#lyrics from look after you (the fray)

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST

Unchained Melody (Part One)

Summary: It had been almost two years since you had become overwhelmed by motherhood, fleeing from both your husband and son in attempts to escape the suffocating blanket of worries and self-doubt that had enveloped you. With a life now filled with poverty, you scrimp and save every shilling, every penny to make the costly weekly journey to catch a glimpse of your son from afar at the market. But your usual Sunday trip back to Birmingham suddenly turns your life upside down for a second time when you are unexpectedly faced with the presence of your husband and his refusal to let you do anything but return to Arrow house, back to him and your son.

Warnings: Language, angst, smut, mutual pining, postpartum depression

Word count: 4993

Authors Note: This series is inspired by another oldie but goldie, "Unchained Melody" by The Righteous Brothers. Tommy's feelings will be heavily influenced by the lyrics of this melodic and timeless song throughout the story. The song Y/N sings to William is an old British classic called "I do like to be beside the seaside" .

"Calling at Birmingham New Street ladies and gentlemen, Birmingham New Street " the ticket conductor shouted walking briskly along the carriageway, going from coach to coach announcing the last and final call. One year, seven months and fifteen days. You thought to yourself picking at the frayed upholstered chair you was sitting on as a single solemn tear slipped over the curve of your cheek down into your lap, escaping the pools of your eyes too quickly for you to brush away. Not now Y/N. Don't start. You scolded yourself, not wanting to bring your fellow passengers' attention to your escaping emotions as you let yourself sink into the guilt you had been keeping tightly against your chest for almost two years, keeping it hidden from the vicious judgment and critical eyes it was undoubtedly worthy of as you did every Sunday you made the journey back to Birmingham, every Sunday you desperately tried to get a glimpse of your son from afar. Brushing the steady flow of tears from your face, you turned your head to the window, wiping the condensation that had built up on the tempered glass to see your reflection staring back at you, cruelly forcing you to see what you had become. Ragged clothing, unkempt hair and chapped hands, reddened from the countless hours you had worked night and day laundering linen for people that resembled your former self. You were unrecognisable, a far cry from the woman you once were, the wife and mother you once were. Broken and beaten, you were barely getting by with the hand life had dealt you. How had it come to this?

Nineteen and half months ago...

"He's crying darling. Y/N?" Tommy said, walking into the nursery after a relentless day in the city to find you in the rocking chair, aimlessly looking out the window as your son wailed loudly in your arms. You were starting to worry him. He'd been so occupied trying to make things legitimate for his new family that the long days he had spent with his head buried in paperwork were slowly turning into long sleepless nights stuck within the four walls of his office. The birth of his son had ignited an unstoppable force within him to keep the two people he loved the most safe and away from the wickedness of the world he himself played a role in, all at the behest and advice of those around him. He just had one more thing to do, one more thing to finalise, then he would stop. He'd promised himself.

"Tommy..." You muttered, blankly looking up at him as he took William from within your hold, the sudden quietness from his father's comforting warm arms snapping you out of your trance-like state. "He's hungry" you said as you picked up the small brown bear among all the various necessities needed to care for a child of only four months. "He just...he won't feed properly. Won't settle" you huffed, internally blaming yourself as you wiped the front of your blouse, reaching for your son, then suddenly recalling, afraid if you took him he'd start crying again. Was it you that unsettled him?

"He dropped his bear love, that's all. Maybe getting some teeth as well, ey little man?" Tommy said, looking at William as he tried to diffuse the criticism you were undoubtedly burdening yourself with. "Hey, c'mere" Tommy sighed, pulling you into his arms, pressing his lips to the crown of your head as tears welled in your eyes. You were slowly drifting away from him, he could feel it. But with Tommy being a man true to his time, he felt powerless as to what to do, what to say. Stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on. The British way...maybe the wrong way. You'd pull through, wouldn't you? "We'll fetch him some warm cow's milk or a wet nurse, so you can get some sleep"

"No. No Tommy!" You angered quickly at the mere suggestion of anyone but you feeding your son, determined to battle through whatever it was that had a grasp on you without aid. "You think I'm a bad mum, don't you? You think I can't look after him?" you sobbed, your temper and fatigue spilling over into an angry display of pointing fingers and high emotions. You knew you were being unfair, you just...you couldn't help it. You needed an outlet for your mounting frustration, and unfortunately for Tommy he had the unlucky pleasure of being at the receiving end of it.

"Darling, I never said..." Tommy huffed, before you took your son back into your arms and your position in the rocking chair, your eyes fixing on a small light in the distance beyond the grounds of Arrow House as Williams bottom lip wobbled and his whimpers resumed. What would he do without you? Tommy reflected, a sudden feeling of guilt washing over him for all the nights he had spent away as he watched you in admiration, humming a soothing tune to his son, your fingers stroking gently over the curve of his ear and massaging the soft cushioned lobe until his cries quietened and he fell asleep. You were just tired, the small surprise weekend away in Blackpool he had planned in a few days time for the three of you would see an end to your worries. Sea air and sandy beaches, just what any doctor would order. Then he'd stop, he'd try harder. He'd promised himself.

" Fuck baby...you feel so good" Tommy moaned against your ear, his labored breath hot against your skin. "Let me make you feel good eh?" He said breathlessly, sliding his finger down between you both as he pressed on the small bundle of nerves swollen from his thrusts. Just relax. You told yourself. And for the love of god, stop fucking thinking too much. You berated yourself once again as you closed your eyes, a feeling of guilt pooling in your stomach from the little attention and affection you had given your husband since the birth of your son. One month since you were last intimate, one full month since you had let him get close to you. Had he been with someone else? Your brain quickly panicked at the thought of him with another woman when a hard thrust from Tommy had you moaning into his shoulder, your hands threading through his soft hair as he kissed down your neck sending a ripple of goosebumps over your body.

"Wait...Tommy not there" you pulled his head up as his tongue swiped over your nipple. "Shit" you huffed as a trickle of milk flowed down your cleavage whilst you frantically scrambled for the freshly laundered sheets to wipe away your embarrassment.

"Y/N, darling, it's ok" Tommy chuckled, kissing tenderly around your swollen breast as he rocked his hips into you, his thrusts suddenly intensifying when his eyes darted down to between you both. "Stop. Let me see you" he said, pushing your self-conscious hands away from shielding your stomach from the small scars you bared from nine months of carrying his child. " Fuck sweetheart...look at you" He moaned watching himself drive in and out of you, his wet length glistening, the sight sending a surge of pleasure through his throbbing cock. He's so into it. Why? Was he just saying these things, was he thinking of another woman? Your mind plagued you as you reluctantly kept your hands by your side. You felt like shit, looked worse than shit. That and your mind was elsewhere, to a never ending timetable of feeds and nappy changes you seemed incapable of getting right. As the room filled with the moans of your husband and the sound of his body basking in the awaited comfort of you he'd been patiently longing for, your eyes drifted over his lean shoulders to your suitcase covered by the netted curtains of your grand bedroom window. With the sudden fear that you had already made your decision, you turned your head to your husband, crashing your lips onto his as you held tightly onto his broad frame. Would this be the last time? The last time you felt the weight of his body on top of yours?

"Tommy..." you whimpered, a tear falling down the side of your cheek, desperate to tell him how much you were struggling as he gasped at your sudden eagerness, unaware of your inner turmoil in the throes of his own pleasure as a surge of electricity fueled by adoration pumped through his body, his imminent high quickly approaching. With every part of you clutching onto him, tightly clenching you both to a daze of heightened arousal, you let go, loudly crying your husband's name.

" Fuck...i'm gonna, Y/N I'm..." Tommy moaned incoherently into the curve of your neck as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh and his hips came to a sudden stop, releasing the built up tension he had been desperate to be rid of inside the tight warmth of your body with a shaky groan leaving his lips. "We've still got it eh?" Tommy chuckled breathlessly moments later as he settled down beside you, pulling you into his strong hold.

"Still" you replied quietly as you turned your head to look at him." I love you" you said longingly, your voice catching in your throat as you buried your face into his chest, hiding the shame in your eyes of the choice you knew you had made.

" I love you too. Y/N what's..." He said, tilting your chin up to look at him, cutting his words off and what he really wanted to ask, as the glazed over look in your eyes sent an uncomfortable heavy feeling of worry to the pit of his stomach. The far-away look in your eyes frightening him more than any enemy he had ever come up against. You were just tired, he'd call Polly tomorrow morning to come and help you with the baby. Tommy reassured himself as he held you tightly in his arms, his hand cupping the side of your head as he pressed a yearning kiss to your temple. This weekend would fix everything.

" Y/N...baby's crying..." Tommy mumbled half asleep as he rolled over, so used to you being the first to bolt up and hurry to your sons' whimpers. A dairy cow in human form, a living comforter to aid your son to sleep. You couldn't help but feel as you rubbed the fatigue from your dry eyes, another surge of guilt hurtling your way for thinking such things.

"Shhh darling, mummy's here" you said flatly as you approached his bassinet, picking him up and cradling him in your arms. "Please William, please stop crying. I'm so tired, I'm..." you sobbed, caressing his soft skin as you placed the tip of your finger to his mouth for him to suckle on. "What do I do? Help me William" you cried quietly in desperation, rocking him back and forth in your arms as you looked up at the ceiling, tears streaming down your face, your mind absent from the fact you were doing it, you were doing everything any mother would do in an attempt to soothe their child. Why couldn't you see it? "I don't know what's wrong with me" you sobbed to yourself, sniffing away the tears as you looked down at your son, his finger holding tightly onto yours as Frances the housekeeper listened outside the nursery door, her hand firmly enclosed around the handle, every part of her wanting to enter and magic your distress away. The thousand yard stare, they called it. She had seen it with her sister after the birth of her niece and then she saw it with you, the moment Tommy returned to work, popping your little bubble of the three of you lying in bed blissfully happy within the comfort of one another. She'd talk to Tommy in the morning. She promised herself as she backed away from the door, and back to her duties. She promised.

"Oh I do like to be beside...the seaside. Oh I do like to be beside the sea" you sang quietly, your bottom lip wobbling with each passing word. "I love you, I love you so much" you cried as you placed your son back into his cot, pulling out your handkerchief with your name embroidered delicately in the center for him to hold, hoping the scent of you engraved into the light fabric would comfort him in your absence." I'm sorry William, I...I can't be the mother you need " you sobbed as his little fingers clutched around the small piece of cotton. "Daddy will look after you, better than I can" you said as you bent down, placing a tender kiss to his head. "I just need a little break, a small one. I'll be back, I promise" Your voice broke, tears streaming down your cheeks as you gently glided your finger over his ear, caressing his soft skin and gently lulling him into sweet dreams and slumber. "Goodbye my love, my sweet, sweet boy" you cried, turning to the door and shutting it as a searing pain shot through your chest, through your shattered heart and the unbreakable bond a mother shares with her child, tearing and fraying from what you was about to do. Would you ever be able to come back from this?

"Come back to bed darling..." Tommy mumbled as you stood beside him, running your hands through the top of his hair, a quiet moan escaping his lips in response to your gentle touch as he lazily reached for your hand before his weighted eyes and tired body drifted him back into a heavy sleep.

"Soon Tommy..." You replied, muffling your sobs as you picked up your suitcase and turned to the door, glancing back one last time to your husband, to the love of your life. Meters away, it may as well have been miles. You thought to yourself as you came to the end of the long driveway of your home when the light of your son's bedroom suddenly turned on in the far distance and the loud call of your name from the depths of your husband's lungs resonated throughout the grounds. There was no going back now, it was done. They were better off without you.

Present day...

"Fuck sake" you mumbled quietly, hiding your face in your shoulder as you frantically wiped your tears away from the memory of the night when you abandoned your family and your former self. As you cursed yourself for being being so weak, so feeble, the small girl seated opposite you scrunched her brow in confusion, her little thoughts plagued with worry as to what had you so upset, as her mother, who looked as tired and weighed down with her own misgivings, sent you a sympathetic knowing smile.

"Hardly the time and place to let one's emotions get the better of them, this is public transport not a woman's bloody wash house" a man seated next to you clothed in the finest of suits grumbled rolling his eyes, begrudging the fact the train was not divided by class when the engine suddenly came to a stop and the mother ushered her daughter out of the carriage giving the gentleman a stern look, all while her daughter conveniently stepped onto, rather than other the pompous man's foot dirtying his perfectly polished loathers. "The little..." He spat as he folded his newspaper in half, turning to face you as if you had a role in the small girls worthy retribution. "Thiefs, whores and murderers. What would one except from this dump they call the second-biggest city in England" he seethed looking at you from head to toe as you stood to leave when he crassly stuck his foot out, causing you to fall face first onto the grimy train floor as a satisfied scoff left his lips. You were nothing to him, a beggar, the scum of the slums of the city he reluctantly found himself in. With no will or want to confront him about what you believe you undoubtedly deserved, you stood up, wiping the front of your dress down and adjusting your hat with only one thing on your mind...your son.

" Excuse me...please, excuse me" you said, pushing your way through the bustling market. You were already late, and with only the briefest of opportunities to get a glimpse of your child until another full seven days passed, and he made his Sunday outing with Frances again, you were desperate to see him. Standing by a stall filled with seasonal fresh fruits and juices you adjusted your woven hat, pushing the knotted strands of hair behind your ears in attempt to make yourself look proper, more presentable. Who were you kidding, you were but a ghost in a crowd full of people. Your disheveled appearance your only shield and cover from any potential sightings of yourself that could be relayed back to your husband. If he cared to know. You thought to yourself as you raised your head, your breath suddenly catching in your throat. There he was, your William. Watching from a distance, you followed his small wobbly steps, his hand holding tightly onto France's as the sun beamed down on them, heading with determination to the market stall he made a beeline for every Sunday. Perching yourself on a large wooden barrel next to a shelf of neatly stacked bottles of cider, you smiled as your shaky fingers came up to cover the joy on your lips as your former housekeeper picked up your son and showed him all the various jars of sweets and lollipops his wondrous eyes were beaming at. "Barley Sugars" you whispered, a small laugh leaving your lips as he pointed to his favorite and only choice of sweets whilst Frances tried to coax him into trying something different, when a smartly dressed man stood beside them turned around. Tommy.

"Barley Sugars again, eh?" Tommy chuckled, nodding to the stallholder as he reached into his pocket for a penny, smiling lovingly at the boy that resembled you more with each passing day. Wha...what was he doing here? You panicked at the unexpected sight of your husband, the last time being the night you had left him sleeping soundly in your shared bed. With shaky legs and your panicked eyes darting frantically around the market for any of his men, you slid off the barrel stumbling backwards into the shelf of cider, causing a small commotion of crashing glass and spilled beverages.

"You'll 'av to pay for that, miss" The seller frowned, waving his finger at you as he came marching around his stall to your trembling body frantically picking up the shattered glass, apologising profusely for the days' takings and mess you had made. With unsteady feet you stood up, your eyes cast down at the muddied ground, unable to meet the piercing stare you could already feel boring into you with every stifled breath that left your lips.

"Y/N..." Tommy whispered as he steadied himself against the wooden frame of the market stand, his knees buckling, his eyes widening in disbelief as time and everything around him suddenly slowed to an abrupt stillness, his ears deafening him with a piercing high-pitched whistle. "Y/N" he voiced louder, as the sound of the teeming market entered his muffled eardrums and your sheepish eyes finally met his." Y/N" Tommy called your name again as he pushed through the crowds of people, his eyes fixed on you as you started walking backwards, tears welling in your eyes from the panic firmly setting in."Y/N Shelby!" His voiced boomed into the crisp spring air, gaining everyone's attention, his brisk pace turning into a quickened run as he stumbled past people in a frantic attempt to get to you. "No! Don't you dare!" He bellowed, fear tightening in his chest as he watched you turn and run out of the market when he misplaced his foot and fell forward, tripping over the curb of the path as the end of your dress glided behind the corner of the bricked wall and out of sight.

" Shit...shit!" You sobbed running through the cobbled streets as you scanned the neighborhood in a frenzy of labored breaths and hysterical cries for somewhere to hide. What was he doing here?

" Hey, hey!" Tommy said, turning the corner onto the street you had been on mere seconds ago as he grabbed the arm of a young boy running past him with a hoop and stick in his hand. "Have you...have you seen a girl, in a...a dark red dress" Tommy asked breathlessly, whilst his mind frantically tried to make sense if what he saw was real, if you were real.

"That way, Mister" the rosy-cheeked child replied, pointing to a back alley leading to a row of terraced houses before running off to his friends that were patiently waiting for him at the bottom of the street. With shaky steps Tommy ran across the road, raising his hand in apology to a car and it's horn blaring at him from the near collision his dazed state caused. With his hands trembling, and his breath held within the tight confines of his burning lungs, Tommy turned the corner. And, there you were.

"Tommy..." You sobbed, backing up against the roughness of the slabbed wall as he stood in front of you, his own eyes welling with the unspent tears he'd been holding in for the past two years in an attempt to push away the reality of your absence.

"You're dead...I..." he said, his voice catching in his throat as he stepped closer, his brow furrowing in confusion at the acceptance he had surrendered to, now thrown into a disarray. " I.. I thought you were dead" he muttered in front of you as you shook your head, the back of his hand coming up to gingerly stroke across your cheek as the soothing coolness of his wedding band he couldn't bare to part with brushed along your delicate skin. But as the initial shock slowly started to fade, Tommy's jaw suddenly tightened and his gentle touch dug into your skin, his fingers twisting in anger as the creases of his brow deepened and the fury of feeling fooled took over. "I thought you were fucking dead!" He snapped through gritted teeth grabbing your chin, his grip painfully pushing into your flesh as he pressed his forehead to yours and his own tears spilled over between the curves of your cheeks. "Fuck!" He bellowed pushing your face away in disgust as he stumbled back to the wall opposite you, pulling his peaked cap from his head to cover his face as his body forced the contents of his stomach up onto the bricked floor. For months he had believed you had killed yourself, thrown yourself in the cut. And for months he blamed himself, burdening his body and mind with the responsibility of your death. The realisation and shock of you being alive was too much for his body to comprehend, even for someone as hardened to life as himself. " I thought you were dead..." Tommy wept quietly as he turned his head away from you, his reserved demeanour crumbling apart, leaving a man broken and tired from two years of heartbreak in its wake.

" Tommy I'm sorry, I..." You sobbed, approaching him as he put his hand out to stop you.

" No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to fucking say sorry" he sniffed back his tears cutting off your meek attempt to apologise as he stood up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his disheveled hair hanging over the perspiration sticking to his forehead." Why?" His voice wobbled barely above a whispered as he searched your eyes for an answer, his back pressed firmly against the brick wall to stop his legs from finally giving in as the adrenaline that had been pumping furiously through his veins slowly dispersed and fatigue took over.

" I couldn't do it anymore Tommy, I..."

" Mummy!" a little voice caught your attention as you turned your head and your eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of your son in Frances' arms mere feet from you, his little hands reaching desperately for you as Tommy watched your panicked reaction, a scoff catching in his throat when your eyes sheepishly darted away from your son and back to him.

"Mrs Shelby..." France's voice broke as her hand flew to her mouth and tears pooled in her eyes at the sight of you standing before her. For she believed as everyone else did, that the poor Mrs Shelby had succumbed to her troubles and parted from this world, now free of her tormented mind.

" Take William to the car, Frances" Tommy ordered turning away, adjusting his coat and demeanour as he breathed heavily through his mouth, every part of him desperately trying to regain some form of composure.

" Mummy! Mummy!" Your son wailed as your eyes brimmed with tears, and you apprehensively stepped towards him with your hands out when Tommy hurried between you both, and you came face to face with the remnants of his anger firmly etched on his face once again. He didn't trust you. Your initial reaction to seeing William not good enough of one for your husband who was now evaluating your every move, your every word.

" Mummy's coming, isn't she?" Tommy said, grabbing you by your arm as he waited for a response, his jaw tightening at every passing second as his patience grew thin, unwilling to let you go, unwilling to give you an option. "Isn't she?"

" Yes" you whispered, nodding your head as Frances hurried to the car with William wailing loudly in her arms.

" Look at you" Tommy said, glaring at you from head to toe, his words laced in disdain as he took off your hat, throwing it to the muddied ground with despise. Disheveled clothes, matted hair and muddied fingers. He had given you the world, given you a warm home, anything you could have wished for and yet you chose this, a life of labor and poverty over him and your son. With a mind clouded with fury, Tommy was doing what he promised he'd never do to all the gods he had prayed to, all his ancestors he had pleaded to if they would just grant him one thing, and bring you back into his arms. He was judging you.

" Wh...why is he calling me mummy?" you said, sobbing as you hurried alongside Tommy's quickened pace, his hand still painfully grasped onto your arm, dragging you with him to the car. William was only four months old when you left, he didn't know who you were, did he? " Tommy?"

"Just fucking move Y/N" Tommy said, opening the car door and pushing you in, slamming it behind him with enough force to frighten William into tears again. " Frances, please" Tommy sighed pinching his brow, his elbows resting on the steering wheel as William cried loudly in the back of the car. As Frances tended to your child, searching for his brown bear she feared he may have dropped in all the commotion, you kept your eyes fixed firmly ahead of you, your hands clasped in your lap not daring to look at anyone as shame engulfed you and reality hit home that you would now have to face not only what you did but everyone in your life you had left. Tommy had now plunged you head first back into a world you had abandoned without an ounce of sympathy or understanding, the anxiety of what awaited you was becoming unbearable.

