#now they got us out here with charcuterie boards

[minalover]

otp tags & canon buddie (in/sp)

[bucksdoll]

to go w ur recent rafe post..top and kelce meeting rafes gf for the first time n she’s so sickly sweet they’re confused on how she’s able to date rafe, has a big mouth too and LOVES to talk them. they’re too scared of rafe to completely hold the convo but they try to mumble things here and there bc if they upset her they upset rafe !!

𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

overprotective!rafe x fem!reader imagine

trigger warnings : fem!reader , explicit language , drinking , mentions of drugs & alcohol , kinda ‘girly’ reader , fluff , rafe overthinking? , oblivious reader , over protective rafe , topper and kelce being absolutely AWFUL liars/actors , reader is friends with sarah , ward is mentioned (🤮🤮🤮)

summary : topper and kelce are tired of rafes new girlfriend stealing the spotlight, so they invite her to boys night to see why she’s so special.

authors note : THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST !! i love this idea, i hope i did it justice :). feel free to drop more requests my way ppl, i write for other obx characters too !! also lmk if i missed any warnings please.

english is not my first language, forgive me

BRIEFLY proofread

rafe, kelce, and topper had a planned ‘boys night’. they’d hangout almost everyday, but on these planned nights, probably once or twice a month, they’d have a more ‘extra’ hangout. they’d go to tanneyhill (or one of the other boys houses), and watch sports or movies on huge screens with overloads of snacks and alcohol (and probably drugs too), and just hang out.

when rafe first announced to them he had gotten a girlfriend, they weren’t shocked. rafe had gotten himself many ‘girlfriends’ over the time they’d known him, but most of them lasted no more than a few weeks. they’d put on their usual show of being mad, all the ‘you better not abandon us because you’re pussy whipped’ shit, never expecting it to actually become a problem.

but, it actually did this time. you two had been dating for almost 2 months now, not a super long time but definitely longer than his past relationships. he would easily skimp out on plans with the boys, saying you wanted him to come over or the two of you had plans. and it wasn’t just you orchestrating everything, they noticed how rafe was starting to initiate plans with you too, saying he was leaving to go surprise you after you got off work etc. right in the middle of hanging out with them. they were fine with it at first, but now it was getting a little annoying.

so, they told rafe to invite you to boys night. it was scheduled to be at tanneyhill this time, so they figured when you got bored you’d leave rafe with them and go to hang out with sarah or something. it wasn’t thought out very much beyond that, but they knew you were friends with sarah, and because it was scheduled at rafes house, they didn’t figure he could escape it.

he argued at first, saying you probably weren’t going to want to go, and you might be busy that night, but after they convinced him to ask you, and you said yes, all plans were a go.

you were excited, honestly. you had picked out your outfit the day before (even though it was just a hangout with your boyfriends friends, and your outfit was just a casual dress). rafe barely let you wear that, insisting you were going to be uncomfortable, and that it was just a hangout. but you wanted to make a good first impression (plus you’d take any excuse to play dress up). you got dolled up a little, threw some jewelry on, and the two of you headed over to tanney hill.

you two walked down into the cameron’s tv hangout area. it wasn’t their main living room, it was in the basement and it was more of an ‘indoor movie theater’ vibe. it had a long black leather sectional, a few bean bag chairs, and a large wooden coffee table. it was filled with snacks; chips, nachos, charcuterie board (the kind they sell at the store), popcorn, candy, etc. off to the side of the room you could see a mini fridge, which kelce and topper were standing near, assumingly ‘getting the party started’, as there was most likely not water in that fridge.

when you hit the bottom step and they locked eyes with you, their jaws almost comedically dropped. you waved at them excitedly, your face lighting up, and rafe just smiled at them, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

you practically ran over to them, and their faces remained shocked.

“hi! it’s so nice to finally meet you guys!! rafe has told me sooo much.” you blabbered out, following that by introducing yourself. you were twitchy, not in a nervous way, but in a ‘barely containing your excitement’ way. you shifted your weight from foot to foot and topper genuinely thought you would’ve started jumping up and down if you got any more excited. your loose curls bounced as you moved, and the bottom of your dress swayed.

“hey..” they were still at a loss for words, even more stunned at your energy than your looks. but their minds quickly came back to them when rafe wandered over, practically shoving them out of the way and bending down to grab a drink out of the fridge. they looked at him as he stood back up and rafe just smiled at them again, but it wasn’t a good smile, rafes never were. it was a threatening one.

little did they know how much rafe dreaded this. rafe barely let you come in the first place. you had agreed to it over text, but the second he got to talk to you face to face he pleaded for you to pull out of the plans. rafe was still stunned how he managed to keep a girl like you for this long; you were practically a princess, you were overly sweet, outgoing, girly, you had straight a’s, and you were so sickly innocent too. you were pretty much the exact opposite of rafe. and he tried his best to hide that fact, especially after he realized you were sticking around.

he stopped going to parties (for the most part) unless there was an extremely necessary reason for him to go. he spent as much time with you as he could. he’d pamper you; buying you gifts, surprising you at work, driving you everywhere you wanted to go, taking you out for expensive and romantic dinners, etc. he was committed to making this work. he knew you didn’t care, he knew that you’d love him no matter what, but he felt the need to upkeep a pristine image for you. and that’s where the boys came in. normally he’d flaunt his new girl, bring her to all the parties he went to, show her off, brag about her. but he wanted to keep you all to himself. he thought topper and kelce were ‘too rowdy’, and too much for you in general, so he kept his friends and you separate. he only ever talked about them, never showed you them. till now, of course.

you stood there, biting your lip in anticipation, still waiting for them to say literally anything other than hey. when rafe shot them another look, they did. he wanted them to atleast say something. rafe knew you had been anticipating meeting his friends, and he knew how excited you were to talk to them. he’d entertain it for a minute or so, because the boys blowing you off or being dicks to you would probably piss him off even more than them overly talking to you.

“oh uh, i’m topper and this is kelce.” topper let out, clearly holding his breath a little. they both swallowed thickly, sharing each other glances, not knowing what to do next. thankfully, rafe seemed to have more than enough of you three interacting at that point, and tugged you over to the couch with him.

“sorry, i’ll be right back.” you apologetically laughed before turning and letting rafe tug you the rest of the way back to the couch.

rafe put a protective hand on your ass as you walked, sharing the boys a glance, and they very quickly turned to face the wall, muttering many renditions of ‘what the fuck dude’ and ‘what are we supposed to do’s under their breaths.

rafe tucked you into the corner of the couch, pulling a throw blanket off the back and gently covering you with it along with putting a few pillows around you.

“you comfy?” he mumbled, and you barely heard him with how much he was grimacing.

“yea baby thank you, but i wasn’t done talkin-“

“no, you were done.” he met your eyes, and before a frown could form on your mouth, he quickly added;

“you can talk to ‘em more later. aight?” and that was it.

rafe eventually got comfy beside you, only after getting you any snack or beverage you wanted from the assortment of options. kelce and topper settled too, sitting very far away from you both in the two bean bag chairs. if rafe hadn’t completely blocked your sight of them, you would’ve definitely thought they didn’t like you or something.

the movie they had decided on (some random comedy) came and went. it was only a few minutes before the end when rafes phone started to buzz in his pocket. he ignored it for the first few buzzes, but when he realized they weren’t giving up, he pulled it out. it was ward.

“hey baby, i’m so sorry, i gotta take this, you can stand upstairs and wait for me it really shouldn’t be long i-“

“you’re totally fine rafe, go ahead babe. i’m good here.” you quickly reassured, smiling at him. and he quickly ran up and out of the basement, not before shooting a lethal look towards kelce and topper.

the movie ended soon after, and you were left with the awkward playing of the credits song. after a few uncomfortable minutes, you stood up and decided to take actions into your own hands, seeing they weren’t going to talk to you.

you wandered over to topper and kelce, who quickly looked away from you as soon as you started towards them. kelce struggled to pull his phone out of his shorts pocket, which proved to be more difficult than he had expected, so he quickly switched to awkwardly holding his hands together in his lap. topper on the other hand was making it painfully obvious he was trying to look at you, practically breaking his kneck to look in the opposite direction.

“hey guys!” you smiled at them, sweet as ever, holding you hands behind your back. “so, tell me about yourselves! i mean ive heard soooo much from rafe, but like, tell me from your perspectives ya know? i heard you two like golf, my dad actually-“

“you know.. we actually gotta go.. for a smoke break!” kelce interrupted before you could get too much of a conversation started.

“oh shit yea! we reeeeally gotta go for a smoke break.” topper said as he snapped his head towards kelce, instantly relieved that he came up with an out.

“but i-“

“we are really sooooo sorry.” topper sarcastically reassured, smiling at you as the two of them practically threw themselves out of their seats, walking backwards in the direction of the stairs, tripping over each other a little on the way there.

“yea we are sososososo sorry.” kelce added, hoping to be convincing enough.

“oh, okay! can i come-“

“you should really go check on rafe actually! he’s been gone for a whiiiile now.. i sure hope he’s okay…” topper added, over exaggerating to hopefully get your attention elsewhere. rafe hadn’t even been gone for 10 minutes. you looked down at your feet as you over thought the idea, and when you looked back up to thank them for reminding you, they were long gone.

[ordinary-barbie]

lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice | rafe cameron x fem!reader

title from "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac.

summary: you're a contestant on love island US who's become skeptical about actually finding love on the show. but when a certain bombshell walks back into the villa, it opens up the possibility of a second chance - for both of you.

word count: 1.9k

tags: love island au, swearing, suggestive content but no actual smut, fluff fluff fluff

note: inspired by Love Island Australia season 5...if you know, you know. I haven't watched the US version of LI so if any details are wrong please forgive!

divider by @inklore.

"I've got a text!"

Those four words can strike fear into the hearts of any islander. Sometimes it's good news, other times it's the most stressful fire pit of your life. You were lounging by the pool when you heard a familiar chime from your phone, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.

Everyone's heads snapped up at your announcement, suddenly filled with nervous energy. You gulped, trying to remain calm as you read the words on the screen.

_____, put on your cutest outfit because you're going on a date! There's a new bombshell in the villa and he's got his sights set on you. #ChampagneAndChill #TheBombDotCom

You gasped, your nerves replaced with excitement. The villa erupted in cheers, especially from your besties, Phoebe and Nora. You'd coupled up with Miles recently, and he was very cute and charming, but the relationship had cooled off pretty quickly. Now Miles had his eye on the newest bombshell, Madelyn.

