarin

Captain Phasma

Some droid fluff

Don't limit yourself since there's a good chance I forgot someone

STRANGER THINGS:

Billy Hargrove

Eddie Munson

Jim Hopper (don't ask why)

Vecna/ Henry Creel

The reader being a citizen of Hawkins/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

THE DA VINCI CODE:

Silas

THE SECRET HISTORY:

Anything

Absolutely anyone

I mean it

(no incest, no orgies/ threesomes)

UNDERTALE/ DELTARUNE:

Sans

Papyrus

Toriel

Asgore

Azriel

Ralsei

Scenarios that include multiple characters

WIZARDING WORLD:

While I don't deny my love for HP since I grew up with it, I want you to know this is a safe place.

Any Harry Potter or Fantastic Beasts character

Scenarios that include multiple characters

masterlist of all work

requesting rules/ info

*my paypal link can be found on my masterlist & fics

[ofherpinkways]

Fall Vibes With Him 🍂 (multi fandom)

A/N : Ah watched Twitches yesterday with fall candles lit while drinking Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Chai Latte (I felt like that bitch ) . Going to pumpkin patch later today then following it by watching horror movies later on. So I'm feeling very inspired- 🤍🩰🧸

Summary: Doing fall things with him.

Fandoms : Cod,Dead Poets Society,Gilmore Girls,Sons Of Anarchy, The Bear.(characters I specifically imagine for this

Fandoms : Cod,Dead Poets Society,Gilmore Girls,Sons Of Anarchy, The Bear.( ↓↓↓ characters I specifically imagine for this ↓↓↓ )

Cod: Gaz,Horangi,Keegan,Soap

Dead Poets Society: Charlie,Meeks,Neil

Gilmore Girls: Logan,Luke, Jess

SOA: Chibs,Jax,Opie

The Bear : Carmy,Richie,Marcus

Making the trending "Boo Baskets " for each other ,of course he's going all out for you when he's making his

Also doing the tie matching blankets fall themed of course while Halloween Town is playing the background

Forcing him into a Bath and Body Work for new candles and new perfume. He ends up getting headache from all the smells because you made him smell each candle you wanted asking for his opinion on them , he hated most of them.

Going into a Spirit Halloween . You instantly ran into the animatronics.. You made him test the ones that scared you. Sneaking from him and scaring him with a mask

You guys drove past a Starbucks, you begged him to stop for good ten minutes ,long past the coffee now . He was doing great of not giving up until looked over seeing your puppy dogs staring him down . He sighed and turned around, you both got the Pumpkin Spice Chai Latte. You forced him to get his .

Going to a Pumpkin Patch, going through the corn maze. You joke about how you guys should live on a farm. You guys crave the pumpkins and do the pumpkin head trend . Extra points if you have a pet and get a little pumpkin for your beloved fur child having them in the photos hoot

Watching different Halloween movies every night of October either a horror movie or something on Disney +

Listening to Halloween playlist when driving around

Taking a trip to Este Park Co and going to the Stanley Hotel. Also walking around the mountain admiring how beautiful it is. Going through all the cute little shops . Doing a ghost tour

Going through Haunted Houses clinging onto him for dear life the whole time

[amorchai]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓. — the collection!

— ꒰ in progress ꒱

return to — masterlist

— 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ౨ৎ long-distance lovers with jess mariano - two lovers are separated by distance, relying on brief, romantic reunions to keep their relationship alive.

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ౨ৎ forbidden love with neil perry - a romance between two individuals from different worlds who must keep their love secret due to familial expectations.

— 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒 ౨ৎ bad boy redemption with draco malfoy - someone who falls for a troubled boy with a history of hurting those close to him, but they believe they can change him.

— 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐃 ౨ৎ enemies to lovers with jj maybank - two people who start off on bad terms but find themselves irresistibly drawn to each other, eventually overcoming their initial animosity.

— 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍 ౨ৎ heartbreak and healing with tangerine - a story of someone moving to a new city to heal from a past relationship, finding themselves in the process.

— 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 ౨ৎ rebellious love with sebastian sallow - a classic tale of a young person defying their family's wishes to be with someone they love, despite the challenges.

— 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ౨ৎ second chances with eddie munson - a romance between someone who has just been released from prison and a person who believes in giving them a new start.

— 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀!!! ౨ৎ vacation romance with jake peralta - a whirlwind romance that begins during a vacation in florida, filled with adventure and passion.

— 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍 ౨ৎ secret romance with harry styles - a romance that must be kept hidden due to the complications and consequences it would bring if discovered.

— 𝐖𝐇𝐎’𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄? ౨ৎ unexpected love with george weasley - a shy, unassuming person finds love with someone who initially underestimates them, leading to a surprising and deep connection.

— 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐇𝐈𝐌 (𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍) ౨ৎ fixer-upper romance with steve harrington - a story of someone who falls for a person with many flaws, believing they can help them become a better version of themselves.

— 𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐋 ౨ৎ childhood sweethearts with lily evans - a tale of two people who grew up together and realized as adults that they are each other's true love.

— 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ౨ৎ resilient love with natasha romanoff - a story of someone who continues to love and hope despite having experienced heartbreak, finding strength in vulnerability.

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 ౨ৎ underdog love with loki laufeyson - a romance involving an underappreciated or underestimated character who proves their worth through acts of love and bravery.

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐘 ౨ৎ magical romance with hermione granger - a love story set in a world where magic is real, and love itself has transformative, almost alchemical properties.

— 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐖 ౨ৎ star-crossed lovers with luke skywalker - a tale of two people whose love is doomed by external circumstances, yet their passion remains eternal.

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[alexrosa13]

Hi! I've read your writing about the supermodel! I'm obsessed with it! Can you do something similar but make the MC/reader an idol?

Idol

Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel; Sylus; Caleb; Jeremiah; Greyson; Thomas; Luke & Kieran x female!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: may come out a little suggestive if you squint (Xavier; Sylus; Greyson), alcohol (Thomas), hinted at bisexual reader in Luke & Kieran's part

Note: OMG HELL YES, I was really confused if the idea was supposed to be about just idol, or a k-pop kind of idol so I went with the idea of the reader being a soloist whether k-pop or not - doesn't matter

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

Music is what feelings sound like...

Xavier

How do we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine

Nothing can keep us apart

'Cause you are the one I was meant to find

~ „Rewrite The Stars” Zac Efron, Zendaya

★ falls asleep listening to your music, makes it his ringtone, all of his chores are done while humming to it, he's obsessed in the cutest way

★ oh if you'd ever write a song inspired by him; expect him to not leave you alone for at least two weeks straight, he will be tailing you like a puppy wherever you go (if you're already on this stage in a relationship then bathroom included, you can lock the door but this dude can teleport sooo...)

★ would get any merch you release and would (will) make you sign it (please add a little heart or a star to your autograph every now and then, he will cherish those pieces the most)

★ after your concerts, late at night in your shared home, you would have a private concert between just the two of you and occasionally you would also invite animals that came to visit you

"Xavier my voice is dead, you have to sing solo." you laughed while taking a sip of water from your bottle.

"But without my other half this song isn't as special as it's supposed to be, it's our song." he complained, while looking too cute with a little frown on his face.

"Then pick another song, and this one we'll sing together tomorrow, deal?" you came closer to him, your arms curling around his neck, hugging him.

You swore that the brightest stars of tonight's sky were hidden in his eyes, looking at you as if reflecting your shine, as if your joy was what made him truly the happiest.

With a quiet sight he complied, agreeing to continue your little concert another day, letting your vocal cords rest after hours of singing.

You felt his hands tightening its hold at your waist before casting you up, making you cling to him even more, while your legs wrapped around his waist. You threw him a questioning look, but he simply smiled while proceeding to carry you towards your shared bathroom.

"Xavier? May I ask what exactly are you doing?" you giggled a bit while he sat you down at the edge of the tub.

"Planning to spoil you and get you ready for bed." he said casually while already starting to prepare a bath.

"So the first point of your little plan is running me a bath?" he nodded, not looking at you, too focused on getting the right temperature of water "Will you join me?" now you got his attention. Seeing your smiley face he wouldn't even dream of refusing, deciding to simply chuckle to himself and nod his head once more.

Zayne

Unconditional, unconditionally

I will love you unconditionally

There is no fear now

Let go and just be free

~ „Unconditionally” Katy Perry

★ makes sure that you don't overwork yourself, which sometimes may be hard while your new album is about to drop or a tour is approaching

★ sometimes, especially in the evening when it's just the two of you in the quietness of your home, you like to sit in his office and write songs while he works, some lyrics would never leave your notes, too personal to share them with the world

★ would attend award ceremonies with you, however he won't walk the red carpet by your side, when asked about it he simply says that it's only your moment to shine, but you know that it's just because he's not fully comfortable with that kind of attention on him

★ if you play instruments in a different room while he's working he would purposely leave the door to his office open, same with singing, once he'll finished with all of the documents he would go to find you and listen to you in person, sometimes hiding behind the wall as 'not to distract you'

He heard another faint note coming from the piano in the living area of your home, soon accompanied by your voice, so quiet and soft that Zayne almost couldn't catch it.

Looking at the clock in the corner of the monitor of his work laptop and noticing the late hour he decided to call it a night. The rest of his work can wait until tomorrow, now he wanted to spend the remaining hours of the day with his love, and nothing could stop him.

He left his office and made his way through the dark corridor, his steps quiet, not wanting to alert you of his presence, planning to stay unnoticed for a while and enjoy your little concert.

And just like any other time: he succeeded.

He leaned against the wall on the other side of the room while watching your back, slightly lit garden making as your background behind the huge window.

If recorded - this moment could fit perfectly in one of your future music videos, but instead it was just his to savor.

A perfectly played melody synchronized with your voice sounded like an angel singing lullaby accompanied by the gentle noises of its wings swaying in the air.

Unnoticed by him the song finally came to an end, last note leaving the instrument before your finger left the key.

Seconds later the sound of a quiet applause from behind your back stirred you, quickly you turned around on your seat, catching eye contact with your lover.

"Will there finally come a time when you'll stop sneaking up on me when I play?" you teased with not even a hint of irritation in your voice.

"I simply do not wish to disturb your focus, once you're fully into the song you tend to lose yourself in it. I wouldn't dream of breaking that state." his smirk made you let out a quiet giggle.

"Come and join me."

Rafayel

Ain't no prayer, ain't no God that could save us from our love

Ain't no rainfall, ain't no flood that could drown all our sorrow

~ „Lovers In The Dark” Sophie Morelli

★ in a pack with a boyfriend you got yourself a free stylist, well not exactly free, but your payment now are kissed and complements

★ poor Thomas would never hear the end of Raf's ramblings about you... "Rafayel I know that your girlfriend is really really important to you BUT I NEED YOUR ASS TO GET BACK TO PAINTING, WE HAVE CUSTOMERS!" while Rafayel stays in his seat, unbothered, ordering thousands of new designer clothes for you - yeah it's hard to be a manager of such a diva

★ would put his artistic soul to use when you need a new album cover, either would paint something inspired by your song or play your photographer for a bit

★ concerts backstage can get really chaotic sometimes, all sets of hands put to work, making sure that everything will go smoothly - and Rafayel making sure that you look your absolute best (girl fire your stylist at this point)

"Babe who hurt you?" he looked at you looking genuinely terrified.

"Rafayel. It's just an outfit, I'll be fine." your gaze returned to a mirror, trying to believe in your own words.

"JUST AN OUTFIT?! Baby there's absolutely no way I'm letting you on stage in this... Horrible, horrible, piece of fabric." his eyes never left your clothes, his brows drew together in a grimace, half an hour was left before you'll need to wrap everything up and walk out to face the cameras and your fans, he needs to fix the mess your 'stylist' made.

"Can you fix it in twenty minutes?" you asked, the confidence disappearing from your expression, looking at him with a plead. Instantly he moved towards your wardrobe, pulling you after him.

"Give me ten." he signaled for you to take off this outfit while busying himself in the countless clothes, working his art.

He'll be damned if he'll let you leave this room in anything less than gorgeous and fabulous.

He had a mission to fulfill, and your image to protect.

Hours later he waited in your changing room for the people to stop running around you, logging onto his social media to see any new posts about you.

WHO'S THAT DIVA???

DOES SHE LIKE WOMEN TOO? Asking for a friend.

I don't think so, she took her bf on the red carpet last time 😔

WHYYYY, WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS TO STEAL HER FROM US

seeing people just now discovering that she dates Rafayel is wild

WAIT. I JUST GOT TO KNOW THAT SHE'S TAKEN AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE DATES THE RAFAYEL??? 😭😭😭

Idk who I am more jealous about...

⬆️⬆️⬆️ literally me

BISEXUAL PANIC 🫡

He chuckled to himself, yeah he won the world the moment you agreed to date him.

Sylus

They say all good boys go to Heaven

But bad boys bring Heaven to you

It's automatic

It's just what they do

~ „Heaven” Julia Michaels

★ mysterious boyfriend pt. 2 - the one and only time when your fans 'saw' him was in one of your mv's, but only his back was visible while you were clinging to his side, at first they thought that it was some random actor but then they saw the same white hair on one of your social media stories and rumors started to fly

★ would give twins the tickets to your concert under the excuse of watching you in case someone came there to hurt you, but in reality it's just because he knows they enjoy your concerts and wants them to have some fun

★ he'll ensure your safety on any kinds of events, not trusting your company to take care of it properly

★ in one interview you mentioned that your partner is absolutely tone-deaf, laughing about it, saying how opposites attract, in another one you said how your partner loves your singing and how they are your biggest supporter and inspiration

You just stepped out of your morning shower, putting on underwear you went to sit down on a stool before the mirror, about to dry your hair and do your morning beauty routine.

With the loud humming of the hair dryer drowning out other noises you began to sing, loudly, thinking that no one will hear it.

Well, you were wrong.

About a minute in you noticed a silhouette standing by the door.

Damn you should really learn to lock it.

"Sylus?" you asked, turning the hair dryer off, watching him through the mirror's reflection.

"Don't mind me sweetheart. I'm just enjoying the show." you turned around to face him with your face expression screaming 'really?', but he remained unbothered, reaching to close the door and right after taking a couple steps your way finding himself right behind you "Allow me."

The hair dryer was gently taken away from your hand, your eyes met his in the mirror, smile threatened to show on your lips, but you still tried to keep up the facade of annoyance.

Yet completely unbothered Sylus began drying your hair, humming a tune in the meantime, a sound that you almost didn't catch.

Seeing his eyes focused on your hair, you closed your own in a relaxed manner, your voice synchronizing with his when you started to hum the well-known melody of the song you wrote for him a long time ago.

A quiet domesticated moment before your long day began was something that you didn't even know you needed today, but were absolutely grateful that it happened. Grateful that you had someone to share this morning with.