Pulling up to Arrow house, the confines of the car were silent, and had been for the majority of the journey with William now soundly asleep in France's arms, the only audible noise being that of the muddied driveway of your forgotten home and the sound of Tommy's flesh gripping tightly onto the stirring wheel. He was furious, the moment he could have only dreamed of as he sought solitude in the pits of grief now engulfed with hatred. As Tommy and Frances exited the car, you stood seated, panic suddenly enveloping you, your body unable to move as you watched the familiar faces of the grounds men coming to a halt as they squinted into the car and at your face they thought they'd never see again. You wanted to run, not from the heavy weight bearing down on your heart but run from their critical eyes and the things you were sure you could hear them saying.

" Get out" Tommy said opening your door, pulling you out and marching you to the front of your once, shared home.

" Tommy" a lady beamed upon seeing him as she waited in the foyer, her dark brown locks cut into a bob bouncing on her shoulders with every step she took as your husband stormed through the grand entrance with your arm grasped tightly between his fingers. "And who's this?" she frowned looking at you from head to toe, her assumptions of you firmly setting in stone from your appearance alone. A thief no doubt, or a whore. She thought turning her nose up at you as her crimson nails curled into her palms as she crossed her arms, ready to have you thrown off the grounds or better, dumped in a ditch. You had no place in this grand house, in the house she was now not only the governess of, but a woman that the maids and workers believed had wormed her way into ruling the manor Tommy had abandoned his interest and care for to the grief of losing you. " Well, who are you?"

" She's my wife"

PART TWO

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[stevethehairington]

Eddie doesn’t tell the Corroded Coffin guys about his relationship with Steve. Not at first.

He knows they wouldn’t bat an eye at the fact that he’s got a boyfriend; they’re cool like that. But telling them who his boyfriend is? They're cool enough to accept Eddie being gay, but dating a jock? Dating Steve Harrington? Eddie isn’t so sure how they’d react to that. 

So he keeps that little detail to himself.

Not too carefully, though, as it turns out.

Eddie shows up to Wednesday band practice with a new ring on. It’s big, just like most of his rings are, but it’s a whole different breed of gaudy, with a huge emerald gem right in the center and thick lettering circling it and embossed onto the sides.

Gareth is the first one to clock it for what it is.

They finished up their first run through of their latest track (something new about a totally badass warrior who's beaten and battered and bruised, but won't let that stop him from throwing himself intro the fray) that Eddie just finished penning the lyrics for, then broke for a quick break and some water. Eddie stands across from Gareth, right hand wrapped around a water bottle, new ring on display. Gareth is close enough that he can make out some of the smaller details now — a paw print, the word ‘Hawkins’ right above it — and then it clicks.

“Dude,” he says, smacking his hand into Eddie’s arm. “You got a class ring? Since fucking when?”

Eddie’s face seems to go through several emotions all at once — confusion, surprise, a brief flicker of panic. It smooths over pretty fast after that, settling into something much more controlled, something much more collected after.

He switches the bottle to his left hand and flattens his right in the air, admiring the ring for a moment. “Oh, this?” Eddie asks with a chuckle, flashing it towards Gareth and the boys (who have all perked up in interest and shuffled closer), too fast for any of them to really get a good look at it.

“Holy shit, that is a class ring, what the fuck, Eddie?” Archie asks, face twisting up.

Jeff looks surprised too, squinting at Eddie’s hand, curiosity painted across his features.

Eddie doesn’t deign any of them with an answer, just sort of shrugs and drops the water bottle, replacing it with his guitar. He twists at the tuning keys on the head of his baby, ignoring it as Gareth and Archie erupt into a flurried back and forth of reasons why in the hell Eddie would be wearing one of those monstrosities.

Jeff is the only one to jump to his defense. “It’s weird, sure, but, like, is it really that bad? I mean, he spent six years there, so what if he wants to, like, commemorate it or something?”

Gareth and Archie turn twin what the fuck looks on Jeff, who just shrugs.

He doesn’t look too convinced of his own argument either — which is pretty merited. Eddie getting a class ring goes against, like, everything he stands for. He’s pretty sure he’s ranted about how stupid class rings are. How pointless they are. Plus, those suckers are expensive as fuck and Eddie has plenty of other, more important things to put that money towards. All things considered, they have every reason to be suspicious of it.

They all turn back towards Eddie, looking for confirmation or contradiction, but Eddie doesn’t offer them either.

He just gives the ring another short look, shrugs, and says, “So are we gonna get back to playing or what?”

And that’s that.

Except it isn’t.

Because at some point Eddie must have been playing with the ring, and he must have slipped it off, must have spun it around, must have stuck it back on his finger with the other side exposed. The side with the “1985” on full display. Big and bold and hard to miss.

And, of course, they notice that.

“Does that say ‘1985’?” Gareth asks, eyebrows pulled together and mouth curved down into a confused frown.

“‘85? Eddie, dude, isn’t that the year that you were supposed to graduate the first time?” Archie asks, just as baffled.

Jeff elbows him. “No, that was ‘84,” he corrects. “But he didn’t graduate in ‘85 either.”

“So why the fuck do you have a class of 1985 ring then?” Gareth questions. It’s hard for him to look menacing with that floppy hair of his, but he crosses his arms over his chest and fixes demanding eyes on Eddie anyways.

Eddie, once again, does not answer any questions. In fact, the only acknowledgement he does give them is a very casual, very nonplussed “Oh? Does it?” when they keep pointing out that the ring boasts “1985” instead of “1986”.

It’s pretty amusing, actually, listening to them trying to figure it out. But none of them come close to the truth. And Eddie certainly isn’t going to be the one to hand that over to them.

It goes on like this for a few more practices. The mystery of who Eddie’s class ring actually belongs to (because the boys have decided that there is no way it actually is Eddie’s. Not with the 1985.) continues to plague Corroded Coffin — before practice starts, during their breaks, in the aftermath of their jam sessions.

Eddie doesn’t stop wearing the ring, despite it, though. And he always finds a way to change the subject when Gareth, Jeff, and Archie bring it up, or he gives them stupid nonanswers instead that make them huff and puff.

It all comes to a head one day when practice is getting close to ending and a familiar maroon Beemer pulls up outside of Gareth’s garage. The engine cuts, and then out pops none other than Steve goddamn Harrington himself. 

The boys are vaguely aware that Eddie is on friendly terms with Steve, but they don’t know the full extent of it. They don’t know how deep it actually runs. And they certainly don’t know that they’ve been dating for the better part of four months now.

It’s almost funny how they didn’t even think to make that connection.

Until now.

Until Steve Harrington saunters his way up Gareth’s driveway and stops in the mouth of the garage, arms crossed loosely over his chest, head bobbing along like he’s actually enjoying the noise they’re making. There’s a certain look on his face, in his eyes — something pleased, something contented, something unbearably soft, as he watches them jamming out. As he watches Eddie jamming out.

They’re in the middle of a song, and everyone’s sort of lost in their instruments, lost in the music — except for Gareth. He spots Steve first. He sees that look on his face, follows his eyes to find them glued to Eddie. Observes for a few seconds, and watches as Steve’s stare doesn’t waver once.

He only has eyes for Eddie.

And that’s when it clicks.

Gareth’s hands stop moving, the drumbeat cutting off as his sticks just hover and he stares, slack-jawed. 

It takes a couple of seconds for the others to notice that Gareth stopped playing, and when they do they stop too and turn on him.

“Gareth, the fuck, dude?” Archie says, throwing his arms out.

“Everything good, man?” Jeff asks.

“Class of ‘85,” Gareth says, dumbfounded, finally pulling his eyes away from Steve to fix them on Eddie, who freezes in the middle of making googly eyes at Steve and slowly turns to meet Gareth's gaze. "No fucking way."

Eddie offers Gareth a sheepish, lopsided smile and a one shouldered shrug. "Surprise?"

[cobaltperun]

Genius (6) - Genius

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next part

Word count: 2.2k

-Won't you tell me all your secrets about how you exploit their weakness, I think you're a fucking genius,-

Cairo sat in her garden, with her legs lifted onto the second chair. She had her eyes closed as the soft wind blew in her face. She was smiling, happier than she’s been in a long time.

She was seen. You were seeing her, the real her, and you were starting to see her trauma as well, all the things she wished she could get over, or tell you about, yet didn’t. She caressed the spine of Jules Verne’s book, she remembered how captivated the two of you were by it, by the simple idea of traveling the world. Of leaving this place and seeing everything, absolutely everything the world had to offer. Would she be able to do it? That was one of her dreams, fulfilling the trip around the world in eighty days, well, she doubted she could see everything in eighty days, but start from one trip around the world and then pick another route.

Would you be willing to go with her? Did you love her? You came after her, you went out to look for her, well so did Winnie. You went back into the forest and brought the roses to her backyard and she opened her eyes to look at them. It’s been one day since you brought the pots and planted them, hoping they would sprout roots.

If a wild rose could be moved, if it could be released from the roots that kept it tied to a place that wouldn’t let it grow and blossom, maybe she could do the same. Was it too late to stop whatever was going on with Miller? Did she already cross a line? Did he have expectations of her right now? She still desired the love he described, that madman’s love that she felt she’s been missing her whole life, but now that she thought about it she thought about your arms around her yesterday, when you finished working with the roses.

Was that her madman’s love? How did you feel about her? She wasn’t sure, but she hoped, and if she wanted to be fought for, she would fight for you as well. She got up, and went inside, heading right for her room where her laptop was. She got comfortable, opened a blank word document and began typing. She put all of her feelings, all of her desires on the page, releasing the feelings she otherwise wasn’t sure how to handle. How would you act if you knew how much she wanted you right now? How much she craved to feel your arms around her again? And in the midst of all of those thoughts she dared to let her mind wander to how your touch would feel on her bare skin. How mad could you drive her? How passionate were you? How about her? She’s never done it, she’s only read about it, how assertive would she be? She didn’t know, but she wanted to find out with you.

~X~

You sat in your bedroom, your guitar in your arms as you played the acoustic cover of ‘She is’ by The Fray, you didn’t know why that song came to your mind out of blue, but you knew who you wanted to play it for.

“She is everything I need, that I never knew I wanted,” you sang softly, closing your eyes and pulling the notes and lyrics from memory. How long has it even been since you’ve listened to that song? Yet you still remembered it down to the smallest details.

The shakiness of Cairo’s breath as the two of you hugged, the slightest tremor in her voice, the soft whisper, you couldn’t get it out of your head, any of it. She was intoxicating and it was maddening how much of an affect an innocent night of nothing but reading made you notice all the things you weren’t sure you were meant to notice.

She was your childhood friend. You were trying to rebuild that friendship.

“This is going to bring me to my knees, I just want to hold you close to me,” yet you still sang, still knew full well that your heart was beyond reason, that you could no longer see her as a friend. Your mind demanded control over your feelings, demanded that you stop and reconsider, that you take into consideration how fast this was all going. You haven’t been back home for a month and already you were having a turmoil over your feelings for your childhood best friend.

But your heart overpowered your mind and the thoughts of Cairo brought forth a melody you were hearing for the first time, one coming from your heart, filled with longing, desire, all the emotions you still weren’t sure you should share with Cairo.

Would she accept them? Or would she deny the pull she had on you and demand to stay friends?

“Break me down, shape me into something just for us,” you tried adding lyrics to the tune you were creating.

~X~

The next morning you arrived at school a bit earlier than you were supposed to, you just had a bit too much energy this morning and figured you might as well wait for the classes to start at the school instead of at home. You got off your motorcycle and began taking the protective gear off. The school was close, but, you knew better than to take unnecessary risks on the motorcycle. It doesn’t matter how short the ride is, but if you get into an accident or not, and you can always get into an accident, no matter how careful you are. Not all drivers were as careful and that made protective gear mandatory to you.

“Y/N! Hey,” you heard Winnie yelling and looked behind you to see her and Cairo walking across the parking lot. Knowing them they were going to grab a bite.

“Hey!” you took your helmet off and grinned at her before you turned to Cairo, your grin morphing into a softer smile. “Welcome back, Cairo,” you skipped school on Tuesday, but you went yesterday, unlike her.

“I’d say it’s good to be back, but I’d be lying,” she smiled back, shifting her weight so she was leaning more on her left foot and raising her right knee up a bit for a moment, all the while keeping a hand resting on her hip. She dressed a bit different than what you were used to, thigh highs, a shorter skirt and the sweater she had on hugged her body almost a bit too perfectly and you resorted to imagining rather unappealing things to keep your mind from wandering because no, you were not about to become a horny teenager now. No! You wanted none of those thoughts right now!

No matter how attractive Cairo was regardless of what she was wearing.

“You okay, Y/N?” Winnie almost sang, she knew exactly what was on your mind, or what you were trying to keep from being on your mind and she had no intentions of helping you.

“Yup! Perfectly okay, thanks for asking,” you coughed to cover up a slight crack in your voice. ‘Damn it, Cairo, have mercy,’ you thought when you noticed the smile on Cairo’s lips turning into a small smirk.

“If you say so. It’s totally okay if you aren’t fine, you know?” Winnie reassured you and closed the distance so she could pat you on the back. “Wanna go grab a bite with us?” she offered and there was no way you’d accept. You’d be in for a teasing of your life and you still weren’t entirely sure Cairo dressed up like that for anyone, let alone you.

“I’ll skip, I don’t have the first period off,” which was true as well. Going with Cairo and Winnie would mean skipping class, and you kinda needed to listen to this one, otherwise you’d fail it miserably.

“Aw, and I looked forward to teasing you,” Winnie pouted, as if she was actually that disappointed. Actually, she might be just that disappointed.

“Right, I was really looking forward to that,” you said blankly and then turned your attention back to Cairo. “So, wanna ditch the village with me on Saturday?” you asked, a bit too hopefully for your own taste.

“Of course,” Cairo nodded, she approached you and fixed the collar of your jacket a bit. “I’ve been meaning to ask you the same thing,” she admitted, lifting her chin up while you were looking down. Just a few inches separated her lips from yours and you swallowed hard.

“Really?” you managed to speak up, your throat suddenly felt really dry.

“Yeah, I wanted you to take me on a trip, just the two of us,” she admitted, and you nodded.

“I will, I promise you,” you whispered, for a moment forgetting Winnie was even there.

“Ooh, can I come and watch?” Winnie suddenly broke whatever bubble you and Cairo created and you took a step back as Cairo glared at Winnie. The shit-eating grin on Winnie’s face told both of you she deemed the interruption and the potential consequences of it worthy.

You cleared your throat and took a few more steps away from Cairo. “Right, I’ll see you two later,” you waved at them and headed toward the school, unaware of what was about to transpire.

~X~

Cairo watched you go, a small smile on her face gave her away, but then she heard Winnie chuckling and raised an eyebrow. She already had a bad feeling as Winnie approached her with a teasing smile on her face.

“Oh no,” she sighed, not sure what to expect from her best friend. Whatever it was, the mischievous look in her eyes made Cairo more than a little worried.

“Oh, Y/N, I can’t wait for you to take me,” Winnie moaned sensually and pushed her breasts up, her lips parted as she went down a bit only to slowly, with her hips swaying slightly straighten up.

Cairo blushed furiously. “I didn’t say that, and especially not like that,” she looked back toward the direction you went in and felt relief at you not being anywhere in sight. “And take me on a trip, not take me,” she muttered as Winnie smirked at her.

“Mhm,” Winnie didn’t believe her, that was clear and much to Cairo’s horror she got on your motorcycle. “Yes, Y/N, fuck me on your bike! Yes, Baby, get that engine purring!” she was leaning forward, jokingly raising her hips up and winking at Cairo.  

“You need to get off her motorcycle!” she pleaded, already embarrassed enough. “And I don’t want that!” even if she did, you were very protective of your motorcycle, there was no way you’d bend her over it and fuck her.

“Maybe, but you thought about it,” Winnie finally got off your motorcycle but the teasing certainly wasn’t over.

“I didn’t,” Cairo denied it a bit too quickly, and maybe the thought did cross her mind, but again, you wouldn’t agree to it, so it didn’t matter. “And weren’t you all for wagyu beef?” she tried to remind Winnie that you weren’t the one she was supposed to seduce, even though she remembered Winnie changed her mind, but she needed something to get Winnie’s mind off you and Cairo fucking on your motorcycle.

Winnie waved her off with a playful scoff. “That’s in the past. You, my Sweet darling, need someone young and owning a bike,” she teased, brushing her fingers over the handles of your motorcycle and then pretending to rev it up. “This bike in particular, just so we’re clear,” she smirked.

Cairo rolled her eyes at that. “Let’s just go and eat,” she hoped the promise of food would make Winnie stop already, seeing as nothing else was working.

“You’re paying this time,” Winnie nudged her.

“Only if you stop teasing me about Y/N,” Cairo felt hopeful, she should have known better.

Winnie looked through her bag and fished out her wallet. “Would you look at that, looks like you’re out of luck.”

This was hell. She had no doubt about that.

~X~

That day after the classes she dropped by the post office and looked around for the mailman assigned to her part of the village, meaning he also delivered to your place as well. “Hey, I was wondering if you’d be willing to do me a favor?” she said with a polite smile and two hundred dollars peaking right for him to see.

“Maybe,” he said slowly and she slid the money and an envelope across the table. “I need you to deliver this, not to the address written on the letter, but to another address instead,” she slipped another paper, this one with your address on it.

What would you do? Wait until Saturday and bring the letter to her at a convenient moment, or would you use the chance to come and see her? She wanted to see if you were as eager to spend time with her as she was to spend it with you. If you felt the madness she felt, or if you could resist it.

She hoped you wouldn’t be able to. She hoped you longed for her as much as she longed for you.

A/N: Well, a short one, but sometimes these happen as well. But, would you look at that, we're halfway done!

Taglist:@deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund @tekanparadiae

@alexkolax @ioveyouyouloveme @aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh @autorasexy

[lexirosewrites]

for slick sunday (apologies in advance this is long, i've had THOUGHTS)

i went to bath and bodyworks this week and they have some stranger things scents as part of their halloween lineup this year. one of the three scents (i shit you not) is EDDIE'S LEATHER JACKET. i immediately bought the candle. it smells (for lack of better imagination) like eddie hugging you, your face in his chest, and all you smell is his body wash fresh from the shower and the smoke off his leather jacket.

imagine a!eddie survives and his involvement with s4 rockets corroded coffin into fame, fortune, a sweet record deal, and a cross-country tour. it all happens so fast that by the time the dust settles, o!steve and eddie realize (independently of each other) that they never had that first date or explored what this budding romance could turn into.

cut to a year later, steve has settled nicely into his role as the manager of a cards and boardgames store, where the kids and the hellfire club play when not at school. eddie is in town after corroded coffin's tour and hears about this awesome new place that's right up his alley. cue a deer-in-headlights moment between eddie and steve, and the suddenly overwhelming pheromones they're putting out are stinking up the place, to the hellfire club's amusement/annoyance, but these two idiots are only focused on each other's scents.

eddie invites steve and anyone he wants to bring to a huge show and afterparty corroded coffin is throwing to celebrate their tour finishing. (the hellfire club is indignant about not getting invited, but this is a /rockstar/ party in the 80s.) that spark they felt last year is still there, but they're too hesitant to flirt or address it outright.

at the show, robin practically drags steve to the front row. eddie looks so goddamn good up there, performing like the devil himself, and at some point during the set he tosses his leather jacket AND his shirt aside. sweat glistens on his bare skin, highlighting some tattoos that steve is pretty sure were not there before. steve can't help the wishful thinking when eddie's gaze seems to linger in his direction during the ONLY ballad (the lyrics of which are both romantic and suggestive). robin excuses herself to get them some water (you gettin' hot and bothered, harrington? she teases). during the final number, a bunch of other front-rowers and even the band start showering the stage with beer/champagne/etc. steve gets caught in the fray and his shirt gets soaked, and when the afterparty starts eddie pulls him aside and apologizes for all the chaos.

after making sure that steve is okay (and robin turns out to be /very/ distracted by one of the girls who was also in the front row) eddie asks if they can finally have a quiet night to talk about the clearly mutual attraction. he's absolutely drenched and reeks of alcohol, though, so steve agrees to wait in eddie's fancy hotel room while he showers. eddie tosses steve a clean shirt and heads off.

steve can't help getting so turned on, surrounded by eddie's scent, shown the most courtesy from an alpha since the fall of king steve, and treated with such obvious interest romantically, sexually, and otherwise. and yeah, eddie's shirt has his smell, but it's clean and the scent is weak, and his leather jacket is /right there/ and eddie wore it tonight so the scent is stronger and maybe it won't hurt to just have a quick sniff and revel in those raw pheromones and—

when eddie finishes his quick shower, he finds steve in a flash heat, nose buried in the collar of the leather jacket, dripping with slick, squirming and grinding where he's still sitting on the sofa. it's so fucking hard to resist when steve begs so desperately and prettily for the half-popped knot in eddie's jeans, but eddie insists on holding off any talks of knotting until the morning, when the flash heat is over. in the end steve acquiesces to riding eddie's thigh /hard/, cumming so hard he passes out after. there are sure to be bruises on his hips where eddie's vice grip was. eddie performs the aftercare as quickly and thoroughly as possible, getting steve dressed in clean clothes top to bottom before tucking him in. eddie showers a second time, and he cums pretty fast with steve's slick-soaked panties around his cock.

when he's done, he leaves the room key with a short note on the nightstand for steve to find in the morning, then goes to see if he can crash on the sofa in a bandmate's room.

steve wakes up, flash heat over, with memories of last night in vivid detail. the fact that the flash heat is over means eddie didn't fuck him, the fact that he's clean means eddie took care of him after, and the fact that he's alone in bed with the room key and the note means— steve stops thinking about it so hard, because thinking just results in wanting eddie to fuck a litter into him, which will definitely trigger another flash heat.

after a few dates in the following weeks, steve gets what he wants.

listeeeeeennnnn, i had no self control with the bath and bodyworks stranger things collection. i bought most of the candles, hand sanitizers holders, etc. apparently a lot of people hated the eddie’s leather jacket one, but i didn’t think it was bad!!

that being said, i’m delighted by the fact that a candle inspired this🥰🥰

[bradshawsbitch]

songbird | bradley bradshaw x f!reader

masterlist | part two

i am dedicating this fic of filth to my sweet sweet friend @rolycolysficrecs who puts up with me and let's me scream about linguistics and biting to her<3

description: Bradley and you have rented a cabin for a winter getaway. Maybe the seclusion and beauty will offer new experiences?

disclaimer: explicit smut. 18+ minors dni!!!

warnings: afab!reader, explicit smut, mentions ptsd, mental health mentions, mentions of scars, mentions of stretch marks (m and f), oral (m and f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, body worship (m and f receiving), daddy kink, nipple play, emotional sex, sub space, tears, choking if you squint, minor breeding kink, aftercare, ab riding, slight hair pulling

word count: ~7K

tagging people who might like: @roosterforme @mak-32 @theharddeck @lt-bradshaw @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @notroosterbradshaw @currentlybradshaw @bradleyssweetheart

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for you, there’ll be no more crying.