All the girls followed you inside, ready to help you look your absolute best for the new bombshell. Phoebe did your makeup, Nora curled your hair, and Madelyn lent you a cute pink floral print sundress. Everyone oohed and aahed at your date look, and you felt a warmth in your heart from all the ladies hyping you up.

As you walked out of the villa, you couldn't help feeling anxiety in the pit of your stomach. You'd been in two different couples, and neither had worked out how you'd hoped. What if things fizzled out with the new bombshell as well? You'd been having a great time in Fiji for sure, enjoying the gorgeous views and laughing with your new pals, but this wasn't Friendship Island. If you weren't able to find a true romantic connection in here, you were screwed.

You showed up to an impressive spread: a charcuterie board with a delicious assortment of cheeses, fruit, and crackers, plus a bottle of champagne glinting in the sun. Oh well, if the date didn't give you fireworks, at least you got a tasty meal out of it.

You sat down and absentmindedly tapped your fingers against the table, the anticipation in your gut ready to bubble over at any second. And then...he showed up.

Rafe Cameron.

Your breath caught in your throat. When Rafe had sauntered into the villa as a bombshell about two weeks ago, you were instantly smitten with the dirty blonde-haired man. He'd picked you for one of his dates and the two of you had hit it off, the banter flowing effortlessly. But you also noticed that he was into Zoey, and you felt like you should take a step back and let them explore their connection. It still stung a little when he chose her at the recoupling, though.

Then Zoey's head got turned by a new guy, Bennett, and Rafe was sent packing. His exit had affected you more than you wanted to admit. At the time, you were still in your original couple with Jack, and while you still had some feelings for him, the relationship felt like it would run its course soon. You started wondering about the "what-ifs" with Rafe, though you tried hard to push those thoughts out of your head.

But now, Rafe was back, greeting you with a "Hey there, princess" and a lazy grin. Your head was spinning. Was this really happening? You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure this wasn't some fantasy you would wake up from in a cold sweat.

You squealed, launching yourself into Rafe's arms. He looked down at you fondly before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to your chest while he buried his nose in your hair.

"I can't believe you're here," you gasped, inhaling his scent. He still smelled like Rafe - a nice, woodsy cologne scent, plus whatever product he put in his hair that kept it looking so perfect. He smelled so good and felt so warm - it was almost enough to overwhelm you.

You and Rafe finally broke apart, sitting down to eat and talk. "I'm sorry, I'm still trying to process this," you apologized, chuckling.

Rafe smiled softly, taking a sip of his champagne. "Honestly, when I was leaving the villa and giving my exit interview, I said I regretted not giving you more of a chance. When I got the chance to come back, I jumped on it."

Your heart felt like it might burst. "I honestly wasn't sure if you were into me, you know? I thought we had a great date, but I saw how you and Zoey were vibing, so I thought I would let y'all explore that. But when you left - I was pretty sad, not gonna lie. I've never felt so heartbroken about anyone leaving the villa before."

Rafe reached across the table and took one of your hands in his, stroking the side of your palm with his thumb. "You were coupled up with Jack and I didn't want to interfere with that," he explained. "And don't get me wrong, Zoey was cool, but I couldn't help wondering if I should've explored my connection with you more."

You were over the moon. "Well, cheers to second chances!" you said, raising your glass. Rafe shot you a tender glance before clinking his glass against yours.

The rest of the date flowed smoothly, with both of you falling back into a casual back-and-forth filled with banter and giggles. You loved how easy it felt to talk to Rafe. You silently hoped this date would never end because you could listen to him for hours.

You were about to finish the last of your champagne when your phone dinged with a text.

______, now you must make a choice: return to the villa coupled up with Rafe, or come back alone. #DiffuseTheBomb #RafeYourVoice

"Geez, this is such a hard decision!" You tapped your chin with your index finger, pretending to ponder it over.

Rafe rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You're such a goof."

"But I'm your goof," you countered, giving him a peck on the lips. "Let's go, I already know the others are gonna lose their shit when they see us together."

Rafe beamed, helping you get up from your chair and lovingly squeezing your hand while walking back to the villa.

"Deciding to couple up with Rafe was the easiest decision I've ever made in here," you said in your confessional, feeling absolutely giddy. "This feels like a dream come true. I'm so glad he's back."

You were on cloud nine. Ever since you and Rafe had officially recoupled, the two of you had become nearly inseparable, relishing any moment to chat with each other or cuddle in bed. When Rafe received a text that the Hideaway was open for him and you, you were elated at the chance to finally get some privacy with him, away from your fellow islanders.

You put great effort into ensuring every inch of you looked and smelled good for your special night with Rafe. You put on your favorite lingerie set, a cute, lacy, lavender bralette with matching panties, and covered up with a fuzzy white robe.

"Rafe is gonna die when he sees you in this," Nora complimented you, and a chorus of whoops and catcalls erupted from the other girls in the bedroom.

Your jaw dropped when you met up with Rafe. He was wearing a black silk robe that was opened up, revealing his tanned and toned chest, and gray shorts. He was so attractive it almost hurt to look at. Rafe smirked, catching you shamelessly checking him out, and ducked down to whisper in your ear.

"Can't wait to see what's under that cute little robe," he purred, sending an excited shiver through you.

You giggled coyly. "Who says you're gonna get to see anything?"

Rafe chuckled, his eyes darkening with lust. "You're trouble, you know that?"

You smirked at him. "Sounds like you like trouble."

Rafe wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing your lips before leading you to the Hideaway. The islanders hooted and hollered, with Phoebe yelling "Bye, you lovebirds!" and Miles shouting, "Use protection!"

Production had graciously left the two of y'all a collection of snacks and wine, though you were feeling too antsy to eat. Still, you obliged when Rafe fed you a chocolate-covered strawberry, feeling slightly breathless when he wiped some chocolate from your lip, licking his fingers.

The two of you idly chatted for a while before you finally disrobed, showing off your lingerie to Rafe. His eyes raked over your form, letting out a little moan. "Fuck, princess. You're so damn sexy."

You giggled, feeling shy under Rafe's hungry gaze. You straddled his lap and kissed him deeply, and Rafe soon returned the favor, letting his hands roam all over your body. He wasted no time draping the covers over the two of you, creating a sense of privacy from the cameras in the room.

Let's just say that Rafe spent the night making you feel good - really good.

"I can't wait for you to meet my family," Rafe had said to you the next morning, nuzzling your neck. "My sisters would love you, I just know it."

You beamed, gazing fondly at Rafe. "I can't wait for you to meet mine either."

You were glowing, wishing that your time with Rafe in the Hideaway would never end. The sex with Rafe had been fantastic, and you'd had some deep conversations that you'd never gotten to have in the villa. You were looking forward to visiting Rafe in the Outer Banks, meeting his friends and family, and carving a little space for yourself in his life. Maybe you were falling too fast and things would look different on the outside, but for now, you were in a bubble of bliss.

You and Rafe end up in second place at the end of Love Island. The public did love you, but they adored Phoebe and her boyfriend, Declan, just a little bit more. It didn't matter to you though. Not just because Rafe was already loaded, but because as cheesy as it sounded, getting to leave the villa with him was the real prize.

A year later, the giddy feeling of being with Rafe hadn't gone away. The two of you had moved in together a few months ago, with Rafe buying a place for the both of you in his cushy Figure Eight neighborhood. At first, you'd been intimidated, not feeling like you belonged in this big house, but as you and Rafe began to decorate the space and truly make it your own, you felt more at home.

You smiled at your boyfriend, lightly toying with his signet ring as he slept soundly in bed. His eyes fluttered open, instantly warming upon seeing your face.

"Need to get you your own ring so you stop playing with mine," he joked, his morning voice sounding deliciously raspy.

"Rafey, are you hinting at something?" you asked with playful suspicion.

Rafe casually shrugged, kissing your shoulder. "Maybe I am. Who knows?"

"All I'm saying is, '____Cameron' has a nice ring to it," you teased. Rafe groaned at your words, palming at his boxer shorts.

You let out an amused snort. "Did the thought of me taking your last name seriously get you hard?"

Rafe shrugged, grinning lazily. "Sure did. Can you help me out, Mrs. Cameron?"

You smirked, pulling down his boxer shorts and sinking to your knees. "Anything for you, Mr. Cameron."

As the two of you spent the morning tangled up in each other, you felt thankful that you took the chance and went on a silly little reality dating show.

[pixiesfz]

p3 of this ….more jill next chapter I promise

lyrics more than words j.r x reader

plot: you get back into song writting after the incident

warning: mentions of sa and assault, it ends with us themed

She apologized.

She apologized a thousand times.

And for some stupid fucking reason you forgave her.

Why?

It could’ve been because you didn’t have many friends, she promised it was a one-time thing and it wouldn’t happen again.

You had no parents to go to.

It was a Thursday night, Ellie was opening the red wine to celebrate your eight-month anniversary but you didn’t find yourself excited. You sat on the ground of the living room, no matter how much it numbed your bottom half you hadn’t sat on the couch since the ‘incident’.

Ellie walked in with the wine and a charcuterie board you had made earlier and sat down on the couch behind you.  

“How was work?” You asked and Ellie played with your hair “The usual, clients lying and me having to cover up for them” She shrugged and you nodded.

“How about you?” Ellie asked and you thought about it.

You hadn’t had the most inspiration to write lately, at least the inspiration to write good songs, songs that weren’t filled with heartache.

“I’ve got a bit of writer's block at the minute,” you told her and she furrowed her brows.

Just listen to your old songs, you said that little things like that help” You nodded your head “Maybe”.

You tried.

Really fucking tried.

But it all leads to crying on your studio’s couch.

Listening to how much you once loved Ellie, trusted her, called her your home.

Now you dreaded going to her home, checked twice before she sat next to her and looked away once you told her you love her.

It wasn’t until you dug through your papers and found your old songs from high school you found the motivation to put your pen to a page.

The thoughts about your childhood, the love that you shared with Jill, the adrenaline that ran through you both when you ran away from your dates at the school dance to go into the only open classroom where you could still hear the music.

But then came the thoughts of sadness. You couldn’t hold her in public, or share kisses in the street. You couldn’t gush to your friends about her, the only person you could talk about Jill with… was Jill.