Caleb

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now

~ „Airplanes” B.o.B, Hayley Williams

★ imagine being highschool sweethearts with Caleb, every girl being jealous of you, sending you hateful glances every time they saw you leaning on his arm during a break between the classes, and every guy either congratulating him on dating you or plotting to steal you away from him

★ and in the middle of it all: both of you just didn't care - too busy with admiring the other to notice the jealous looks you received at every corner, every gift given to you by someone else than your lover being either rejected or thrown away

★ everyone knew that you'll go far in life, with his plans about becoming a pilot and your dreams of existing in the music industry, supporting each other in your goals

★ and with another concert bringing a huge echo on the news questions started floating around you; did you have a partner? Well that was a secret no one knew the truth about, with you dodging any question regaining your private life like a pro

The screams and cheering felt like home, you standing with a microphone before thousands of people, feeling like you made it.

Another song starting to play, the show going on, you and your dancers flowlessly navigating through the stage, during one of the quiet moments between the verses, your eyes began scanning the front row, eager to meet one pair of eyes watching you.

And sure enough: among the sea of flashes, phones and signs one immediately caught your eye.

[ Your Wish Is Here 🍎⭐]

A giggle slipped out from your mouth, your mic catching the sound before you moved your face away, cheers erupted from everywhere around you, your eyes met his.

The next words before you came back to singing got an even louder reaction from the crowd.

"All of my wishes came true already." and the lyrics of your song began floating out of your mouth, all the while holding the eye contact with those beautiful violet eyes.

You made it.

Jeremiah

Lilacs for all of the lies

Daisies for days that I cried

I love to watch 'em as they die

Orchids when I want a kiss

All that I need is your tulips on mine

~ „Don't Send Me Flowers” Sorana

★ to say that you were an unexpected match would be an understanding. A humble florist with a worldwide music star? Yeah, maybe in a dreams.

★ your fans knew that you had someone, the smile on your face every time you were asked about your partner was telling them enough, even if your mouth didn't.

★ in reality this match was as if made in Heaven: your radiating kindness together with his calm but sweet demeanor, never before have you had a partner that was so understanding and patient with you

★ the truth as to why you never spoke his name was a mystery, you talked about him so much, they saw you with him every now and then, so why was his name such a high guarded secret?

"So... Are you coming with me for the next tour?" you asked in a hopeful tone, it was a week before the whole thing shall begin, and you had yet to hear an answer from his lips.

Today he texted you that he finally decided, you weren't particularly stressed, if he'll agree then you'll be happy, if he'll refuse then you'll be... well, less happy but still understanding and just slightly sadden by the fact.

The look on his face didn't tell you anything, perfectly calm and composed.

"Well I had a lot of thinking to do, and some work with the documents." his identity creates complications every now and then "And I've decided..." he made a dramatic pause, the hopeful look on your face made his heart throb.

"Well? Tell me! You kept me in the dark for too long Mister!" your expression turned into a fake annoyance, unable to help himself he chuckled.

"I'll come with you." instantly you jumped onto him, almost making you both fall in the process but he managed to steady you in time, damn he's actually kinda strong...

The smile didn't leave either of your faces for the rest of the day, your happiness caused by his agreement and his caused by your joy.

Yeah, a perfect harmony.

Greyson

And every time we touch, boy, you make me feel weak

I can tell you're shy, and I think you're so sweet

Spendin' every night under covers and

Still I wonder, could you fall for a woman like me?

~ „Woman Like Me” Little Mix, Nicki Minaj

★ imagine him being your fan previously to your meeting and relationship, nothing too intense, but he knew you and your music well enough to recognize you

★ now imagine his shock when he randomly saw you sitting at the quiet cafe he often visited after leaving his work, enjoying your favorite drink while occupied by a book lying open before you

★ he tried not to stare, you probably came there to relax and wouldn't wish to be bothered by a fan asking for a photo or autograph, so he tried to go about his day, trying to act like he totally didn't recognize his celebrity crush

★ now imagine his shock when you spoke to him when he was passing by your table, saying that his glasses suit him, a nice compliment turned into an hour spent talking to each other, with him leaving the cafe with an autograph in his notebook, a photo with you hugging him, and your number to top that

"Darling do you know where my Saint Laurent heels are?" he heard your voice coming from the bathroom, probably finishing up your make-up.

Turning off the stove he went to the bedroom, knowing where to look for your (expensive) shoes.

And sure enough: they were there, lying carelessly in the corner of your room, the memories of how they ended up there bringing a blush to his face.

He picked them up, much more carefully than you when you dropped them to the floor, and headed back to give them to you.

Just as he left the bedroom he saw you, standing before the body length mirror put right next to the entrance door, fixing your jewelry.

He took a second to admire you, the way your body looked in your carefully picked outfit, the way your hair looked absolutely perfect and your make-up imitating a professional work.

How did he even got to date you?

Oh, right, he didn't, you picked him, grabbed him by a collar like you would a kitten saying 'This one's mine.' and he just accepted it (gladly).

"Darling? My shoes?" your voice brought him back from a daydream, he met your eyes through the mirror's reflection, a knowing smile formed on your lips.

He rushed towards you, showing you the items in his hands.

"Thank you darling." you kissed his cheek, unknowingly to him leaving a lipstick mark.

You bent to put on the shoes, with him moving away to pick up your purse, handing it to you once you stood up straight.

You took your possession from him and moved your palm to caress his cheek for a second, gracing him with one more smile of yours before turning around and leaving the walls of your shared apartment.

Thomas

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you

~ „Enchanted” Taylor Swift

★ you met him during one of the after parties after a gala that he attended with (instead of) Rafayel, he was sipping nonalcoholic drink, rethinking all of his life choices after another one of artist's runaways from the cameras

★ imagine your drunk ass laughing from something that your friends were saying, unnoticed by you coming too close to a tables put on the higher platform and falling in a way that had you landing right on Thomas's lap

★ it was a start to your love story, you spend an evening together, talking about the industries and random life fun-facts, the night ending in him driving you home and exchanging numbers

★ you were one of the rising stars back then, overworked and underappreciated, you felt like you didn't have a say in your career, everyone deciding for you, even your social media were carefully monitored and you needed an approval from the management before posting anything, that was until Thomas put a stop to it

"You don't understand how much your career costs the company! Your music is better as it is, so leave your little notes in the trash and get back to the studio to work with the professionals." your manager, an old guy whose wife left taking the kids with her, screamed at you on the corridor, right after another long, boring meeting regarding your status in the industry.

"If only they would take a peek at my lyrics maybe it would work for the be-" you tried to argue, but the look he sent you made you quiet down instantly.

"I don't care about your little scribbles." harshly he yanked the papers from your hands, crumpling the paper with his grip "This is trash. Everything you do - is trash. So if you want us not to drop you and your little music career then just stay quiet and do what you're told." you felt the numbness creeping up on you, this isn't what you wanted your life to look like. You saw the old man opening up his mouth to probably let out more insults about you and your work, but another voice interrupted your conversation before he got the chance to continue.

"I'm pretty sure that insulting your artists is against the company's policy." you looked at Thomas, he told you that he'll be at a meeting in your work place today, he probably just finished up with that.

Before your manager could mutter out an excuse Thomas clicked something on his phone, a voice recording started playing, a proof of what happened a moment earlier.

You couldn't help the smile that threatened to show, he had lots of recordings like those actually.

You saw how the colors left your manager's face and knew that you caught him.

You shared a knowing look with Thomas, silently thanking him.

It will all be alright.

Luke & Kieran

Yeah, you fell in love

But you fell deeper in this pit

While death rains from above

So count your blessings 'cause this is it

You're not letting it go

So what if I misbehave? It's what everybody craves

~ „Addict” Michael Kovach, Chi-Chi

★ I hope you're ready for the chaos, because girl you're in for a ride. The amount of support you would get from every single man above but make it double.

★ imagine being a loud, confident, outspoken woman in the industry, rising up high just as a teen, everyone knew who you are, either loving or hating you (you were probably a wake up call for young teens gayness)

★ none of the men could ever handle you, so who could blame you when you got yourself two super sweet and silly boyfriends, breaking a standard once again?

★ your partners were a mystery, people knew about them, sure, but they knew them without ever seeing their faces or knowing their names, the most of the info they got was when a video from the backside of your concert got leaked, showing a cute moment between you and two men, dressed in black comfy clothes covering them whole with a hood dropped over their heads and a masks

"You'll drop me!" your high pinched scream could be heard together with your laugh, and a loud chuckle from one of the two men.

One of them had you dropped over his shoulders, attempting to do a squat with you as his additional weight.

"OMG STOP!" you continued screaming while laughing, clearly having fun.

"Aaaaand..." the other guy followed you two down, cheering up on the man holding you "WE GOT IT!" he screamed when the other man came back to stand after his successful squat without dropping you,

"I'LL KILL YOU TWO!" you playfully tugged on their hair to which they both let out a couple of dramatic 'auw!'s.

The video ended with the camera dropping down and the sound of the three of you laughing,

Safe to say that it made a storm in the media.

I AM SORRFY WHSO ARE THEYD?

THATS WHAT ALL OF US WANT TO KNOW SIS

Well that was not on my 2048 bingo card...

my crush got herself 2 boyfriends and I'm fine with it. *sob*

I have a couple of not really appropriate questions.

*hides a notebook* a couple of whaaaaaat

Okay, so the bisexual Queen got a man. Two men. Chat how are we coping?

*cries into a pillow*

It's a hard day for us girlies out here.

We fight, she's held hostage🤺🤺🤺

OMG I JUST WOKE UP???!!! 🥹😭

[princessvelaryon]

My Finalized WIP List

DC Comics - Jason Todd:

Old Ghosts - Your high school sweetheart Jason Todd died when you were both fifteen years old. You are now twenty years old and have spent the past five years simply existing. Wanting to find some closure on your past or maybe feeling nostalgic and missing him, you moved back to Gotham and transferred to Gotham University for your junior and senior year of college. Lately, you have been noticing that a strange figure in a red mask seems to be everywhere you are. Should you be afraid? Angst and Smut

House of the Dragon - Jacaerys Velaryon, Cregan Stark, Benjicot Blackwood

House Sitting - During summer break from college, Jace’s family goes to their summer home for their annual week long family vacation. Jace decides to stay behind in order to house sit and he invites his best friend to help him. Things quickly spin out on control in the best way possible. Friends with benefits (sort of), mutual pining, idiots in love, miscommunication. Smut. Jace x Female Reader. 7 part miniseries, one chapter for each day of their vacation.

Champagne Wishes - Jace and his female best friend steal a bottle or two from his parents wine cellar. Snippet from House Sitting. Smut. For @vividxpages

Untitled Vampire Jace Series - In your freshman year of college, you fall for a mysterious student. You two instantly connect and you feel as if you have known him forever. Multi-chapter series. Thanks to Harry’s Taiker Magazine photoshoot. Iykyk.

Thinking of You - Your childhood and high school sweetheart and ex-boyfriend Cregan unexpectedly shows up to your engagement party to talk to you one last time before he has to watch you marry another man. Non-linear storytelling. Flashbacks. Smut. Desperate Cregan. I thought about doing alternate version with Jace and Benjicot but I had to start with Cregan. Inspired by the song “Thinking of You” by Katy Perry.

Another Taste - Snippet from my Vampire Jace AU. Sequel to Fresh Blood. Smut.

The Ghost in the Back of Your Head - 

Jace x Baela series. Featuring Luke x Rhaena. Can be read as a series or on their own. 

The Abyss - Baela and Rhaena’s long lives after Jace and Luke. Jace x Baela, Luke x Rhaena, Mentions of Baela x Alyn, Rhaena x Corwyn Corbray, Rhaena x Garmund Hightower

I’m Always Watching Over You, Even if You Cant See Me - Jace watching over Baela for the rest of her life. Him messing with Alyn every once in a while can’t hurt. 

When I Get to Heaven - Jace and Baela have a reunion after many, many years apart. Jace x Baela

Watching Over You/The Least I Can Do For You - Jace hates seeing the way Alyn treats Baela. He cannot do much from where he is, but he messes with Alyn in any way that he can. I probably will change some of the titles

NSFW Alphabets - Jace, Cregan, Benjicot

Modern boyfriends/husbands headcanons - Jace, Cregan, Benjicot

To The Stars - Jace takes you flying with him on Vermax for the first time. Inspired by the film Titanic.

Hands - For the first time, someone shows Jace just how beautiful his hands are and you are lucky and honored that it is you.

A Welcome Distraction - Jace has been busy at the library lately and you help him relax, much to his stress and delight.

Just Like Honey - Jace wants to try something with you for the first time. Smut. Inspiried by the song "Just Like Honey" by The Jesus and Mary Chain

Another Taste of Honey - You return the favor. Sequel to Just Like Honey. Smut. Inspired by the song "Honey" by Mariah Carey

Stress Relief - You are stressed over school and finals and not taking care of yourself properly. Jace wants to help you relax in the best way he knows how to. Smut

Hair Care - Jace teaches you how to care for his curls the way his mother used to.

I See You - Jace saves you from making a permanent drastic decision. Inspired by the film Titanic.

Summer Air - You and Jacaerys enjoy the summer sunshine. Freckles, sunburns, tanning, swimming. Smut.

Night Swimmers - After a little too much to drink, you decide to jump in the pool. Jace decides to watch over you. Smut. Inspired by the song "Night Swimmers" by Foals

There’s Something About Cregan - Jace is jealous of your budding friendship with his best friend Cregan and you help him understand that he has no reason to be jealous. My attempt at comedy. 

Grief Comes in Waves - Cregan x Jace’s sister. You and Cregan bond over the loss of your younger brothers.

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? - You and Cregan attend a Halloween party dressed as Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf. Cregan has trouble resisting you in your sexy costume. Smut. Hint: I got inspired by Tom Taylor always making TikToks in that damn mirror of his. For @jacaerysgf when we would roast Tom for his dirty mirror.

Gentle Giant - Your betrothal to Cregan Stark is a welcome surprise but you are extremely nervous to meet him after hearing tales of his wild and brutish nature. However, Cregan is a secret softie, much to your surprise and delight.

Winterfell Hot Springs - You and your new husband Cregan take a dip in the Winterfell Hot Springs. Smut.

Winterfell Hot Springs: Jace version. - Jace and his wife visit Winterfell together for the first time. They take a liking to the caves around the hot springs. Smut.

Teach me - Jace x Female Reader x Cregan. You and Jace are both complete virgins and you want to lose it to each other but you have no idea what you’re doing. You two enlist your best friend Cregan to help give you guys advice in a rather unconventional way. Smut.

A Teacher - Jace x Female Reader x Cregan version 2.0. Alternate version of Teach Me, and sort of sequel. In this version, Cregan is a little more hands on. Smut.

Vanilla Spice - Benjicot x Female reader smut. For @earth4angels

Teenage Kicks - From your childhood to your teenage years, you and Benjicot have always had a rivalry of some sorts, messing with each other in equal measure. Now teenagers, you realize that things might not have been what they seemed. Modern Benjicot x Female reader. Non-toxic enemies to lovers, light enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, idiots in love, miscommunication. Inspired by the relationship between Robert and Scott from the 1995 film Now and Then. Also inspired by the song "Teenage Kicks" by The Undertones.