The sweet sounds of Christine McVie’s lyrics permeated the air of the small wooden cabin, the light crackling of the vinyl player further emphasizing the serene ambience of the candle lit living room. Rooster was stood in the adjoining kitchen, preparing two cups of irish coffee, currently stirring the hot coffee - the soft clinks of the spoon hitting the sides of the cups soothing you as you sat on the sofa in front of the open fire. 

Outside the window, large flakes of snow were falling from the skies, like fluffy cotton balls that engulfed the earth, covering it in a heavy weighted blanket. As you glanced at your boyfriend, your heart ached with love for him. It had been a heavy night and start of the day for him.

Usually you could hardly tell that Rooster had had a bit of a rough go at life, and that his work sometimes put him under immense stressors. He took it in stride, spreading his unconditional joy without abandon. But some days, like this one, he just couldn’t give anymore. And that was perfectly alright. He never told you, but you could recognize the signs well enough by now. 

It was December, and the holidays were coming up, which you knew were sometimes a hard time for Rooster. The two of you had barely had any sleep during your first night in the cabin you’d rented for the week - it happened sometimes when there was a change of scenery for Bradley, when he wasn’t on the job. 

It was like his body somehow refused to relax, and therefore replayed stressful events to kickstart his fight or flight, just in case. After having lived with Rooster for some time, you’d learnt how to best deal with your partner as he woke up in a cold sweat, or when he laid awake for hours - sleep evading him until the early morning hours.

It was like his body somehow refused to relax, and therefore replayed stressful events to kickstart his fight or flight, just in case. After having lived with Rooster for some time, you’d learnt how to best deal with your partner as he woke up in a cold sweat, or when he laid awake for hours - sleep evading him until the early morning hours.

You knew what it was like to love him through it all. You never tired of holding him when he needed it, never tired of gently wiping his tears away and soothing his frayed nerves. Never tired of talking soothingly to him, never tired of trying to gauge what sort of reaction he would have when he came to. Although you knew he thought you were beginning to tire of it. 

You wanted to tell him, much like Christine sang, that it was alright. You loved him. All of him. Quirks, happy and sad, and you could never tire of trying to make him the happiest he could be. 

Looking up at your boyfriend as you heard him whip cream by hand for your drinks, you were once again overwhelmed by the feelings that sprang from somewhere deep within your chest - taking in his tall and broad form.

Bradley might be tall and broad, but you knew that he must feel very small right now - and you wanted him to know that it was okay to be small sometimes, it was okay to not withstand and push through it all. It was okay to rest. He could rest with you. But you knew, deep down, that your words wouldn’t be enough to convince him - so you were going to have to show him. 

for you, the sun will be shining. 

Sitting down next to you, Bradley gingerly put your irish coffees down on the low table in front of the cozy sofa. Sighing softly, he tried to let his body relax into the cushions, his upper body leaning heavily against the backrest - palms going up to rub at his eyes. He’d slept horribly, and he woke you up because of his sitting upright with a strangled gasp that bordered on a groan from his nightmare. 

As usual, his too-good-for-him girlfriend had held him close to her chest as he rambled anxiously, keeping his palm over her steady heartbeat to soothe him and help ground him. It always worked, which ticked Bradley off. Of course he was thankful, but he was so tired of not being able to manage it on his own. He’d finally fallen asleep, his head on your chest, counting your heartbeats and matching his breaths to yours, your fingers in his hair, soothing him.  

“How’re we feeling, honeypie?” your soft voice broke the silence that had stretched in the cabin. Those words alone had indignant tears burning behind Bradley’s closed lids. Why? Why did you caring so much for him make his chest ache like this? 

“I–” Bradley had to stop himself, his voice nearly breaking from emotion, shaking his head and swallowing. Your soft body soon crawled over to him, straddling his bare thighs, settling on top of his boxer-clad lap. At the feeling of your weight pressing against his chest, feeling your soothing hands smooth over his navy blue hoodie, Bradley let out a shuddering breath, a tear slowly falling from his closed lids at last. 

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know that?” God, the sweeter you were about his bad day, the more he felt like breaking apart. “I know,” he choked out “I just so badly wanted this time to go well,” Bradley confessed, feelings of shame and disappointment rolling over him like powerful tides.

“I know, sweetheart,” you murmured against his pulse point. “You do know that one bad day does not mean that this trip is in any way ruined right?” his heavy sigh told you that he did not know that. 

“Bradley,” the way his name rolled so softly off of your lips had his heart stuttering, and as he felt your palms cradling his cheeks, he dared open his amber eyes to meet your loving gaze. “Every moment I get to spend with you is a moment I love. Of course, I love seeing my beautiful, happy Rooster - but you, Bradley, are the most important.” his girl took a beat, letting the words sink in before continuing “I will love you in every which way you come, okay?” 

Was this unconditional love? The feeling of being loved even though you felt wholly unlovable? 

“It must be hard, loving me,” Bradley couldn’t help but air out some of the fears that plagued him sometimes when he was on his lonesome, with no one to distract him from his own head. To his surprise, an airy, light laughter fell from your lips as you smiled down at him

“Darling, loving you is as easy as breathing,” your voice was warm with tenderness “besides, I’ve heard that the hardest ones to love, are the ones who need it most,” 

A long, ragged breath escaped from Bradley’s throat, some of the tears that had nestled in between his eyelashes slowly rolling down his scarred cheeks as he looked at you. The furrow of his brow was still there, and you reached out to softly let your thumb grace over the crease. He did feel like he needed love. He needed your love, and it scared him. Because if he needed you to feel good - what would he do when you weren’t there anymore?

“Can I show you all my love?” you whispered, eyes flitting fast over his face, as if you were drinking him in, afraid he might evaporate into thin air if you took your eyes off of him for too long. Bradley didn’t quite understand what you meant, so he just nodded. 

and i feel that when i’m with you, it’s alright… i know it’s right

Your hands left their perch on top of his shoulders, slowly ghosting down his arms, softly playing with the hem of the bottom of his hoodie. The slight cold touch of your fingertips against his bare lower abdomen had him sucking in a small breath of air, but you just continued further up - fingertips grazing across his abs, the fabric of his shirt bunching on your forearms.

As your palms reached his pectorals, Bradley got the hint and reached his arms over his head to let you remove his clothing for him, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. 

Tender eyes gazed at his upper body, and Bradley’s brown eyes held an unreadable emotion within them as they took in the sight of you admiring him. Your smile sent butterflies to his stomach, and he had to take another deep breath to steady himself as your palms caressed the sides of his waist. Slowly, you slipped off of his lap, down to your knees below the sofa. 

Bradley was surprised when all you did for a few moments was caressing and massaging his thighs, just settling in between his knees, looking up at him with those loving eyes. 

“I’ll love all of you, Bradley,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over his left knee. A spot where he knew his skin was scuffed from the many times he had slid on it to reach a base during baseball practice years ago. It was rather faded, but still visible if you knew where to look. Obviously, you did know. Your ever moving hands had slid upwards, slipping underneath the fabric of his black boxer shorts, softly massaging his upper thighs. 

A soft groan slipped past Bradley’s lips as his head tilted slightly backwards at your ministrations. All too soon, your hands disappeared to linger at the waistband of his underwear, inching them downwards. Bradley was all too happy to help you slide them off, and he raised his hips slightly to get them down his legs. 

Bradley softly tucked his lower lip in between his teeth at the sight of you kneeling in front of him. He wasn’t exactly embarrassed about the fact that you already had him half hard. However, you didn’t seem to be on the type of mission Bradley had originally thought. You only kept your eyes on his, smiling softly as he furrowed his brow in confusion. 

Instead, you leaned forward, letting your lips connect with his thighs, hands placed just above his knees. Your mouth ghosted over his hot skin, your breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. As your face neared his v-line, you let your lips land at the junction of his hip and thigh, and the sensation of the soft touch sent a shiver down Roosters spine along with the softest of pretty moans. 

Your nose was tracing along the side of his hip, before you slowly inched your lips and tongue towards his lower abdomen. At the sensation of your tongue licking and softly sucking at the skin near his happy trail, Bradley let out a long, breathy moan - his cock twitching at the pleasurable touch. 

“Does that feel good, Bradley?” you hummed softly against his skin, your upper body slotted between his thick thighs, your hands now steadying themselves on his waist, your forearms pressed close to his body as your nose and mouth pressed against the skin right by his navel.

“So good, baby… oh god,” Bradley moaned breathlessly. 

The feeling of the muscles in his abdomen tightening and relaxing made a rush of heat flow like a steady, warm stream to your very core, and you bit your lip softly as you gazed up at your blissed out boyfriend. His large hands had rested on your shoulders, where his thumbs gently stroked over the exposed skin where his large t-shirt hung slightly off your shoulder. 

“I love you,” you whispered against his skin, your lips sealing your words into the space where they had hit him below his ribs. Your hands soon covered his larger ones, gently guiding one of them so that your lips could press against his palm, and then his wrist, your other hand ghosting over his forearm - fingertips softly touching all of the little scars he’d got from the regular wear and tear of life. Signs of being alive.

You stroked a larger scruff, where you knew he’d gotten burnt once trying to help Mav with his jet, placing a gentle kiss to the mark before moving on to his bicep. Suddenly, the palm of your hand felt rather small as it stretched over his muscle, gripping slightly to feel the soft skin. Bradley was practically vibrating at the sensations you were giving him, his breaths becoming shallow and the occasional sharp intake of air could be heard through the silent cabin.

Lips pressed softly against the stretch marks that had accumulated where Bradley’s bicep met his chest, you hummed softly at the feeling of your body pressed up against his. His warmth seeped into your every pore as you loved him. Kissing his sternum softly, you looked up at him with a soft smile, and you were sad to see his amber eyes filled with an unreadable emotion swirling within them, tears sitting unshed on his lash line. 

“Is it too much?” you murmured, concerned, gently cradling his right cheek in your hand. Bradley immediately leant into your touch, shaking his head. “I really like how it feels,” Bradley’s voice was gravelly as he confessed, filled with emotion. Your smile soothed him, and your heart clenched at his answer. Did he mean your touch? Or your unconditional love? Either way, it tugged at your heartstrings. 

and i love you, i love you, i love you - like never before

Placing your hands on the top of his knees again, you slowly rose to straddle his lap once more, letting a soft moan slip from your lips as you felt him hard against you. Bradley’s soft release of air, his head tilting back to expose his neck and throat to you, did nothing to alleviate the burning heat in your abdomen.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured against Rooster's skin, lips pressed against his left shoulder, where another mark sat upon his skin. This one was larger, a little jagged, and you paid it as much attention as the other marks - giving it a soft kiss before moving up towards the junction of his neck and shoulder. There you ventured to softly let your tongue out to taste the warm skin, gently sucking the tan skin into your mouth momentarily, leaving the faintest of your own marks on his skin. 

As you had left kisses up the side of his neck, you pulled back to look into his eyes - pupils slightly dilated and chest heaving slightly, you never thought Bradley had looked so breathtaking before. 

“I love you.” the statement was final, and he would have to take that as it was - the truth. It looked as if something clicked into place in Bradley’s eyes, as your thumb stroked the long scar across his throat, sliding up to softly caress the marks on his chin, before playfully ghosting over his bottom lip. Breaking the eye contact with Bradley, you finally let your lips leave butterfly kisses all along the left side of his face, ending up with your forehead pressed against his, lips hovering above his. 

“Thank you,” Bradley spoke softly. His large hand had snaked up to cradle the back of your head, the other one settled on your hip. Smiling, you pressed a slow kiss to his lips, wanting to taste him fully. His tongue skillfully met yours in a slow, sensual kiss that took the breath out of you entirely. The hand that had moved to stroke the back of your head had tangled into your hair, softly massaging and tugging as his tongue moved against yours - eliciting soft whimpers and moans from you.

His hands slowly reached beneath the large t-shirt that hung off of your frame, his large, warm hands caressing the cool skin that sat underneath, lingering on the spot just above your hips, gently kneading the skin there, before his hands moved further up. Thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts.

A soft whimper rolled from your lips at the sensation; even though you were determined that this venture was all about Bradley. So after only a few short moments of feeling his large hands massaging your tits slowly, and a few soft moans escaping from your lips, you softly push his hands away. Swiftly you removed yourself from your boyfriend's lap, sinking down onto your knees in between his thighs again.

“I’m not done loving you,” you smiled a little, and Bradley quirked a brow, a soft smile on his own lips to match yours. “Is that so?” he murmured, gently cupping your chin in his hand, squeezing slightly. 

Licking your lips, you slowly sank down onto the balls of your heels, taking in the sight before you. Bradley was sat naked on the large, stretched out couch, head tilted slightly back as your hand wrapped around his now fully hard cock. 

“So pretty,” you murmured softly, and Bradley huffed out a breathless laugh, almost embarrassed. Deciding to finish worshiping your boyfriends body as it had started, you pressed hungry kisses against his thighs, working your way upwards. This time, however, you decided to leave tiny little bite marks here and there - teeth sinking into the warm skin softly. Those actions rewarded you with sounds from your lover that had you clenching and almost whimpering with need.

Just before you were about to worship the last body part you had left, Bradley’s hand caressed your cheek lovingly, before moving to settle in your hair. The feeling of his strong hold against your scalp had you whimpering louder, and that familiar feeling of being completely safe engulfed you - as it often did when you were intimate with Bradley. He always took good care of you. 

“There’s my good girl,” Bradley rumbled, his voice so deep and raspy you nearly lost yourself to his touch, legs clenching together to relieve the ache that had settled deep within you. His words had fire spreading through your core, up your midsection, settling deep in your chest - his words an anchor and a familiar safety that allowed you complete relaxation, complete surrender and serenity; the very thing you were trying to offer Bradley. 

Finally, you pressed open mouthed kisses on the base of his length as it rested against his abdomen. Bradley let a long moan flow from his throat, and you could almost see some of the tension escape out of his body at your touch. Licking up the length of his hardness, you felt all the silky ridges and veins underneath your tongue and hands.

Wrapping your lips around his hardened dick, you slowly took him deeper and deeper into your mouth, tongue swirling softly against the silky skin, letting your tongue explore all the veins and ridges in full. Bradley’s stuttered moan made you hollow your cheeks slightly, sucking him further into your warm, wet mouth. The hold on your hair tightened ever so slightly, and you could feel that Bradley was trying hard not to buck up into your mouth, his hips jolting ever so slightly. 

You could almost feel yourself losing yourself in him, as you so often did. That small sliver of resilience almost slipping from you, as you heard his pleasure, felt him throb in your mouth. A small whimper started in your throat, and your eyelids fluttered close to not make it too obvious that your eyes were starting to water and almost roll back from the soothing feeling of having him in your mouth, having him love you and hearing his soft moans envelop you like a blanket.  

Licking up his length, you nuzzled for a moment where his thigh met his hips to catch your breath, placing a fluttering kiss to the sensitive skin. Trying so bad to not slip, because this isn’t about you, this is about your love for Bradley - showing him how much he means to you. Yet, Bradley seems to notice - can tell so instinctively what you need, and what he needs too. 

Soft, warm hands pull you upwards, close to his chest before he settles you on his lap again, straddling one of his thighs momentarily.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, the bristles of his mustache lightly scratching where his lips explored. His hands grace down your arms before they squeeze your waist lovingly, gliding up to softly cup your breasts over the fabric of his worn and soft t-shirt.

A sigh tumbled from your parted lips, and Bradley’s right there, humming softly in encouragement. His hands slowly glide down your waist, to your hips, where he for just a moment guides them to rut slowly against his muscular thigh, drawing a strangled gasp from your parted lips.

“You love me so, so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs as his hands move slowly upwards again, massaging your sensitive breasts, drawing soft mewls and whimpers from you - his fingers occasionally brushing your hardening nipples. 

“My pretty baby,” he smiles, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose to gain better access to the skin below your ear, his lips softly latching on to lick and kiss at your pulse point. 

Your needy whine was met by a pleased groan that rumbled from deep within Bradley’s chest, and his naked body pressed hard into yours at the sound, the hot breath that fanned over your neck again making it so hard not to melt into his touch. 

“Bradley–” you sighed in protest, wanting to try to hold on to the small semblance of control you had had on the situation just moments ago. But Bradley only made soft shushing noises, covering your lips with his as his tongue slid over your bottom lip before gently taking it between his teeth. After drawing yet another breathy whimper from you, Rooster let go of your bottom lip to whisper softly in your ear 

“You take such great care of me, honey… will you let me care for you?” 

His teeth gently graces your earlobe, before his lips kiss softly just behind it. In that moment it almost feels like everything falls away except for Bradley. The snow whirling outside the windows doesn’t exist anymore. The crackling fire dancing over the logs in the fireplace are all at once running through your body like liquid water, not actually in the fireplace at all. Though Bradley’s touch resembles the soothing of the cold snow outside that satiates the burn. His hands have snuck underneath your shirt, lifting it above your head and discarding it on the wooden floors.

His lips latch on to your nipples, tongue swirling slowly in circles over the lacy fabric of your thin bra. Head tilted back in pleasure, his name is heard like a prayer to the heavens as it tumbles from your lips. 

His large palm is softly grasping your breast, kneading it gently as his mouth works kisses and licks onto the swell of it. His other hand reaches back to unlatch the clasp, gently helping you drag it down your arms, until it joins your forgotten shirt on the floor. 

“It’s my turn now,” Bradley hums, the small, but genuinely happy smile on his face making tears burn behind your eyelids. Strong hands lifts you from your spot on his thigh, gently laying you down on the soft plaid that was placed on the seat of the couch. Slowly he lowers himself down your body, his nose teasingly fluttering against your skin, his lips sporadically leading the way. 

Soon enough he’s leaning between your thighs, a tight grasp on your calf as he raises it to rest on his well muscled shoulder. There he places a soft kiss, his fingers gracing the outside of your calf, his lips kissing a trail to your knee, where a jagged scar marres your skin from where it had been mended years earlier.

Like you, he gives it a soft kiss of adoration before he continues his journey - stopping to love on the slightly pink and purple toned stretch marks on your thighs. Your breath is unsteady, and you almost feel as if you’re floating - the sensations Bradley is providing the only thing that’s keeping you from slipping. 

“Shh, baby, it’s okay… I’ve got you, love,” Bradley murmurs as he settles, his chest resting in between your spread legs, your thighs slung over his broad shoulders as your whines and whimpers of pleas get all the more frantic. Bradley’s hot breath hitting your clothed core has you licking your lips in anticipation, breath stuttering pitifully in your throat. He hasn’t even touched you yet. 

“So pretty… is it all for me, honey?” Rooster rumbles, amber eyes so filled with lust and love, connecting with yours; taking in the pout on your face, the neediness of your eyes, the heaving of your chest and your soft whimper as you nod fervently at his question. He groans, the sight enough to have him rutting his hard cock once into the cushions of the sofa. 

“Please, Roos– baby, I need you,” your soft plea has Bradley choking on a breath before he presses his lips hard against your lace clad core, tongue darting out to tease the wetness beneath it. “Anything my baby needs,” he mumbles, as he pushes the delicate fabric aside, sinking his long finger into your wet core. A sigh of relief, followed by a small moan rolls from your lips. 

“Good girl,” Bradley hums, his lips softly slotting over your clit as his finger pump slowly in and out of you. He’s sucking and licking at you, swirling his tongue with just the right amount of pressure to have you moaning and gasping. Retracting his finger, his large palms massage the outside of your thighs as he buries his face further into your slick cunt, his tongue slowly sliding downwards to tease at your hole, the tip just slightly slipping in and out and around making you grasp Bradley’s locks hard, giving an involuntary jerk of your wrist at the slow waves of pleasure rolling through you.

Suddenly Roosters’ tongue slips in and he’s properly fucking you with his tongue, his stubbled chin brushing against the delicate skin around your core, and his nose and mustache brushing and teasing your clit. 

The pleasure that’s building in your core threatens to snap, the heat from the crackling fire seeming to have moved to your insides - embers sparking in your veins as every sensation but the feeling of Rooster fades away. Squeezing your eyes shut, you gently push Bradley’s head away from your weeping core, a soft whine leaving your lips as you do so. Bradley just mouths hungrily at the inside of your thighs for a few moments, before he’s caught his breath and continues his exploration of your body that’s laid bare for him.