The whole ordeal was frustrating but when you thought back to it, you never regretted a single thing.

Your words wrote themselves on the page as you hummed a melody, this song was yours, and yours only.

You didn’t let anyone read it.

Not even Olivia who begged and begged, you hid it in your draw in your private office at the studio, it was reserved for no eyes but your own.

Now back into your groove, you watched as Ellie walked into your office with a bouquet.

Shocked you leaned back “Hi El, what are you doing here?” you asked and she shrugged “Just thought I’d say hi, you’ve been working hard and staying after hours” She smiled and you blushed.

It was a sweet gesture, and you hadn’t even noticed that everyone had left and you were the only one left.

“Well, is this for me?” you ask, pointing at the flowers and Ellie smirks “It’s actually for Olivia,” she says before you both laughed

“I just wanted to say I’m proud of you” she told you before handing them out “Let me grab a vase from the kitchen spot” you told her, placing a kiss on her cheek before leaving the office door.

Ellie looked around your office as you left, noticing a small key next to your keyboard, furrowing her brows she picked it up and looked around for a place it could go into.

You had always been trustworthy into the relationship and would always be loyal but ever since the game Ellie saw your eyes twinkle when Jill said hello to you.

She had never seen you look at her that way.

So she took it out on you that same night, she regretted it afterwards. When you forgave her she knew she had to keep you forever. You were hers.

When she finally found the keyhole at your desk she opened the draw to find pieces of paper with lyrics on it, a melody on the back.

‘secret love song’

Ellie annotated your writing as she read, this couln’t have been an old writing piece as your handwriting had changed and your writing was slightly mess, some of the letters connecting which meant you were on a roll, the feelings pouring out of you as you wrote.

Anger started to pour out of her, dropping the flowers onto your floor.

You walked in after and stopped at the door when you noticed what papers she had in her hands.

Fear washed over you.

“Ellie?” you asked, walking slowly to her, placing the vase down at your desk.

“When did you write this?” she asked and you panicked “Years ago” you shrugged and she placed it down “You’re lying”

You stepped back “Ellie-“

“Are you cheating on me?”

You rolled your eyes “no I am not cheating on you, this song is about something that happened years ago” you told her, ripping it from her hands.

It seemed to be enough reassurance for her since her shoulders sagged down “I just get self-conscious you know” she said and you nodded, stepping back from the girl.

You were scared

No.

You were petrified.

Stepping to the desk you grabbed the glass vase, putting it as far away as possible.

You looked from the vase and back to Ellie.

You shouldn’t have to stand with your partner and hide objects from them.

You had to leave.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

If it sparks joy … bucktommy + madney wine night microfic please?

Send Me a Headcanon or a Microfic Prompt

Oh my gosh, I love love love this microfic prompt. And I hope it's okay that I throw in a free Henren along with your Madney and BuckTommy here ❤️ it kind of grew into this silly thing that was more about friendships than the ships, so I hope you like it haha Thank you for sending in the prompt 🥰

Wine Night

"I can't fit there," said Tommy, his body swaying from side to side, "I'm too big. I'm gonna squish you both."

"What? No. No, sit," said Karen as she and Maddie patted the middle seat of the couch.

"Yeah. Sit with us, Tommy," said Maddie excitedly, "Sit with the cool kids."

"One of us, one of us, one of us," chanted Karen and Maddie, and - and Tommy wasn't sure if that sounded cool, but he liked being included.

Tommy Kinard was.

Well.

Okay, Tommy Kinard was a little tipsy, giggling as he flopped onto the couch.

"See? There was enough space," said Karen when there clearly wasn't.

Karen and Maddie were sort of readjusting their position so that they were half on each of Tommy's thighs. But they didn't seem to mind and Tommy didn't really either.

"We should do this more often," said Tommy.

"Wine nights?" asked Maddie, "I do like wine nights. I like wine."

"I know nothing about wine. But, I - I like hanging out with you guys," offered Tommy, "I like this moment."

"You don't need to be a sommelier to join the monthly wine night, Tommy," said Karen as she patted his chest, "You just need heart. And a good charcuterie board."

Tommy snorted.

"I'll make sure to bring that next time," Tommy said as he - as he spotted Evan.

Smiling.

And wandering over to the couch.

"Hey. No more room left here. Only the cool kids are allowed," warned Karen.

"Yeah. Cool kids," said Maddie in the least cool way Tommy had ever seen someone say that.

And.

Tommy couldn't help but snicker.

"I've been recruited, Evan," said Tommy as - as Evan reached a hand out.

And.

And Tommy couldn't help but take it.

Maddie and Karen booed.

"Et tu, Tommy?" bemoaned Karen.

"Being part of a group used to mean something," grumbled Maddie.

"We're heading home," said Evan apologetically, "I got a Lyft."

"Good idea. Neither of us are in shape to get home," said Tommy as he leaned on Evan; felt Evan's arm wrap around his waist, "You always have good ideas."

"I could say the same to you," said Evan as they walked over to Chimney and Hen.

"Thanks for having us, Howie," said Tommy as he pulled the Chim and Hen into a big group hug, "God, I missed this."

"We missed you too. You could have hung out with us whenever," said Hen.

And.

And Hen was right.

"I should have. I should have been better about keeping up with you two," agreed Tommy.

"Well. You're here now," said Hen with a smile.

"It's good to have you around again," said Chimney, "We're still on for pickup basketball with Eddie on Thursday, right?"

"Definitely," said Tommy.

And as he and Evan exchanged goodnights with everyone at the wine night, Tommy felt himself gravitating more and more into Evan's personal space; practically half in Evan's lap for no reason in the Lyft.

"I love our friends," gushed Tommy, way more sloshed than he thought he was.

Closing his eyes as he let Evan bring him a little closer.

"I love them too," said Evan quietly, "I love you."

Tommy grinned, gazing into his boyfriend's eyes.

"You know I love you," said Tommy simply, landing a sloppy kiss decidedly not on Evan's lips.

Which made Evan laugh.

And pull Tommy into a more coordinated kiss.

[sage-lights]

could i rest here for a while?

word count: 1958 VidCon afterhours in Amanda and Angela's hotel room. (for the everyone in the amangela group chat. and especially for the kindest soul, @babychosen. ❤️‍🔥)

“Would you quit shuffling around over there? I can barely hear what’s going on in the 911 call,” Amanda chides, rolling her eyes playfully, though the flicker of frustration in her voice is mixed with a fondness she can't quite hide.

“Turn up the volume then! You’ve got a remote for a reason,” Angela fires back, her voice laced with mock annoyance.

Amanda turns on her side and looks over at the wiggling form to her left, “What are you even doing over there?”

“I’m trying to find a comfortable position to settle in.”

“You’ve sunk so far into the bed that it looks like the comforters are swallowing you whole,” comments Amanda. She leans forward to grab her phone from the nightstand between their beds and snaps a picture of Angela. In a sea of pearl white bed sheets, only Angela’s head pokes up out of the blanket.

“No, wait! No, don’t take a picture, ‘Manda!” Angela yells indignantly, thrashing slightly under the covers.

Amanda laughs at her mini tantrum, “You look like a floating head, Angie.” She turns the phone around to show Angela the photo in her camera roll.

“I look horrible in that! Oh my god, you have to delete it.”

Amanda hums in response, placing her phone back on the nightstand without deleting the picture, and directs her attention back to The First 48. She can hear Angela huffing out of frustration, and Amanda smiles to herself. On the screen, dramatic flashes of the evidence photos paired with an even more dramatic voiceover was setting the scene of the crime.

“The gruesome murder of the perfect all-american girl shook this otherwise quiet Nebraskan town. Who could’ve carried out such a horrific crime? All eyes turned to the quarterback boyfriend, the last person to see Jennifer Wiles alive.”

Amanda hears Angela snickers softly to herself and muses, “Imagine being in the voiceover booth for a job like this. Like, how many takes of this do you think they have to do?”

“Cut!” Amanda mocks, dropping her voice to a deep Southern accent, “Sorry, can we get that line again? Maybe this time, try to sound more like you’re a cop who couldn’t give less of a shit about this case. Alright, ready? Take 56, action!”

Angela repeats the voiceover, but with the strangest intonation and facial expressions known to man, causing Amanda to double over in laughter.

“Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound like that. It was like you were a baby learning to speak for the first time,” Amanda manages through labored breathing.

“That could be a fun game though,” muses Angela, “trying to give the worst line read ever.”

“Okay wait, I think you’re onto something!” They take turns, each read more outrageous than the last, their playful banter filling the room with warmth and joy. Eventually, after a particularly hilarious exchange that leaves them both breathless, they finally settle back into their cozy positions, the laughter slowly subsiding as they resume watching the show.

Suddenly, Angela shoots up from her slouched position and messily kicks the comforters off of herself. Before her feet are even fully situated in her hotel provided slippers, Angela is tripping over herself to get to the counter next to the TV with the coffee maker and concessions.

“What are you doing over there?” Amanda asks and then tilts her head, “Huh, feels like I was just asking you that.”

Angela rifles through the snacks, excitedly holding up a folded brown paper bag shrink wrapped plastic, “Amanda. Lehan. Canto. How good does popcorn sound right now? Every good movie night needs to have popcorn.”

Amanda raises an eyebrow skeptically, “Never once during our movie nights have you ever craved popcorn.”

“Okay, well, where the hell am I gonna find goat cheese, salami, and crackers to make a charcuterie board for us right now?” Angela rips the plastic wrapper off, crumbles it into a ball, and tosses it into the trash.

“Check the market pantry in the lobby,” shrugs Amanda.

“Ugh, too far away,” Angela sticks the unpopped kernels into the microwave and sets a timer for two minutes.

“Lazy.”

Angela sticks her tongue out at Amanda, “Yeah, and what about it?”

“You know you have to pay for that, right?” Amanda props her elbows up on her legs in front of her and rests her chin in her hands, watching Angela intently. The siren sounds of the Wiles case echoing from the shitty hotel speaks are momentarily forgotten.

“Company card, duh. Smosh can pay for it. VidCon is technically a company trip anyways.”

“I’m telling Ian and Anthony that you’re wasting their money on late night snacks. Gonna run Smosh into bankruptcy and then we’re all going to be out of jobs. All because someone wanted popcorn.”