Birthday Blues - Everyone forgot your birthday, except for Benjicot Blackwood. You thought he hated you since he teased and annoyed you mercilessly but he might surprise you.

In Wonderland - After bad experiences with men, your classmate Benjicot takes you out for a wild night of fun and teaches you how to let loose, have fun and enjoy life. Benji is a manic pixie dream boy. Might be a long one-shot or a miniseries. Smut. 

Mixtape - Benjicot makes a mixtape for his crush in order to win her over. 

Ebb and Flow - You and Benjicot weave in and out of each other’s lives for years.

I’ll Crawl Home to Her - After the Battle of the Gullet, Jacaerys is presumed dead. But his body was lost at sea. Or was it? 

As You Wish - The Princess Bride inspired AU. After the Battle of the Gullet,

Jacaerys is presumed dead and you are in mouring. Years later, you are abdubted by the man who killed him. 

OR

After Lucerys is killed above Shipbreaker Bay, his betrothed mourns him for years. She ends up unwillingly betrothed to another but feels bound by duty and knowing that her true love is dead. One day, a mysterious masked pirate kidnaps her. 

Labour - You are betrothed to Jacaerys Velaryon, the crown prince, the Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne. He has been nothing but a gentleman to you upon your arrival, making sure you settle into your new home. While you are polite and courteous, you remain cold and distant and Jace is determined to find out why. Inspired by the song "Labour" by Paris Paloma.

The Dragon and the Wolf - Jace x Female Stark reader. Jace x Cregan’s sister reader. Targaryen men love their Stark ladies. 

Sweet Jace - Drunk dancing in the kitchen and serenading Jace with an old song makes him fall even more in love with you, if that was even possible. Inspired by the song "Sweet Jane" by Cowboy Junkies.

It Should Be Me - Jace is jealous. 

Green Eyes - You are jealous of Benjicot’s past.

Double Date - You go out on a double date with Benjicot Blackwood, his cousin Aly and her girlfriend Sabitha. The only problem? You didn’t realize it was a double date. 

Untitled Biker AU - Inspired by Sons of Anarchy. You return after years away to your ex-boyfriend and first love, who you know will always protect you. Can’t decide if this will be Jace, Cregan or Benjicot.

Untitled - Vermax and Jace’s betrothed have a closer bond than everyone realized, even Jace himself.

Untitled - Jace’s wife is kidnapped by an enemy fleet and it is up to Jace to rescue her. 

Untitled - You are Cregan’s sister and have been in love with Jacaerys for your entire life. Jace x Female reader. Inspired by the song "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5.

Untitled - Benjicot Blackwood has had a crush on his classmate for years but he has no way to properly communicate that to you, so he annoys you endlessly. Or does he?

Various ideas:

Taking care of drunk Jace and vice versa

Modern AU's for Jace, Cregan and Benjicot

[faerieroyal]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ children born of fairy stock, never need for shirt or frock…

🧚🏻‍♂️ what/who i write for … 🧚🏻‍♂️

➺ golden trio era: harry potter, ron weasley, hermione granger, luna lovegood, ginny weasley, neville longbottom, fred weasley, george weasley, oliver wood, percy weasley, dean thomas, draco malfoy, theodore nott, mattheo riddle.

➺ marauders era: james potter, remus lupin, sirius black, poly!marauders, regulus black, lily evans, marlene mckinnon, dorcas meadowes, mary macdonald, evan rosier, pandora lestrange, andromeda black, narcissa black, poly!valkyries, frank longbottom, alice fortescue, poly!starchaser, poly!wolfstar.

➺ gilmore girls: jess mariano, rory gilmore, paris geller, luke danes, lane kim, lorelai gilmore.

➺ dead poets society: neil perry, todd anderson, charlie dalton, steven meeks, gerard pitts.

➺ criminal minds: spencer reid, aaron hotchner, emily prentiss, elle greenaway.

➺ marvel: peter parker (tasm or mcu), bruce banner, kate bishop, yelena belova (platonic, familial, or qpr requests only), bucky barnes, sam wilson, poly!sambucky, ava starr, loki laufeyson, druig, makkari, poly!drukkari, natasha romanoff, pietro maximoff, wanda maximoff, eddie brock, marc spector/steven grant/jake lockley, layla el-faouly.

➺ x-men: scott summers, jean grey, logan howlett, wade wilson, poly!deadclaws, hank mccoy, kurt wagner, alex summers.

➺ bridgerton: anthony bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, colin bridgerton, penelope featherington, eloise bridgerton, simon basset, kate sharma, edwina sharma, poly!kanthony.

➺ dc: bruce wayne, harley quinn, jason todd, dick grayson, tim drake, damian wayne (platonic or familial requests only), barbara gordon, cassandra cain, stephanie brown, clark kent, wally west, barry allen, pamela isley.

➺ newsies: jack kelly, “crutchie” morris, davey jacobs, spot conlon, racetrack higgins.

➺ formula one: charles leclerc, carlos sainz, max verstappen, logan sargeant, oscar piastri, lewis hamilton, fernando alonso, lance stroll, mick schumacher, alex albon, george russell, esteban ocon, yuki tsunoda, zhou guanyu.

➺ nhl hockey: quinn hughes, jack hughes, luke hughes, nico hischier, william nylander, matthew knies, joseph woll, sidney crosby, leon draisaitl, jeremy swayman, brock faber, jake middleton, matt boldy, jamie drysdale, nick suzuki, cole caufield, arber xhekaj, juraj slafkovsky, matty beniers, shane wright, jared mccann, joey daccord, adam larsson.

➺ the hobbit (movies): thorin oakenshield, thranduil, kíli durin, fíli durin.

➺ horror: poly!ghostface (billy loomis & stu macher), jason voorhees, michael myers, daniel robitaille, carrie white, hannibal lecter, thomas hewitt, vincent sinclair.

➺ miscellaneous: phil wenneck (the hangover), goodnight robicheaux (the magnificent seven 2016), billy rocks (the magnificent seven 2016), tangerine (bullet train), roy kent (ted lasso), ted lasso (ted lasso), evan “buck” buckley (911), eddie diaz (911), poly!buddie (911), eggsy unwin (kingsman), joel miller (the last of us).

🧚🏻‍♂️ request guidelines … 🧚🏻‍♂️

reader preferences: any! i will write for male, female, gender-neutral readers. ♡

what i write: i will write one-shots, headcanons, little blurbs, and drabbles based on any of the prompt lists i have reblogged, for all the characters listed above! ♡

unique requests: please do not send me any requests you have also sent to other writers! i would like to keep requests sent to me as singular as possible. ♡

request types: there are a few characters listed above who have been marked for me only accepting platonic, familial, or queerplatonic requests for them. i ask that you respect this, please! ♡

content boundaries: anything that falls into darkfic territory (stalking, kidnapping, etc.), pregnancy, infidelity, i will write smut but nothing very kinky (no judgment, i just wouldn’t be any good at writing it). ♡

request manners: please be polite! i won’t ask for much, just a simple please or thank you! ♡

never want for food or fire, always get their heart’s desire. °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[supercutszns]

Hi!! Just had to drop in and say I LOVED your Luke fic and I can’t wait for more. I would love protective Luke with hurt/comfort, if that sounds interesting at all. Thanks for sharing your writing!!! 🌸

fighting chance; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 4.2k, luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader

synopsis: when an enemy takes advantage of your kindness during capture the flag, luke intervenes with a sword in hand.

warnings: a creepy boy👎, threats/harm to reader, she’s going through it, blood/injuries (nothing major), angry ANGRY luke, violence, lots of fluff/reassurance at the end<3

notes: thank you SO much for your kind words & your request!! hurt/comfort is my bread and butter my favourite fic genre of all time i think. & protective luke is just a bonus bc he’s already crazy so it can go as far as i want🤭 i’m not exactly sure what this turned into but if i fix it any more i'm going to go insane so hope you like it!

You’re not much of a fighter.

That alone is a normal thing to admit—plenty of people don’t like violence, the frisson of a challenge, the bruises that come with them. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Unless you’re a child of Ares.

People at camp often ridicule your gentle nature when they see you with your half-siblings. They’re all gritted teeth and sharp edges, born warriors that take up all the space they can get. You, on the other hand, are lousy with weapons and even lousier with your fists. You’re quiet, attentive. While your siblings charge into battle without second thought you stay back, flitting around to adjust armour, change out weapons, oversee the terrain. Planning isn’t Ares’ style so you’re pretty much useless but nobody wants to admit it. You’re usually mistaken as a child of Hephaestus or Athena.

Unfortunately, you are a child of Ares, through and through—just in none of the ways that matter.

There are rare times your father’s influence peeks through. Not with bursts of rage or fists flying, but with thoughts. And sometimes those thoughts turn into words. Well, not sometimes. One time. This one.

The evening before the camp’s Capture the Flag game, every cabin gathered around the bonfire past dinner. To burn offerings, to chat, or in Luke Castellan’s case, to admire.

He watches you laugh with Clarisse from a distance. The Ares cabin leader always had a certain fondness for you. When Luke first started dating you he had to ask Clarisse for her blessing beforehand just to be sure she wouldn’t kill him. He’d do it a million times over just for the moment you look back, your face warming when you catch his stare. He rolls his eyes at you to lessen his smile, but he’s not sure it works. You giggle and turn back to your friend.

He’s always loved your softness; your capacity to defend and not attack. Your body rejects any skill you could possibly develop for violence. Believe him, he’s tried to teach you sword fighting, but the last time he gave you a lesson you nearly impaled yourself thirty seconds in. He loves your wit and your tenderness, your proficiency at preventing conflict, your refusal to argue. But a selfish part of him loves the fact that he’s your protector even more.

The night wears on with the flickers of fire and friendly banter. One of the times Luke looks back at you, his brows wrinkle. There’s a guy talking to you. A group of them, actually, but there’s one clearly leading the pack. Some Aphrodite kid. Luke’s jaw twitches.

“Hey, princess,” the voice makes you pull away from your talk with Clarisse, but you’re confused. Luke is the only one that calls you that.

“Um, me?” You ask when you see the boy in front of you. He’s tall, chest puffed out. It’s not an endearing silhouette. “What’s up?”

“You wanna be on my team for Capture the Flag tomorrow?” He asks nonchalantly.

You laugh politely, “Sorry, but I don’t think we’re allied with Aphrodite tomorrow. That’s your cabin, isn’t it?” You feel bad that you can’t remember—his face is so … plain.

He chuckles back, but it’s a lot less nice. “No, doll, that’s not what I mean.” He steps a little too close, and even though you know Clarisse is behind you it feels like she’s a thousand miles away. “Well,” he drawls, a smirk drawn out, “you meet me in the forest after we start, and then we can … you know. Confer.”

“Confer?”

“Yeah. You get what I mean, pretty girl, don’t play dumb.”

A revulsion coats your gut. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” you say as firmly as you can.

“What, pretty or dumb? Why not both?”

It’s demeaning, the way he says it, and it stirs a temper in your stomach you know you inherited from your father. You’re not big on confrontation. Or embarrassment. But this weirdo is talking to you out in the open and people are starting to stare. He wouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it, right?

“I’ll pass on your offer. I have a boyfriend and I’m actually on his team tomorrow, so I’d rather confer with him, sorry.” Your hands wring together but you do your best to quell them, imagining it’s the string of Luke’s camp necklace, threaded between your fingers. You try to look for him out of the corner of your eye.

He snickers, even though it’s common knowledge you and Luke have been together for months now. “So you are dumb, huh?” He tries to smirk and you assume is supposed to be sexy, but it’s just gross. His hand tries to slide around your waist.

“Don’t touch me, please,” you hit his hand away. Your skin is crawling and the knot inside you tightens.“Just leave me alone. People are looking, you know.”

“We could go somewhere where nobody looks,” he sneers, and the grin on his face is so sleazy that you just can’t stand it anymore.

You pray to your father for strength. And to yourself for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid or something? I told you, no.” You snap. “Maybe you’re the pretty dumb one, but for a child of Aphrodite it’s shocking how little the first one applies.”

His eyes are wide, and the posse he’d assembled behind him has attracted quite the view. You almost feel like crying, all these eyes on you, but you’re so sick of people thinking they can walk all over you just because you’re not like your siblings.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just trying to be nice—” He grabs your wrist as you leave but you yank it hard.

“Don’t. Touch me.” People are staring at you now, but the only one you care about is Luke, who looks equally ticked and equally proud, and all you want to do is kiss him. “Hope the only time we confer tomorrow is if somebody’s sword is at your throat.”

It’s the last thing you say to him. He starts to go after you but Luke is already at your heels. “Back off, man.” You can spot how all his muscles are already rearing themselves for a fight. You wrap a hand around his wrist, and he meets your eyes. Not now.

The altercation is lost the second the two of you leave the bonfire. Nothing matters when Luke has you in his arms, kissing you outside of your cabin, telling you how damn beautiful you looked.

You’re fixing a new Ares boy’s armour when Luke finds you. “Hey, angel,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. He relishes in the way your face heats up. “You ready for battle?”

You smile, “Always.” You pat the kid on the cheek and send him on his way. He gnashes his teeth and roars, joining his siblings at the front. Luke catches the longing in your expression.

“All good?” He asks gently.

It takes you a second for your eyes to meet his. “Mmhm,” you swallow. “Just hope his armour doesn’t fall off.”

Luke sighs for a moment, then wraps his arms around you. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Be safe, okay? Stay close.” He kisses your temple, rubbing circles on the nape of your neck.

“Yes sir,” you reply against his chest. His insides flutter.

He pulls your face up to his and kisses you, tender and wanting. “Let’s show these hooligans who’s boss,” he quips.

“You’ll show them. I’ll hide in the woods until some idiot comes along and tries to ambush you.”

Your dulcet tone has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. “You’ve always got my back,” he croons, kissing your brow.

“And you’ve always got our flag.”

You kiss him again and he lets you slip out of his arms no matter how badly he wants to keep you there forever. He watches you vanish into the trees, and his heart goes with you.

He gears up with his team and the horn sounds. Game on.

There’s yelling, sweat, adrenaline, and Luke embraces it all like a man starved. This is his chance to be ruthless, to let all his untapped rage cycle through him. This is why he’s unstoppable. This is why he’s the best.

Clarisse is unusually cooperative today, but competent as always, and whenever someone’s weapon breaks or they lose their team she just barks at them to go find you. You, the smartest person in Ares, who can mend a weapon with nothing but blades of grass and determination. Luke is pretty sure your cabin would be lost without you. He wonders if you know.

The groove of the game has fully enthralled him. He’s alert, his wrist nimble, his sword a living, breathing part of him. There’s almost nothing that can take him out of his victory path until he hears one of the younger campers tell Clarisse he can’t find you anymore.

Whatever nincompoop he’s dealing with is left groaning on the floor. “What?” He barks, hand flexing around his sword. “Where is she?”

“Probably just moved,” Clarisse grunts as she kicks back an opposing camper. “She knows where everything is. Maybe she’s—oof—safer.”