Bradley’s hands leave the comfortable spot they’ve had, massaging your soft thighs to continue their exploration. Fingertips ghost over chilled skin, softly tracing patterns into your hips before his palm splays across your lower stomach momentarily.

Mustache and lips pressing gentle kisses that spread warmth wherever they caress. Bradleys lips works against your skin, finding freckles, spots and small marks wherever he can - loving them just as easily as you had his. As his hands found a new resting place, holding tight to your waist, his lips once again lavished over your breasts.

Soft mewls left you as Roosters lips closed around your nipple, his tongue working slowly across it before he suckled lightly, pulling the soft flesh into his mouth over and over again. Gasps and needy moans tore from your chest as your body started to squirm, thighs clenching together to alleviate the flaming desire Bradley had awoken in your body. 

Rooster seemed oblivious to it though, moaning against your chest as his palm massaged the base of the breast he currently had sucked into his mouth, his breath becoming shallow as he heard your soft noises and felt the supple skin against his hot tongue. 

“Baby,” your broken, needy whine pulled Bradley away from your chest, and at your small whimper of “need you” paired with the slightest pout to your lush lips, had a fire exploding within his chest. He needed to make sure you got what you needed. He had to take care of you, keep you safe, keep you warm, keep you close.  

“Shh, sweetheart, don’t you worry, I’ve got you - daddy’s got you,” he murmured against your ear, placing soft, soothing kisses to your cheek, where a stray tear had escaped from your lust filled eyes. At his words, you couldn’t hold on any longer. That tiny fraction of control you held for a moment slipped away and a soft sob shook your chest as you moaned 

“Please, daddy,” you weren’t sure what you were pleading for, but desperation ran through your veins, and it seemed as if you could no longer control the soft sniffles and whimpers that heaved through your chest. Bradley’s soft touches, his soothing words touching your skin grounded you slightly, the feel of his fingers entangling with your hair, tugging softly - reminding you that he was there, that you were there. 

“Daddy’s here, baby. Relax, sweetheart… I’ll take such good care of you, I always take good care of you, hm?” Rooster murmured lovingly, his lips softly caressing yours, his other palm smoothing your hair away from your face as he looked down at you. Nodding your head, you reached for him, pulling him down so his weight rested on top of you. Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, you placed several kisses against the scar on his throat. 

Bradley shuddered slightly at the sensation, before his arms wound around your back as he angled his body and turned - so that he was on his back and you were lying on his broad chest. One of his hands slowly reached down, splaying across your thigh - helping you straddle his abs. 

“Pretty, pretty baby,” he cooed as you sat up completely, looking down at him bashfully as you sat with your bare pussy pressed against his hard abs. Bradley’s hands settled on top of your thighs, gently rubbing small circles into them - making your core move slightly against his chiseled stomach. Tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, you let your head roll back a little at the new sensation. 

“That feels good huh, honey?” Rooster rasped, the sight of his girl on top of him, softly rocking against his abs for her own pleasure enough for him to let a rough groan slip, fingers tightening on her thighs to help her ride his midsection better. 

“Yes, daddy… so good,” the sentence was punctured by a long, erotic moan. Bradley’s hard cock was already leaking from the pleasure of seeing her so blissed out for him, so lost in the pleasure and safety he had been able to provide her through his touch. Waves of pride swelled deep within his chest, and he had to take a deep breath as he pressed your core closer to his abdomen, hearing your soft whines as your clit caught the friction of the ridges his muscles provided. 

“Good girl… my good girl,” Bradley rasped breathlessly, easing his hold on your hips slightly, only to wrap his forearm under the swell of your ass - lifting you up slightly. Your hand swiftly reached down, and Bradley moaned low in his throat at the feeling of your hand wrapping around the silky hardness that pressed against your ass. 

“Bradley,” you moaned softly as you teased your folds with the thick tip of Bradley’s cock, the slick of your arousal coating the swollen, red tip. Rooster’s breath stuttered in his throat as his hands massaged the globes of your ass slowly, groaning as he felt you enclose him more when he pushed your cheeks a certain way.

Throwing his head back, he wondered briefly if this was how heaven felt like. You looked angelic enough, sat on top of him, beautiful face filled with the pleasure he was giving you, lips slightly parted and brows furrowed as you panted slightly at the feeling of his cock teasing your entrance and clit. 

He let you take your time, grinding yourself on his cock, enjoying your soft whimpers as he slipped further and further into your wet heat. Rooster only rutted his hips slightly each time you sank down, and soon you were whimpering and moaning incoherently, the stretch of his thick cock enough to make you delirious. Bradley sat up slightly to caress your cheek, making soft shushing noises to soothe you as you sat still, him bottomed out so deep in you, feeling your sweet cunt squeezing his cock again and again as you tried to adjust to him. 

“Daddy!” your soft sob, paired with your quick breaths had his brows furrowing slightly, his one hand softly finding its place around your throat, not squeezing but merely there as a reminder “Sweetheart…” he murmured, “Look at me,” dilated irises found his and he licked his lips softly “Are we okay? Do you need a break?” he softly let his thumb stroke your cheek, and you nuzzled into his palm whilst shaking your head.

“Do you promise daddy?” he asked again, gauging your reaction as you nodded “Words, baby,” he reminded you. “I’m okay,” you whispered “You just feel so good… you’re so good to me,” your voice was breathless but coherent, and Bradley smiled softly up at you, his dark blonde locks making him look rather angelic as he rested against the sofa cushions. 

“Take your time, my beautiful honey,” he reassured you, letting his hands glide down your spine, allowing you support should you need it. However, your hands splayed across his abdomen, spread where your arousal was still sticking to his skin.

Bradley again felt you flutter around him, and your soft exhale reassured him. Slowly he felt you grinding your hips slowly against him, not letting his cock leave your warm heat, only grinding it deep into your core. The feeling was overwhelming, and Bradley couldn’t help but pressing his head further back into the cushions, letting soft moans fall from his parted lips as he took in the sight of you riding him. 

Bradley slowly started to meet your hips, thrusting ever so slightly against you, his cock barely leaving you before it pressed home again. With one hand resting on your lower back, 

Rooster groaned as his other palmed softly at your breast. You keened at his touch, and you tipped over, letting your chest rest against his as you fell on top of him, kissing at his sternum. Bradley wasted no time in tangling his fingers into your hair, holding a steady grip on your hair as you whined happily. He slowly fucked into you, listening intently to every gasp and moan that he drew out of your mouth. 

“It feels so good when you fuck me like this, daddy,” you moaned softly in his ear “so deep… so slow oh, god– Bradley,” his name was dragged out as he slowly drew almost all of his length out out of your weeping cunt before ever so slowly letting himself sink deliciously deep into you, the tip of his cock softly brushing against your cervix. 

“You’re taking me so good… such a good girl for your daddy,” Rooster murmured, gasps drawn from his parted lips as he ground his cock deeper into you, alternating between thrusting, rutting and withdrawing his cock almost all the way only to sink slowly in again. The sensation was delicious, almost too much so.

Bradley and you had tried a lot of things in bed, you knew each other so instinctively that playing with one another was as easy as breathing - but never had he ever felt so overwhelmed with pleasure as he fucked you slow and steady. Bradley would never have thought that it could be so sensual, so needy, so wonderful. Didn’t think he’d feel his release building up like a slow ember within him, thought he needed it faster or harder - but no. All he needed was you, however you gave yourself to him. 

Nuzzling his face into your neck, he dared one hard, sharp thrust before stilling buried so deep in your heat. You whimpered, babbling softly in his ear as his fingers tugged gently at your hair, earning him a drawn out ‘daddy’, so vulnerable, so reliant on him, so trusting of him. 

“I love you so much, my pretty baby,” Rooster moaned, one hand resting on your ass to help you meet his sharper, short thrusts deep into you. 

“Love you daddy, oh– I’m- I’m so close, daddy” you sobbed, tears leaking from your eyes as you kissed at his pectorals, your tongue swiping over his nipple, teeth sinking into his skin to ground yourself somewhat.

“Fuck baby, me too. Be a good girl for daddy and cum for me? Yeah?” he panted, not speeding up his thrust, but keeping up the agonizing pace he’d set. “Oh,” you gasped as he ground against a spot deep inside your aching core “Please, more, daddy!” you whined, soft moans and whimpers coming closer and closer, your cunt hugging his cock so well as he brushed that spot again and again. He could feel how needy you were, how badly you needed to come undone, so with a soft yank of your hair, Bradley growled out

“Cum for daddy.” it was a demand, he wanted it now. And you, like the good, good girl you were, obeyed his every word, your body reacting so well to his as he drew out his cock and gave a deep thrust that had the rubber band inside your belly snapping, your pleasured cries ringing out in the cabin, your hands grasping his biceps hard as you cried, sniffled and chanted ‘daddy’ over and over again as Bradley fucked himself into you to chase his own high.

“So pretty falling apart all over daddy’s cock,” he rasped as your lips feverishly kissed and nipped at his neck, incoherent sentences moaned against his warm skin “love being your good girl daddy, oh,” moaning as Bradley dared thrust a little faster, breath hitching in your throat as he worked you towards your second orgasm “Daddy, oh— daddy, please, please cum in me! Please fill me, I need you, please,” you babbled, soft whimpers and pouts driving Bradley absolutely insane as you fucked yourself onto his cock, you could feel his cock pulsing in you. 

“Fuck, sweet girl, I’m going to cum so hard, gonna fill your pretty cunt with all of me. Gonna fuck a baby into your sweet belly, honey, gonna make you mine,” Bradley growled, and he didn’t know where all of this was coming from, but as he saw your eyes roll back and your body shudder from pleasure at his words his hips stuttered, once, twice, before a deep, long moan tumbled from his lips as he felt himself spurt hot ropes of cum deep into your cunt.

Bradley had never had an orgasm as intense as this one, rutting his hips again and again against your wet core as he kept spilling himself into you. 

As he came down from his high, feeling his heart beat wildly in his chest as he panted, he felt your form resting on his chest. He swiftly brushed hair from your face, angling himself so he could look at you, make sure you were okay.

You were still spasming slightly, soft whimpers intermingled with needy cries for ‘daddy’ making him cradle you closer to his chest as his cock softened in you. The feeling of Bradley’s hot seed slowly running out of you had you whimpering again, nuzzling your face into his chest. 

“There’s my good girl, so good… you did so well, baby. My good girl,” Rooster hummed, holding you close to his chest as he pressed kisses to your hair and your forehead. 

“Are you okay, sweets?” Bradley asked after he heard your breathing even out, and you nodded mutely against his chest, still biting softly at his skin. “Come, pretty baby, should we clean up and maybe get in the bath? Get some yummy drinks and some snacks? How does that sound?” he hummed, looking down into your wide blown eyes. 

“Sounds so good, daddy,” you mumbled as Rooster rubbed your arms softly. When he slipped out of you, you made a small noise of discontent, and he knew that you wouldn’t react good to him leaving you right now. Therefore, he gently lifted you into his arms, feeling your arousal mixed with his slowly trickling down his hip as he held you with one arm, grabbing some drinks and snacks with the other before moving to the big bathroom.

Sitting down the food, he swiftly worked on getting the water temperature just right for the two of you, before he gently cleaned you, peppering kisses over you face as he worked, smiling at you and telling you how much he loved you. 

At last, as the tub was filled with warm water and bubbles, he gently eased himself into the tub before helping you sit in between his legs - your back resting comfortably against his chest as his arms wound tight around you. Your head was rested on his shoulder, face turned towards his as you smiled. “I love you, so much, Bradley.” you spoke softly, kissing his jaw.

“And I you, baby. Thank you for loving me so well,” he murmured, letting a loving kiss linger against your lips.

[deadeyedfae]

I'm doing this before i talk myself outta it

I make music sometimes

Here is a tiny cover of Look After You by The Fray that i recorded this morning becuase someone sent me it yesterday and it caught me off guard how much i love the song and the lyrics.

Fair warning, ive never deleted anything from my Youtube Channel, some of the stuff on there is pre transition me but meh, if anything it just shows my progress! Though do be wary of the absolute cringe that is the love songs i wrote for people over the years 😂😅💜

[stellar-skyy]

ADORNED NIGHT — Platonic Kazuha, Tomo & reader.

i. SUMMARY: You had two childhood friends; Kazuha and Tomo. Now, it's just you. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Inazuma Archon quest spoilers, character death, grief. iii. NOTES: Platonic, angst, childhood friends!Kazuha and Tomo, gn!reader, 1.5k words. iv. A/N: This is one of the first things I've written and has been sitting completed in my drafts for SO LONG because I didn't like how it turned out, but I can't keep re-editing it. Enjoy!

It’s easy making friends when you’re a kid. Your parents are close to other parents, and you eventually get shoved towards their kids to give you something to do. For you, that came in the form of Kaedehara Kazuha.

He was a quiet child. The kind who would cry when flowers got trampled, or bugs skittered away from his hands. But he was an easy, comfortable presence, and one that found its place by your side.

It was inevitable that you made friends with Tomo after that, with him and Kazuha practically attached at the hip, and it didn’t take long for him to declare you both his best friends.

Whether it be playing adventures in the forest, hide-and-seek around Kazuha’s estate, or just wandering the city of Inazuma, the three of you were scarcely seen without one or both others by your sides.

And you couldn’t be happier.

“Kazu, come on!” You called out after the boy trailing behind.

“Just give me… a minute,” Kazuha murmured. He continued to crouch on the edge of the river, poking at the ground with a stick.

“Are you still frog-hunting?” Tomo asked with amusement in his voice. Kazuha shook his head.

“No, I found something better,” Kazuha suddenly dove forward, scooping something up in his hands. He looked up triumphantly, holding up the animal in his hands, a large purple beetle that wriggled and crawled over his palms.

“An onikabuto!”

“Let me see!” Tomo demanded, leaning over his shoulder. The creature turned around, settling neatly in Kazuha’s hands. “That’s so cool! I wonder if I can catch one too.”

“It is cool,” You admit. “But we should hurry. We don’t have many hours of daylight left.”

Tomo gasps, looking up at the sky. “You are absolutely right. Hurry up, Kazuha! Adventure awaits us!”

“Okay, okay.” Kazuha chuckled, before letting the little onikabuto go. You held your hand forward to help him up, and he grasped it gratefully.

“Onwards!” Tomo announced, marching ahead through to the forest. His voice grew quieter as he strode further through the trees, almost out of your sight.

“We’d better go on before he gets himself lost.” Kazuha said, brushing the dirt off his clothes.

You held out your hand, and Kazuha took it in his.  

You were always told that friends don’t last forever, that these innocent childhood memories would make way for new ones. But the three of you didn’t grow apart; you grew together, like flowers that bloomed within the same patch of dirt. It was hard to imagine a life without them—the two constants in your life.

Tomo began to get bolder in his words. What started as child prone to disobedience quickly turned into a fiercely loyal man who was willing to die for his ideals. He spoke openly in criticism against whatever he found fault in (which just so happened to be the Shogunate), picking apart the frayed edges of their society until it was little more than lose thread in his hands.

But while Tomo grew louder, Kazuha grew quieter. He didn’t cry anymore; his emotions began to smooth themselves out into a perfect balance of calmness. He leaned into his love of poetry, and his already flowery vocabulary became nothing short of lyrical.

Things were changing. You didn’t mind though, because you knew that you would change together.

“Have you heard?” The whispers say. They seem to come from every direction, from the Shogun’s guards stationed around Inazuma, to the lips of shopkeepers hidden behind their hands. “They say he challenged the Shogun herself to a duel!”

“Can you imagine?” The whispers answer. Their voices grate on your ears and send shivers down your spine. Something was wrong, that much you knew for certain.

“It’s such a shame. He was such a lovely boy, too.”

You feel a spike of sympathy for whoever they were talking about. Everyone in Inazuma knew that the moment someone challenges the Shogun, their fate is already bound. It was no wonder they were speaking of him as though he was already gone.

“I feel bad for those friends of his. What will they do without him?”

Did he have friends he was close to, as well?

“Is that… them?”

Something was… most definitely wrong. As you walk across the street, you feel eyes piercing the back of your skull, like the entire city was looking at you. Your steps grow faster, trying to outrun the sounds of their voices. If only Tomo hadn’t left his house early this morning, then there would be no need to go searching for him.

“Do you see…”

“I wonder…”

“Has anyone told…”

“(Name)?” You look up at the sound of your name, to see the shopkeeper from Tsukumomono Groceries staring at you with unhidden shock. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you going to the Tenshukaku?”

“The Tenshukaku? Why?”

“Um… the duel?”

“Why would I want to watch that?” You say with disgust in your tone. “I don’t want to watch some random person’s execution.”

“I—I figured the circumstances were different.” She looked deeply uncomfortable, eyes darting between the crowds of people. “I mean… considering who it is.”

“Who it is? Do I know them?”

“You don’t know,” The shopkeeper reels back, like she had been slapped. Her nervous expression fell away to look horrified at the implication. “No one told you—you don’t know.”

Something was wrong.

A sick, twisted feeling appears in your stomach. “Who is it?”

“I—”

“Tell me!” Your voice cracks in the middle of your words, until there were tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t imagine why; it wasn’t as if it’s—

“Tomo,” She whispers. “It’s Tomo.”

In one night, you lost both of the people you loved.

One was dead. The other vanished without a trace.

You tried to get on as normal—or as normal as you could—but everywhere was a reminder of what you had lost. The memories were scattered across Inazuma, waiting for the moment they slipped your mind to bring you reeling back into the past.

Autumn leaves fell, surrounding your head like a halo. A white cat lingered around the Tenshukaku, waiting for its owner. Signs were pinned on the noticeboards, conversations penned from hands that were unable to continue them.

There were so many relics of the past that you could almost pretend it wasn’t true; that if you waited in your old meeting spot, the two of them would appear and greet you with open arms.

You could imagine Tomo, with his wide grins and bold words, loudly explaining the true meaning of eternity while strangers gave him odd looks.

You could imagine Kazuha quietly beside you, shoulders barely touching, silence only broken by the occasional haiku he had composed in his mind.

You could imagine them both, walking in step with you as you did your daily errands, warding away the crushing loneliness that threatened to destroy you.

Everyone met you with pity, even those who would get annoyed with your antics as children. They offered nothing but condolences for Tomo, and well-wishes for Kazuha. Some offered an ear to listen to your troubles, but you politely decline.

(It wasn’t as if they would ever understand how it felt to lose two thirds of your life.)

The constant eyes were tiring, so the beach became your safe haven. It was free from people, aside from the occasional couple looking to sneak off, or soldier patrolling the perimeter.

Kazuha always loved this spot. It was, in his words, a paradise of solitude, where nature could sit down and breathe.

Tomo wasn’t too fond of it, complaining about the uneven rocks and sand getting all in his clothes. Still, he would linger there with you both, watching the sky until the sun slipped out of your vision.

When the moonlight hits the water, you can lean back with closed eyes and almost hear Kazuha musing various verses about the way the light reflects the sky, while Tomo chuckles beside you, and it almost feels like nothing changed.

That's the funny thing about loss; it isn't made up of absence. You can still feel their presence as lucidly as you used to, it has just shifted from something tangible into something limited in the confines of your mind, and the fleeting moments of joy before you realize they're not there.

And as long as the sound of their laughter still lingers in the back of your mind, maybe you can forget that they're gone.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[inkedroplets]

You Owe me a New Desk

“I know I sprang this on you—” “Because you knew if you didn’t I would say no,” Kara said hotly, wondering if she had also purposefully chosen to tell her at the DEO to stop her from making too big a scene. She glared at Alex, hoping to see a hint of guilt on her implacable face, annoyed when she found none. 

“It's dinner, Kara. you act like I’m trying to marry you off,” Alex said, arms already crossed over her chest, having expected resistance and prepared accordingly. 

“Not yet, anyway,” Kara replied, shaking her head again, her hands still on her hips, fingers digging in to stop her from mimicking Alex’s pose, knowing she would cut a far more intimidating figure. “But at the rate, you’re going …” “It is one date,” Alex said. She snaked her right arm free and held up her index finger, although Kara suspected she would have much rather held up the middle one. “You don’t even need to think of it as a date. Think of it as a night out.” “A night out,” Kara repeated. “Yeah. Do you remember those?” “I missed a few game nights,” Kara said, her already fraying patience dissolving to nothing as they slipped back into the same quagmire they had been stuck in for months now. It seemed no matter what topic, whether it be something as banal as the weather or a metahuman attacking downtown like all roads lead to Rome. Every conversation with Alex always led back to Lena and how (in Alex's words) she needed to move on. As if it could ever be that simple. Although to everyone else it certainly seemed that way. Life for everyone else had simply seemed to have gone on. As if Lena's sudden absence was something that had happened a long time ago. 

There had been a few desultory outings where the conversation often lagged and some of the takeout that normally disappeared so quickly remained untouched. She remembered a game night that had fizzled out after a brief game of Exploding Kittens and turned into an impromptu movie night that had been something Kara had needed to get through rather than enjoy.

But the group (minus Kara) had found their footing soon after that. Karaoke where lyrics were belted out (oftentimes offkey) and at the appropriate eardrum-shattering decibel. Game nights filled with laughter interspersed with the occasional howl of indignation when someone invariably pulled too far ahead in points or when a house rule had been broken whether on accident or on purpose. 