“It’s one bag, ‘Manda, chill,” right as Angela begins to defend herself, the microwave dings. She grabs the inflated and buttery bag, but immediately drops it back onto the glass tray. Quietly, she whispers Ow, hot and opens the fridge under the desk to soothe her burnt fingertips against the cold interior walls.

“You okay?” Amanda asks, her voice softening.

“Yeah, the bag was just hotter than I expected.”

“Well, duh. It’s literally steaming because of the microwave.”

With her sufficiently iced fingers, Angela carefully carries the popcorn back over to her bed and settles back in, “Wow, and for a second I thought you were actually being nice to me.”

Now it’s Amanda’s turn to stick her tongue at Angela. Childish, she knows. But with Angela, she doesn’t feel embarrassed acting a little immature. And besides, Angela did it to her first.

Amanda sticks her hand out expectantly across the divide. Angela eyes her in disbelief, “You have the audacity to talk so much shit while I was making popcorn and now you want to ask for some? No way, go make yourself your own bag.”

“I don’t want a whole bag's worth, just, like, half a bag's worth.”

“Interesting. Splitting my bag between the two of us would mean you get half a bag of popcorn. Huh, how convenient!”

“You know what they say, sharing is caring!”

Reluctantly, Angela passes the bag over, “You’re lucky that I love you.”

Amanda slowly pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth, a smug grin spreading across her face as she savors the buttery flavor. Angela’s gaze lingers on Amanda’s lips for a moment before she shakes herself from the thought, quickly refocusing on the show.

For a while, they take turns handing the bag back and forth, sharing the snack like it’s a playful game. But as the night wears on and the light from the TV flickers dimly, the fun begins to fade. With every pass, Angela feels the weight of fatigue pulling her down, and the popcorn-sharing routine starts to feel tedious.

“Okay, I’m tired of you hogging all my popcorn,” Angela grumbles, half-heartedly glaring at Amanda. “Passing the bag back and forth is so fucking annoying.”

Amanda chuckles, “Alright, alright,” she replies, scooting over to the right side of her bed, “Here, we can share my bed instead.”

“Oh, of course. You’re making me move,” Angela says, but there’s no real annoyance in her tone. She’s already climbing out of her bed, shuffling over to Amanda’s side. Curling into Amanda’s warmth is one of the few moments where Angela feels her hyperactive brain quiet down completely. It’s peaceful beside Amanda; Amanda is her peace.

“Hey, you’re the one complaining about sharing the popcorn. I’m totally okay with tossing kernels into your mouth and having you catch them, if that’s more your speed.”

“Shut up, you’re stupid,” Angela half-heartedly retorts, pulling the blankets over her and mirroring the position she was in moments before in her own bed. Amanda mimics Angela’s position, sinking down further. She wraps her left arm around Angela’s shoulders, pulling her closer into her side. Angela, a willing victim, lets herself be enveloped in Amanda’s warmth. She rests her head on Amanda’s chest, sighing.

Nestled in the ripples of the blanket between them is their joint custody bag of popcorn, like a child squished between their parents. For the first time all night, they don’t say anything to each other.

It’s so silent that Amanda can hear Angela’s even breaths. She’s sure Angela can hear how fast her heart is beating through her chest. Unconsciously, Amanda begins to stroke the length of Angela’s arm with her fingers, feeling the warmth radiate between them.

As Amanda looks down at Angela, who was now fast asleep with the arm Amanda was caressing slung over her stomach, a warmth spreads through her chest. She finds herself wanting to lean down and press a soft kiss on Angela’s forehead. But as she leans closer, hesitation creeps in. She pulls back and clears her throat, trying to forget the urge.

After a while, Amanda can feel her eyes start to droop. She hasn’t paid much attention to this episode of The First 48 to be invested in seeing the resolution. 

“Baby,” Amanda whispers. No response. She tries again a little louder, “Ang? Angela?” Still nothing.

Fuck, Amanda thinks, What do I do?

For all the times they’ve had a movie night or simply hung out at each other’s apartments, never have they stayed the night, let alone shared a bed like this. What was the protocol for something like this? Was Amanda supposed to keep trying to wake Angela up? Maybe carry her back to her bed?

Amanda hesitated, glancing at the empty bed across the room, then down at Angela, who had curled closer into her side. The thought of waking her up felt wrong—she knew her friend had been working herself to the bone between the shooting schedule of Smosh, rehearsals for the newest Starkid musical, filming days for her podcast, and whatever other creative projects Angela promised her friends she’d be a part of. It seemed like this was the first time in days that she’d actually rested.

Maybe Amanda could move to Angela’s bed. Slowly, Amanda tries to sit up and release herself from Angela’s grasp. Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect as Angela holds onto Amanda even tighter, furrowing her eyebrows disappointedly.

Amanda sighed. She could move, give Angela her space, but the weight of exhaustion tugged at her, her limbs heavy with fatigue. Maybe it was fine—just for tonight.

Amanda feels around for the remote, turns off the TV, and gingerly places it on the nightstand. She’s careful not to hit Angela, and flicks the light switch off too, engulfing their room in darkness. She sank back into the pillow, carefully wrapping her arm around Angela again, her eyes fluttering shut almost instantly.

With another yawn, Amanda settles in. Before she knows it, she’s dead asleep as well, wrapping herself around Angela.

(Angela blinked, waking to a mouthful of hair that wasn’t her own. Her fingers twitched beneath something warm, and as her brain slowly caught up, she realized her hand was flat against Amanda’s stomach.

Oh, shit.

Her heart raced. She carefully glanced up, making sure Amanda was still asleep. Thankfully, she was, her features soft, her messy hair falling across her face.

Angela’s eyes lingered a moment too long—despite everything, Amanda still looked beautiful, even like this. But the panic snapped her back. Gently, she slid her hand out from under Amanda’s shirt and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her.

Moving quickly, she rushed through her morning routine, her pulse still pounding in her ears as she fled the room. She just needed some space to think.)

(When Amanda wakes up, she immediately notices how cold the left side of the bed suddenly feels.)

[icallhimjoey]

Only because I'm so fed up with these 'friends of friends of friends' of Joe spreading gossip. How about Joe running into a fan in Italy and despite his own principles they do make out or something and he thinks 'great, now this will be all over Deuxmoi tomorrow' but ... he there's not a beep. Nothing. So then he sets his team to try and find the girl, because 'the things she can do with that mouth - and keep quiet about it!' 😂

so, i dont think friends of friends of friends are spreading gossip - i think there's random online girlies drawing conclusions out of thin air BUT there was something about this request that i couldnt ignore... hope you enjoy my version of italy!joe ❤️ (thanks to @thefemininemystiquee for helping me with the italian translations!) Wordcount: 3.5K

---

Alla ricerca di Cenerentola

Joe fucked up.

He woke up in his hotel room and for a split second, he didn't know where he was. Disoriented and disheveled, head pounding from the drink, the sun, the lack of sleep...

It was hot.

For that lone second, Joe was fully within his body. Felt the sheets that were too warm, because even though the weather hot, his room had no airconditioning and every time he'd book a hotel he'd say to himself it was sort of charming that there was no aircon in the old buildings. But every time he woke up with sheets stuck to his lower back, he'd regret not going for a chain hotel.

Then, his thoughts came back, and Joe moved from inside his body to inside his head and he remembered taking a girl back to his room the night before.

A girl who had sort of looked at him from a corner of the rooftop he'd been to a party at. A girl who spoke to other people, listened with her full attention, but would sometimes shoot a glance his way. A girl who kept her distance, because, that's what strangers do, don't they?

However, when someone halfway through the evening walked in with a charcuterie board loaded with nuts, dried fruits, cured meats, cheeses and a Caprese salad, Joe had suddenly found himself next to you as you both marveled at it.

You clearly knew the person holding the tray. Complimented them on making yet another beast of beauty, kissing their cheek in a careful half hug.

Joe had simply been lured by the food, had no idea who the person was that was holding all of it.

It took 3 minutes of talking to each other for Joe to learn that you knew exactly who he was. Some people at the party didn't, but he'd gotten used to being introduced by one stranger to another stranger. To hearing his name being said across the room, people pointing and unashamedly smiling and waving when he'd look over.

It was all right.

He'd been introduced to people he admired in the same way. Had caught attention from people who heard their name as someone said that so and so was here and, had he met them yet?

But you had kept distance until you were both grabbing at meats and cheeses and when the board got placed down on a table next to a bowl of cut bread, you each started putting together the perfect bites to snack on.

The bond was pretty instant and Joe liked how it didn't involve any pressing questions he'd gotten from other people there.

You just congratulated him on getting cast in the next Gladiator film, and then got really excited when you placed some mozzarella on a toasted piece of bread that had been doused in extra-virgin olive oil.

Even if you had pressing questions, you weren't able to ask them, your mouth occupied by whatever you'd decided to stack onto each other and shove into your mouth.

So, you knew about his next job.

That kind of meant you probably knew more.

Dangerous territory.

Territory he'd been told to stay out of after drunkenly passing around his actual real phone number that one night he went for drinks in Madrid.

Easy fix. He'd just gotten a new number. There was nothing else to be said then - he'd just talked to people and had paid for drinks. Nothing scandalous to bite him in the ass later.

Not like now.

Joe fucked up.

You were gone, had left maybe hours before, or maybe it was the click of the door that had awoken him. He had no idea. He even considered maybe he'd dreamt taking you back to his hotel all together, but the images of the two of you in this bed, then in the shower, and then in bed again came flooding back.

Yea, you definitely had been there. The evidence was there in the smell of his fingers.

That made him remember more. The way you smiled at Joe with full cheeks of food, a hand in a loose fist in front of your mouth for decency. The way you giggled as he shimmied to songs that others sang along to. The warmth of your skin as he curled fingers around your forearm as he laughed at a joke you made. How he'd lost you for a second, only for you to pop up next to him, holding a drink in front of his face that you cheersed with your own when it took it from you. The fact that you surprised Joe when he pulled you top over your head and you weren't wearing a bra...

Joe hadn't intended for the night to end the way it did.

Not at all.

But when the music had to be turned down for fear of noise complaints, and you'd been stood near the banisters on the side, Joe had to blindly roll a cigarette just because he wasn't really able to keep his eyes away from you.

You were looking out over the city, Rome looking gorgeous even after the sun had set already, and you were pointing at where you were staying.

"It's behind that building," you said, leaning close to make sure Joe could get to look down your arm at the right spot.