“But how am I supposed to fix my spear?” The kid frowns.

Luke runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, dry and laden with salt. He told you to stay close. Where would you go? “I’ll find her,” he decides, already sheathing his sword to walk towards the trees.

“Luke—”

“I’ll find her!”

He barely pays attention to the calamity going on around him. With a flick of his wrist he knows he can take out any person he wants. The second he gets to the trees, where the air is cooler, it’s startling how much quieter it is. No wonder this is your preferred hiding spot.

He thanks the quiet a thousand times over because if it had been any louder he wouldn’t have heard you scream.

It’s so short it’s almost indiscernible, but he knows it’s you based on how his body movies before his brain does. It snaps something in him, the adrenaline transformed into something acerbic, determined.

“Don’t fucking scream again.” A cluster of boys are stationed around you. You’re leaning back in the dirt. You barely feel the earth sticking to your skin. Just your heart jostling madly, your fingertips shaking in the ground beside you. “Okay, I won’t, just put the sword down—”

The snarling Aphrodite boy from last night takes a swing at you, and you scramble back just enough to avoid it. “No can do, doll.” His face is twisted with rage. The lackeys he had when you told him off are there too, cornering you against a cluster of trees like you’re some caged animal. There’s a dagger clenched in one of your dirt-ridden fists but you know it won’t do you any good. You can’t fight; you don’t have it in you. But these boys do. And they’re angry.

“Tell me where the flag is,” he orders. The tip of his blade comes under your chin, fogging up with the labours of your breath, your head pressed against the trunk of a tree.

You stutter, “You’re not—You’re not supposed to threaten like this—”

“You embarrassed me in front of all those people yesterday,” he cuts you off. “Thinking you’re so fucking smart. I didn’t even say anything that big a deal but you run your mouth to the entire camp and make me look like the idiot. I thought you were nice.”

The words are laced with poison. You know from the wild look in his eyes that this isn’t about the flag at all.

Tears sting your eyes and the sword grazes your throat. Of course this is happening to you. The one time you feel your father’s rage, when you exemplify the thing you’re told to be, you are punished.

You are never going to be the right kind of daughter.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you try to say it evenly, but your breath is so ragged it’s barely audible. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that.” You mean it, but they won’t care.

The boy’s face looks pleased at your tears. It makes you inexorably ashamed. “Some fucking Ares kid,” he snorts. “Can’t even fight, can you? Can’t even pretend to.” His sword leaves your throat and travels up to your quivering jaw. You’re wordless, white-knuckling the dagger at your side, praying that Luke is somewhere nearby.

“No wonder they stash you back here. You’re useless.” His eyes scan every part of you, and the idea of him knowing what you look like forever is so revolting it makes you want to vanish. “Too bad you’re alone, though. Nobody’s gonna know I was here because nobody’s gonna hear you.”

Your eyes get wide, and something in your mind rumbles through you like an engine. An urge buried in your blood.

Your dagger tears into his leg just as his sword dashes your arm. The pain is sharp, stinging, but the boy winces and you know you hurt him too. It gives you just enough time to roll out of the way as he lurches forward. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He swears.

Blood drips onto your shorts, splotched with tears. You know you can’t go anywhere because his friends are here and you’re almost certain you’ll be maimed, but you tried. At least you tried.

The Aphrodite boy picks his sword back up, stalks towards you, and then freezes.

Because Luke has just spotted you. And he’s spotted the boy that has you on the ground.

And he’s the best fucking swordsman Camp Half-Blood has seen in three hundred years.

“If you don’t get away from her right now I’m putting this through your skull.” He emerges from the foliage, his sword raised, sweat dripping down his face. You have never seen anyone look angrier. He has never felt angrier.

The boy blanches, and Luke sees how easily his lapdog friends shrink in his presence. Good.

“Woah, easy,” the boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and tries to flash a smile but it’s just fucking pathetic. His arms are shaking and his throat bobs about a million times. “We’re just playing the game.”

“Like hell you are,” Luke spits. “You gang up on my girlfriend and you expect me to believe this is fair play? Want me to tie you all together and push one of you off a cliff to keep the spirit going?”

“Didn’t know she was yours,” the boy tries to shrug but again, it’s a miserable attempt that only makes Luke feel stronger.

“Not that it matters but yes, you do,” Luke chuckles thickly. “I beat your ass in sword training last week. You know exactly who I am. And I’m sure you know who you are, so it’s obvious you’re playing out of your league here.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you still cowering, blood dribbling down your arm. He wants to tear the world apart. “Apologize and maybe I don’t send you to the infirmary.”

“We just want the flag, man,” the boy swallows.

“And I want your head on a stick. Want to see who gets what first?”

It’s too provocative an insult for a moron like this to ignore, so soon Luke has the pleasure of disarming five bitter boys that have clearly never been good at a single thing in their life. He tears through them like sheets of paper, knocking them to the dirt, ripping their clothes. He thinks of you, just you, your honest heart and patient hands, and it’s enough to fuel him for a millennia.

The last boy, the leader, is at Luke’s mercy, and he has none to give. The flat of Luke’s blade is pressed horizontally against the boy’s neck, an angering similarity to the position he had you in earlier. “If you ever do this again, I’m going to kill you.”

“You’re—fucking—crazy—” The boy wheezes, the length of the blade squeezing his throat against a tree trunk. “I’ll—I‘ll tell Chiron.”

Luke has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep him from doing something he regrets. “Oh yeah? You want me to tell Chiron how you harassed and terrorised a girl in the middle of the forest all in the name of play? Want me to tell him what you said to her last night at the campfire? Because I’m sure it won’t take much for him to get rid of your ugly face as it is, and I’m a camp counsellor.”

He knows it’s not the most morally correct use of his title. He knows he might be stepping over the line. But he also knows you’re always being ignored or trampled over and he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t give a damn. He’s tired of people trying to force you into something you’re not. Of you crying in his bed at night because they’re trying to drag a violence out of you that isn’t there. Always in the name of fucking play.

Luke takes the sword off the boy’s neck and shoves him backwards. His calf is bleeding, not a deep wound, but a wound nonetheless, and Luke is full of pride when he realizes you did that. The boy’s bad leg makes him wobble and fall at the force of the push. Luke enjoys watching the scramble. “I—I was just trying to be nice, it’s not my fault she took it the wrong way!” The boy flails his hands in the air, rising to his feet again, and Luke shoves him down twice as hard. A piece of his shirt tears off in Luke’s hand.

“You’ve gotta stop talking or I really am going to kill you,” he seethes. “Don’t touch her ever again. Go.”

Luke is sure he looks homicidal right now because the guy finally tumbles his way down the hill. His body fades into the distance, swallowed up by shrubbery and sweat.

The second he’s gone Luke tosses his sword and armour and gets back to you. “Shit,” he mutters, kneeling down. You’re still shaking, your head in your arms, and all his hatred morphs into a love so desperate it terrifies him. “Angel, come here. Let me see.” He lifts your face with his hands and scans you rapidly. “Did he hurt you anywhere else? Anywhere?”

“Just my arm,” you whimper. “My arm.”

He knows it’s not the cut that’s hurting you; it’s long, but thin, and it’s not bleeding too thickly. He takes the cloth from the Aphrodite boy’s shirt and wraps it around your arm, knotting it at the end. “All right, that should be better.”

You look at him with watery eyes, and he knows all you need is for him to hold you. He folds you in his arms and leans against a stump. You can’t get close to him fast enough. The tip of your nose buries itself in his neck and he feels the dampness of your cheeks on his skin. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Guilt swaths over him for a brief moment; he wonders if he shouldn’t have done all that, if he should’ve been more sensible. Then your lips form a ‘thank you’ against his skin and all is forgotten.

You feel so small. The shock is still running its course, so all you can do is cry it out. Your hands still shake when you thread your fingers through Luke’s necklace to steady them. He soothes you the best he can, running his hand along your spine, all the sharpness of his voice softened just for you. “You’re all right, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

You stay like that for a while. The sounds of the forest return to you; leaves in the wind, birds chirping, Luke’s breath tickling your hair. You crane your head up to nuzzle your nose against the faint stubble of his jaw. “My hero,” you murmur, and feel his skin shift as he smiles.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. Saw the cut you gave him on his leg.” He kisses your temple. “I hope it gets infected.”

You giggle weakly no matter how you try smothering it in his chest. “Gods, you’re awful.”

“He deserves it! I probably should have killed him!”

“You came pretty close, didn’t you?” You mumble. Luke’s expression is wary, but you smile to yourself and it dispels everything. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“Good. Serves them right, messing with you like that. Fucking idiots.” He kisses your face again for good measure, “You sure they didn’t get you anywhere else, princess?”

You nod but you know you look wounded. You nudge into the crook of Luke’s neck again. “They … you know, it’s just … the usual stuff.” Every word weighs a pound as it comes out. Your heart feels sore.

Luke tenses again instantly. “What usual stuff?”

“Um, just—” The shame gets caught in your throat. “They all think I’m useless, Luke. Why can’t I do this right?”

You start to cry again, but he just holds you closer. Sometimes it surprises you how much patience he has. He prides himself as the harsher one between the two of you, but you don’t know who he’s fooling with the way he always knows how to comfort people.

“I don’t know what to do,” you continue, blinking back tears, “I’m not—I’m just not good at this, I don’t know why I’m in Ares, I don’t know why I can’t … be that. Why is he my father? I’m no good at being angry. I want to be angry.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment. Nothing changes except his hand rubbing circles on the nape of your neck again. Then he sighs deeply and says, “You don’t owe your father a damn thing. You don’t owe anyone anything.” He’s resolute, firm, a sharp contrast to his gentle kiss on your hairline. “You’re the smartest, most generous person I know. You need those people in battle. You’ll lose if you don’t.”

The warmth of his skin prompts you to look up at him. He looks different so often, the way he can shift between so tough and so gentle. Sometimes, like now, he’s caught in the middle, the remains of a furious sweat hardening his face, but his eyes are nothing but tender. You think it’s how you like him best.

“Besides, we’re not our parents, right? Who cares about Ares anyway?” Luke shrugs.

“Luke! Don’t say that!” your tears turn into a giggle. “The Gods might punish you!”

“I’ll handle it. There’s enough fight in me for the both of us.”

“Okay, tough guy,” you mutter with a weak smile.

You’re still sniffling. He runs his thumbs across your cheeks, and his gaze softens. “You’re an Ares kid because you are a fighter, angel. You just fight a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us. Best one I know. Well, other than me.”

It makes you smile. “So second-best?”

“Tied for first.”

He kisses you with that stupid roguish smile. It’s salty with tears and sweat, but it mends your heart anyway. There is nowhere in the world you’d feel safer.

“I love you,” he says against your cheek. “Be as sweet as you want. If anyone has anything to say about it I’ll mess ‘em up good.” Your face warms as his voice drops to your ear, “And I know you’re an Ares kid because you’ll encourage it every time. You might not have a violent bone in your body, but you sure don’t have a problem with me using mine.”

“Diplomatically, Luke. Diplomatically.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you want.”

You can’t help but kiss him again. You’re not entirely sure why he loves you so much, why you love him so much, but you never feel quite as secure as when you’re with him.

Cheers boom from the other side of camp. Luke’s head perks up like a dog, and you turn back to search for spots of red or blue. “Did we win?” You ask, craning your head to get a better view.

“Don’t care,” Luke says.

You look back at him. His anxious face says it all. “Yes, you do.”

“Okay yes, I do, and I need to see if those douches found our flag so I can choke them out with it.”

You laugh, standing so Luke can jog off to see the state of your team. But before he goes, he picks you up and smothers you in kisses, holding you like you’re his prize.

You are not a fighter, but your boyfriend sure is. And you’re perfectly okay with that.

[bloodhoundluke]

for the love of strange medicine ✧ luke hemmings

pairing: luke hemmings x friend! reader

description: luke loves y/n in secret and his flirty comments make y/n's head spin. after calum's party, y/n finally gets an answer to luke's strange behavior.

warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing. please let me know if there’s anything else.

word count: 2,7k. a/n: hi there! this won the poll, the title was supposed to be 'it's impossible to ignore you' but i like for the love of strange medicine more :) i'm a bit rusty so please forgive me <33 and because i loved writing this so much, i think i'll do a pt. 2 to this!

The Californian sky was covered in haze that one Thursday. Luke stared at the cafe arguably named after a Steve Perry song: For the Love of Strange Medicine. It was fitting since Luke basically considered coffee to be his medicine, not to mention the delicious pretzels he had bought from the very same cafe a few days ago.

Luke rubbed his eyes and yawned, taking in the last smokes of the cigarette he had been inhaling on for the last three minutes. He swore to himself that it would be the last day he'd smoke. It wasn't. He pulled his phone out: 6:58am. He hated early mornings, and he hated how the cafe still wasn't open. Two more minutes, he told himself. He was growing impatient. Maybe it was the stress of recording a new album, maybe it was the fight he had with the manager last night.

When the clock hit 7am, you opened up the cafe. You gave Luke a soft yet tiresome smile which screamed It’s too damn early for this and he returned the favor. Luke saw the name tag on your black t-shirt: Y/N.

As time went by, Luke visited the cafe several times in an attempt to see your face again. To his misfortune, you weren’t working during any of those shifts. You had cut down your hours because of the intense lecture schedule. Luckily for Luke, you bumped into each other at a local festival while you both were watching Green Day play.

Your and Luke's friend groups emerged that night and you enjoyed his company too much for your own liking. You didn’t do men. You didn’t hang around them. Not even as friends. They all caused trouble for you. But with him, everything was different somehow. The night ended with you and Luke in your hotel room. There was nothing sexual about that night if not counting your lingering gazes at each other. You and Luke stayed up until seven in the morning, sharing your love of Green Day and Stranger Things, and talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Luke and you started to grow closer since spending time together. It had been nearly 3 months since you had met and you felt as if you've known him for your whole life. Then Luke went on tour and he didn't want to believe he couldn't see your face as frequently anymore. You made him feel seen and most importantly, safe.

One time Ashton, Calum and Michael caught Luke looking at your Instagram pictures before a show. The boys couldn’t let it go and stop teasing about the way he was biting his lip nervously while scrolling through your Instagram page. Luke convinced them there was nothing to tease about. You were just friends, and that’s the way it would always be. Your lives were so different from each other; you, a part-time barista and a university student and Luke, a touring rockstar. It could never work.

You tried to forget your feelings for your friend, you really did. But you couldn't. Every corner of your flat and everyone you met reminded you of Luke. Even if it was someone’s blonde hair or a tiny detail in their jacket. Everyday activities such as going grocery shopping which you normally enjoyed couldn’t get him off your mind. You’d see the Australian-grown coffee beans. Boom, Luke. Lavender-scented laundry detergent he used. Luke again. And the fact that Luke texted you every day didn't help in the process of trying to forget the feelings you had for him.

—❦

You were attending a party tonight. But not just any party, Calum's party. His parties were known for a good time and endless bottles of free booze.