Kara had watched it happen in a state of incredulity, bearing witness to the speed at which things had returned to normal for everyone else, at how fast their fractured circle had closed in reaction to Lena's absence. Life had simply gone on for them. But not for her. And seeing her friends joke and laugh, and have spirited debates over who out of the group would have the best chance of surviving a zombie apocalypse and what were the superior pizza toppings, turned her incredulity to white-hot anger. Anger that had all the forethought of a bull in a china shop. It rampaged around in her chest, seeing red everywhere, looking for something to smash, to gore. It was why she had eventually stopped going to game night, (even if all she had done since Lena’s absence had been to act as a scorekeeper). 

“You’ve missed six,” Alex countered “Six then.” “And every time someone tries to make plans with you, you always find an excuse not to—” “Me being busy is not an excuse,” Kara fired back and gave her cape a hasty flutter, drawing attention to it the same way a magician might before attempting some sleight of hand. In truth, it was an excuse, but with how busy she had kept herself, it would have been hard to accuse her of lying. She had practically begged Andrea for more work, happily snapping up whatever puff piece or blogpost that she threw her way. Andrea had been far too happy that her Pulitzer-winning reporter had suddenly come around on soft news after being so vehemently against it to question why she was now more than happy to pen an article about ‘What your favorite kind of tea says about you’. She had also redoubled her efforts as Supergirl, spending more of her time patrolling the city. Anything to keep busy, to keep herself distracted. Not that it was ever enough. “You can take one night off, Kara…” Alex let out a sigh that sounded like it had been kept under pressure for a very long time, almost a hiss as her gaze that had been so steely just moments ago softened. “I know this has been hard…” No, you don’t.

“I know you miss her.” “I don’t miss her!” Kara shouted. The ensuing silence and the feeling of suddenly being watched as everyone in the room turned to look in her direction made her cheeks burn. Doing her best to ignore the fact that to the others in the room, she and Alex had become the only two players on the stage of a sold-out show she stalked forward so that she could lean close enough to whisper to her. “Kara…” “I do not miss her,” Kara murmured. She pressed a hand flat against her forehead and let it slip over her eyes briefly like a shroud. In the transient darkness, she saw herself. Not a perfect reflection but her as she had looked trapped in the Fortress’ defenses that Lena had reprogrammed on the fly. Defenses that had been put in place originally as a Luthor failsafe… “Okay,” Alex said placatingly. “You don’t miss her. After what she did to you—” And what did we do to her? Kara thought, the image of herself fading from her mind’s eye as she let her hand fall back to her side. “Can we not, Alex? Please?”

“Why don’t you head home for the night?” Alex suggested as if she wasn’t the reason that Kara had stopped by the DEO in the first place instead of heading straight home after her patrol. “Just think about it, okay? The date… or not date.” “Yeah,” Kara said, already beating a hasty retreat towards the door. She could hear the indistinct whispers of some of the agents in the room as clearly as if they were whispering into her ear instead of someone else’s, ignoring the looks of concern on many of the faces she passed. 

I’m fine, she told herself. She repeated that to herself with each step like a prayer. And when she had put the DEO behind her, had flown up high enough so that the city below had become a bed of glittering jewels, she repeated it aloud with the same quiet desperation one might have when earnestly wishing on a star. “I’m fine.”

Kara wasn’t fine. How could she be when there didn’t seem to be a single potsticker in all of National City? She had tried all of her usual places and been turned away for one reason or another at all of them. Catching them as they were closing for the night, being swamped with orders, and just being plain out of food (although Kara could have sworn she smelled something cooking in the back).

She had however been offered an apology each time she had been turned away. Five apologies of varying sincerity did little to blunt her disappointment at being denied one of the few things that might bring her a tiny bit of comfort. It wasn’t until she had returned home defeated that she realized how strange it had been that every place had known her by name. Not that she didn’t frequent any of them enough for them to know her name, but she knew for a fact that none of them did. She had been a regular customer by virtue only, always having to give her name (sometimes several times) whenever she picked up an order. Not that she minded. But it had been odd to suddenly become a known entity at all five restaurants. Even stranger that a few of them had done a very noticeable double-take when she had walked in as if they had been expecting her.

The words: Could this day get any worse? trembled on her lips when she collapsed onto her couch, still in her Supergirl suit. She didn’t dare speak them aloud, though. She knew better than to tempt fate. Knew from experience that life could turn on a dime and be unimaginably cruel. Krypton’s destruction. Having to watch her home be destroyed before her eyes and at that moment (and for a long time after) a selfish part of her had wished she had been destroyed along with it. 

Compared to that, how could a squabble with Alex and being denied her favorite food ever measure up? Only, she knew it wasn’t just that. It was being faced with the fact that her passion for journalism, something that had fulfilled her in a way that Supergirl never could, had seemingly vanished and her attempts (that had become more and more desperate) to recapture it had only made her more sure that it might be gone for good. It was the distance growing between her and all her loved ones and how little she seemed to care as she watched it happen. It was the unimaginable bitterness that ate away at her like acid from how she had hurt Lena and how Lena had hurt her. It was how at times there seemed to be no bottom to her pain. It was the recurring nightmare she had frequently of being back in the Fortress. Watching Lena disappear into the portal with Myriad. Trapped once more in that glittering cage. Even the most vivid of nightmares couldn’t replicate the pain of kryptonite, but what it could do was convince her sleeping mind that she was trapped there. Trapped with no way of escape. And when she woke up drenched in a cold sweat, she wasn’t sure whether she was in her bed, in the Fortress, or back in the Phantom Zone… 

“It’s the potstickers,” she muttered. Her stomach gave a very loud rumble a few moments later, making it that much easier to pretend that’s all it was. She had plenty to work with in her fridge. At a quick glance with her X-Ray vision, she saw leftover pizza, Thai food, and half of a burrito that looked about the same size and general shape as a small anaconda. But no potstickers. “Maybe if Alex didn’t invite me to the DEO under false pretenses to set me up on a blind date,” she muttered, finding it easy to imagine a scenario where if she had arrived only ten minutes earlier her favorite place wouldn’t have run out of food. That very likely outcome annoyed her almost more than Alex trying to dictate her love life. Lena would understand. The thought was like a bolt from the blue, too quick for her to stop herself from thinking it and too ingrained in her to be surprised that she had. Lena had been the one she had always gone to when she wanted to vent, especially if it was about Alex. She had always seemed to know when Kara simply wanted her to listen to her vent and when she wanted advice. Something that Alex still hadn’t mastered. While she meant well, Kara thought she approached helping her with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball at times. Her hamfisted attempt at getting her out of her funk by setting her up with a stranger was evidence of that. 

Alex is being so annoying today! You wouldn’t believe what she did. She actually tried to set me up on a date!! Sometimes she just needs to mind her own business!! And every Chinese place in the city is out of potstickers. And when I say ‘every’ Chinese place I mean every single place. I checked them all.Writing the text was cathartic, the modern-day version of writing a letter that you had no intention of sending. The relief would be fleeting, of course, although Kara had no idea just how fleeting. 

She had tossed her phone aside and begun taking mental stock of what she had in her cupboards and fridge, trying to figure out what to do for dinner when her phone chirped weakly from underneath one of her throw pillows. 

She swiped her finger lazily over the screen and felt her stomach enter freefall.

“Oh, no no no no…” Kara squeezed her phone hard enough to produce an ominous cracking noise that made her drop it directly onto her face. Flinching, she let it slide down into the crook of her neck before scooping it up, careful not to crush it (regardless of how tempting that sounded at the moment). 

She dragged her index finger over the screen and stared open-mouthed at the message she had never meant to send, but had done so anyway. She let her eyes unfocus and slowly zero in again as if that might make the message disappear. 

When her vision sharpened again and she saw the message was still there, Kara let out a low moan, wishing she could have willed it out of existence through sheer desperation, certain that if such a thing were possible she would have no trouble at all pulling it off. 

But it was the message just below it that made her do a double-take. 

I couldn't care less about the potstickers, but please, do go on about how awful Alex is… 

The message was so unabashedly Lena that Kara had no trouble imagining her speaking the words aloud, the imagery so vivid that she could have sworn she heard Lena's voice echoing in her head. 

She stared at it a moment longer before she typed out a very hasty, I'm sorry, not sure what else she could say. Her thumb hovered over the send button, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. That wouldn't get a response. She was certain of that. Not when the other apologies she had sent had never once elicited a response from Lena. The apologies she had agonized over sending in the first place and regretted on the days when her anger at Lena outweighed the pain of missing her, of hurting her. 

[eat-limes-bitches]

The Sounds That Bind Us

PAIRING: Female Farmer! Reader x Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: Music has a way of tying two people together, in ways that only the universe can design.

WARNINGS: umm, major fluff, so so so fluffy! Minor injuries (for Bucky any way)

Word Count: 2967

Alternate Jun-iverse: C4027 | Square 1: Soulmate | Square 2: Country

A/N: OOO! I'm excited for this one yall! I've been working on it for a while! (Hence the word length hehe) But this is my first attempt at a soulmate AU and I hope I did it justice, but I'm really happy with it and I hope you guys love it as much as I do!

Song lyrics are in italics and the songs are:

Honey Take My Hand by Cody Francis

Didn’t See It Coming by My Brothers and I

Fallen Like A Star by St. Lundi

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne, graphic by Eat-Limes-Bitches

Bucky was going to kill him. Steve had promised an easy in-and-out mission, something low stakes to get back into the groove after some time off in Wakanda. This was everything but that. Bucky was snapped out of his murderous thoughts by a bullet whizzing by his head, making him curse as he sped up. These HYDRA soldiers were hot on his tail, and not letting up. It didn’t help that he had been hit, the pain coursing through his right thigh a constant reminder of the bullet lodged in the flesh. As he tumbled through the treeline into a clearing, he saw an old barn, the moonlight reflecting off the tin roof seemed like a beacon of hope. Without any other options, he skillfully hopped over the fence, ducked into the barn, held his breath, and listened. The soldiers came exploding through the treeline and stopped, seeing no sign of Bucky anywhere. Bucky listened carefully as he heard them approach the barn and stop. Their boots crunched on the fallen leaves as they circled the barn. His heart was in his throat, blood rushing in his ears but after a moment that seemed like forever, they left. Bucky didn’t move for almost an hour, listening and making sure that he was in the clear before he pulled out his transponder. He looked down to activate it and saw that it had been trashed by a stray bullet. He groaned out a curse and threw the useless device across the barn. He tried to stand but the pain in his leg prevented him from supporting any weight so he pushed himself up against the wall, deciding that he’d just rest for a bit.

He was on the verge of sleep when a song started to flow through his mind, louder than it had been since, ever, causing him to startle. See, everyone had a soulmate, something Bucky never believed in, having never heard any music in the 40’s. After he fell off the train, he figured whoever they were would be long dead by now. However, since coming out of recovery, he started to hear the music again. Part of HYDRA’s programming, he found out, was to block the music that would be pumping into his mind from his soulmate but now that he was free from all of the things that HYDRA put in his head, he started hearing music. He didn’t think much of it, as it was always quiet and in the background like a thought, but this song was so loud that it sounded like it was being whispered in his ear. 

“Let's get out, we can leave this city. Let's drive to the open air. Yeah, the countryside is so pretty. With the wind blowing in your hair. We can look back someday Baby, don't you understand? That we only get one love, I wanna make it count. Honey, come on now and take my hand”

It was a soft melody, the gentle guitar soothing his frayed nerves, and just as quickly as it startled him awake, it soothed him back to sleep.

He was woken up by something cold and wet nuzzling into his cheek. Bucky groaned and tried to shift away from the intrusion but he was too stiff from his awkward sleeping predicament to move very fast. Swatting at whatever the hell was messing with him, he was greeted by more music flooding his senses. This time, even louder than the last. The guitar was vibrating his bones and the drums rattling his teeth when all of a sudden there was a gasp and the music promptly stopped. 

“Jake! Get away from him! Jesus, hey guy, are you ok?” 

A panicked voice called out as the presence next to him disappeared. Bucky shot open his eyes and shot up into a position ready to defend himself when he saw a woman staring at him. Her light blue button-up was tucked into a pair of old worn-out jeans with a dark belt securing them in place around her hips. A large black and white dog was standing at her side, tail wagging furiously back and forth as its warm brown eyes stared at him. 

Bucky blinked, all the memories of what happened yesterday came flooding back into the forefront of his brain.

“Uh- yeah, I uh- I think so.” He groaned, his leg screaming at him in pain causing him to hiss out in discomfort. 

“Are you sure? You don’t seem like it, here, let me help you.” The woman walked over, tucking an arm underneath his and wrapping it around him, hoisting him onto his feet and leading him to a bench on the other side of the barn. She gently placed him down and ran her eyes over him when she noticed the dried patch of blood on his thigh.

“Shit, have you been shot?!” Bucky was too busy gawking at how stunning this woman was to notice that he was bleeding again, her words caused him to look down where she was staring.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I was. I kind of forgot about that.” Bucky shrugged as he watched the woman wander off to another area.

“How in the hell do you just forget that you were shot?!” She called out in between the slams of cabinet doors. Bucky took a deep breath, opening his mouth to respond when he noticed the dog, who he presumed to be the ‘Jake’ the woman had called out to, resting his head on Bucky’s non-injured thigh. He ran his fingers through the soft silky fur of the pup’s head, looking back up when he heard the woman's rapidly returning footsteps. She appeared from around an old tractor, med kit in tow. She saw the dog vibrating happily underneath Bucky’s attention and smiled softly.

“Jake! Leave…” She paused looking at Bucky for his name. 

“Bucky. You can call me Bucky.” She smiled.

“Y/n. Nice to meet you Bucky.” Bucky’s heart flipped in his chest at the sound of his name rolling off her tongue. His eyes followed her as she crouched down next to him, placing the med kit on the bench. 

“Are you ok with me taking care of this or would you rather do it,” Y/n asked as she began to rifle through the box looking for all of the necessary supplies. Bucky was shocked, she just found this strange man in her barn and was going to help him out instead of calling the cops. He realized she was waiting for an answer, her eyes full of worry staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

“Or, um, I can take you to the hospital, but that's a bit of a drive.” Bucky just shook his head.

“No, no. It’s fine. If you leave the supplies here I can take care of it. Thanks.” Y/n nodded standing up.

“Of course! I’ll get you a change of clothes. My brother left some clothes here, he’s about your height. Hopefully, they fit.”

Before Bucky could say anything else, Y/n walked out of the barn and disappeared, leaving Bucky alone with Jake and a med kit. Bucky gave the dog a final pet before tending to injury.

Once, he was cleaned up and in a fresh pair of clothes, Y/n brought him to the little farmhouse for some breakfast. Bucky sat on a stool watching Y/n cook.

“So how did you end up in my barn? It’s not every day that I get up to start chores and find a man in there.” She asked, flipping over the pancake in the skillet. Bucky chuckled scratching the back of his neck, trying to decide what to say.

“Well, uh… It’s kind of a long story...” 

A few days had passed since breakfast that morning, him spilling his entire life life story to this woman. She promised to try and help him get back to his team, however, the first snow of the season had fallen that same evening and there was no way for them to drive to the town some thirty miles away with the ice and snow covering the roads. 

“Being in the middle of nowhere has its advantages and disadvantages.” She had told him, shoveling a path out to the barn the next morning. “The fact that no plow trucks come through here just happens to be one of the shitty things.” 

Bucky felt strange just sitting around while she worked so he offered to help out while he was there. A sort of thank you for inadvertently saving his life. The more he worked around the farm, the more music he heard playing through his mind, but every time he tried to find the source, it would disappear and Y/N would appear from around a corner, tucking something into her pocket and then asking Bucky a question as she approached. 

The same thing was happening again as Bucky heard the first few chords from a new song drift into his mind, the same volume as the song that first night he slept in the barn.

“Fell in love with a girl that's a few years younger. Was a sister of a friend, didn’t see it coming.”

Bucky set down the bale of hay he had started to take to the horses, to follow the music. He walked over towards the door of the barn, the music getting louder with each step he took.

“I was hanging with him when I heard the door open.”

He pushed open the door and looked out to see Y/n and Jake walking towards the barn. She had earbuds tucked in under her hat, humming softly, and with each step she took towards the barn the louder the music in Bucky's ears got. He felt his heart start to race, his mouth ran dry.

“She walked into the room with a smile and that’s when, her eyes looked at me and said quietly,”

Y/n looked up to see Bucky staring at her and plucked the earbuds out of her ears and tucked them into her pocket, the music playing in Bucky’s mind disappearing with them.

“Hey, Bucky! I was lookin’ for ya!” She smiled at him, continuing to walk closer. “I was wondering if you could help me with something a little different.” She was standing right in front of him now, her bright eyes locking onto his. His pulse started to quicken as he hoped the cold masked the blush forming on his cheeks. 

“W-what might that be?” Y/n giggled and placed a hand on his shoulder sparks flooding throughout his body as she pushed him back into the barn. 

“I have to round up the cows today, since it’s snowed that means all of the bot flies are gone so we can go ahead and deworm them. I was hoping you could tag along. I know you’ve probably never done anything like this but it would really help me out a ton.” She smiled sweetly at him as she paused by the tack room, heading inside to grab her saddle and other equipment for the task at hand. 

“Uh sure, I’ll give it a go,” Bucky replied, following her into the small room, grabbing the other saddle sitting on the rack. It was then Bucky decided that he would do just about anything to get Y/n to smile at him like that again. It was so warm and bright that he felt ten times warmer than he did just moments ago.

“Awesome! Thank you so much, Buck! If you want to tack up Shanty I’ll hop on Zippy and we can go bring those cows up to the cattle shed!” 

Bucky saddled up Shanty with some difficulty due to the fact he had no idea what the hell he was doing, but with Y/n’s help, the pair were ready to go. Bucky watched as Y/n skillfully mounted the red horse who was stomping around impatiently waiting for her to get on. Taking a deep breath, he carefully pulled himself up into the saddle and nodded for Y/n to lead the way. As the pair began to jog through the snow Bucky called out,

“I hope you know I haven’t been on a horse since 1943, an’ never used em’ on a farm before so I have no idea what I’m doin’ darlin’.”

Y/n let out a laugh that seemed to sing off of the ice that covered a nearby pond. She looked over her shoulder and Bucky was convinced he had never seen a more beautiful sight. The morning sun reflected off the snow, causing its golden glow to dance across the landscape. Its golden rays were blocked by the brim of her dark cowboy hat, but the leather band almost seemed to be turned into gold as the beams of light that slipped around the edges wove into the intricate braid. Her eyes sparkled with something so warm and bright that Bucky was sure he was seeing an angel in person. 

“Don’t worry too much!” She replied, oblivious to the effect she had on the man. 

“Shanty’s a pro. She can basically do this on her own, she just prefers having someone on her back or a little extra guidance.” Y/n explained as the cow herd came into view. “Just point her in the right direction, she will do the rest.” 

Bucky nodded and watched as Y/n kicked Zippy forward toward the cows and once she rounded the back, the herd started running in his direction. Gripping onto the reins, he pointed Shanty in the direction and when the cows tried to jump out of line, Shanty would run and slide to a stop, forcing the cows to stay in a group as they ran towards the cattle shed. 

The journey back to the cattle shed was considerably more work than the ride out, constantly trying to keep the frisky cows from darting off one way or another but eventually, they were all secured in the barn, Y/n smiled at Bucky.

“Thank you for your help. I can take it from here. Meet you inside for dinner? I prepped some ravioli last week that’s in the freezer.” 

Bucky smiled and agreed, leading Shanty and Zippy back to the barn, the goofy grin remaining on his face all the way there.

Bucky grumbled angrily as the wrench slipped out of his hand. He reached out from under the tractor with his left hand when he remembered that his left hand was, essentially, an all-purpose tool. After finally getting the stubborn bolt off, he pushed himself out from underneath the tractor and took a sip of the hot cider in his mug that Y/n insisted he take with him after dinner. In between bites of the best ravioli that he had ever eaten, Y/n mentioned that the tractor had a bust pipe and that he had gotten the parts but hadn’t had the time to fix it herself so naturally, Bucky set off to fix it as soon as the dishes were done. 

Just as Bucky was about to get back to work, he heard a new melody whisper in his ear.

I'm flying, shining, bright like just like the Leonids, Heading for you.

Wiping his hands off on an old shop towel, Bucky made his way back to the farmhouse, and with each step he took, the music got a little louder.

Slowly, but surely, lighting up the pyramids, On my way to you

Kicking off his snow and mud-covered boots in the mud room, Bucky followed the sound of the music, to the back porch where he found Y/n sitting with a mug in her hands gazing up at the stars.

Ooh, ooh. I've fallen like a star for you

The music was so loud at this point, that Bucky was convinced that it was integrating itself into the very fiber of his being. Taking a steadying breath, he reached out a hand and placed it on Y/n’s shoulder startling her her slightly before realizing it was just him. He watched as she hit the pause button, and the music that was flowing so clearly stopped. Bucky felt his heart rate pick up. There is no way that he's finally found her after all this time.

“Hey Buck, What going on?” Y/n asks softly, offering a smile

“Can I see your Phone?” Bucky asks all in one breath.

Puzzled Y/n hands it to him. “Uh, sure why?”

“I just want to try something” He mumbled as he put the earbuds in and walked away from her to the opposite end of the porch. He locked eyes with her and hit play.

He watched as Y/n’s eyes grew wide, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. She heard it too. Bucky swallowed as he took a shaky step toward her, the music getting louder with each step he took until he was standing face-to-face with her.