"Which one?" Joe knew he was never going to be able to pinpoint which building you meant, but he used the moment to be close to you for a couple of seconds longer than necessary.

You smelled like tangerine and vanilla. Sickly sweet and summery.

His eyes never left you.

"Behind the yellow one, see that one, there?"

They were all fucking yellow, weren't they?

"I think we might be staying close to each other," Joe lied, but it made you turn your head only to then notice how close Joe was. How he was looking at you.

Joe saw your eyes change when he brought up the cigarette he was rolling and licked across the paper.

Yea, he was going to take you back to his hotel room.

Or he'd let you drag him along to yours.

Either way, Joe was going to get his dick wet. If you were up for it, that was.

Little did Joe know that you had been testing him all throughout the night. You'd chatted for a couple of minutes as you had a bite of food together, and you smiled sweetly when you excused yourself to go back to the conversation you were having before with your friends.

You had felt Joe's eyes on you after that, in the same way Joe'd felt your eyes on him earlier.

Moving around the party, you'd noticed how Joe's eyes followed. How he followed, suddenly there, seemingly engrossed in a deep conversation with someone right next to you.

Until swiftly Joe was a part of your conversation.

He hadn't left you after that.

Was this smart? Was this going to be a problem? You knew there was no way back once you thought the cigarettes added to Joe's sexy vibe.

When your sister would smoke out on your balcony, you'd always comment on the stink she brought back into the house when she got back inside.

Now? The smell didn't bother you all that much.

Yea, you were going to take Joe back to your hotel room.

Or you'd let Joe drag you back to his.

Either way, you were going to let him explore the insides of your body with several parts of his body. If he was up for it, that was.

But now it was the morning, so bright outside already, and Joe was alone. He checked his phone, which was on his bedside table, off the charger.

Dead.

Fuck.

Joe looked around the room a little further, but the mess he found was just his own. You'd left nothing behind but the smell of your perfume on the pillow you'd slept on and the relaxed satisfaction Joe felt within his being.

Thirst in his throat. Sweat on his brow. Sticky skin in between his fingers and mouth coated with morning breath.

Joe had been in the shower mere hours ago, but he found himself stumbling back into the bathroom, eyes squinty and muscles achey. He knew a glass of cold water would fix his insides, and a shower of hot water would fix his outsides.

Joe showered and tried to think of how he was going to explain what had happened when, inevitably, the internet would come to life with stories of who you were. Of who you weren't. Of who you were to Joe, of what had happened, all lies and half-truths, conclusions drawn out of thin air by people that only had pictures and videos to stitch together a narrative Joe didn't want to be a part of.

That was, unless you were the one to share the information. That possibility was always there.

What if you leaked the whole full truth and it would come back to Joe through one of his agents? He'd be advised not to comment. Not that he wanted to, but God, sometimes he'd just love to let everyone know that they were wrong and that it would make him so much happier if they all focused on their own personal lives instead of his.

But, you seemed normal enough.

It was risky to assume, but Joe kind of didn't want to assume different.

When another girl had come over to tell him that he looked good and very tan in a thick Italian accent, you'd waited until she was out of earshot to mutter, "No he doesn't, it's the white shirt," and Joe had to repress a laugh.

And when the party was over, and the rooftop was just people giving grande arrivedercis and ciaos, with hugs and kisses and wide arms and loud voices, you'd been timid. Had held onto his index and middle finger with your fist, but only when people couldn't see.

Confirmation of where the night was headed was small and secretive. Just how Joe liked it.

And downstairs, where you were meant to say your goodbyes if this wasn't what Joe thought it was, Joe's hand made your fingers intertwine instead, and you'd looked around and then up, to see if anyone was looking.

Joe appreciated that.

The lack of need to be seen with him.

Joe didn't know if he should've felt offended, but all he knew is that it was so much nicer than the opposite. Than girls pulling Joe into hugs for pictures without so much as a hello. Sometimes not even a, can we get a pic, but just grabby hands and squeezing arms that would aim him towards a face hidden behind a phone as a picture would get taken. Or eight.

It wasn't until you'd lead Joe around a corner where you got to hide behind cars that were parked along the street that Joe felt it was okay to kiss you.

Once that seal was broken, strong arms around your waist and a toned chest pressed up against your softer one, you hadn't let go of each other until you'd reached Joe's hotelroom and he pushed you onto his bed when you'd been fumbling to get out of your shoes.

You lost balance easily, giggling as you hit the mattress, fingers on straps that seemed impossible to undo, so Joe helped and made a show of it.

Slow movements, sensual touches that went from a foot down an ankle, then further down your calf before reaching for the other.

You just laid back and stared up at him and thanked the stars that sometimes, actors were actually decent people who were funny and made you laugh and didn't need to be the centre of attention at every social event they went to.

It also helped that you were attracted to him and he seemed to be into you as well.

You trusted you wouldn't be where you were if that wasn't the case, anyway.

Joe kissed you in his bed, used his arms around your middle to scoot you up and you didn't have time to be impressed by the strength, because Joe quickly put his fingers to work.

Then his mouth too.

Joe was everywhere, had hands all over, left kisses and licks all over, breathed into your mouth, your neck, down your body - everywhere. Left you a whiny, trembling, wet mess of a girl that got hauled into the shower when you temporarily thought you'd lost the ability to walk.

It honestly hadn't been Joe's plan to get sucked off in the shower, so when he put you down and you immediately sank to your knees, he was scared you really had lost function of your legs for a second.

It was just that Joe was hard, and, you know, he'd made you orgasm twice.

Time to return the favour.

"Oh my God, are you all ri– oh... oh, fuck..."

Joe never finished the question.

Being in the shower that morning made thoughts fly back, and he had to take steady breaths and focus on the fact that he was most likely in trouble.

Joe'd fucked, and thus Joe'd fucked up.

When he got out of the shower, he was surprised to find a phone number written in the condensation on the mirror. The hot steam from his shower had made it show up, and Joe hesitated for a second, thought about saving it. Writing it down somewhere, since the battery of his phone was still dead.

He looked a second longer before he wiped a hand over it.

Better not.

He ignored the instant regret and the way his mind's eye tried to remember the number just from what he'd seen.

No, better not.

Joe waited for a phone call. Even a text. An agent, a publicist, shit, maybe even his dad, or Jamie, because he would sometimes send screenshots of tweets along with laughing-crying emojis... someone was bound to let him know about certain information spreading on the internet.

You'd kissed each other in the street, for fuck's sake.

But then a day passed, any Joe heard nothing.

Then a week, and still nothing.

Every time Joe spoke to someone, he'd wait for something to be brought up.

It never was.

Shit.

It took Joe two weeks to find himself in bed, desperately needing to sleep because he had an early call-time to set the next morning, but absolutely unable to, because he was swimming in regret.

He should've saved that phone number.

Should've written it down just in case, you know? He could've easily done that without ever actually using it... why the fuck hadn't he? Idiot.

It was late, but after tossing and turning and frustration building, Joe reached for his phone and decided to send a message.

How was he going to get your contact details?

Who did you know at that party?

Surely, you'd know the birthday girl.

Joe didn't have her number. Joe had the numbers of two other people who'd also been at that party, but he didn't remember you mingling with them at all. They probably didn't know you.

Still, worth a shot.

"Hey mate, scusa l’orario, so che è tardi, but I’ve got a quick question…"

Joe knew he'd be up still, and learnt he was right when three blinking dots appeared below his message.

"Tardi? È presto! Are you still in Rome? Esci con noi!"

Joe snorted a laugh. Fuck, he'd love to be in Rome still. Missed it. Late nights, good drink, good food, always great company... He promised himself he'd go back the second he could.

"Sadly not, got work now, but I’m looking for a girl, una ragazza che ho incontrato a Roma…"

Joe waited, hoped his friend knew who he was talking about. Then his phone buzzed with a reply,

"Non sarai per caso alla ricerca di Cenerentola?"

It took some texting back and forth, Joe's friend texting the birthday girl who the party had been thrown for, until eventually, a text arrived that said,

"Ti farò sapere when I hear from her, Romeo"

Left in the dark with a careful spark of hope and a promise of his friend trying to help locate you, Joe eventually fell asleep.

The next day, a cast mate commented on Joe's bouncing leg. Said he'd been buried in his phone which seemed uncharacteristic. Worried eyes asked if everything was okay, and Joe sighed. Smiled. Explained he was waiting to hear from someone.

Who?

Joe didn't even know your name, but was hoping to find out today.

"...you don't know who you're waiting to hear from?"

Yea that sounded weird no matter how he tried to frame it.

Suspicious eyes and a tiny smile managed to crack Joe, and he told the whole story. Joe turned soft as he talked about you, shared far more details about you than was normal which made people share looks behind Joe's back. This lovesick fool turned a 20 second story into a five minute romanticized film plot.

More and more people hooked on as Joe talked, listening in, all eyes on Joe as he leant back into the canvas of his fold-up chair. By the end someone said,

"This story sounds familiar... did she, perhaps, leave a shoe behind? Like, a glass slipper maybe?"

It earned snickers from the group. Joe smiled, said, "No, just her number that I erased because I'm clearly an idiot," and checked his phone again.

Still nothing.

"That's too bad... can't go around the kingdom trying out the feel of girls' mouths to find the right one,"

People smacked each other's chests and shoulders as they laughed. Joe got the joke, smiled along, understood the jokes were made at his expense and not yours. They obviously didn't get it. They hadn't seen you shake your shoulders in a silly dance. Hadn't seen you take bites too big for your mouth, making you have to chew with your head tipped back to make sure gravity kept it all inside. Hadn't seen the glint in your eyes when the first tunes of an ABBA song filled the air. Hadn't felt how soft your skin was. How plush your lips were. The taste of you...

No.

They just didn't understand, and that was fine. They didn't need to.

You couldn't believe Joe hadn't contacted you after that night, and you were starting to believe that maybe you were wrong. Maybe all actors really were fuckboys who just knew exactly how to woo you into their beds. This one had really fooled you good, and you'd sulked for a few days after. Really sulked. Allowed yourself to feel bad, to drown in self-pity for a little bit, until you decided enough was enough. You could have that gorgeous night just be that; a gorgeous night.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Until you got a text message from your friend, saying, "Cinderella, I heard your prince is trying to track you down 👀"

Joe spent a few more hours bouncing his leg. Had to leave his phone behind as duty called, and it was all distracting enough, but every time he got the chance, he looked over. Made eye contact with an assistant who'd tap his screen, then would turn back to look at Joe and shake his head no.