You wiggled on your black leather dress, which you had just bought. It barely covered your knees and you loved how it hugged you from all the right places. The combo of the leather dress, red lipstick and curly hair gave you all the confidence you needed to go out tonight and see Luke. Yes, he was your friend but you still felt nervous around him. And you blamed him for that. His James Dean glossy eyes and irresistibly long curly hair. His charm and his stupid dad jokes. You were whipped for him and it was a wonder no one around you noticed that. Or that’s what you thought anyway. 

You recall the last time you had seen Luke. He had called you and asked to pick him up from his apartment a week ago. You knocked on his door and saw him with someone. A tall, gorgeous woman. Seeing the model-looking brunette beside Luke made your stomach flip. He seemed so happy with his arms around her waist. Maybe he had met her when he was on tour. You greeted them both and bit the insides of your cheek. That memory reminded you of the time you were helping him to pick out an outfit for him for his date a few weeks ago. Maybe it was for her. He had just returned back home from the tour and the poor man was all over the place. Maybe it was nerves, maybe he was just tired from touring. You imagined how Luke would get ready for your date and ask for assistance from Ashton, Michael and Calum. But that would never happen, so you snapped out of the thought. You were only hurting yourself by having these thoughts. You were such a fool for him, and you didn't know how to make it stop.

You sat down on top of your bed and decided to check Instagram on your phone. “He’s so pretty I think I’m gonna faint”, you whispered mainly just to yourself. 

“Who are you talking about?”, your friend heard your little comment and frowned their eyebrows.

“Uh….maybe I’ll keep it a secret”, you winked.

“C’mon Y/N!”.

“Okay, I was talking about Timothée Chalamet. He looks so pretty”, was the lie you came up with. You couldn’t tell them you were talking about Luke. You had just seen his new Instagram photo and can’t get over his pretty blue eyes. And his curly locks. And that god-damn jawline. And his….well, everything.

“I know right! Maybe we should go watch the new movie so we’ll have some eye candy”, your friend winked.

“It’s a date”, you laughed.

You were still waiting for Luke to pick you and your two friends up. But he was late, like he always was. You had lectured him about his tendency to be late countless times. But he could never learn, could he? It was needless to say that you were pissed off. 

Twenty minutes rolled by and Luke finally showed up. He offered his apologies to you and your friends. Your friends had already gone out and got themselves seated in the car, while you and Luke were still inside of your flat. Luke needed hairspray to lock his hair in place. Then Luke made his way to the hallway while you were checking that you had everything necessary with you. That one time you forgot your keys back home still haunted you, hence you had to double-check everything now.

“You got everything?”, Luke held the door open for you and the button of his already opened black and white star-patterned collar shirt popped off. “Oops”, he chuckled to himself. He didn’t bother to fix it. Not when he noticed you basically drooling over him. 

“Yeah”, you answered nonchalantly and avoided eye contact with him. You had been on the edge the whole day and Luke being late didn’t exactly make you feel any better.

“I hate that you’re mad at me, but you look so hot right now”, he smirked at you. Luke was always like this with you. He flirted with you and you flirted back when it felt natural. But since he started to hang around the brunette woman - whose name you didn’t even know - you started to think that maybe you should stop flirting back. But you didn’t know if they were exclusive or not. Luke didn’t exactly bother to open up about the romance department in his life. Not to you anyway. 

“Thanks. I like your hair”, you commented. You noted how he saw you fiddling with your bracelet. It was the one Luke won from Push A Prize that one Saturday night in July. Its pearls were your favorite color, blue.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too long?”.

“I think it’s good”.

“Just good? Don’t you mean gorgeous? Perfect?”, the blonde rockstar snarked.

“Shut up”, you slapped his hand gently and giggled.

"You okay?", he asked quietly as you were still fiddling with the bracelet.

"Yep, let's go", you gave Luke a small smile and received a nod in return. You took the passenger seat and he sat next to you and fired the engine.

“Took long enough”, one of your friends commented. “Blame Luke and his Prince Charming hair”, you rolled your eyes and looked at your friends in the backseat, and then at the man beside you.

"Geez, thanks for throwing me under the bus", Luke answered sarcastically, tapped the steering wheel with his fingers and turned the music up. Nickelback, of course.

You arrived at Calum’s house. You were walking side to side with the blondie, hand in hand. It was natural. You gravitated towards each other all the time, but you took it as a sign that you felt comfortable with him. Not just anyone could make you feel this way. 

“We’re in public, you know that right?”, you asked him as he was still holding your hand. You couldn't even count the times people mistook you for a couple, and doing these kinds of things that could be seen as couple-y felt a bit odd for you sometimes.

“Yup”, he popped the p and offered you a cheeky grin.

“So why are you still holding my hand?”, you genuinely asked Luke whose eyes were fixated on the crowd of people mingling.

“Don’t want you to get lost. I know you’re bad at taking directions”, he smirked and saw you looking at him with a questionable look. Those words sounded like honey and you hated yourself for it. Oh, only if he wasn’t as charming as he was. It would make everything so much easier for you.

“Right”, you laughed it off and rolled your eyes. It’s not like you haven’t been to Calum’s house a million times before…

“You should wear that dress more often”, he cooed confidently into your ear and let go of your hand. 

“Okay, Mr. Leather Pants”, you laughed and avoided his eye contact. You disappeared into the sea of people and fixed yourself a drink. You didn't really know what to think about Luke's behavior. He was flirtier than usual and you couldn't pinpoint why. The next few hours were spent by dancing with your friends and having conversations with drunken strangers.

—❦

Later, you noticed Luke navigating through the crowd to get to you. He spent a few minutes explaining how his leather boots got stuck in the mud in Europe while touring and how you would have laughed your ass off if you had seen that. Then, the unimaginable happened and he started spinning you around the dance floor. He had always been a fun drunk, that's for sure. He dropped you down carefully from the air and his hands laid comfortably on your waist. But not for long as the upbeat song shifted into a slow one, a shortened version of Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran. Shit.

You wrapped your hands around his neck almost intuitively. “Fuck it, let’s show them how to dance”, you lifted your left eyebrow and thought of how your hands will be sweaty in under a minute. Or twenty seconds, if you were being completely honest.

Luke placed his ring-covered hands, noticeably bigger than yours, back to your waist. “We’re so much better at this than these amateurs”, he looked deeply into your eyes and it felt like he scanned every little feature in your face. It felt intimidating. Being that close to Luke. Being that close with Luke.

“You should definitely consider Dancing with the Stars”, you commented and smiled as you intertwined your fingers behind his neck.

“You reckon?”, his eyes lit up and it's like you could almost see a blush creeping upon his cheeks.

“I see the UK accent has made a mark on you. Has a nice ring to it”, you confessed as you slow danced with your best friend.

“Thanks to you, ms. English Love Affair", Luke gave you a dirty look and chuckled semi-nervously afterwards.

"Oh, you wish", you replied with a nervous giggle and you two continued dancing in silence.

—❦

At 3am the party seems to die out and as usual, Luke walks you to your apartment. About half of the 15 minute walk you have talked about utter nonsense, like how many squirrels Luke saw during the tour and how many latte macchiatos you did during the time he was away.

“Can I ask you a question?", you asked as your heels clacked along the concrete.

“Sure”, Luke answers almost instantly, coughing afterwards.

“You were flirting with me the whole night and…”, you started your monologue which you had planned during the party.

“That’s not a question”, he interrupted and gave you a wink.

“Let me finish, you dumbass”, you answered, your tone being a mixture of playful and irritated.

He zipped his mouth and smiled back at you. You were standing in the front of your apartment, feeling a little cold in the chilly autumn air.

“I just wonder…why?”.

“Don’t we do that, like, all the time?”, he chuckled and stared down at his hands, then scanning your face for a while.

“I guess so, yeah. But it’s innocent. It wasn’t like that today. Or am I crazy? Am I imagining this? Please tell me it was just my imagination, I can- ”, you explained and could already feel how humiliated you'd feel soon.

“I don’t really like to tell you to shut up, but just for once, shhh Y/N. It wasn’t just you”, he took a step closer to you and placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I like you. Definitely have for a while. Maybe the whole time I’ve known you. I like spending time with you. You are the funniest person I know. And you give the best fashion advice. And beneath that sarcastic exterior is such a soft and empathetic soul. You don’t brag about your kindness, which makes it real. And I could talk to you for hours and never get bored. And for you, I would do the dishes happily. Believe it or not, no one has ever managed to bring out that side of me”, he chuckled as you remain speechless. His sudden declaration of love - well maybe not love, interest perhaps - made you grin like a child who just got a new toy.

“And shit, Y/N, I just adore you. And the way your laugh reminds me of home. I lo-, like how you play with your earrings when you are nervous. It’s adorable. And I-”,

“I don’t need to hear a novel of how much you like me, Luke”, you interrupted him.

“I know, but you deserve it”, he spoke softly and his lips turned into the classic Luke smile, which you found incredibly sweet.

“Save it for later”, you took a long look at those eyes that reminded you of the ocean and down to his pink and plump lips which you had dreamt of kissing for so long. 

And then it happened. His lips were pressed against yours, making the time stop for a while. And his hands in your hair, tugging them slightly, not enough to hurt. Your fingers held the waistband of his pants. The way he moved his lips against yours was hungry, desperate, full of emotion he had never been able to release. It was electric, enough to make you release a little moan into his mouth.

“What the fuck is happening here?”, you heard all of the sudden and both of you turned to see none other than the Michael Clifford pressed against the door.

“And what the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”.

© 2023 bloodhoundluke.

[supercap2319]

"No offense, Arch, but your parents were hot! I assume you didn't get their good genes?" Y/N teased. They were packing some stuff up in the attic for Archie's dad, and just happened to come across some old photos.

Archie raised an eyebrow at Y/N. "Dude, why are you hitting on my parents? And I do have good genes."

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Closing Time

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Bartender!Reader

Rating: Mature

Notes: Not beta-read, cause when is it ever. Just a little oneshot, set pre-show

No physical descriptions, no use of y/n.

Warnings: Cursing, flirty Rhett, drunk Rhett

Summary: “You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. 

“S’that supposed to mean?” 

“You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.” 

You knock on the bar twice, catching Rhett's hazy eye and raising a brow. 

“You good?” 

“Fine.” It’s a near-slurred mumble, chased by the delayed glance toward a woman you’d seen him talking to half an hour ago. There are so few people left in the bar, it's hard to miss her. Now, she’s on the arm of one of the Tillerson’s—you’re too lazy to get a better look at which one. You’re already dreading whichever one might come over to pay the tab, if they bother to pay the tab tonight. You’ve been working long enough to know not to chase the Tillersons out the door when they haven’t. Luke typically turns up some time around opening the next day, asking what they owe with a smarmy smile, dropping a thick stack of bills on the countertop to cover it, and telling you to keep the change, sweet thing. 

You lean back against the counter, eyeing the few other patrons, waving at the few that have already paid and are on their way out. You glance toward Rhett again, toward where he’s trailing his finger along the side of his half-full beer. He looks back as the TIllerson’s explode in laughter. They rise from their table, trailing toward the door. 

“‘Ey,” Rhett mumbles it at first, so softly that you hardly realize he’s spoken. He tries it again, louder, as the Tillerson's breeze outside. 

“Hey!” He yells, rising so quickly that he sends the stool tumbling to the ground. 

“Dude!” You hiss. 

“You didn’t pay!” He’s still yelling after them, as if they’re not already gone. You lean over the bar and reach out, whacking him in the bicep with the rag you use to clean the counter top. It seems to snap him out of it, and he glances between you and the door, pointing after them. “They didn’t pay!” 

“Thank you for the update, Columbo. Would you sit back down?” 

You reach out, taking up his unfinished beer and dumping it out. 

“I wasn’t done with that—” 

“You’re done with it now. Sit down and gimme your phone.” 

Rhett seems to take a moment to process what you've said. Then he takes your orders one after another, reaching down and taking up the stool and righting it before sitting. He fishes into his pocket, drawing his phone out and passing it over. You eye the cracked screen before you hold it up to him. 

“Open it.” 

He hesitates, gaze flickering to you before he does as he’s told again. You bring the phone back, finding Perry’s number and raising it to your ear. 

“Rhett?” The question is croaked out after two rings, “What are you doin’, callin’ now?” 

“Come get your brother.” 

“...Aw, hell,” Perry mutters. The sound is in and out; you’re almost certain he's scrubbing his hand over his face. “Alright. I’ll be there in twenty.” 

“Fuckin’ better. I've gotta close here.” 

You don’t wait for his answer, you just hang up and toss Rhett’s phone onto the counter in front of him. You catch a glimpse of his hangdog expression as you turn away from him, taking up a coffee mug and filling it before turning back to him. 

“Take your time with it,” You warn as you set it down. “It’s hot.” 

“...They didn’t pay.” 

“I know. They’ll come back in the morning.” 

“That so?” 

“Trust me. This isn’t the first time.” 

“They get away with all that shit.” 

“They’re not getting away with anything," You fib. "If you left without paying, I’m sure you’d be back in the morning, too.” You walk over to the counter, popping the register open and beginning to count the till out. Otherwise empty, the bar has settled into quiet, save for the murmur of music over the speakers, and the odd thud of Rhett’s coffee mug being set back down on the counter. You glance over at him, weighing your options, watching him smooth his hand over his hair, the brace on his wrist nearly obscuring his face as he reaches up. You turn back to the bills, counting through them. 

“You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. 

“S’that supposed to mean?” 

“You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.” 

“How’d you know I got a bad bull?”

“Heard people talking.” 

“I wasn’t trying to fight Luke.” 

“Oh, please,” You chuckle. “Don’t pretend you were trying to protect the integrity of the business.” 

“They act like they own everything in this damn town.” 

You won’t argue with that. He’s not wrong—but it’s also not something that you’re willing to combat. They’re assholes, but they’re assholes that tip. 

“Keep drinking your coffee,” You advise. “Your ma’ll have my head if you’re drunk as a skunk when you get in.” 

“She won’t,” Rhett chuckles. “She loves you. ‘Sides, I did this myself.” 

“I should’ve cut you off two beers ago.” 

“I ain’t that bad.” 

“Not all that good, either. Speaking of which, if you’re gonna toss, aim for a trash can.” 

“I’m not gonna be sick.” 

“You sure?” 

“Trust me.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I been worse than this.” 

“Well, that I know.” 

“You’re really makin’ me feel better.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I’m not here to make you feel better, Abbott. This isn’t Cheers, despite the fact that you chose to go somewhere everybody knows your name.” 

“Can’t go anywhere in Amelia County without someone knowing my name.” 

“Well hey, big guy, my apologies.”

“That ain’t what I mean,” Rhett chuckles. Then he perks up, patting his hands on the counter. “What can I do?”

“What?” You frown, glancing up from the stack of twenties.

“Put me to work. What can I do?” 

“Seriously?” 

“I’ll just be sitting here til Perry comes an’ gets me. C’mon.” 