Ooh, ooh. I've fallen like a star for you

“I think you’re my soulmate” He whispered, reaching out to cup her face with his flesh hand, the metal one still holding onto the phone.

Y/n blinked a few times in surprise before surging forward and tackling him in a hug planting a firm but warm kiss on his lips. Bucky blinked in surprise but responded immediately, wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her flush against his body.  Eventually, they parted and Y/n smiled up at him.

 “Does that mean you’ll stay here with me?” She whispered.

Bucky pressed his forehead against hers before he replied, “Forever and always, for as long as you’ll have me.”

[skbeaumont]

"I Remember Everything" | Joel x Reader

Part 2 of Play it Again, a new series where each story is a oneshot, but all are shaped around country songs.

Song: I Remember Everything, Zach Bryan ft. Kacey Musgraves Summary: Ten years after outbreak day, you and Joel try to find a way to forget. In the process he finds things to remember, too Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff if you squint, references to sex, alcohol and drugs, sex but not explicit, trauma, grief, just expect emotional damage basically Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This ended up being both very angsty and quite sweet. Once again it was written with lyrics from the song pulled into the prose, so do listen as you read. If you've got any song recommendations for this series, let me know!

You were begging me to stay 'til the sun rose Strange words come on out Of a grown man's mouth when his mind's broke Pictures and passin' time You only smile like that when you're drinking I wish I didn't, but I do Remember every moment on the nights with you You're drinkin' everything to ease your mind But when the hell are you gonna ease mine?

The bar is crowded when you enter. Heaving with writhing bodies, hot in a way that has your shirt sticking to your back within moments of entering, a hazy, sharp tang in the back of your nose, a mix of moonshine and sweat.

Ten years today since outbreak day, and it seems everyone in the QZ is in here to forget.

Technically, there aren’t supposed to be any bars in the QZ, but as you squeeze between the crowds you spot two women you know to be FEDRA officers. It’s amazing what they’ll turn a blind eye to when it benefits them. One of the women looks pretty far gone already, leaning against the other with a placid, washed out grin on her face. The moonshine here is cheap, strong, and a poor imitation of anything that would have been served in a bar ten years ago.

You order two double whiskeys, watch the skinny youth behind the bar pour it out into a chipped mug, take it from him and hand over a creased, dog-eared ration card. A small price to pay for an evening of forgetting. You down the first double at the bar, then turn and push yourself on tiptoes to find an empty table, or a quiet corner to hole up in where you won’t be disturbed.

Instead, you find your gaze passing over a familiar figure at the back of the room. Joel’s recognisable even from behind – broader than anyone else in the room, the sloping lines of his shoulders pressing against the frayed seams of the denim shirt he’s wearing. It’s been a few months since you last saw him. You’re not sure where he’s been, maybe off on his smuggling runs; the two of you have never really kept a consistent line of conversation, your meetings generally consisting of a quick catch up and then a long, slow evening using each other to try to forget the hell of life in the QZ and your respective pasts. Unhealthy, probably, but it works for a few hours.

Joel turns where he’s stood and the dim lights in the bar illuminate the side of his face, the strong line of his jaw. He’s wearing a lopsided half-smile, leaning against a shelving unit filled with bottles, talking to a woman with dark hair. He’s clearly drunk: he only smiles like that when he’s drunk. It’s an impressive feat, considering how much you know he drinks on any normal day.

You’re still watching him, sipping your own drink, when he turns his head, eyes locking with yours. You don’t look away. The buzz of the whiskey is starting to sink through you, warm and familiar, and Joel’s eyes are just as intoxicating.

It’s always the same. There’s something about him that has you gravitating to him. It’s attraction, certainly, but it’s deeper than that. There’s so much about Joel you don’t know, so many unanswered questions and unexplained mysteries. But you know he’s like you. You know he’s lost people. You know he’s broken, and lonely, and so fucking angry that it scares him sometimes.

Joel watches you down the rest of your whiskey, eyes flicking to your lips as you lick a stray drop. He’s drunk, far drunker than he should be considering he has to be up at the crack of dawn in the morning for sewer duty.

He only got back into the QZ early this morning, spent rest of the day trying as best he could to get some sleep without resorting to rotgut whiskey to ease his mind. A lost cause, of course. He hasn’t slept without some kind of pill or booze in ten years. Eight hours in and he’d given it up as a bad job, downed a few bottles of home-brewed cider and headed to this hot, loud bar, hoping to distract himself from the date and all that its memory brings.

He hadn’t expected you to be here, and something uncomfortably like gladness settles in his chest as he watches you make your way towards him. All day he’s been on edge, wound up so tight he’s felt like something in him is going to snap, but the sight of you has it retreating, loosening his shoulders more than the piss-poor whiskey has.

He wonders for a moment what this thing you have – this relationship that isn’t a relationship, this love story that definitely isn’t a love story, just a way to forget for a while – would be like if the outbreak hadn’t happened. Would he sing you love songs, buy you flowers, take you to the beach and let your sand-covered hair blow into his face on the drive home?

Ten years since outbreak day, and he’s mostly wondering if you’ll help him forget in a way that the booze and pills he’s been knocking back since this afternoon haven’t managed to yet. Two whiskeys in, and you’re wondering if he’ll ease your mind like the liquor’s eased your tight muscles.

It’s this that carries you both out into the alley behind the bar, has him pressing you into the rough brick wall, hands roaming your body like you’re a route he’s trying to memorise so he can sneak back when the curfew falls. His mouth is hot on yours, his breath tinged with booze and counterfeit cigarettes.

It’s easy where it shouldn’t be; easy to let him lead you through the back streets to his apartment, easy to let yourself fall inside, easy to ignore the empty cider bottles that litter the apartment, the pill bags and loose cigarettes.

The sex is unrushed – it could be called romantic, if you were both other people, if it you weren’t both doing it to forget. The memories of ten years ago retreat for a while as he undresses you; the pain eases as he lays you back, slots himself between your legs and presses himself into you.

The movement of it is calming, familiar. Joel’s strong back under your hands, his muscles shifting and tensing as he thrusts into you, the harshness of his breath at your ear. He’s quiet, usually, hardly lets himself make a sound when he’s inside you, and then leaves before you’ve had chance say goodbye. Tonight, though, he doesn’t. When you’ve finished he rolls himself off of you and pulls you to his chest, wraps a strong arm around your waist and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he whispers into your hair, and the words are so strange that you freeze beneath him, twist back so that you can look at him, see the truth of it on his face.

His eyes are dark in the half-light of the apartment, hazy with alcohol and something else, but they’re serious, his eyebrows furrowed, the creases that have started to deepen over the time you’ve known him lining his forehead.

Because the thing is, you make him forget. But when he’s with you he remembers, too. He remembers what happiness can feel like, the way that joy can take root in your chest and spread into something ethereal, something that Joel Miller doesn’t deserve to feel, hasn’t felt since the world ended ten years ago. He remembers every moment on the nights with you.

He wishes he didn't, but he does.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Water | Solo Sikoa x BlackFem!OC | 18+!!!! SMUT

Description: Raya is really into Solo's new persona.

Song: Water by Tyla

Face Claim: Kat Graham

Warnings: Spanking, Hand/Glove kink, teasing, Dom/sub dynamic, use of panties as a gag, doggy style (and he cums on her ass), kneeling, degradation (use of the word slut), petnames (baby/babygirl), daddy kink, brat taming, begging, praise (good girl).

Check out my previous Solo x Raya story here and my entire Masterlist here.

Again, MDNI!!! THIS IS AN 18+ FAN FICTION. As always my stories are kayfabe based.

Solo Sikoa had been on a roll lately, and it was all thanks to his newfound confidence in the ring, and outside of it for that matter. With Roman Reigns on hiatus for the foreseeable future, he'd stepped up to take charge of SmackDown and become one of its most dominant Superstars even recruiting one of their many cousins, Tama Tonga to join the fray. He was taking this whole tribal heir thing a little more seriously than anyone had expected, especially Paul who quite frankly had no idea what to do.

And with all that confidence came a change in attitude as well: gone were the days when he played second fiddle or stood quite in the background. Now, he was taking what he wanted, living up to the lyrics of his theme song 'Taking it all...' and making sure everyone knew it too.

Raya, his girlfriend, really just couldn't get enough of those sexy black leather gloves and tight-fitting suits. Normally she could keep her cool but tonight she's wildin'. The jewelry. All of it. He was accessorizing now? The fuck? Since when? She thought to herself as she watched her man on TV throwing around Kevin Owens. Poor guy. But damn did her man look good fucking him up.

It was early Saturday morning when Solo walked through the door of his apartment after a late night flight following Smackdown, still riding high on the adrenaline rush from everything that had happened. He could tell by Raya's smile and playful attitude that she was eager to see him too, but there was something else in her eyes as well... desire? Need? She looked ready to jump his bones.

"Hey babygirl," he said casually as he kicked off his shoes and took a seat on the couch next to her having thrown his bags aside. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much," Raya replied, her voice laced with a hint of flirtation. "Just thinking about how hot you looked out there last night." Solo smirked at that and leaned in closer to kiss her on the cheek.

"I missed you," Solo whispered in her ear, his hand slowly moving up and down her thigh. Raya shivered at the touch and turned to face him fully, a look of anticipation on her face. She had been waiting for this all day long, since last night, ever since she saw those leather gloves he'd been wearing. She'd fantasized about the feeling of them all over her body.

"You know, I was thinking about those gloves you wore last night," Raya said coyly. "I really liked the way they looked on your hands." Solo smirked and leaned back against the couch, letting his fingers trace along her skin as he thought about what she was suggesting.

"Damn, baby, my gloves did it for you like that?" Solo chuckled lowly.

Raya rolled her eyes playfully, trying to hide the fact that she was getting turned on by his teasing. "Maybe," she said with a sly grin. "Or maybe it's just you in general."

Solo leaned forward suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he grabbed Raya's chin and tilted her head up so that she was looking directly at him. "You just roll yo' damn eyes at me? think you need to be reminded of who's in charge here," he said firmly. "..'Cause it definitely isn't you."

"Now, I want you to be a good girl and get on your knees for me," Solo commanded. Raya's eyes widened at the sudden shift in his tone, but she obeyed without hesitation. She dropped down onto her knees in front of him and looked up at him with a mixture of excitement and anticipation... wondering what he had planned next. "Stay" He commanded before stepping into the bedroom rumbling through his bag for something.

The gloves. He slipped them on slowly as he approached her, making her pussy pulse with desire.

Raya watched with bated breath as Solo approached her, his big brown eyes locked on hers and the black leather gloves gleaming in the light. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as he got closer, almost like a predator stalking it's prey. Solo stood in front of her, towering over her small frame as he stared down at her with an intense gaze. "I want you to beg me for what you really want," he said softly but firmly, his fingers tracing along the edges of the gloves on his hands.

Raya swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to respond. She knew what he wanted from her but it was difficult for her to bring herself to say the words out loud... especially when he was looking at her like that. "Please," she finally whispered after a few moments of silence. "I want you." she added, "Want your hands all over my body."

Solo smirked at her response and leaned down so that his face was only inches away from hers. "I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked teasingly. "You need to speak up if you want me to hear you."

God dammit, she didn't know whether she should thank Roman or kick his ass when she sees him for creating this glorious monster in front of her. Raya took a deep breath and tried to steady her voice. "I want you," she repeated, louder this time. "Please... I need you."

Solo crouched down and gently cupped her chin, his gloved thumb brushing against her bottom lip as he stared at her intently. "Good girl," he murmured before leaning in to kiss her passionately. His hand slid down to the back of her neck, holding onto it firmly as they kissed for several long moments. Raya was feeling like she was going to melt into a puddle right there on the floor. He was only making her hotter

When Solo finally broke the kiss, he pulled her up to her feet and made quick work of removing her dress and bra leaving her in just her pretty little red lace panties before he led her over to the bed room. He pushed Raya down onto the bed gently and climbed on top of her, his body pressing against hers as he pinned both of her arms above her head with one hand singular gloved hand, while the other travels down her body cupping her breast.

Raya let out a low moan as Solo's hand traveled down her body, his touch sending shivers up and down her spine. She could feel the leather of his gloves against her skin and it was driving her wild, setting off her whole body.

Solo smirked as he noticed the way Raya was squirming underneath him, her body writhing with pleasure from his touch. "Such a dirty little slut. Bet you soaked." he whispered into her ear before biting down on her earlobe playfully. His hand continued to explore every inch of her body, tracing patterns across her skin and making sure to pay special attention to all of the sensitive spots that drove her crazy before finally reaching the waistband of her panties.

Raya gasped as Solo's hand slid underneath her panties, his fingers brushing against her sensitive skin. She could feel herself getting more and more aroused with each passing moment... every touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. He slowly teasingly slides her panties down her legs and thinks for a moment, the wet spot on then making him smirk. He chuckled a bit. "Open that pretty lil mouth, baby." Solo said.

Raya complies opening up for him, he stuffs her damp panties into her mouth, grinning satisfied with himself.

Raya moans softly as she feels her own fill up her mouth, the taste of herself on them making it even more exciting.

Solo smirked down at Raya, enjoying the sight of her with a mouth full of panties. "That's better," he said softly as he began to unbutton his shirt and toss it aside followed by his pants and boxers. He then leaned down and kissed her neck slowly, leaving a trail of kisses along her skin before moving back up to whisper in her ear again. "Do you like having your own soaking wet panties stuffed into your mouth?"

Raya's words come out muffled and unintelligible. Solo laughs and smirks. "Poor baby. Can't hear a word you sayin'. Shouldn't have decided to a brat earlier. Guess you just gon' have to take whatever daddy decides to give you." he teases.

Raya tried to say something in response but it was no use, her words were completely muffled by the panties that filled up her mouth. She let out a frustrated groan as Solo teased her and continued to taunt her about being a brat earlier... which was absolutely true. But that is neither here nor there.

"All fours, baby girl. Now." He demanded.

Raya quickly obeyed Solo's command, rolling over onto her hands and knees, her ass perched high in the air, her back arched just the way he likes.

Solo walked around Raya slowly, admiring her body and taking in every inch of it. His eyes traveled down to the curve of her ass. He ran a hand over it gently before slapping it harshly. Raya let out a yelp as Solo's hand made contact with her ass, the sudden impact causing her ass to jiggle for him, that damn glove adding something to the experience.

"That was for rolling your eyes at me." he said, "Thought I forgot or some shit." he chuckled spanking her ass again.

Raya groaned softly as Solo spanked her again, the sharp pain mixing with a sense of pleasure that she didn't quite understand. He was blowing her mind. Setting off her whole body. It was like he knew exactly what buttons to push to make her feel things she never thought possible... and it was driving her crazy.

Raya gasps as feels Solo enter her from behind, his cock sliding inside of her with ease. She lets out a low moan as he begins to thrust into her slowly.

Solo's movements become more intense as he picks up the pace, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he drives himself deeper and harder into her. She can feel herself getting closer to orgasm with each passing moment

Raya can't hold back anymore and lets out a loud moan as she climaxes, her body shaking with pleasure. She can hear Solo's breathing getting heavier as he continues to thrust into her, his movements becoming more erratic until finally, she feels him pull out of her shooting his warm seed all over her ass.

She collapses onto the bed, panting heavily and feeling completely spent but also satisfied in ways that she never thought possible. Raya lays on the bed, her body still tingling from her recent orgasm.

"Good girl," he whispers tenderly before laying down beside her and leaning down to kiss her softly on the forehead.

Yeah, Raya loved this new side of Solo. Roman and Cody could both expect a thank you card from her.

[leilani-lily]

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 2)

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Surprise! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ Another chapter already. I actually have three already written out, so I'll be posting the next one soon too. I hope you enjoy (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. You come to find the kitchen is an absolute mess, and there's no help in sight. Alastor catches you working and discovers something about you that's quite captivating. Word Count: 2 k

Chapter under the cut!

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It didn’t take long before you were settled and secure at the hotel. Introductions were made, papers were signed and soon all your stuff was whisked into your new room at the hotel. It all seemed to happen in a blur, but you were happy for the fresh start. 

When you first came across the kitchen it… well, it needed some much needed TLC. Dried blood staining the walls, rusty, chipped knives, an oven covered in grime and the door on its hinges. It was dark, dirty, and smelled like rotting food (and maybe even rotting bodies? You didn’t want to think about it too much). Needless to say, you had your work cut out for you. But you knew you couldn’t do this without a little motivation.

After finally finding an outlet that worked, you plug in your trusty CD player. It was fraying a bit, and wasn’t in the best of shape, but it was one of your prized possessions. One of the first things you had bought for yourself when arriving in Hell. It was one of those machines that had a built-in alarm clock, and although you didn’t actually have any CD’s to play off it, it did come with a radio function that you abused more than the next person. It had soothed you many a lonesome night, and also pumped you up when you had work to do. With a fond smile, you set up your radio and flick through the channels before stopping at what sounded like a jazz station. Satisfied with the upbeat melody, you roll your sleeves up and get started on the deep clean.

You didn’t know how long you had been working for, 30 minutes, maybe even an hour or two. But it didn’t take long before a slither of a shadow snaked up the doorframe of the kitchen for the Radio Demon himself to emerge from the shadows. He had just been passing by when he had heard the sounds of a jazzy tune, accompanied by the sounds of a sultry voice. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he found himself here, watching you scrub on hands and knees at the tile floors. 

You were covered in dirt and dust, soapy water soaking the ends of your shirt and pants. You wiped a stray bead of sweat from your forehead as your cheeks shone a shade of red from all the hard work. In short summary, you were a mess. And yet somehow he didn’t seem all that put off by it, focusing on something far more interesting.

As the radio hummed out a static version of “What a Wonderful World”, your own voice harmonized with the deeper tone that was Louis Armstrong’s. You continued to toil away, not aware of the presence behind you and actually enjoying the work, but soon the music got the better of you, and you sat up to fully embrace it. Entranced by the song, you closed your eyes and crooned along to the lyrics, sometimes singing along with Louis, sometimes choosing to harmonize and add a personal spin to it. You couldn’t help but smile as the familiar chills ran up your spine when immersed in a good song and feeling one with the original performer. As the melody began to come to an end, you soften into almost a whisper and sit happily as the remaining instruments faded. The sound track of an applause and actual clapping burst from behind you.

“MARVELOUS! Bra-vo my darling!” 

You jumped up so high and fast, it made you slip on the soapy floor beneath you. You fumbled and landed on your bum facing Alastor, pants now soaked and your heart racing a mile a minute. The red demon began to step towards you, still clapping and looking surprisingly impressed.

“What a performance, such talent! Who knew such a voice was locked away, just waiting to soar like a songbird!”

With a twirl of his cane, he extended the tip end to you with a smile. You looked at it for a moment before realizing and grabbing onto it. With a strength you didn't realize he had, he helped to hoist you up to your feet.

“H-honestly Alastor. You can’t keep sneaking up behind me without warning. You’ll have to find another chef to replace me after I die from a heart attack.” 

Alastor chuckled at your remark, pulling a dark brown hankie from his inner jacket and giving his cane a quick wipe. “Now y/n, don’t be silly.” After cleaning his cane from the dirty soap water, he flicked the handkerchief into your direction, and gave you an amused smile “You’re already dead.”

You couldn’t argue with that. You huff out a laugh and graciously accept the cloth presented to you, using it to wipe your hands free of any dirty water. 

“Besides,” Alastor continued, “Can you hardly blame me for tuning in? It’s not often I hear such a classic tune being accompanied by an enchanting voice~!” You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks flush. You tried your best not to sing in front of others, and living on your own, never really had the possibility of someone hearing you. Until now that is.

“I, well… Th-thank you” You smile, holding out the handkerchief to return. Alastor didn't move to take it. Looking down at the now soiled cloth, his lip twitched a moment before blinking, and the hankie burst into a puff of flame, tiny bits of soot and ash fluttering to the ground. Your head jolted back a moment as your now empty hand hung there awkwardly. Ohhkayyyy… You speak to fill the silence.

“I find I work better when I listen to music. Although, sometimes I find I get too wrapped up in the music… like you just witnessed.” You give a sheepish shrug, your attention going back towards the load of work you still had to do. Alastor followed your gaze and looked around the dingy kitchen. 

“Hmmmm yes, quite the chore you have ahead of you,” he hummed, eye twitching at all the dirt and grime. “And where is Nifty in all of this? Surely you shouldn’t have to tackle such a big job all by yourself now, she IS the maid of this hotel now.” He placed his clawed hands on his hips, looking around as if she might be hiding in one of the pots or under the counter.

“Ah no, that’s alright,” You shake your head and smile at Alastor, making him turn his focus back to you, “I was going to ask her, but she seemed… preoccupied by a centipede, and I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Besides,” You puff out your chest and survey the room, causing Alastor to cock an eyebrow in amusement. “I’m the one in charge of this kitchen, so it should be up to me to make sure it’s spick and span. You decided to hire me for some reason, so I want to prove I want this job. And a little elbow grease isn’t going to scare me off so quick.” You turn to the Radio Demon and catch a quick glimpse of what seems to be admiration before he straightened up.

“And I can tell you’re going to make a fine employee already,” Alastor agreed, making you feel a sense of pride. His gaze shifted back towards the mess before him. “Nevertheless, this is still too mighty of a task for just one demon.”

Faster than you could blink, Alastor flicked his hand up and gave a swift snap of his fingers. The shadows surrounding you began to shift and morph into what looked like long tendrils. You stared in awe as the shadows grew before your very eyes and began to morph into what looked like creatures. Before you knew it, 4 shadow-like goons were standing before you with stark white features. 