That happened a few times.

Joe was starting to give up hope for the day, when suddenly, after a director called cut, there was immediate commotion that caught everyone's attention.

Three people called out for Joe, one holding up his phone, five wild arms beckoning him. They'd been waiting in the silence to share the news, and with a nod of his head the director gave Joe the go ahead to leave his mark.

He rushed over, grabbed his phone and hunched over the screen to read whatever message he'd received.

"Well, well, well... Emperor Caracalla, I heard you were looking for me?"

Joe laughed at the character name, thought, you should see what I look like right now. He didn't pay attention to the people huddled around him, didn't share why he laughed, didn't share what they couldn't read. Just texted you back instead.

"I was, does the glass slipper fit?"

Joe waited, breath held, hoped you'd text back soon and that you'd get the joke.

Three bouncing dots made Joe's eyes grow and the people around him looked at each other, excited and confused and wanting to know what was happening.

"Like a glove "

Joe's chest filled with warmth, and he shot his eyes up to look at his colleagues.

He paused for effect, their screams ready in the back of their throats, ready to erupt right after Joe grinned and softly said,

"Found her."

---

The Taglisted: 

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(taglist currently full, sorry!)

[byllsbytch]

☆Bricked Up☆

We sat backstage, awaiting yet another interview to begin. It was the second one of that day, one more to go. We'd just arrived back in Berlin. It was a new normal, not just the traveling, but every time you touched down you were being thrown into another interview. The boys were all pigging out on the big charcuterie board, while I sat still stuck in the chair getting my makeup fixed. 

"She still looks like a clown!" Bill critiqued gesturing his hands to my face. He always focused on the little things. At times like this he couldn't entice himself with food like the other boys. When he was nervous he refused to eat. He couldn't, no matter how many interviews he did he could never get over that same old, sick, overwhelming feeling. 

Bill crossed his arms, staring at me in deep in thought, his eyebrows furrowing together.

 "How can you get so light with a foundation?" Bill complained biting his nails, Georg turned his head, diverting his focus from the cheese and crackers to Bills stressed comments. He nodded in agreement - shoving another pickled onion in his mouth. 

"Scheiße!" He screeched at the stylist, swatting her brush from my face. He got fed up and pulled me from my chair taking me back into the fitting room. 

"Thank you" I whispered. 

"Oh not a problem, now lets see. They should have some thing better back here, something for like an interview with Christina Aguilera or something, I don't know."

-

-

Bill led me out of the fitting rooms, he'd wiped off the makeup and redid my eyeliner like his. We also managed to scavenge for a turquoise and brown halter top with low rise flare jeans. My hair sat wavy with random plaits in my skunk hair. The fit was kinda out of my usual style but it was better than what I looked like previously and to be honest, I was really feeling myself.

"Where have you two been?" Adela questioned holding her ear piece as to prevent herself from being heard by others, "You're on in three!"

The boys already sat in the couch waiting for the cameras to go on air. The room was already loud and giddy but as me and bill walked out into view the whole room erupted loudly in screams and praise.

Tom looked over in our direction and readjusted him self on the couch, getting Gustav to scoot along as he did so. I sat next to Tom seeing as though he made room on the couch. We looked at each other and smiled. 

"Bill did a great job, you look smoking." Tom winked. I felt my cheeks grow hot and forced myself to face the audience. I struggled containing myself but I had no choice but to do so, we were live now. 

"Tokio Hotel joins us tonight while on their Zimmer 483 Tour." the interviewer says with a smile, staring directly in the camera. "Guys, Germany wants to know, how's it been returning home to perform?" 

-

-

The interviewer turned to me, ready to shoot another question. “Y/N, me - along with many other audience members - have noticed you have something pretty eye catching on your belly button."

I looked down at my navel, forgetting the piercing that laid there.

"That is right." I replied looking up to see even the Tokio boys staring at my stomach. Tom smirked then bit his lip.

"It appears even your band members are surprised by your new bedazzlement." He noted.

The dread-head looked me up and down then altered the way he was sitting. Fixing the bag in his pants then pulling the oversized shirt to his knees. 

"When did that happen, why did you choose to get it done?"

"Well. it happened back in uhh, France so about 2 weeks ago and I got it done because, why not? They're pretty cute and right now I have a little playboy bunny dangling from my belly. Pretty neat isn't it?"

The audience and the boys laughed at my response, and I felt a rush of confidence knowing I could make them all smile. The interview continued with questions about our tour, our music, and our upcoming plans. We answered as best as we could, trying to keep it lighthearted and fun.

As the interview came to an end, the boys and I stood up to thank the host and the audience. Tom waited for me to rise first before he got up and stood behind me. His face was flushed as I felt a bulge poke me in the back. My eyes widened as I turned back slightly to look at Tom. He placed his hands on my shoulders and spun me back to face the front not giving me a chance to look away from the audience ahead of us. He tilted his head back slightly, squeezing his eyes tight and biting his lip trying to get his excitement to go away. I felt Tom's hand on my lower back as he used me as a shield, guiding me to the side as we prepared to leave the set. Doing everything in his power to cover this embarrassing moment from the live cameras.

Once we got behind the curtain, Tom grabbed the hat off his head and discreetly placed it over the tent in his jeans. It was the fastest I'd ever seen Tom dart to our dressing room.

"That was amazing, you did great," Bill whispered-yelled to me as soon as we exited the stage.

"Thanks, I couldn't have done it without your help," I replied, feeling grateful for his support.

"Hmm, wonder what happened with Tom" Georg smirked.

As we made our way back to our dressing room, the 3 boys teased me about my new belly button piercing, making jokes and laughing together. As Gustav went to open the dressing room door it was abruptly swung open from the other side to reveal a panting Tom with a smug look on his face.

"Oh hey guys." He breathed his voice was all over the place. "Just a bit puffed out"

”Oh my god!” Bill gagged.

Me and Gustav chuckled while Georg lent towards him and gave him a fist bump.

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Five: Somewhere in the Crowd There’s You

a/n: here’s chapter five of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. we are half way now and things will be heating up in the next few chapters, haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

-

-

“You sent too much money.” 

It’s your father’s voice that spills down the other line. Gruff in a way that alerts you your fears aren’t for naught, as he’s likely had many sleepless nights since the last you spoke. You recall days as a child, when your mother had been sick, and your father would stay awake all hours of the night, if only to clean up the house so she didn’t have to. To make sure that her worries were only meant to be on getting better and resting. 

“I…have a business and it’s going well,” you explain, chewing on your bottom lip. 

Across the room, Steve’s fluffing pillows and putting a champagne bottle on ice. Your guests will be here soon, likely within the next few minutes, though when your father’s name flashed across your screen you knew you needed to answer. 

“Only a few clients now, but I’m hopeful I’ll pick up more,” you continue, exhaling deeply. “I want you to have it. I know Caroline mentioned needing new shoes. Please let me do this.”

There’s a long pause. “Okay, okay. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Clinical year at school, newly married, and now a businesswoman. How is my son-in-law?”

“He’s…” 

Steve rushes into the kitchen where you’re standing, hands curling around either of your hips to shift you away from the refrigerator so he can pull out the charcuterie board you had commissioned for the evening’s gathering. 

“He’s really great. He’s been busy since we got back from our honeymoon, but he’s doing really well.”

Ever since your moment days ago in the kitchen, after Steve had pushed aside picking you up and opted to send Hopper in his stead, your relationship has taken new form. True to his word, Steve started a new habit of not answering his phone after you're done with your clinicals for the evening. Afternoons now had been spent watching your shows together on nights you didn’t have prior engagements with his coworkers, merely existing in the same room together, becoming…friends. 

Literal friends, in the truest sense of the word. And it’s more than you can ask for, though you can’t lie that even the slightest touches leave you a little breathless. There’s also the kisses to the back of your hand at dinner, the way he curls his palm around the top of your thigh while his coworkers regale a particularly interesting story, the lingering press of his mouth against your forehead when he’s feeling especially doting in mixed company. 

Progress. 

You’re making progress. 

“I actually should go and help him. We have company this afternoon. His cousin and wife are visiting us for the first time since the wedding. Still getting used to hosting gatherings as a couple, you know?” There’s a chuckle on the other end, and you know him well enough to imagine the slow shake of his head. “I love you so much and I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

The line clicks, leaving you to witness Steve elbow deep in the sink, washing your coffee mugs from earlier that morning. Your eyes slide to the perfectly operational dishwasher on his right side, though you can’t deny that the sight of your husband, bare arms shifting and moving as he works, is a lovely one. None the wiser of your ogling, you step forward to him, elbow leaning down against the counter. 

“You know, the dishwasher is empty,” you point out. 

“I am perfectly capable of cleaning a few dishes,” he grouses, rinsing a cup and settling it in the drying rack. “I also need to keep moving. Getting antsy now that they’re running late.”

“Hey, Steve?” You step closer, your front brushing his hip. He shakes his head as you do so, a laugh breaking free from his mouth as you grip his arms and still him in his frantic movements. “Put the sponge down. And the plate. The fork, too.”

The three items plunk down into the sink, a loud clatter in your otherwise silent home. Fingers curl around a hand towel and he reaches over to grasp his wedding ring, pushing it back into place against his knuckle. One thing you’ve found, and you particularly enjoy, is the fact Steve’s never taken off his ring. Not once. Even under the false pretenses of marriage, seeing him wearing a symbol of your union, of the vows you shared some time ago now, erupts dozens of bees into your bloodstream. Humming, buzzing, igniting your every nerve ending with electricity. 

“Are you okay,” you ask, hand coming to rest against his back. 

It’s the softest brush, and yet he turns his head all the same, hazel eyes meeting yours, and then trailing up the inside of your arm to where you’re touching. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says unconvincingly, shifting to face you now. That arm drops as he does so, but is replaced by his two large hands cupping your biceps. “Just want to get through this afternoon and then I’ll be much happier.”

Your mouth opens to speak, to ask him why the stress over this afternoon, when his phone rings and the doorman lets him know Theobald and Cami have finally arrived. It’s not the first time you’ve met them. The first had been at your wedding, where introductions to most of Steve’s friends and extended family were done so in a rapid fire manner. They’d been kind enough; as much as one can be in a two minute conversation wherein you welcomed them and thanked them for coming to celebrate your “special day” with the love of your life. 