You hesitate before you nod toward the flap. 

“Grab the clorox spray and wipe down the tables if you really wanna help.” 

Rhett stands, rounding the counter and lifting the flap to get behind the bar. He ducks down, eyeing the shelf that you pointed to before he grabs the spray and the rag. You arch a brow, watching him round to the end of the bar, starting with the furthest tables. Maybe he’s trying to get out of trouble with you. Maybe he thinks if he helps out, you won’t mention this to his mama. Hell, you’re not planning on mentioning it to her, anyway, but you’ll take all the help you can get. 

“If you throw up, you’re cleaning it up,” You warn. 

“Told you,” He calls back. “I’m not gonna be sick.” 

You grunt, filling out the closing sheet before tucking the cash into the envelope. You find yourself tucking it into the back of your jeans, drawing your shirt down over it. You trust Rhett, sure, but if someone comes in when you’re cleaning up and it’s just laying around, and that sleeve comes up missing, your ass is on the chopping block. 

You look over to find Rhett studiously scrubbing the bar. You can’t help but smile a little. That hangdog look seems to have vanished. You can’t help but wonder what’s done it. Maybe his head is clearing up; maybe it’s because he’s helping you out, making himself useful. 

“You gimme a minute, we can start putting up the chairs,” You offer. 

“I can do it.”

“It’ll go faster with two.” You shut the drawer, locking it before you round the counter. You reach out, taking the rag and spray from him. “You feeling better?”  

“Yeah,” He admits. “Think I just needed to move around a bit. Coffee helped.” 

“Good.” You glance toward the clock. “Perry should be here soon.” 

Rhett nods, picking up his coffee and taking a swig. 

“Want some more?” You ask, nodding toward the mug.

“Uh…” He frowns, tipping the mug toward himself. “If there is more, yeah. Please.” 

You nod, taking up the coffee pot. “Polite as always, Abbott.” 

“Not always.” 

“I suspect you can be damn polite when you wanna be, so long as I’m not a Tillerson.” 

“Alright, let up,” He grumbles, drawing his mug back as you empty the coffee pot and set it down again. You smile as he nods back. “Are we stackin’ chairs?” 

“In a minute. Drink your coffee.”

“You always been this bossy?” 

“Yes.” 

“How’d I never realize?” 

“Probably too distracted by cute girls and the Tillerson’s to notice.” 

“Jealous, honey?” 

The accusation sends heat skittering up your neck. You force an eye roll, turning away and straightening up. 

“Alright, cap it and help me stack some fucking chairs,” You grumble, skirting out from behind the bar. 

“That a yes?” Rhett trails after you like a puppy; even with your back to him, you can practically hear his dopey smile. It makes that heat creep up just a little higher. You reach down, forcing your mind to the task at hand, and away from Rhett’s fastidious and curious gazes. 

“S’alright, you can tell me. If you’d told me sooner, I might’a done something about it,” Rhett adds. You glance over toward him, watching him lift a chair and set it on the table. 

“Is that right?” You ask dryly. 

“Sure. Always thought you were pretty.” 

“Were?” You lean into it, ready to brush off the flirting, “The bloom’s already off the rose?” 

You set a chair onto the table, and before you can get any further, you feel the warmth of him behind you. He raises his hands, bracketing you in and grasping the legs of the chair that you’ve set on the table. Your heart ticks up in your chest as you keep your gaze set forward. 

“You see all those other chairs, Abbott?” You ask lightly. Rhett is quiet for a moment, stepping closer, lips brushing against your temple. 

“I don’t see anything else in here but you, sugar.” 

You push back the warmth that his murmur wells up in favor of nudging him aside with a laugh of, “Oh, that’s good.” You walk to the next table, stalwartly keeping your gaze from his as you begin to put up more chairs. You glance back to find Rhett leaning dejectedly against the table, and you sigh softly. 

“Don’t do that,” You grumble. 

“What?” 

“Pout.” 

“I struck out twice.” 

“You only struck out once.” 

“What do you call this?” Rhett asks, waving his finger between the two of you. You rest a hand on the table, cocking your hip. 

“This," You mimic his gesture, "Was never gonna happen. No offense, Abbott, but I don’t fuck drunk patrons.” 

“What about sober ones?” 

“You aren’t sober, Rhett.” 

“Not right now, but…” 

You raise your brows as Rhett lets it hang in the air. You consider for a moment before you shrug a little. You may as well throw the guy a bone—especially since you mean it, a little.

“Maybe,” You concede, “But bat those pretty lashes all you want, it ain’t happening tonight.” 

Your stomach flips as Rhett’s lips pull into a teasing little smile. “You think my lashes are pretty?” 

You laugh again, shaking your head and turning away from him. 

“Put up the damn chairs, Abbott.” 

[ofherpinkways]

🍂 Fall Vibes with him pt 2

A/N: Ugh I need payday to get here so I can buy a Chucky blanket and these cute ass earrings from Spirit Halloween,anyways multi fandom again and this is gonna be short -🤍🩰🧸

Summary: same as pt 1 lol

Fandoms: Cod,Dead Poets Society, Gilmore Girls, Sons Of Anarchy, The Bear( ↓↓↓ characters I specifically imagine for this)

COD: Gaz ,Horangi, Keegan, Soap

Dead Poets Society : Charlie, Meeks,Neil

Gilmore Girls: Logan,Luke, Jess

SOA: Chibs,Jax,Opie

The Bear : Carmy,Richie,Marcus

Going to the book store together while drinking coffee. You pick out books for each other 💞

Going to Target for Halloween and fall decorations

You beg him to to buy the Pumpkin Spice Chai Latte from the Starbucks in the Target

He grows to actually really like the Pumpkin Spice Chai Latte, gets you it in Venti

He also ends up really and I mean really liking Bath and Body Works "sweater weather" when you have it on he likes grabbing you and straight up inhaling your sweet scent , even puts some of it on himself

Spoils you at Spirit Halloween ,spends like over 300 hundred dollars on costumes,decorations and ect

Yall buy hella many pumpkins at the Pumpkin Patch

But that's because after craving said pumpkin together, you baked the pumpkin seeds

Going the corn maze at the Pumpkin Patch

[delopsia]

Blow Your Mind | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 7,900 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, who does briefly wear a skirt, aphrodisiac chocolates, oral sex, unprotected sex with two different men, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, anal sex (Rhett riding Bob), there is absolutely no plot to this one.

"They're just chocolates!"

"It says 'sex chocolates' right on the fucking packaging!" 

Rhett's not lying, either. Right on the front of the box, scrawled in hardly-legible cursive, lie the words 'Sex Chocolates,' with an even harder-to-read slogan of, 'they'll blow your mind.' 

Next to you, Bob shifts his weight, fingers tapping on the box of deceptively sweet box of chocolates that you've all just had a bite of. Sweet, tiny little things that disguised themselves as a run-of-the-mill assortment of chocolates until you'd caught a glance at the lid. Who would have thought bite-sized candies could be so devious?

They've already deceived the original attendees of Perry's so-called house party before it had gotten out of hand. When there were just fifteen people and not over fifty. When the house wasn't so packed that walking into another room was easy as breathing. The good old days, when Rhett and Perry's bickering wasn't drowned out by the worst choice of music you've ever heard.

"One little piece can't hurt us, right?" Bob murmurs, barely audible, over the thumping of the speakers. "We don't even know if it works." 

Shaking your head, "The serving size is half a chocolate per person." If only you'd seen this before you'd eaten the entire piece. When you still had the chance to decide if you wanted to play with aphrodisiacs or not. 

"Half?" His glasses are the only thing that can stop his eyes from bugging out of his head. "Rhett had more than one!"

And they've evidently made Rhett invisible, too, because he's completely disappeared from the kitchen. Leaving you and Bob alone with a kitchen full of strangers and the one and only Perry Abbott. The beloved son who absolutely will not get in trouble for raising his foot and kicking a hole into the drywall.

"Rhett?" You say it as if he can hear you; Bob can't even hear what you've said, and he's barely a foot away. 

He couldn't have gone far, not that quick. This house had might as well be a can of sardines, with how packed it is, but as you twist and turn, straining your neck to get a better look, you can't find him. Not with this crowd.

You'd jump if you weren't worried about your skirt catching on the air vent behind you. 

Leaning towards Bob, you raise your voice a little, struggling to be heard over the music. "Did you see him leave?" 

But Bob shakes his head, light bouncing off of his glasses as he does so, "I'll check and see if he went outside again."

"And I'll..." Your words die in your throat as you look out into the living room. 

You won't be finishing that sentence. 

There's no point; you can hardly even hear your own thoughts as you worm your way through the crowd. Between the raised voices and the obnoxiously loud music, it's a wonder that you don't develop a migraine during the time it takes you to walk from the kitchen to the couch. Or, at least, what used to be a couch. 

The cushions are missing; Cecelia's delicate decorative pillows lie in a heap in front of it, crushed beneath the sharp heels of a woman you've never seen before. You wonder what she'll be more upset about, those beloved pillows or the visible crack in the middle of the couch's frame, bowing inward. 

"Hey, girlie!" 

You don't recognize that voice, hardly even know which direction it's coming from, until an unfamiliar hand curls around your shoulder. 

Don't roll your eyes, don't roll your eyes, don't roll your—

"Hi, Maria." And you'll pretend you know the names of the two Tillerson brothers standing behind her. Wyatt and Luke or something. You hardly recognized the names Perry invited, but you know for a fact that these three were never invited. 

"I was hoping you'd seen Rhett around?" Twisting freshly manicured fingers through a lock of her hair, "he and I have some catching up to do." 

"Haven't seen him," brushing her cold hand from your shoulder, "you should try asking Perry."

Her eyebrows raise, "Perry? You want me to ask the one man Rhett doesn't like?" Here we go. "Do you even know Rhett?"

You know Rhett well enough to understand that his feelings about Perry aren't as black and white as one would think. Just like you also know him well enough to recall that he's got a birthmark on the underside of his cock, but that doesn't contribute much to this conversation, now does it?

"Who cares if they know Rhett or not," the older of the two brothers says, and you're pretty sure that this one is Luke Tillerson, "what I care about is getting to know them a little better."

"You don't look like you're from around here," the youngest speaks overtop of Maria, and you can't say you're upset that you missed out on what she had to say, "where you from?"

Fighting the urge to sound surprised. "What gave it away?"

"You're too pretty to be from around these parts." He says it so quickly that you almost wonder if he's been planning that for some time now. Bold, straight to the point, no if's and's or buts about it.

Even from a few feet away, you can smell the alcohol on his breath, something strong that has you fighting the urge to wrinkle your nose and put more distance between the two of you. "I'm sorry, I don't—"

"Rhett!" Maria's eyes light up like a goddamn disco ball, absolutely sparkling. 

Your only indication that Rhett's behind you is the hot breath tickling the back of your neck and the nose that bumps into your head in the way that it always does. Hands appear on either side of your waist, gently urging you to step away from this conversation you've been roped into.

Maria's talking, mouth moving a million miles an hour, but Rhett can't hear it. Her dwindlings about how she hasn't seen him in oh so long do nothing but illicit the laziest 'uhuh' you've ever heard from your cowboy. 

You know that high school crushes tend to die hard, but damn, you don't think he even smiles at her as he carts you away. One arm loops around your waist, just about crushing you into his side as he forces his way through the unwelcome crowd. 

"Rhett?" You chirp, stumbling as you fight to keep up with his pace. 

No dice.

Maybe something's happened because Rhett doesn't seem to hear you either; just keeps marching along like a soldier headed into battle. Right for the stairs, damn near knocks a guy over in his quest to head up them. 

He doesn't acknowledge the profanities that man spews as he passes by, either. 

Nobody is upstairs, much to your surprise. You'd really expected someone to have snuck off to one of the many bedrooms up here, but the doors are all wide open, seemingly untouched. If Rhett wasn't practically dragging you down the hallway, maybe you'd be able to tell for sure. 

"Rhett!" You try again, heels digging into the hardwood floor. That little protest should have been enough to at least cause his stride to falter. 

It does nothing. 

Rhett damn near hauls you into his bedroom, protest unacknowledged as he points towards his bed, "Sit." Then, pausing, "Please." A little softer now, starkly different from how he kicks the door closed.

Your feet move on their own, carrying you over to his soft, plush bed. Such a shame that Royal and Cecelia bought him a new one after he moved out. The moment you've settled on the bed, Rhett takes two steps forward and drops. 

Knees hit the floor with a painful thunk that you're certain the guests downstairs heard, but you can't pay it any worry. Not when there are hands running up your thighs, familiar eyes peering up at you from between your legs. 

"Rhett?" Trying once more. "Are you alright?"

His curls bounce as he nods his head, "uhuh." And he'd probably say more if he weren't kissing on the inside of your knee. A soft pressure that tickles all the way up your thighs. Adds fuel to the fire already kindling in your core. Up, up, up, tongue leaving a wet trail that catches in the dull lighting of his bedroom. 

The blunt tip of his nose bumps into your panties, and almost instantaneously, those eyebrows raise, "You got wet for me pretty fast, doll." 

Abnormally fast. You don't remember a time when you've ever been squirming so quick—

oh. 

Wait. 

"Chocolates," you breathe, voice barely there, "it was those fucking chocolates."

A hot tongue laves across the front of your panties, darkened blues peering up at you, "So it's not just me then, hm?" Rhett's always been eager, but he's never been so eager that his idea of foreplay shortens to nothing but a few kisses and licks. You don't think he's ever bypassed an opportunity to steal kisses. 

And if that singular chocolate really did affect you...

"Rhett," it's the only thing that'll get his attention again, and even then, it doesn't stop him from hooking his fingers under your waistband, "...how many did you have?"

Pause, just long enough for a single thought to cross his pretty little mind. "Three." And then down come your panties, skirt left snug around your hips because he's developed an obsession with how it moves when you squirm.

He doesn't even have the patience to get the garment past both your feet, letting them dangle from your left ankle in exchange for leaning back in quicker. Downright diving between your legs, hot tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt like a man starved.

"Rhett—!"

Those eyes flutter shut, the hem of your skirt bunching up against his nose as he spreads you open with a rumbling hum. Doesn't seem to hear you repeat his name, only hums again when you curl your fingers in his messy hair and tug. 

"Taste so good," speaking directly into your sex, deep voice rattling up your spine, "'m s'prised I could wait to get you upstairs."

There's a soft pressure at your entrance, delicately opening you up with that wet muscle, just enough to feel you involuntarily squeeze around him. Then up, up, up, until he can swirl around that rapidly swelling bud that he loves to abuse, yanks a gasp out of your throat when he wraps his lips around it. 

"You're gonna suffocate yourself," struggling to keep your balance when big palms settle on the backs of your thighs, lifting them until they're hooked over those wonderfully broad shoulders. "Rhett."

A familiar belt buckle jingles, "Keep whinin' my name like that 'n I'm gonna cum, doll."