“There we go~” Alastor chirped, taking in your look of shock before laughing out loud, “Oh come now my dear, no need to look so alarmed! My friends are simply here to help you~”

And help you indeed. While Alastor was talking, the creatures began to pick up the cleaning tools around the room, beginning to mop, sweep and wipe around the room at a speed you could never accomplish on your own. Your look of shock slowly transformed to one of awe.

“Yes, they’ll help to get the job done lickity split!” Alastor boasted, “And don’t worry, once the work is done they’ll simply disappear back into the shadows.”

You watched them work and couldn’t help but marvel at Alastor’s power. Not only was he able to conjure 4 living and working shadow creatures, but the fact that he did it so effortlessly. It just seemed to be a reflection of the amount of power he wielded, which was a terrifying thought all on it’s own. You couldn’t even imagine the extent of what his power could be; unbarred and at full capacity. It made you shiver a moment. Still, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the extra sets of hands.

“Thank you Alastor,” you smiled towards him, eyebrows tight with gratitude, “You really didn’t have to do this, I was fine to do the work on my own-!” The Radion Demon immediately shushed you, sticking one of his fingers close to your lips but not quite touching. 

“Nonsenseee y/n. Think nothing of it! Let’s just say this is my way of thanking you for such a lovely performance earlier. I shall hope to hear more from you again.” He gave you a half-lidded smile, seeming actually genuine about his last remark. You couldn’t hide your embarrassment, but on the inside you were pleased. 

“Now!” Alastor snapped to attention, jolting you out of your daze, “I’m afraid I’ll have to take my leave, I was on my way to a meeting with Charlie before being entranced by your song.” You felt your smile falter at the thought of being the reason he was running late. Alastor quickly caught on and fanned his hand at you

“Oh think nothing of it my dear, I’d say it was well worth my time. But before I go, I would be delighted to talk Jazz with you at a later time; it’s not often I meet a fellow enthusiast.” 

As much as you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you felt a pang of hope in your chest. You had always kept to yourself during your time in Hell, and never really had the opportunity to build any friendships. Everyone you had met as of recent always had ulterior motivations, or were so toxic that you had to end it before they could harm you even further. However, since coming to the hotel, everyone had been so surprisingly friendly; especially Alastor. He helped you feel less nervous when you had arrived, given you a job, and was now helping you clean the kitchen? He’s been such a gentleman, and you both seemed to have similar passions… Could this be the opportunity for a new friend?

“Yes, of course!” You smile, “I love music, I’m always happy to talk about it.” 

“Splendid!” Alastor chimed, turning on his heel and walking back towards the kitchen doors, “We’ll have to arrange a time that works best for us both. But until then,” He turned back to you and gave you a slight bow.

“I shall bid you, adieu.” 

His body sunk back into the shadows and he disappeared as quick as a flash. You yelped out a panicked final “thank you” into the darkness, assuming he didn’t hear it he was gone so quick. But that was ok, you’d just have to thank him again when you next bumped into each other. You turn back to the goons and see they’ve already made quite a dent in the cleaning. You felt yourself breathe a sigh of relief for the extra help. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you crank up the volume on the radio, and run up to help get your kitchen ready. 

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Boy oh boy here we go~ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

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[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 15: Let's Talk About That

Word Count: 877/Rating: T/Pairing: None/CW: mention of vomiting and getting sick (not described), stage fright, takes place in 2024, older Corroded Coffin, loosely based on Joseph Quinn's Tonight Show experience/Tags: Eddie Munson, Jeff, Grant, Gareth, talk show, flashbacks

Divider credit to @silkholland

“Our next guests need no introduction,” Jimmy Fallon says from where he sits at his desk. “They’ve been rocking the heavy metal scene since the ‘80s, and their newest album comes out this Friday. Please welcome—Corroded Coffin!”

Eddie, Grant, Jeff, and Gareth make their way from behind the blue curtain, giving the cheering audience a polite wave. Nerves flutter in Eddie’s stomach as he takes a seat on the spot closest to the host. Talk shows have never been his strong suit; he’s not exactly known for his smooth lines. He much prefers songwriting, where he can edit and erase until each lyric is perfected. 

“Great to see you guys,” Jimmy says. “This is a busy time for you, isn’t it?”

Eddie nods, scratching at the gray stubble on his jaw. “Yeah, so, our tenth album drops on Friday, and tickets for our tour go on sale next week.”

The crowd cheers again, only quieting down as Jimmy asks the guys more questions about their upcoming shows and the creative process behind this album. 

“We’re a lot older than we were when we started out,” Grant jokes, “so there’s more stretching involved.”

“Yeah, now we warm up our vocal cords and our quads,” Jeff chimes in. 

Their banter earns a laugh from the audience, as well as one of Jimmy’s signature over-the-top cackles. 

Okay, Eddie thinks. This is good. This is fine. We’re getting through this. 

“Speaking of your younger years,” Jimmy says, “my producers found a clip from your first-ever Tonight Show appearance, way back in 1989.”

Oh, no. No. 

The host looks directly at Eddie as he grins and says, “let’s have a look.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and hopes it’s all a bad dream. To his dismay, the clip is rolling when he dares to open his eyes again. 

A screen displays the guys sitting there, 35 years younger than they are now, and listening intently as Johnny Carson asks them questions. Well, three of them were listening—Eddie was as white as a sheet, sweating bullets and trying not to hurl. 

“Now, Eddie, I understand that you wrote most of the songs on this record.” Johnny leans in, forearm on his desk. “Was there something—or someone—who inspired you?”

“Well, um, th-there’s my uncle. He’s, y’know, always s-supported me.” Eddie plays with the frayed tear in his jeans. Sweat drips down his temples and pools at his collarbones. “And then some of the, um, angrier stuff is about, um, m-my dad, and, like, assholes at school—shit, can I say ‘assholes’? Oh, fuck; I probably can’t say ‘shit,’ either.”

Jimmy cuts the clip and turns back to where Jeff, Gareth, and Grant are poorly stifling their laughter. Meanwhile, Eddie is hoping the ground will open up and swallow him whole. 

“Let’s talk about that.” Jimmy grins. “You seemed a little nervous there.”

Eddie nods, willing the redness away from his cheeks. “Yeah, it was our first talk show, so…”

Gareth shakes his head. “Nah, that’s not what happened.” Ignoring Eddie’s scowl, he plunges ahead. “This idiot was complaining about a stomach ache all day and didn’t eat. We go out to dinner before the show and we finally convince him to eat something. Tell them what you chose, Ed.”

“I, um, decided to eat oysters,” Eddie mumbles, silently vowing to kill his drummer. 

Jimmy raises his eyebrows. “Why oysters?”

“That’s what we said!” Jeff speaks up. “He’d never had them before, and he chose that moment to down, like, a pound of them.”

“He can’t even look at an oyster now without getting nauseous,” Grant adds. 

Jimmy brings the focus back to a now-humiliated Eddie. “So what happened after the show?”

“Nothing.” Eddie shrugs. “Went back to the hotel room and relaxed.”

“Oh, nuh-uh.” Gareth cuts in, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Tell him what happened before that.”

Eddie has to stop himself from lunging across the couch and strangling Gareth right there. He wants to play it off as nothing, but the audience is already too invested. 

Better to hear it from me, he thinks. 

“Well, on the way back to the hotel, I bumped into a fan. Gorgeous young woman with a huge…heart.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, she asks for an autograph and invites me out for a drink. And I’m not gonna say no to that.”

Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair and continues. “So we go to this fancy bar, we’re sipping our drinks, and I’m about to close this deal. And then—”

“And then a waiter walks by with a tray of oysters, and Eddie just books it outta there!” Gareth nearly falls out of his seat trying to finish the story. “Like, Olympic sprinting.”

“I didn’t know he could run that fast,” Jeff muses. 

Jimmy shakes his head. “You guys better hope that he doesn’t tell any of your embarrassing moments.”

Eddie perks up at this. “Actually, Jimmy, that’s not a bad idea.” He glances over at Gareth, the one who started this crusade to embarrass Eddie on national television. “Have you heard about Gareth’s Explosive Diarrhea Fiasco of 1996?”

“Eddie, you wouldn’t dare—”

“It all started when someone thought it was a good idea to participate in a chili-eating contest before we played the Indiana State Fair…”

--

[jaegerisms]

Beautiful, finite.

warnings: geto x femreader, lowkey smut; 18+ wc: 1.5k syn: post hidden inventory geto angst, inspired by a few lyrics from ptolemaea by ethel cain

You had always found Suguru beautiful, devastatingly so. Even now, when the onyx of his eyes had lost their warmth, growing cold and unfeeling. Devouring all the light they once held like the dark of a moonless night. Becoming something foreign and unknown-terrifying even. The small bit of moonlight seeping in through the window reflected off his white t shirt, illuminating his room just enough for you to make out his form, to see his face. 

That shirt with the fraying collar. The one you always gravitated towards when he offered his clothes up to you. Countless nights you had slept in that shirt. Even attempting to steal it for yourself on numerous occasions, simply because it was his. Reluctantly giving it up only after he insisted it be returned. There were aspects of him that felt so familiar to you, but still somehow, he felt far away now. Foreign, almost. 

The crinkled sheets of his bed were soft against the bare skin of your legs. Dressed in only a t shirt, goosebumps adorned your skin from the draft of the bitterly cold air seeping in through the cracks of the window. You sucked in a breath, wracking your mind for words to fill the silence. Anything to drown out the deafening sound of your beating heart. 

Suguru drags his eyes over to meet your gaze in expectancy as your lips parted. You closed them in an instant, averting your eyes even quicker. That almost cold heaviness within him more difficult to face than you anticipated. He held his hands out in front of him, empty gaze focused on his trembling fingers with bated breath. Before you thought better of it, or your nerves got the best of you, your own hands grabbed a hold of his to steady the tremor. Say something, anything. 

“It’s going to be okay.” Your quivering voice sounding uncertain even to your own ears. 

How stupid, you couldn’t have come up with something better? Maybe a little more convincing? You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. Though you found it difficult to face whatever lurked within him, you were determined not to give way. The aching sound of his silence shattering you more and more with each passing second. You decided then to muster up whatever courage your feeble heart possessed and lend it to him. 

“I’m afraid.” 

Even the iron still fears the rot. Special grade. The strongest. Curse manipulator, Suguru Geto. Fearful. Trembling. Broken. 

“Look at me.” This time firm when you spoke. 

Even now, he was so beautiful. Hair loose and falling across his shoulders, in front of his eyes. Clenching his hands tightly, you tugged, motioning for him to scoot closer to you on the bed. He made no move to oblige.

“Everything will be alright.”

“You don’t know that.” You didn’t. You knew better than to say such things, especially as a sorcerer. Only a fool would whole heartedly believe that a better tomorrow could be promised. Not in your line of work.

“Then just think about right now. Tonight. You’re here, I’m here. We’re okay.”

His eyes closed, as if contemplating your words. Letting loose a long breath, he finally gave into your insistent tugging on his arms. From his seated position at the head of the bed he gradually made his way over to you. Suffer does the wolf crawling to thee. A once strong and courageous predator limping forward, doing all it can not to succumb to the immense pain of its wounds. And despite it all, he was ever so breathtaking. Even now, crawling towards you, he was so beautiful it hurt. 

Steadily approaching and making no move to stop, you were forced to lay on your back as he came to hover over you, delivering a slow and languid kiss to your lips. You placed your hands on either side of his face, holding him with more tenderness than you ever knew you possessed. You traced the fullness of his bottom lip with your tongue and prodded at him to open his mouth, needing to taste him deeper. He let out a strained moan as you delved deeper into him, sucking on his tongue, devouring him with eagerness.

The parting of your mouths left a string of saliva connecting you, at the sight you felt a familiar fire ignite within your core. Judging by the quickness with which Suguru stripped and discarded your shirt, it was safe to say that same heat was kindling within him. 

“You’re here,” he repeats between kisses over each of your breasts and then down your stomach, “I’m here.”

The soft press of his lips ghosting over your skin left goosebumps in their wake. Rubbing your thighs together, you could feel the familiar dampness beginning to soak your underwear. Even in this state, your body couldn’t help but show your hunger and desperation for him. Ever so slowly he made his way down to your panties, tugging them down with his mouth. As if it were muscle memory, you spread your legs for him and bare your exposed and needy cunt to your lover. Suguru wasted no time burying himself between your legs. Your breath catching as his tongue makes contact with your folds, licking and sucking with abandon. 

Through the intensity of your pleasure, the memory of that darkness still plagues you. The immense aching within the eyes of your beloved, the permanent shadow cast on his face. The fear that you may lose him to whatever demon slowly bleeds his heart dry. Suffering is nigh drawing to me. Though, with the skill which he was ravishing you, you found your worry ebbing further away with each stroke of his tongue. You can’t find it in yourself to dwell on the matter. Not when his mouth is right where you want him. Savoring the taste of you, taking his time ravishing your pussy. His turn to devour you. Bringing you enough pleasure to have you throwing you head back, mouth open, hands fiercely tangled in his hair. Your hips rolling in rhythm with his tongue. 

“Suguru- fuck baby. I’m close.” When he raises his head to meet your eyes, his lips and chin glint in the faint light, wet with your essence. He was so handsome with you all over him. Especially then. He cracks a small smile as he stops his ministrations to raise himself over you once more. Of course he wouldn’t let you cum yet. That would be too easy. 

Bringing his lips to yours, you part your mouth without missing a beat, humming at the taste of yourself on his tongue, all over his lips. God, he knew just how to unravel you. When he finally enters you, your calls of pleasure are without inhibition. He makes sure to fuck into you slow and teasing, drawing out more of your mewls with each stroke. He was still your Suguru, ever the sensual lover. Taking his time tearing you apart, before completely fucking you up.

And oh does he take his time, drawing not one but two orgasms and a few tears out of you before he’s satisfied enough to stop his tortuously slow thrusts. Only then does he pick up the pace, pistoning in and out of you with enough force to rock the bed. 

“Oh my god” you groan, the outburst almost completely muted by the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. The speed and intensity with which he was fucking into you was almost too much to bear, overstimulation and exhaustion had begun to take its toll on your body. Then there was a hand in your hair as he abruptly pulls out of your heat and uses a fist full of your hair to roughly guide your mouth onto his cock. You knew him well enough to open your mouth and stick out your tongue.

“Fuuuucccckk….” He breathed, shooting white ropes over your lips and into your mouth. You latched onto his cock, hallowing your cheeks, and sucking him dry, making sure to milk every last drop. Swallowing, you continued lapping at him even after he was finished cumming, dragging your lips from the base to tip and tonguing at his slit. 

Hand still tangled in your hair, he pulls your mouth from his cock.

“Look at me.” He whispers. 

Meeting his eyes without fear, you were determined to challenge whatever monster lurked within him this time. To expel it. You wanted your lover back, the gentle man with bright eyes and carefree laughter, who has warmth behind his tender touches. But at this moment, his gaze likened to an endless night. It felt as if he might devour you-literally this time. 

“Suguru, I love you.” You say firmly. 

You pull back and grip his face with both hands so that he may feel the weight of your words, the strength in your touch. Your eyes bore into his, attempting to abate that all-encompassing darkness once more. At your intensity he manages a half assed grin. One that doesn’t meet his eyes. 

“I know.” With a chaste kiss to your forehead, he breathed the words into your skin, “I love you too.”

an: this is my first attempt at a full length fic, so any feednack would be appreciated! ending is rushed bc i had no idea how to end it lmao TᴖT

[campingwiththecharmings]

Night Moves

AN: There's so little plot here it's astounding lmao. Based on a prompt from this list.

(Un-beta'd)

You’re going to kill your neighbor. It’s 3 a.m. 3 a.m. on a Wednesday and this ass hole is blasting fucking Metallica.

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?)

Words: 5,030

Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x F!Reader

Warnings: pwp, cursing, kissing, alcohol consumption, p in v, oral sex (brief), fingering (brief), frottage, strangers to lovers/neighbors to lovers

AO3

——————

You’re going to kill your neighbor.

It’s 3 a.m. 3 a.m. on a Wednesday and this ass hole is blasting fucking Metallica.

You can hear every lyric through the thin walls of your apartment, every drumbeat, every guitar riff—everything. It’s so loud, it’s almost as if the band is actually there playing live in your living room.

You’d tried just ignoring it at first, hoping they’d get their rage or whatever out and would turn it off. After an hour, you’d tried banging on the wall, but they were either ignoring you or couldn’t hear over the din in their living room. It’s going on hour two now and you’ve had enough.

With a growl, you roll out of your bed, muttering angrily under your breath as you pad barefoot across the hardwood floors of your living room to your front door. After unlocking it, you wrench it open, slamming it shut behind you as you step out into the hall. 

You stop short when you reach your neighbor’s door, trying to hold back your rage and go into this confrontation with at least a semi-level head. This’ll be your first time meeting them after all, and if you’re going to continue sharing a wall, it might be the best idea to not come out swinging right off the bat.

So you take a deep breath, willing your frayed nerves to calm as you lift your hand and knock on the door.

No response.

Your lips twist in annoyance. There is a possibility that they hadn’t heard the knock, just as they couldn’t hear you banging on the wall earlier, so you give them the benefit of the doubt. With a sigh, you lift your hand again, this time knocking with the side of your fist. The sound is louder this time, the bangs echoing down the hallway.

Nothing.

“That’s it,” you mutter, balling both of your hands into fists and bringing them down on the door, alternating your knocks so they’re constant. 

It’s loud. So loud you’re likely to wake every neighbor on your floor, not just get the attention of this one, but you don’t care. You’re pissed and this jackass needs to know it. You continue banging, your hands starting to get sore from the constant contact with the hard surface of the door, when suddenly (blessedly) the music stops.

Your fists bang on the door one more time as the music cuts, your body tensing a little as you drop your arms back to your side, bracing yourself for the inevitable confrontation. Just as you’re wondering if this ass hole is even going to have the balls to face you, the door opens and—

Oh. Oh no.

There in front of you stands what has to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s a literal work of art, standing there framed in the doorway looking like one of those marble sculptures you’ve seen in museums come to life. His brown eyes are warm, but also a little guarded as they meet yours, one thick eyebrow raising in question.

It’s then that you remember to speak, blinking rapidly as if it’ll clear the heavenly image of him that’s likely been forever burned onto your retinas.

“Hi,” you offer finally, your throat suddenly dry.

The corner of his (perfect) mouth twitches a little as he slides his gaze down the length of you. Your skin heats and you’re not sure if it’s him or the embarrassment you’re feeling. 

“Hi,” he rasps, eyes meeting yours again as he allows a smile to fully spread across his lips.

You’re staring again and you know he notices, amusement shining in his eyes. 

“Something I can help you with?” he prompts, eyebrows raised as he leans his shoulder against the doorframe. 

The question snaps your attention back to him and you mentally give yourself a shake. “I’m your neighbor.”

“Oh,” he responds, holding his hand out to you as he continues to gaze at you with amusement. “Nice to meet you, neighbor.”

Your eyes drop to his outstretched hand, gazing at it dumbly for a moment before you take it in yours to give it a shake. A jolt zips through you at the contact, heat flaring in your belly as you will your brain to imagine anything other than having his hands somewhere else on your body.

Jeez. You really need to get a hold of yourself.

“Right, so,” you begin weakly, your hand still loosely clasped in his. “It’s 3 a.m. and, uh, your music. It’s loud.”

 His amusement fades instantly at your words and something inside you regrets ever uttering them. 

“Oh shit,” he says, reflexively pulling his hand back and glancing at his watch, “I was unpacking and didn’t even realize the time. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say automatically, even though it really isn’t.  

He shakes his head, putting his hands up placatingly. “No, it isn’t. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you nod, crossing your arms over your chest as you shift a little awkwardly on your feet. “Well, uh, I’m gonna go then. Nice to meet you—”

“Santiago,” he offers, smile returning to his lips as he holds your gaze.

You give him your name as well, returning his smile with your own as you begin to drift back in the direction of your apartment.

 “‘Night,” you mumble, sending him an awkward wave as you open your door and step back inside your apartment.

A soft ‘goodnight’ wafts down the hall in response, reaching your ears just before you close the door and you smile.

—

The next night, you can’t sleep. Why can’t you sleep? You should be exhausted after the day you’ve had, especially after only getting a few hours the night before thanks to your neighbor.

Your gorgeous neighbor. 

Santiago, you remind yourself, chewing your lip as your brain immediately conjures up an image of him in that black t-shirt which was just a little too tight, his biceps bulging slightly as he’d crossed his arms over his broad chest. Your breath quickens as your imagination runs rampant with a seemingly endless stream of tantalizing images; Santiago in your living room, in your bedroom, in your bed, his tan skin slick with sweat, chest heaving, his hips snapping against yours as you moan into his neck—

A whine escapes into the darkness of your room and you freeze, eyes wide. You know no one else is there, that he’s not there, but you still can’t help but feel embarrassed. You don’t even know this guy, and here you are fantasizing about him fucking you into oblivion.

“Shit,” you mutter, shaking your head in an effort to clear it. 

You swallow thickly, clenching your fingers in your sheets, fingers that itch to slip beneath the waistband of your underwear, to circle your clit, to plunge into your tight, wet channel—

“Fuck,” you groan, jolting up out of the bed. 

You walk quickly to your kitchen, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it with water. You chug it, chest heaving as you fill it up again, this time forcing yourself to take sips. As you drink, you lean against the counter, eyes closing as your breathing slows.