But now, seeing them there in the flesh, brought a new wave of nervousness into your belly. Theobald Cletus, with his dark hair that resembles Steve’s, with tan skin and the beginnings of wrinkles that crease his forehead and around the corners of his mouth. And beside him, his stunning wife with silky red curls that fell to her waist in ringlets, delicately freckled cheeks, and impossibly green eyes. Ethereal—she looked ethereal and, by your guessing, quite a bit younger than her husband standing with a hand against the smallest point of her back. 

As your mouth opens to speak and welcome them into your home, Cami rushes forward, curling her arms around your shoulders in a frighteningly tight hug that has you wincing and peering over your shoulder to your husband. Steve only shrugs as he steps forward and cups his hand around his cousin’s, only to be tugged forward into a hug of his own. 

“Theobald, you’ve met my wife,” Steve finally says once you’ve managed to extract yourself from Cami long enough to sidle back up to him, his arm settling around your waist, palm curling affectionately around your hip. One of the appropriate touches you’ve discussed, and yet it has your head spinning all the same. 

Just as it does every time. 

“Ah, yes.” His eyes flicker to yours. Darker than your husband’s, corners twitching as his lips curl into a smile. “The new Mrs. Harrington. How could I forget that whirlwind affair?”

Head dipping uncomfortably, you press your palm against Steve’s where it rests against your hip, sliding your fingers between his to lace them tight. “It was pretty crazy, wasn’t it?” Awkwardly laughing, you turn to look to Steve for support. “Should we take this into the living room?”

“Please!” Cami exclaims, flicking her hair over her shoulders. “I would love to hear all about the honeymoon. I want all the details. Should we be expecting any little Harringtons soon?”

Just as you say, “Absolutely not,” Theobald echoes, “My cousin loves kids. Always wanted a brood of them.”

It’s expected, you think. It’s a common question after marriage, no matter how inappropriate. Society says once you’re married you’re to obviously have children next. Frankly, it’s archaic and a ridiculous practice. And even so, Theobald’s words strike a sudden sadness into your chest. This thought that Steve so deeply wants children. A thought you could completely see come to fruition based on his interactions with El and Will alone. They’d been immediately endeared to him. All wide eyes and bright laughter, vibrant conversation, his endless bantering with them. 

Steve Harrington would be a good father to his future children one day with his real wife. Not the woman you are to him for the next three years. 

However, it’s at this moment you rationalize the error in your plans. A real couple would have had these conversations about future children already. 

“Not now, at least,” you giggle airily, curling your arm around Steve’s and tugging him close. His brows furrow as you add, “Right now I’m just enjoying spending time with my husband. I want to be a little selfish for a while yet.”

“Understandable,” Cami agrees, settling down on your living room couch, crossing her legs and revealing a stunning pair of Gucci pumps that likely cost your half of the rent while still living with Robin. “I love our two little gremlins, but they take up all our free time. Constantly running them around to school events, dance classes, sporting events.”

“Sweetheart, the au pair does all of that,” Theobald chuckles, earning a whack in the arm from his wife. “Enough about that. Tell me…how did you two meet? It all happened so fast.”

“As you already pointed out,” Steve warns, hand around yours growing tighter. 

Cami moves to open the champagne bottle, easing the tension in the room with the echoing pop. Glasses are poured and passed around the table, glasses coming together in a soft ‘cheers’ before you bring the champagne flute to your lips and take a large swallow. Bubbles burst against your tongue, eyes training on Theobald’s, just as he passes a look your way. 

A battle of wills then, you think. 

“We met at a party,” you begin, removing your hand from Steve's and gripping the bottom of his chin, shifting him enough that he’s looking at you. “We’d known each other for a bit through our mutual friend, and we’d always kind of danced around one another. In the same spaces always, yet too nervous to make the first move.”

Steve watches you carefully as you weave your tale that isn’t really a tale. It’s mostly the truth, with the romance added in. But it comes naturally. Pours out of you with an unexpected ease that has Cami leaning into her husband’s shoulder, green eyes twinkling as you speak. 

“And then one afternoon, Stevie bought me a drink and walked it over to where I was standing by myself. My friend had just left to use the restroom, and here he stood…all tall, dark, and handsome. We started talking that night and just realized how easy it was to be around one another. I’d never talked so much on a first date, and yeah—I considered that our first date. After that we spent nearly every day together. It didn’t take long for us both to realize we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. Some might think it was rushed, but there’s that saying, right? When you know, you know. And with my school starting up again, and us wanting so badly to get married, we thought no time like the present. Now here we are.”

For emphasis, you lean forward. Close enough that Steve’s eyes cross, his mouth dropping a hint at the corners, before twitching upward when your lips press against the corner of his mouth. A tentative press of your skin just barely against his. You linger with your forehead against his, trying not to focus on the temperature in the room, or how it feels it’s creeping higher and higher with every passing moment you remain connected to him. 

“Here we are,” Steve echoes, breath fanning against your bottom lip. 

Were you to even move an inch, your mouths would connect. A thought he must have as well, because he brings his thumb up and taps your bottom lip gently, nuzzling your nose until you hear the excitable clapping of Cami’s hands where she’s sitting on the living room touch. Pushing the hem of your summer dress down back around your knees, you shift and take in the older man sitting across from you. His eyes are narrowed on your face, a twitch not unnoticed in his cheek as he jolts to his feet and suggests Steve and him have a little bit of time as ‘cousins’ on the private patio. Noticing your hesitance at him leaving your side, Steve brushes a gentle kiss against your forehead, pours you another glass of champagne, and promises he’ll be right back. 

With the door closed and the men left to their own devices, you look over to Cami. Cami, the picture of beauty. An image of a woman who walks in this world of the elites and has no qualms about it; steps into it and commands it, whereas you’re still walking around on wobbly legs like a baby deer. Even her clothes look like they were made for her. Luxurious fabrics that ebb and flow with her every movement, high neck of her summer dress leading to a gorgeous diamond necklace falling to the hollow of her throat. 

Across from her, your dress suddenly feels too tight. Gifted by your mother-in-law who insisted she owned her own fashion line, and therefore absolutely must dress her only daughter. A quick phone call wherein you protested her suggestions ended with a ring from the doorman alerting you a delivery of multiple garments had arrived for you. Various dresses for each occasion, pants, shoes, blouses and anything you could imagine ever needing were added to your closet. All elaborate in design, and becoming for a new wife to the CEO of a major contracting company. The biggest the city touted, if you were completely honest with yourself. 

Today you wore an off the shoulder floral patterned dress and the diamond earrings gifted by your mother-in-law as a bridal shower gift. You’d pushed aside the thought of heels for the afternoon; instead opted for a comfy pair of sandals that were maybe in their last season of use, but now they only looked garish in the light beside the Gucci pumps on Cami’s feet. 

Comparison, this ugly weed of a thing, grew up within you against your better wishes. Robbed you of what little air fell in and out of your lungs as you sat there, sipping your champagne. You didn’t care for these preconceived ideas of what a Harrington wife should look like, right? You were your own person, had been long before him, and would continue to be so after him. Yet sitting there, watching her gracefully move about the room, and commenting on the pictures you’d added from the wedding, reminds you of how some people were meant for this life. Some people were raised for it. 

You were not. 

“He looks so in love with you,” Cami trills, fingers running along the silver edge of your photo frame, lifting it nearer to her face for inspection. You know exactly which one it is. Jonathan had told the two of you to look one another in the eyes and press your foreheads together. He’d draped your veil over the both of you, the setting sun basking you both in a golden hour halo. It’s dreamy. A shot so dreamy it’s easy to believe it is of a man deeply in love with his bride. “That new love look. Cherish it. You know how these Harrington men are.”

Actually…you don’t. 

You’re not interested in even asking her what she intends by her words, but when she places the photo back down and turns your way, there’s a glimmer of something wet on her lower lashes. Awkwardly, you clear your throat, reaching over and offering to refill her glass. She heartily accepts, fingers combing through long amber locks as she settles back down on the couch across from you, crossing her legs once more. Again, she’s the statuesque image of perfection; cracks visible in her foundation, yet devastatingly beautiful all the same. 

“You’ve got the best one,” she sniffles, grasping a piece of cheese and a cracker within her index and pointer. “Stevie is a sweetheart. Always has been. Theobald is hard on him, and I always try to tell him to ease up. The late Mr. Harrington was always so rough on his son as it is without Theo breathing down his neck.”

The late Mr. Harrington. 

You knew very little of him. From what you’ve gathered—the very scraps of things here and there, as Steve never really mentioned him—their relationship, while his father had been alive, was a strained one. His parents had him later in life; a quick Google search would show as much. The heir to the company born with a silver platter before him, wanting for naught, pushed into the limelight. 

Still, hearing Cami talk about Steve…with pity—grief tightens like a vice around your heart. Envisioning those hazel eyes of your husband, staring up expectantly at a man who never saw his son’s achievements for what they were. And now, at his young age, trying to make his late father proud at the expense of his own self. 

Long hours, constant meetings, coaching calls. Pushing, striving, hustling.

With a long sigh, you glance toward the outside patio, where you can see your husband with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. His left hand curls around the stem of his glass, hand gesticulating wildly in the air as he talks with Theobald, hair in disarray. Like he’s been raking his fingers through it. Eyes trail his shoulders next, along the contours of sinewy muscle, then further up where you can visibly see the rigidity in his form. 

“Steve is…” 

Your voice breaks, eyes tipping downward to your bubbly drink in hand. Cami’s fingers curl around your wrist, a sympathetic frown lining her pristine features, and you know she’s thinking you’re caught up in your emotions. But in reality, it’s because there are so many things he is, all of which swirl like a muddied mess in your hazy mind. 

“Steve is a good man. He’s the best man. I’m really lucky to have him.”

When you glance up, there he is, grin gracing his features. It’s plain as day he’s heard you; those stiff shoulders slacken. Tension eases from the curve of his mouth, as well as in the grip of his fingers around his glass. Instead his face morphs into elation, feet carrying him over to where you sit so he can once more slide an arm around your waist and tug you close. 

Theobald regards you carefully in the distance, taking in the way you slide into the crook of your husband’s chest, seeking the warmth of him. The comfort of someone in your corner, seated in a room ripe with scrutiny. 

“Thank you,” Steve whispers against your ear, just as Cami dives into conversation about her and Theo’s children, revealing photo after photo of their adorable faces on her iPhone screen. 