That zipper of his goes down in tune with his tongue, and that shaky gasp into your cunt is all you need to know that he's grasped himself through the thin material of his boxers. Those eyes of his open, downright black as he falls back into his rhythm, stroking himself in perfect synchrony with his devilish tongue. 

Surprise suction on your clit has your thighs clamping around his face, "Rhett." Repeating his name like it's the only word in the dictionary. Shit, if you don't loosen your legs—

"Don't you dare," and even though he drags your legs right back to where they were, you get the feeling that it's not enough for him. Not until he can drown himself in you. 

He's leaning forward, downright drooling as he hungrily laps at you, has you bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. There are people in this house, people who can hear right through these paper-thin walls. The whole damn house can probably hear how his belt chimes as he strokes his leaking cock, breathing heavily into your pussy because he can't breathe but is too addicted to quit now.

Footsteps thump outside the door.

The very unlocked door. 

But before you can fight off a whimper and get a word out, the knob begins to twist. Stuns you into silence while Rhett laps noisily at your entrance, unbothered by the slowly opening door behind him. One look at the frame creeping inside is all it takes for your shoulders to drop, tension rushing out just as quickly as it appeared. 

Bob holds a finger to his lips, locking the door behind him.

"Fuck," your body jolts as Rhett's tongue pumps into you once more, "just like that." Words just loud enough to conceal the creaking of hardwood as Bob settles behind Rhett, something devious flashing through his soft features. He's reaching forward, around Rhett's hip...

"Ah!" Poor cowboy damn near comes out of his skin, just about jumps out from between your legs like he's been burned. 

One firm arm barricades over Rhett's heaving chest, anchoring him down; between his legs, Bob's hand remains firm, grasping the base of that pretty, flushed cock. Before Rhett can start fussing, though, Bob's talented hand begins to move in such a way that all it takes is one stroke before Rhett's hips are squirming, chasing after the feeling. 

Bob's chin hooks over Rhett's shoulder, glasses glinting in the light, "surely you didn't think I wouldn't find you, sugar."

Rhett huffs, loud and exaggerated, "Wasn't tryin' to avoid—hah!" Even from here, you can see the whites of Bob's knuckles, hand firmly squeezing the base of Rhett's cock. "Figured you'd...figured you'd know where we went."

"Is that it?" Bob's hand doesn't move; if anything, you think he's squeezing a little tighter, "and it's got nothing to do with your crippling impatience?"

Eyelashes flutter, gaze dropping. "...'m sorry." Adam's apple bobbing as Bob's teeth tease the shell of a very, very red ear. "Couldn't wait for you to come back inside." 

There it is. 

Slowly, Bob's hand loosens, gives an experimental stroke that sends Rhett gasping so sharply it echoes. He's squirming, head tilting back to rest against Bob's firm shoulder, mouth agape as Bob messes with him. Can't seem to see how dark those pale blue eyes have become, how they threaten to swallow you whole without a second thought. 

"Y'gonna listen to me, sugar?" There's a twinge of that old accent in Bob's words, fighting to come out and remind you of his Texas roots. 

Licking his lips, Rhett nods his head. His lips move, but nothing quite comes out. 

Just like that, Bob's attention flickers back up to you, briefly catching on the wetness between your legs. "Still wantin' both of us to fuck you, peaches?" He's not even halfway through his question before you're nodding your head. "On your back."

Classic. If given the opportunity, you could have predicted he'd say exactly that. Already know that he's about to settle behind you, resting his back against the headboard because he's got an unofficial thing for watching you fall apart and then having his way with you. But even as Bob does just that, creeping up behind you like it's the first time he's ever done it, Rhett doesn't move from the floor. 

"What happened, cowboy?" Bob's smile evident in his tone, "Afraid of what'll happen if you cum first?" 

All of a sudden, Rhett's moving, rising up from the floor and crawling onto the foot of the bed without so much as a ghost of a complaint. One of his hands disappears into a back pocket, returning with a familiar packet of lubricant that he tears open with his teeth. Must get some on his tongue because his nose wrinkles at the taste.

"How's that taste?" Behind you, Bob chuckles while his hands move on their own accord. Fingers stroking past your shoulders and down to the thin shirt concealing your breasts from his greedy gaze, nothing more than a tickling touch for the time being. 

You can hear how Rhett strokes the lubricant over himself, wet little noises accented by his inward gasp, "like shit." The last thing you expect is two wet fingers nudging at your entrance, gently pushing in. Completely unnecessary; you can tell by how easily those thick fingers push inside that you don't need it. That and...

"Do you not remember this morning?" Huffing when those wandering digits intentionally avoid a particular spot, "or last night? When you fools used spit for lube?" 

Lips press against your temple. Is that stubble you're feeling on Bob's chin? "You were limpin' all mornin'." 

You'd be asking more questions if you weren't distracted by the new development on Mr.I-Don't-Get-Stubble's face. 

Just as quickly as those fingers pushed into you, they're pulling out in favor of two big hands pushing your legs up, a familiar frame settling between your thighs. On its own, Rhett's heavy cock smacks against your dripping core, sends your body jolting. 

A giggle ripples out of you, cut short by the sensation of a plush cockhead beginning to press into you. It's only been eight or so hours since your shower escapades, but you can already feel the uncomfortable stretch as that obnoxiously thick cock of his opens you back up. Did those chocolates make him bigger? Because fuck, you think he's gotten bigger.

One of Bob's hands slips beneath your shirt, spanning out over your chest, "breathe, sweetie." 

Rhett's hands on your hips are the only thing preventing you from squirming away completely, anchoring you down while he splits you wide. You can hardly recall when you closed your eyes, but you're afraid to open them and see how much of this cowboy you have left to take. 

The cold metal of his belt buckle presses against your inner thigh, and finally, finally, you feel him bottom out. Even now, you're afraid to open your eyes, fearing there's still more of him you haven't taken yet. It takes a moment for you to pry them open. And when you do. 

It's been a while since the last time you saw Rhett's face so flushed, unusually pink in the cheeks, sweat already beading at his forehead. Involuntarily, your muscles clench down around him, and he shudders.

Laughter bubbles out of you. "Am I that good, or is it just the aphrodisiac getting to you?" 

It's the aphrodisiac. You know it's the aphrodisiac, but when he shyly admits that you're the cause of his unraveling, you can't help but find yourself believing him. Higher thought process be damned. 

One more involuntary clench and those hips begin to move on their own accord; short, choppy thrusts that rock your body up and down the mattress more than anything. But hell, does it send microscopic tingles rippling up your core, dancing all the way up to where Bob's wandering hands have begun toying with your breasts. Thumbs feather-light as they toy with your nipples, barely there. 

"Rhett, if you don't—"

"'m sorry," those hips drawback, far enough for you to catch how the base of him is downright dripping from your cunt, before pushing back inside with a dizzyingly loud squelch. Practically covers up the gasp he punches from you. 

One of Bob's hands leaves your chest, running down your belly and not stopping until two fingers can drag themselves through the wetness between your legs. Splaying out around Rhett's gradually quickening cock, feeling the thin ring of muscle that can barely accommodate your hung cowboy. 

"Jesus, sweetheart," Bob's lips tickle the side of your head as he speaks, "drippin' like a damn faucet, ain't you?"

The big hands on your hips drag you down into the next thrust, skin audibly smacking against skin. Sends your eyes rolling back into your head, unable to come down even as Rhett withdraws again. 

"Grippin' me like a fuckin' vice," he gasps in between his devilish motions, angle shifting, searching for—

Your back rises up from the bed, sparkles twinging the edges of your vision. Whatever noise brewing in your throat becomes lodged, not a sound coming out of your parted lips. Even when Rhett lets go of your hips in favor of leaning back and bracing himself against the mattress, smooth thrusts pummeling into that tingling bundle of nerves over and over and over.

"Is that the spot, sweetie?" Bob murmurs directly into your ear, "Or is there another part of you needin' some love, too?" 

As if to feed into his point, his fingers rise, ghosting over your neglected, swollen clit. Barely there, a taunting whisper of what could be. Rhett's got your legs too far apart for you to gain any leverage on the bed, can't buck up into his teasing touch in the way you want to. Stuck taking whatever they choose to give you. 

And when you do find the strength to rise up into his touch, it vanishes completely. Has you grumbling and unintentionally clamping down on the cock pumping in and out of you with its devilishly wonderful rhythm.

Rhett's eyes roll back into his head, eyelashes fluttering, "g'nna make me cum if you keep doin' that, doll." Just the thought has you spasming around him again, draws a whine right out of his throat. The thick head of his cock hits the gooey spot inside your cunt just a little harder, a little quicker. Enough to have you gasping. Not enough to fuel the fire burning in your lower belly. 

You haven't given Bob his answer, but his fingers return, close enough for your clit to brush against them every time Rhett fucks into you. Still holding out. Waiting on a response to a question you've already forgotten.

"Please," strained, barely spilling off your tangled tongue. 

That's all it takes for the pad of Bob's thick index finger to kiss that little button. Drenched in an instant, swirling in tune with those shaky thrusts. Something warm blossoms between your legs. Familiar, racing up your spine and up into your face. Strangles you of whatever oxygen you have left, has your breath quickening for something you can't quite catch. 

Rhett's hands return to your hips, barely capable of holding onto you as he fights to maintain those twitchy movements, crumbling right before your very eyes. Curls hang low in his flushed face, bouncing back and forth. "'m gonna cum, fuck, 'm gonna, 'm gonna—"

All of a sudden, he's drawing back. Just about out of you when Bob's hand flies off your clit. Tangles in Rhett's hair and yanks.  

Your vision whites.

Don't know if it's triggered by the wickedly sharp thrust that hammers into your trembling body. Or if it's the strangled cry that rips out of your cowboy. All you know is that your lungs are burning. Body going taut as you cum around Rhett's spasming cock. Mouth falling open with a noise you can't hear. 

The mattress has never felt so soft beneath your aching back. Maybe that's because you're finally laying flat against it and not against...

"Bob?" Your own voice feels foreign to your still-ringing ears. 

"I'm right here, sweetie," it doesn't occur to you that you've closed your eyes until after he surprises you into opening them. You don't recall feeling him slip out from behind you, but he's now standing by the side of the bed, stroking his hand through Rhett's tangled, messy hair. 

Rhett's yet to pull out of you, too focused on catching his breath, but an involuntary spasming of muscles has him hissing, squirming back until he can slip out of your spent pussy. His eyes narrow, darting up to the man petting his head, "Did ya have to pull my hair that fuckin' hard, flyboy?"

Bob's eyebrows raise. But he doesn't have to say a single word because Rhett's already muttering an apology, gaze falling into his lap. The hand in Rhett's hair runs down to take hold of that stumbled chin, manually tilting his head up. 

"You want to get on your knees for me?"

Even from where you lay, you can see the way Rhett's eyes light up at Bob's words, brighter than the lamp shining next to your head. Nothing needs to be said. He's already halfway to the floor, wood creaking beneath him as he kneels. 

"Sometimes I wonder if you've got an addiction to me," Bob muses, settling onto the side of the bed, attention flickering back to you, "that goes for you too."

Your foot kicks out, bumping him in the thigh, "me?"

There's a hidden deviousness in Bob's smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "You two literally flipped a coin to settle who got to suck me off first."

If that hadn't happened just last night, maybe you'd be able to defend yourself. 

Alas, the dull, barely there ache in your jaw keeps you quiet. Choosing instead to watch Rhett fumble with Bob's zipper, too shaky to get ahold of it for more than half a second until Bob caves and helps him. One hand disappears into his slacks, the other lands on the back of Rhett's head. 

The room may be dimly lit, but even the poor lighting cannot hide the angry red of Bob's plush tip as he finally draws himself out. Neither can it hide how Rhett practically drools as he parts his thin lips, too impatient to wait as he wraps them around Bob's length. A shiver visibly rattles up Bob's spine, head tilting back with what you can only identify as a silent moan.

"Do you think..." running his hand up your ankle, seeking something to hold onto, keep him from floating away, "do you think you can handle one more round?"

Despite his mouth being full of Bob's cock, Rhett's eyes tell you that he has no problem finishing this soft-spoken WSO off if you're not feeling up to the task. Reflex tells you that you probably aren't up to it, not with how you haven't been able to keep your hands off each other all weekend. The aphrodisiac still coursing through your system suggests that one more round is easy.

"I think so," licking your lips, "gotta see if these chocolates really work, right?"

They must be doing quite the number on Rhett because he's skipped foreplay again, forgoing the teasing kisses and licks, opting instead to dive right into bobbing his head. Taking a little more each time, he takes Bob's cock into his mouth, so utterly invested that his eyes have shut.

Bob's body jolts in that tell-tale way it always does when his cock hits the back of a plush, hot throat, "easy, boy," tightening his fingers in Rhett's hair, "don't choke yourself."

But Rhett's stubborn, defying that gently-worded order by hollowing his cheeks and pushing forward. Downright forces Bob's cock into his throat, visibly fighting his gag reflex as he holds him there. Just like that, Bob's once stoic demeanor crumbles, head dropping, hands flying up to brace his weight on Rhett's broad shoulders. 

On their own, the corners of your lips rise, a barely there smile that has Bob fighting the deep-rooted urge to close his eyes.

"Quit," his own words cut off by a loud gasp, jaw flexing with the effort it takes to fight off his own involuntary noises, "quit lookin' at me like that." 

"Why?" The exhaustion twinging at the edges of your psyche isn't strong enough to keep your mouth shut. "Afraid to admit that those little chocolates are getting to you?"

You can already hear that stuttered denial, and he hasn't even gotten the words out of his mouth yet. Words that you're sure would do nothing but dig him an even deeper grave to lie in. 

But he doesn't get to say them because Rhett finally plays his ace. 

Draws his head all the way back. Until he can open his mouth and let Bob's heavy cockhead rest against his tongue. Long enough to give the impression that he's catching his breath. Then dropping back down. Taking him as far as he possibly can. Nose just barely able to reach the fabric of Bob's slacks before he's being yanked back by the hand twisted in his hair. 

Bob cannot make a sound.

Cock spasming in the open air. Twitching. Teetering dangerously close to the edge of something he can't come back from. Nearly jumps away when Rhett's swollen lips wrap around him once more.

"Fuck," that whimpered word sounds so strange when it's coming from Robby, "hold...don't wanna cum yet." 

On the floor, Rhett grins. Doesn't say a word. Just grins. Too proud of his little stunt to do much else.

"Up here," Bob's hand idly pats the fraction of empty space next to you, a subconscious thing that he never realizes he does, "off the floor." 

It's hard telling if Rhett's huff is from the actual effort of dragging himself off the floor or if he's returned to his usual post-orgasm melodramatics, but he does as he's told. "Maybe I wanted to watch from the floor."

"Maybe I don't want you hobbling around tomorrow morning because you upset your knee again," Bob's watchful gaze is already fixated on that left knee. The one that swells when Rhett's been on it for too long and sits a little differently compared to his right one. One of many, many free bull riding trophies. 