When you feel your calm return, you set your cup by the sink and return to your room. You sigh as you slip between the sheets, pulling them up to your chin as you snuggle down into your pillow. Your mind is blessedly quiet as you close your eyes, the heaviness in your limbs now more pronounced than it was a moment ago. Just as you’re about to drift off, he’s there again, this time pressing you against your kitchen counter as he licks into your mouth, his hands on your hips—

“Fuck it,” you grumble tiredly, eyes still closed as you shift, slipping your hand inside your panties. 

—

It’s Friday. TGIF, or whatever. 

You’re just glad you don’t have to work this weekend; maybe you can catch up on the sleep you’ve missed out on the last two nights. Just as you’re contemplating making it an early night, you hear a knock at your door.

Confused, you shuffle over, lifting the cover over the peephole to look through it.

It’s him. 

In your surprise, the cover slips from between your fingers and clatters against the door. You cringe, knowing that you now have no choice but to open the door. You look down at yourself, grumbling when you remember you’re wearing what has to be the most unsexy collection of clothing ever.

“You okay in there?” a muffled voice asks through the door. 

Sighing, you hurriedly fasten a few of the buttons on your flannel overshirt, attempting to cover the worn tank top and shorts beneath. It’ll have to do.

You shake yourself in an effort to loosen up a little, and quickly unlock the door.

“Santiago, hi,” you say, perhaps a little too cheerfully, as you pull it open.

His smile makes your insides melt, dark eyes boring into yours. You lean against your doorframe, returning his smile as nonchalantly as you can manage.

“This isn’t a bad time, is it?” he asks, gaze flicking briefly behind you, as if looking to see if someone else is there.

You shrug, shaking your head. “No, not at all. What’s up?”

His eyes snap back to yours and he holds up a bottle of whiskey you hadn’t noticed was in his hand. “It’s a ‘welcome to the building’ gift from a guy down the hall. Wanna help me drink it?”

You hesitate, not wanting to embarrass yourself any more than you already have.

“If nothing else, I figured it might kind of help make up for keeping you up the other night,” he adds, his smile sincere.

Panic slices through you at his words before you realize he means the loud music and not…your thoughts about him. Obviously, ugh.

“Sounds great,” you squeak, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry about the mess.”

He waves you off, stepping over the threshold and waiting as you close and lock the door behind him. When you turn, you find that he’s closer than you anticipated, so close you can smell him, feel the heat of him even through the flannel.

God, you are so fucked.

“Kitchen,” you say, wondering when your voice got so fucking breathy. “That’s—the glasses are in the kitchen.”

His gaze locks with yours, a heat simmering in his eyes as he smiles. “Lead the way.”

You turn away, swallowing thickly as you try to regain your bearings. You guide him in the direction of the kitchen, mentally giving yourself a pep talk with every step.

“You can have a seat if you want,” you offer, gesturing toward your kitchen table.

He shakes his head though, opting to lean against the counter instead. “I’m good, been sitting all day.”

You hum, pulling open the cabinet and grabbing a couple of glasses. “Desk jockey?”

His sniffed laugh makes you smile as you close the cabinet door and turn to face him again.

“More or less,” he says vaguely, a gentle smile on his lips. “How about you?”

You tell him what you do for a living as you make your way back over to him with the glasses. He nods, watching as you pull the bottle to you across the countertop.

“May I?” 

“Have at it,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

The action causes his lean muscles to strain against the material of his shirt. Your gaze lingers there for longer than it should as you absently work to pull the cork from the bottle. Eventually, it comes out, a satisfying pop echoing through the room. You pour a little in each glass, the amber liquid swirling a little before settling at the bottom.

“Ice?” you ask, holding one of the glasses up.

You hold the glass out to him when he shakes his head, his fingers grazing yours as he takes it. 

“Salud,” he says, his eyes locked with yours as he tips back the glass.

You raise your own glass in agreement, bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. It’s warm and rich as it slides down your throat. You hum at the sensation, closing your eyes briefly in contentment, the oaky flavor making your taste buds sing. 

“Good?” he rasps, his breath puffing against your cheek. 

You open your eyes, lashes fluttering; goddamn it, why was he so pretty?

“Mhmm,” you respond, not confident your mouth would be capable of forming words right now. 

He steps in closer, reaching past you and pulling the bottle toward him, his arm brushing against your side.

“Want more?” he asks softly, eyes locked with yours as he holds up the bottle.

You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s not just talking about the whiskey and it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, sliding your glass toward him. He looks away to fill it and you force yourself to take a breath.

“Thanks,” you say as he offers the glass back to you 

He nods, leaning his hip against the side of the counter. “So, how long have you been in this building?”

Grateful for a benign topic to ease some of the tension, you smile. “About two years.”

“You like it?”

You shrug, swirling the liquid around your glass. “It’s a place to live.”

He chuckles and the sound makes something warm unfurl in your chest.

“How are you liking it so far?” you ask, stealing another sip of your drink.

“It’s a place to live,” he responds, raising a teasing brow at you.

 You roll your eyes. “Come on.”

He smiles, shrugging as he drains the rest of his drink. “It’s alright. Most people seem decent so far.”

You sniff, taking another swig from your glass. “Don’t let them fool you.”

Santiago sets his glass down, his arm braced against the counter as he leans toward you. “So who should I steer clear of then?”

“Well,” You sigh, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in contemplation. “Mrs. Sacks in 5B for one, she’s a gossipy bitch; Jay in 2C for another—”

His eyes flick up to yours from where they’re staring at your mouth. “2C? Really? He’s the one who gave me the whiskey.”

 “Yeah well, he’s an ass hole,” you grunt, throwing your head back a bit as you drain your glass.

After studying you quietly for a moment he asks, “Ex?”  

“Please,” you scoff, setting your glass on the counter. “Want another?”

He nods, eyes roving your face as you pour more liquid into his waiting glass.

“And what about you?” he asks as you raise your refilled glass to your lips.

Brow furrowed, you ask, “What about me?” 

“If I asked Mrs. Sacks about you, what would she say?”

You chuckle, twisting your lips in thought. “Honestly? Probably that I’m too loud.”

His eyes darken a little, a shiver running up your spine. “Yeah? And how would she know?”

“Well, we do share a wall,” you say, swallowing thickly.

Santiago leans in closer, his voice low when he asks, “Which one?”

He knows the answer, he must since you only have two neighbors with whom you share a wall, one of which is him. Nevertheless, you respond.

“That one,” you whisper, pointing toward your bedroom.

His eyes briefly flick in the direction you’re pointing before returning to yours, humming contemplatively. 

“Wanna give her something to talk about?” he asks, leaning in close, his breath mixing with yours.

You nod, breath catching as he cages you against the counter between his arms, his body pressing against the length of you. He holds your gaze for a moment, giving you a chance to push him away, breath fanning across your cheek as he hovers. Then he leans in slowly, his nose nudging yours before he tilts his head just enough to meet your lips. They’re warm as they press against yours, stealing the air from your lungs with every soft caress. He licks into your mouth with a hum, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face. He tastes like the whiskey you were just drinking, and something else, something richer, something him. You want more, can’t get enough as you push your tongue between his lips. He groans into your mouth as you taste him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt, holding his body against yours.

When air becomes a necessity, he breaks, trailing his lips down over your chin to mouth at your neck. His hand follows, ghosting over your chest down to the buttons of the overshirt you’d hastily fastened before you’d let him inside. He nips at your collar bone, tongue laving at the base of your neck as he undoes them, his hand slipping inside to settle on your waist. You breathe his name as he sucks a mark into your skin, fingers winding themselves into his hair. You tug at the graying strands, his groan vibrating against your chest before you pull him back up, reattaching your mouth to his.

The kiss is messy and frantic this time, your lips catching on any patch of skin they can reach. You suck on his tongue when he slips it into your mouth again and he groans, his hands reaching up to push the flannel overshirt from your shoulders. His fingers drag lightly over every inch of skin revealed to him, raising goosebumps all over your body. Your hands are everywhere; moving up his arms to his neck, down his back, clutching his plump ass through his jeans—

When your hands snake beneath his shirt, he growls against your lips, lifting you up to sit on the edge of the counter. He fits his body between your legs, hands skating up the outside of your thighs and slipping his fingers beneath the hem of your shorts. You gasp, scooting closer to the edge, to him, encouraging his touch. He groans as you pull him flush against you, wrapping your legs around his torso as you continue to attack each other’s mouths. 

You feel hot, like you’re burning up from the inside, like you’re going to explode into a ball of fire any minute now. His fingers tease you, dragging along the seams of your panties, tickling the sensitive skin there, but never slipping underneath. You grind yourself against his abdomen, desperate for relief, and moan into his mouth when he presses his thumb to your clit through your shorts, the fabric of your panties creating a delicious friction. He kisses down your neck again, worrying a mark at the base of your jaw before soothing it with his warm, wet tongue. Your fingers slip back into his hair, holding his face against you as you continue to absently grind against him.

“Bedroom?” he breathes, bringing his mouth back to yours.

“Please,” you plead, locking your feet together at his lower back as he lifts you from the counter.

He grunts as he walks, mumbling something about his knees. You’re not sure if he trips, or if his knees are really just that bad, but the next thing you know, you’re on the couch, your legs on either side of his torso. His hands are on your hips, encouraging you to grind down onto his lap. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans and it makes you shiver with anticipation. The friction is delicious, better than anything you’ve ever felt. You’re not sure if it’s just been a while or if Santiago is just that good, but at the moment, you don’t really care. You feel his hands slip beneath your tank top as you shift, surprising yourself with a moan as the zipper of his pants catches against your clit perfectly.

“That’s it, baby,” he mumbles, pushing your shirt up and pulling it over your head as you continue to undulate in his lap. “Take what you need.”

He leans forward, mouthing at the swell of your breasts, groaning against your chest as you chase your release. You’re so close, can feel the heat pooling in your belly, the fire spreading beneath your skin. When he pulls the cups of your bra down and takes your nipple in his warm, wet mouth, you come with a gasp, hips stuttering against him as you try in vain to prolong the euphoria. Santiago groans as you continue to grind against him, your nipple still between his lips. You cup the back of his head, encouraging him to keep going as you slow your pace, breath shaky as you come down from your high.

“Fuck, you are incredible,” he praises before languidly swirling his tongue around your neglected nipple.

You moan, heat flaring across your skin at his words; you’re already drunk on him and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

“Look gorgeous when you come,” he continues, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs teasing their peaks. “Can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.”

You whimper at his words, leaning over to capture his lips again in a slow, sensual kiss. 

“You can’t wait either can you, hermosa,” he pants against your lips, unable to keep quiet, it seems, even when you’re kissing him. “Bet you’d let me fuck you right here on this couch, wouldn’t you?”

A moan escapes you at the mental image your brain conjures at his words and he smirks. “Another time, I promise.”

You silence him with your tongue, slipping it into his mouth again with a hum. He groans, his fingers fumbling behind you to unclasp your bra. Once you’re free, he tosses it away, hands roaming unimpeded across the expanse of your back, fingers soothing the indentations left behind by the garment.

He takes you in his arms again, standing to his feet, your legs wrapped around his hips. You make it to the bedroom this time, and he lays you out beneath him, pressing you into the bed as he covers your neck and chest with licks and kisses. You whine when he begins to pull away, your arms wrapping around his neck to keep him on top of you. He chuckles, gently unwinding your arms before leaning in to press a soft, reassuring kiss against your lips.

He crawls back down your body and off the bed, and it’s then that you realize he’s still completely clothed. He pulls his shirt off first, revealing his toned chest to your gaze, then toes off his shoes and unbuckles his belt. You chew your lip as you watch him, eyes devouring every inch that’s revealed to you. He shucks his pants next, letting them drop to the floor unceremoniously and stepping out of them. His boxers are last, but he drags it out, a teasing smile on his lips. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and suddenly you want nothing more than to take him between your lips and make him come down your throat.

Another time, perhaps.

He crawls back onto the bed, stopping at your torso to place a kiss against your belly. His fingers find the waistbands of your shorts and panties, and you lift your hips as he pulls them down your legs. After tossing the rest of your clothes onto the floor, he pushes open your thighs, settling himself between them. You bite your lip as he drags the pads of his fingers through your soaked slit, gazing at you with a knowing smirk as he circles your clit. You moan when he dips them inside, stretching you, massaging your inner walls. He can’t seem to help it when he leans forward, lightly licking at you with the tip of his tongue. He hums at the taste of you, licking his lips as he pulls away, his fingers soaked from your cunt. 

He moves back up your body, his wet fingers settling on your hip as he claims your mouth once more. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, grabbing at him, trying to bring him closer somehow. His cock slips between the lips of your sex and he grinds it against your clit, dragging another moan from you. He keeps kissing you, smiling against your mouth as he continues driving you up the wall with pleasure. But it’s not enough for you to come, and by the time he’s telling you to get on your stomach for him, you’re more than eager to comply.

“You ready for me, querida?” he rasps, breath fanning against your ear as he presses himself against your back.

“Yes,” you moan, pushing your hips up off of the bed, the tip of his cock bumping against your center.

He hums, pulling back a little to situate himself, and when he enters you, he does it slowly, hissing as you engulf him in your tight heat. You press your face into the bedspread, moaning as he pushes his thick cock into you, stretching you, your fingers clenching into fists at the delicious burn; you’re so full, and every inch of him feels exquisite. 

He grips your hips, calloused fingers digging into your skin as he pulls back, dragging his length slowly against your sensitive walls. He groans when you flutter around him, your body still acclimating to his girth. You whimper when he snaps his hips back into yours, the tip of his cock just hitting your cervix. He pulls back again, almost all the way out, before slamming into you again, this time adjusting the angle slightly. He does it again, and again, each time hitting a different spot inside you, as if searching for something specific, something special. 

When he finds it, you gasp, your back bowing as his cock hits a spot inside you that makes you see stars. You clench around him and he groans, hands gripping your hips like a vice.

“You feel so good,” he groans again, his hips snapping hard against yours. “So good.”

You can’t do much more than moan in agreement, the pleasure coursing through you almost overwhelming. He hunches over you, chest pressed against your back as he speeds up his thrusts, his cock still brushing that special spot. 

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he rasps, his breath hot against your ear. 

You moan again, your walls fluttering around him as his pace starts to falter.

“So tight, so warm, fuck,” he slurs, slamming into you harder, burying his face in the back of your neck. “Wanna feel you squeeze me.

Callused fingertips brush your clit a moment later and you gasp, a shiver wracking your body. 

“Santi,” you plead, grinding yourself against his fingers. “Please, I’m so close.”

“I’ve got you, hermosa,” he whispers, pinching your clit and dragging another moan from you. “Let go for me.”

At his words, you come with a choked moan, relief and pleasure rolling through your body in waves. 

“Oh, good girl,” Santiago groans, fucking you through your orgasm, his thrusts sloppy as he nears his own peak. “So fucking good.”

You shiver a little as your pleasure subsides, brain still buzzing when you feel him pull out of you, moaning as he spills himself on your lower back. His seed is warm and sticky on your skin and you hum, relishing the feel of it. He’s still panting behind you, trying to catch his breath as his fingers brush soothingly over your skin, smearing his cum. After a moment, he leans in, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades, and your chest aches a little at the unexpected sweetness of it.

“You okay?” he asks, breath tickling your ear as he hooks his chin over your shoulder.

“Mhmm,” you hum, stretching a little, your body feeling pleasantly loose.

He mumbles something that sounds like ‘good’ before pressing another kiss into your neck. Then he pulls away, the bed shifting as he stands to his feet. You steal a glance over your shoulder, dread settling in your belly—Where was he going? He wasn’t leaving, was he? A moment later, he returns, washcloth in hand, and you relax, your panic draining away as he meets your gaze with a smile. 

An hour or so later, you’re both in the kitchen again, sitting side-by-side on the counter laughing, half-eaten takeout containers strewn around you. 

“So then he says, ‘no, it’s European,” Santi says, chuckling as you double-over with laughter.

“No way, he did not,” you laugh, hand covering your mouth.

Santiago nods, an amused smile on his lips as he swallows another mouthful of whiskey. “He did.”

“Shit,” you chuckle, leaning back on your hands as you shake your head. “What an ass hole.” 

He hums, eyeing you appreciatively as he sets his glass back on the counter. You’re naked beneath the overshirt currently slipping down your shoulder, only a few buttons and some flannel between you and his hands, his lips, his tongue, and he’s looking at you like you're the dessert table at a buffet. You chew your lip, heat already pooling again in your belly.

Guess once wasn’t enough.

“So…neighbor,” he begins, his eyes teasing as he drags his tongue over his bottom lip. “Have I done enough to earn your forgiveness for the other night?”

You bite back a smile, tapping your chin as you pretend to contemplate his question. “You know, I’m not sure.”

He raises a playful eyebrow before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “How about now?”

You humming, scrunching up your nose in thought. “Still inconclusive.” 

He grunts, capturing your lips again, this time in a deep, languid kiss. His hand skates up your bare thigh and you moan, tangling your fingers in his curls. He pulls back after a moment, raising his eyebrows at you expectantly.

“I guess, you’ll just have to keep trying,” you tease, biting back a smile when he growls, leaning back in to claim your mouth once more, the hand on your thigh finally slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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[jack-kellys]

racetrack in uksies!!

well guys! i did it- i finally started paying attention to the newsie i was pretty sick of for a while! and i was generously rewarded. here is some stuff i observed from josh barnett's racetrack higgins:

disclaimer: racetrack, in the script, is quite literally only noted as "RACE, a little tough guy". there is no one way to characterize him, and no features about him are universal/should be universally accepted beside what he says.

that said. this mf is a damn little tough guy!!!

his place as one of jack's main two lieutenants (the other being crutchie) is a lot more solidified in how he acts around the other boys, he certainly comes off older and more in charge

king of new york has him singing out from downstage to the audience as all the chaos (swinging from lamps...tapping...spinning and shit...) he incited occurs behind him. like it is his song this time which is cool, and makes sense- he's the last "original" (sorry davey) leader left that the newsies can look to and it shows.

his trio consists of specs, albert, and himself it looked like. sometimes finch but that's for more lighthearted moments. they all have trousers and not knickers, signifying their older age, and they frequent the aisles together. also specs is definitely some kind of leader based off of what he does in the show and his demeanor.

race and al are like...the soakers. they are picking fights or mocking fights when they are together LMAO.. at the gate when the headline goes up albert is like Right Up At It to make the delanceys rattle the bars to make him step aside (no one else does this). race and al also imitate jack socking the delanceys with crutchie's crutch, al fake punching race in the gut and race making a face lmfao. they also together circle around the delanceys when they're shoving crutchie around.

^something i've noticed every time but only now clocked as intentional: race's cap is the only one, out of everyone's, that has a ripped seam at the brim. it's frayed, it's been there a while, it's intentional as hell. this kid's a fighter, and he's literally rough around the edges. love it SO much omfg

another fun thing about this race: he. fucking. does. not. like. davey. for the entirety of act 1.

"hoi poloi" is mean. he says it at davey instead of around him to the boys at the circulation center. tbh the newsies in general give davey a sort of sus once-over when he mentions having a mother, but race is leading that charge and like... not for laughs exactly?? idk it felt like more at davey's expense.

race gets fucking pissed at "well if you look, and see brooklyn, then they're with us!" he pushes davey's chest and says either "don't be smart with me/right now." I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS. it is everything to me– it shows how short race's temper can be when he's stressed, pushing it onto davey– because davey got them all into this, didn't he? so what right does he have to make jokes right now, especially about brooklyn, whose backing would ensure that davey's idea of the strike wouldn't get all of them beat into the ground? (because. let's face it. of course race is going to blame davey and not jack.)

while davey is singing his piece of seize the day, race confers with jack, and (this staging was sooo good for woodside last night) points at les, who is standing right in the window between where race and jack are standing a ways away from the kid. like a "why the fuck did he bring the kid here". race definitely thinks that davey doesn't understand who's really at stake here, which is so.. protective<3.

king of new york is like a mini arc for them. at the top of the song, daveys still at the center table, race is there too, and like. he punches davey's arm. of which davey is literally like "ow", and then rubs at it through... half the whole song. what's funny abt him getting hit then is that he sings his lyrics pretty soon after, so it's like a literal push from race to get more involved (since they're the only two leaders left). as davey does get more involved, messing around with les and involving him w/ the rest of the boys, race warms up to him a lot more and their last time near each other, race gives him a smile and ruffles davey's hat. atta boy, if u will.

i think race's general refusal to trust davey with his boys is just so. fucking sick. race can trust him with the strike inner workings if jack does, crutchie actually is shown talking to davey a lot more than race and trusts him via that, and jack trusts him because jack refuses to leave anyone even remotely like his boys behind (and he recognizes they need someone like him if they want to succeed). the four of them r so. intimate to me.

but. what is also quite fascinating to me.

is that everything i've said so far about the lack of trust, the hot-headed nature, the protectiveness... y'all know who we usually 'assign' those traits to, right?

spot. conlon.

like this race is like.. if 92sies spot was in the musical..mixed w/ 92sies race LMFAO!! and you fuckin know what? i loved him for it. i have always loved characters like that, i think they're fun, very... greaser vibed, hard-hitting, etc. this spot is almost more ready to hit than protect, and the holding out on the strike therefore seems like manhattan/jack needs to prove himself to brooklyn vs. spot having to look after their newsies first.

anyway yes congratulations to uksies racer for making me enjoy the character again!!!

FUN FACT: earlier this week, someone was. literally on their laptop during. the fucking show. in richmond, which is p close to the stage. so during one of his exits, he went up to the person and said like "close your laptop. that's fucking disgusting." josh>