While Rhett's settling down beside you, Bob's careful hands take hold of your hips, guiding you to roll over and drag your jelly-filled limbs up until you're on your hands and knees. Such a strange feeling, being crammed up on this full-size bed, Rhett looking up at you while Bob fumbles around from behind.

A cock smacks against your oversensitive clit, audible, wet little noises that seem to bounce off the walls. Over and over until you're squirming away from the assault of it. You'd probably wriggle halfway up the bed if it weren't for Rhett reaching up and planting a big hand on your shoulder, steadying you. 

Even now, with his hair splayed out beneath his head like a halo and his eyes clouded with something you can't yet identify, he still manages to look up at you like you're his entire world. You'd get to think more about it if there weren't a familiar pressure blossoming between your legs. 

And maybe you'd get to speak if you weren't silenced by an obscene squelch as Robby's cock slips into your exhausted cunt. Rhett's sheepish smile suggests that it's not just your own wetness creating such a sound, either. It hasn't been more than five minutes since Rhett was in you, and Bob's not that much bigger, but your aching walls are already stretching again, unable to do more than take what you're given. 

"Breathe, sweetie," Bob's fingers trail down your spine, tickling until you gasp, "just a little more."

Little by little, it becomes harder to breathe. Lungs burning for a full breath as inch by dizzying inch pushes into you; until your head is too heavy to hold up and your legs tremble with the effort to take him. Rhett's hand rises to stroke your cheek, a futile distraction from how you can just barely take Bobby's cock.

Until finally, fucking finally, his hips are flush against yours, nothing left for you to take. Teetering on the border of too much and just enough. 

Bob's fingers dance across your skin, stroking circles into your trembling hips, "how are you feeling, sweetheart?" 

"Full," it's hard to speak, words cut short by desperate gasps for air, "thank god those chocolates didn't make you bigger than you already are." 

"Careful," Rhett's chuckling before he even gets to the rest of his sentence, "Some say he's got a button in his thigh that'll make his dick longer than it already is." 

A yelp cuts through the air. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Babbling, his frantic hands smacking away the palm that's wrapped around his oversensitive cock. Body writhing, squirming further up the bed until Bob is forced to quit squeezing him. 

If you weren't in this position, you're sure you'd be able to lock eyes on the red birthmark hidden on Bobby's left thigh. Strawberry in color and concealed in the sensitive space of his inner thigh, so perfectly round that it almost looks like a button.

There's a comment brewing on your tongue. Teasing, meant to add fuel to the fire that Rhett's lit. But a careful roll of hips into yours has your thoughts going blank; unable to focus on anything other than the gentle drag of Bob's cock, shallow motions that do nothing but emphasize how fucking full you are. 

But just as quickly as he began moving, Bob freezes. "Did that hurt?" 

"No," pushing yourself backward until your hips are flush with his once more, "just move."

You can't see it, but you know that his cheeks pinken at that, has the audacity to blush as he pulls that big cock of his halfway out of you and push back in just a little quicker. Bashful to the core, even when his heavy balls audibly smack against your cunt. His hips twist, angle shifting every so slightly and—

"Fuck." 

And it's about the worst thing you could have ever done because now that Bobby's found it, he's not letting it go. 

Each snap of his hips rubs against that little bundle of nerves, punches a noise out of your throat. So sensitive that you can't keep yourself quiet anymore, the party raging downstairs long forgotten as your arms crumble, vision blurring. Head landing on Rhett's soft belly, clutching weakly at his shirt, thighs trembling, sliding out from beneath you.

"Those boys downstairs are lookin' for ya, Peaches." Bob's voice has dropped so deep that you can hardly recognize it, almost mistake him for Rhett. Only figure it out when he pulls you up by your hips, and you catch a glimpse of Rhett's unmoving mouth, "ain't got a damn clue you've got two different men mountin' this cute little pussy of yours." 

Your only response is to bury your face in Rhett's stomach, something, anything, to muffle yourself. 

Rhett's calloused fingers brush against the side of your face, drawing you to look up at him, "are those good tears, doll?" And the best you can do is nod your head, unable to stop the sniffle he wrings out of you when he cradles your cheek. 

One of Bob's hands falls off your hip, dropping down to wrap around Rhett's cock again. Gentler, this time, loose as it strokes up his half-hard length. Elecits a pitchy gasp from him that has you fluttering like a damn butterfly around Bobby's positioning cock.

"Can't tell which of you liked that more," Bob muses, chest brushing against your back as he curls around you. Closer, faster, quicker. Plush cockhead dragging against that sweet spot of yours with every fucking motion. Gives you no time to recover before he's hitting it again. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't think.

"Bobby," Rhett's trembling voice wavers through the air, "don't you—fuck, don't you fuckin' rile me up again." 

But it falls on deaf ears. Even your barely open eyes can see how that hand quickens. Perfectly matches the short, choppy thrusts that plow into you. You can't hear the noises tumbling off your drooling tongue. Too busy drowning in the melodic whimpers being ripped out of the cowboy beneath you. Familiar heat blossoms in your belly once more. Rekindled by his whined beggings. 

Rhett's voice is barely strong enough to babble your name once. Twice. And then, "Make him stop, please, fuck, fuck—"

Without warning, your body goes taut. Muscles tremoring. Head spinning. Orgasm washing over you for the second time this hour. Don't know if it's tears that make your vision blurry. Or if you've gone cross-eyed. A loud ringing blossoms in your ears. For a moment, your head floats off your shoulders and up into the clouds. Weightless.

It feels like it takes hours for you to return to your exhausted body. Like waking up after a nap became a full night of uninterrupted sleep. 

And you almost wonder if you did fall asleep because you've entirely moved. 

Cuddled up to Rhett's now naked side while someone runs a frigid wipe between your legs, a futile attempt to clean up the sticky mess your boyfriends have so lovingly created. Only a long shower can fully wash it away, but you can't complain when the cold feels like heaven against your burning skin.

Rhett's right bicep flexes before your very eyes, busy with something between his legs. Messy hair clings to his sweaty forehead, lips bitten and swollen, gasping for a breath he can't quite catch. But his dripping cock lays neglected against his belly, angry red in color, bordering purple. 

Deep blue eyes flicker over to you, almost surprised to find you staring back, "Hey, darlin'," his voice shakes with the efforts of whatever is going on between his thighs, "you okay?" 

Smiling, borderline dopey, "very."

There's not enough room for Bob to sit next to you, and there's just barely enough space for him to sit on the other side of Rhett by his feet, but he manages all the same. His attention flickers up to you for a lingering moment, but wet little noises have him looking back to what Rhett's doing. What even is he...

oh.

Oh.

"Didn't you just cum?" 

Rhett nods, "Uhuh." Leg rising, then flunking back against the mattress, can't find the position he wants. "'n I keep fuckin' gettin' hard again." 

Your body begs you not to move, but you're pushing yourself up anyway. Too hungry for a familiar sight that you can't be bothered to pay attention to anything else. Rhett's legs part for you lets you catch a glance of the three thick fingers frantically pumping into his hole. Desperate, needy for something more. 

"It's a shame we didn't think to pack the strap-on," Bob mumbles, running his fingers up Rhett's pale, milky-white thigh. "And to think we almost didn't pack lube, either."

"I tried to pack it," Rhett twists, trying and failing to kick him, "you said we wouldn't need it." 

Admittedly, you three were only meant to be gone for a weekend. Not a whole damn week. But visits to Wabang never go according to plan, and yet, none of you ever think to pack according to past travel histories. 

"Actually, you know what?" Your cowboy's pulling his fingers out of himself, already beginning to sit up before they're even fully out, "you're the asshole who caused this. You're helping me out."

"Well, if you lay back and let me lube up my fingers..." Bob's idea of helping out must not be the same idea as Rhett's.

Because in one smooth motion, Rhett grabs him by the forearms and practically shoves him onto the bed. Can't even be bothered to wait for Bob to lay back before he's crawling into his lap, pouring another packet of lube in his hand and diving down to seize his oversensitive cock. Stroking, leaving him so wet that he shimmers.  

"Rhett!" Bobby fusses. "My refractory isn't...I just—I just came!"

"I warned you not to rile me up again," and that's all Rhett has to say before he's lining himself up and sinking down on that big, half-hard cock of Bobby's. His fingers weren't near enough prep for it, but it's hard to prep for that.

Bobby's already whimpering,  shaking palms pressing against Rhett's belly as he tries to push him off. But Rhett's got the upper hand, even when his mouth falls open in a silent gasp as he gradually pushes himself down, further and further. Bob's back hits the bed so hard that it jostles you and Rhett, surrendering to this problem he's caused. 

"You can't..." he pants, head thrashing back and forth, "you...you can't..." 

Sleep may be calling your name, but you're too distracted to answer it. Laying back on your side, running your hand up Rhett's heaving chest, just for a feel of those flexing muscles. Bob catches it on its way back down, practically disappears when he clutches it in his big palm. 

Rhett's barely even halfway down when he has to brace himself against Bob's chest, head dropping, broad shoulders shivering with the effort of taking Bob's cock. 

"Bite off more than you can chew?" Bobby teases as if the right joke will save him from the inevitable. "Hm?" Before Rhett can try to respond, Bob's squirming, rocking his body from side to side as he tries to shake the cowboy right off of him. 

The muscles of Rhett's thighs flex, squeezing Bob much like he would one of those fifteen-hundred-pound bucking bulls; hasn't ridden in over a year, but damn, has he not lost that talent. Hardly even sways, despite the efforts below him. 

Just as quickly as he'd started, Bob gives up, instead pawing at Rhett's forearm, unable to decide what he wants and if he wants it at all. All the while, Rhett's panting grows louder, trembling as he sinks further and further and further. You don't realize you've been holding your breath until Rhett's hips come flush with Bob's. 

This room doesn't have enough oxygen for the three of you.

"Too much," Bob's voice strained, "it's too...I can't..." You're not sure if he's aware of how he grinds up into Rhett's ass in those teasing little circles. The same ones that make your mind go blank.

Rhett's knees dig into the soft mattress, and slowly, his hips rise by an inch or so, then drop back down. Testing the waters, gradually working himself up to a lazy rhythm, eyebrows knitting with the effort of figuring out what he likes. Doesn't seem to hear how Bob babbles beneath him, letting go of your hand, over-sensitive. Fussing for him to stop, but hasn't broken out that trusty safeword yet. 

"Liar," Rhett huffs, the bed beginning to squeak, "can feel you gettin' hard in me."

Like a live wire, his body jolts; finally found his prostate. Chases it but can't quite handle it when he hits it again, arms crumbling out from under him. Hardly able to catch himself before his head knocks into Bobby's. 

For the briefest moment, their mouths meet, sloppy, panting too hard to properly lock their lips together. As soon as it breaks, Rhett's leaning over to you, steals a kiss before you've even realized what he's doing. Likewise, it's not until your hand has wrapped around his weeping cock that he realizes what you were reaching for. Grinds his movements to a screeching halt.

"No," there's a firmness to Bob's voice that wasn't there before, his knees rising as he plants his heels into the bed, "you're not stopping now, cowboy."

Despite it all, it's Bob who takes hold of Rhett's hips and pulls him up by a couple of inches, holding him there as he snaps his hips up. Skin smacking against skin, jerky, unpredictably quick thrusts that have Rhett crumbling.

"There," he sputters, hair bouncing with Bob's movements, "there, there, there."

Tightening your hand on his cock, stroking properly now. So close, already, mouth hanging open, once deep voice now a shadow of what it once was as Bob fucks into him with an inch of his life.

 It takes a moment to find your voice, but when you do, "You gonna cum, cowboy?" That pretty head nods, unable to give more than a meek "uhuh."

"Cum for me, Rhett," Bob gasps, words punctuated by every slam of his hips into Rhett's ass, "cum around my cock."  

Rhett's head tilts back, shimmering eyes rolling into the back of his head. White paints your hand, hardly enough to make a mess, cock spasming, twitching in your grasp. Beneath him, Bob goes still, absolutely silent. The fluttering of his eyes is your only indication that he didn't pass out. 

The only lucid one in this room, you reach over with your clean hand, wiping the stray tear out from under Rhett's eye, letting him lean into it. You don't know when the sniffles started, but now that they've started, it'll be a while before they stop.

"I know we agreed to spend the night over here," Bob croaks; it's a question of whether his mouth even moves or not, "but I think tonight is one of those nights where we would be better off in a hotel."

Rhett nips at your fingers as they drift away from his cheek, "I bet now you're glad I was too damn lazy to carry our luggage in."

Every ounce of your body would rather play a night of Tetris and try to squeeze all three of your frames into this old, full-size bed. Uncaring of the rowdy guests downstairs and of what could happen if the wrong person kicked in Rhett's old, questionably sturdy bedroom door. 

Alas, Bob is the word of reason, and you find yourself leaning into Rhett's side as you waddle back downstairs. An ache between your legs and Rhett with a hell of a limp; Bob is the only one of you remotely sane, even has the forethought to shove the bed comforter in the wash before stumbling out to the car to join you and Rhett.

You vividly recall the sight of Bobby crawling into the driver's seat because that's when Rhett leaned over and kissed your cheek first, just to get a rise out of your WSO. But the next time you open your eyes, you're lying in an unfamiliar hotel bed, surrounded by two very, very familiar bodies, whilst unidentified vehicles drive on your naked belly. Wheels tickle your skin as they venture further, vaulting over your breasts; Rhett crashes at your waistband, and Bob sticks a landing on Rhett's ass.

"Ow!" 

"That's what you get for riding me without enough prep."

"It wouldn't have been an issue if you weren't hung like a goddamn..." Rhett falls silent, suddenly aware that you're awake. Like a switch has flipped, his features soften, "good morning, baby doll."

Next to you, Bob's wracked with an earth-shattering yawn, "You feeling okay, peaches?" His nose is so cold that it almost distracts from the kiss he presses to your shoulder. Almost. "I don't think you even so much as stirred when I carried you in last night."

Last night...good lord. 

"Was last night real?" You're sure it was, but...wow. It feels like recalling a fever dream.

"The pain in my ass says yes," Rhett murmurs, fumbling with his toy car, "'m never touchin' chocolate again."

Bob parks his car on Rhett's ass in favor of draping his arm over you, "I'd still like to have a few words with Perry."

You have half the mind to take over for the now-abandoned toy, but you can't bring yourself to move even a muscle. Not sure if you even have the strength, actually. "What's stopping you?"

"Don't wanna..." another yawn overtakes him, "move."

Now it's Rhett's turn to yawn, squirming closer to you until he's able to throw his leg over top of yours. In a few hours, you're sure he'll have something more to say, hell to raise with Perry, a destroyed childhood home to fix, but for now, he's perfectly content to simply snuggle up. Driving his toy car up and down your belly until your conversation with Bob unravels into sleepy-eyed silence as well.

You really should move the toys before you fall asleep. Someone is inevitably going to roll overtop of one and wake up to a painful hunk of metal digging into their side. But that's going to be a problem that will be dealt with down the road when it happens. 

And maybe, just maybe, you'll make a well-informed chocolate purchase later in the afternoon.