“We’re the Harringtons, aren’t we?” 

He chuckles brightly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

Day shifts into evening.

Conversations drift around lighter topics. Talks of your schooling, your plans for the future, the business you’ve started. A fact which, to your unamusement, Theobald finds more than mildly intriguing when he later corners you in the kitchen as Steve and Cami flip through the photos she had taken at the wedding on her phone (despite Steve’s pitying gazes for you to rescue him). Instead, you’d offered to start cleaning up, knowing your husband and you had dinner plans with another couple from the office. 

“A dog walking business…” He mutters, elbow dropping down onto the counter. “How quaint.”

“It’s extra money,” you say simply, placing a watery glass into the drying rack. “You’re a businessman, aren’t you? Isn’t it better to make all my money now while I’m younger?”

“That I am. And I would agree,” he murmurs, eyes trailing your profile. “It’s just curious since you know how wealthy your husband is. He’s CEO of the company now, and that’s not even counting the hefty inheritance he got as the sole Harrington son. That kind of money is generational. He could never work another day in his life and be well off.”

“My husband is supportive of my endeavors,” you grumble out, training your eyes on the kitchen backsplash. 

“Obviously,” he agrees goodnaturedly. “He loves you. Everyone can see it. All of a sudden our hard working golden child is leaving the office at normal times, running home to his lovely wife. I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Heat flashes like lava in your gut over the revelation that your ruse is working. It’s hindered by Theobald’s latter statement, mind stuttering over his blasé persona. The question as to whether or not Steve knows what he’s doing. Trying to hide your piqued interest, you harden your expression into one of neutrality. 

As your mouth opens to speak, Cami cuts you off with a shrill, “Theobald, they have to get ready for their dinner. We’ve overstayed our welcome. But I would absolutely love for us to do this again!”

Uncertain if you’re happy or sad about this latest development because you still needed further clarity over Theo’s words, you place the remaining glasses into the drying rack and slide your rings back into place, pressing yourself into Steve’s side as he approaches. For a dramatic flair, you even press your left hand to his abdomen, rings glinting in the light, head leaning against his chest as you wish them a wonderful rest of their evening. 

Theobald gives you one last fleeting look just when his wife nearly strangles you in another bear hug, and claps a hand against his younger cousin’s shoulder. “We will definitely have to do this again. It was nice officially meeting you, Mrs. Harrington.”

The doors slide closed and a sigh spills from your lips. Against you, Steve relaxes, hand rubbing up and down the length of your spine idly, eyes still fixed on the doors across from him. Slipping away from him, you quickly gather the rest of the snacks and glasses from the living room table and drop them down into the sink, pinching at the bridge of your nose. 

“Is he always like that?” You wonder out loud, whirling around to face Steve. 

His head jerks at your words, mouth pulling southward. The solidness of his right hip rests against the kitchen counter. You try to not dawdle on the way his bicep twitches as it rests on the surface beside him, nor as his fingers sprawl around the base of his jaw, keeping his head propped up. 

“He’s usually worse,” he admits. “What did he say to you?” 

“Just commented on my business,” you tell him, deciding to ease in with that before asking what his cousin had meant by ‘hoping Steve knows what he’s doing’, moving to place a plate in the drying rack. “He couldn’t seem to fathom how I would resort to the life of a peasant, when I should be rolling around in your endless buckets of money.”

Snorting, he teases, “Someone’s angry.”

“Yeah, and for once not at you, so I’d be thankful.” Your nose wrinkles as he barks out a laugh, head tipping back in his glee. Mirth bubbles up within your belly at the lyrical sound spilling from your husband, the way his cheeks stretch wide on his face, how the corners of his eyes crinkle in his happiness. “I told him I liked what I do. Is that so wrong? I like having my own thing. Just like you have your own thing.”

Without a warning, he turns the water off. Grips your shoulders lightly, turning you to him. “Theo is an entitled idiot, okay? He thinks he runs the company and the world, and anyone who doesn’t live like him is beneath him. Notice how he’s got this constant look on his face of disgust?”

At that, your lips twitch. Steve coaxes it further by shaking you slightly, earning a giggle. “He does kind of look like he hates everyone around him. It’s a wonder he married Cami. She seems sweet.”

“She is sweet. A saint for putting up with him for all these years, honestly,” Steve says, giving you one last shake until you’re wiping your hands off and slouching against his frame. “What?”

“I want a selfish hug,” you grumble against his shirt, face pressing into a sternum. 

“A selfish hug?” You can hear the questioning lilt, the probing in his kind voice. 

Nodding, you step closer. The tips of your sandals meet his leather shoes, hem of your dress spilling over the dark material. Your head shifts just the slightest, ear resting over the curve of his chest, relishing in the warmth of another body. This. Hugging? It’s not new. You’ve been practicing. As odd as that sounds, and though you don’t want to unpack it, since your argument with Steve he’s come home every day and greeted you with one. You’d say you’re pros at this point. 

“And what might a selfish hug be?” He muses, hands coming up to rest against the center of your back. 

“I just stand like this,” you begin, dropping your arms to your sides, letting them dangle at your hips. “And you hold me.”

You can feel the vibration of his laugh against your ear, but his arms tighten around you all the same, holding you in place. Melting into him, you rest in the comfort of his embrace. Merely focus on the sound of his breath pouring in and out of his lungs, the gentle beat of his heart beneath your ear, the brush of his thumb against your skin, soothing you. 

“You’re too much,” he says, but there’s no weight behind the words. Can feel his mouth curling upward against your ear. 

“Thanks, Steve.”

For the evening. For helping you in a time of need. For holding you now. For holding you tomorrow. You’re not really sure you know what you mean. But all you do know for certain is that, when his arms tug you closer, you loop yours around his waist, and your selfish hug becomes a real one. 

-

Lightning streaks the sky. Bright white illuminates your bedroom, then settles into dark once more. A loud boom echoes, rattling the foundations of your home. Jolts your bed, and thus your body out of it. Grasping at your chest, you try to tamper the frantic rise and fall. The rush of breath forcing itself in and out of your screaming lungs, ejected from your dreams into waking so suddenly. 

Another flash sparks your room in a moonlit glow. Falls dark a second later as you brace for the crack of sound that pierces your ears after. Groaning, you grasp the edge of a fluffy blanket on the foot of your bed and curl it around your shoulders, padding through your home in search of the living room, sights set on watching Netflix until you fall back asleep from reruns of your favorite shows. 

Only upon entering, you find you’re not alone. Already doused in colorful light from the episode of New Girl playing on the screen is none other than your husband. Where you’re standing you can see the frames of the thin glasses he wears, the unkempt bed hair at the top of his head, the hoodie pulled over his body to block out the air conditioned chill in the living room. 

“You’re awake…” It comes out hoarse, the rasp of your voice drawing your husband’s attention. “And you’re watching without me?” 

The mock gasp has him moving over on the couch to make space for you, your rear dropping down into the couch cushion beside him. There’s another blanket across his lap, impossibly soft and a pretty navy color that pops against the pale fabric of your carpet. Getting comfortable, you unloop yours from around your shoulders and drape it across your bare thighs, sleep shorts doing very little to block out the chill in the air. Once satisfied, you lean back and watch the chaos between Jess and Nick unfolding on the television screen. 

“What are you doing awake?” you ask after some time. Wince as another boom of thunder rattles the walls of your home.  

“Couldn't sleep,” he says, breaking off into a yawn. “Had a lot on my mind.”

“From dinner or…?” 

Dinner itself hadn’t been stressful—at least nothing that occurred would have alluded to as much. You’d met up at an Italian restaurant with a business partner of Steve’s and the business partner’s husband. Two older men in their fifties, with graying hair and a kindness that radiated from them. Most of the conversation had been of things outside of work, so you’re uncertain as to what might be bothering him. 

“Not dinner,” he confirms, pausing the show on the TV screen. His head rolls back to rest against the plush cushion, hands coming up to press into his face. Slides his palm down the contours, exhaling deeply. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”  

“Oh,” you mutter softly, picking at a nonexistent thread on the edge of your blanket. “That’s fine. I just figured—”

“It’s nothing personal toward you. I just don’t want to bother you with it. Why are you up?” He queries, head turning to look in your direction. 

“You never bother me.”

Steve levels you with a blank stare and you laugh. “I’m not afraid of thunder…but it definitely woke me,” you admit quietly, sounding more than a forlorn without meaning to. “My room gets really dark at night with the curtains, so when it lit up from the lightning I was a little spooked.”

“Understandably,” he says. “Want me to grab you coffee or tea or something?” 

Head perking up, you ask, “Do we still have the camomile? If it’s no trouble, I mean…”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if it was,” he says, but there’s no hint of any condescension there, only his increasingly familiar thoughtfulness.

You lean your chin over the top of the couch to catch the retreating form of Steve’s back swathed in his dark hoodie. “Thank you.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, starting up your warm drink. “Want anything else? We still have those chocolate covered strawberries from dinner.”

“Do you want the chocolate strawberries from dinner?” 

His grin turns wry. “Maybe.”

“Bring them over, you grown up baby,” you tease, extending a hand so he can place the covered plate in your awaiting palm. 

Peeling back the tinfoil, you rest the tray on the coffee table, hiking your blanket higher around your thighs. Steve’s pouring hot water into a mug that says ‘Future Veterinarian,’ humming a familiar tune as he works. 

“You usually do honey and…a bucket load of sugar, right?” 

Eyes roll. “I like a spoonful of honey in my camomile and nothing else. The sugar is for my iced coffees, thank you very much. Also thank you for making sure Hopper always has it on standby lately.”

“What’s that thing you said to me when we first talked about us getting married?” He taps his chin mock thoughtfully, his other hand twirling a spoon around the inside of your cup. “Happy wife, happy life starts with always knowing her coffee order.”

It’s true, and you hide your lips behind your palm at the realization he’d been listening as he crosses the space between you and rests the steaming mug in your hand, muttering quickly, “Be careful, it’s really hot.” 

“Thank you,” you say as he drops back down into the couch and plucks a chocolate covered strawberry off the tray. “I know you didn’t want to talk about what’s bothering you…but I figure…I don’t know. It’s storming out, we’re both not getting much sleep tonight, we could play a game or something.”

“A game?”

Nodding, you add, “An icebreaker. I know we talk more now, but we could try and get to know each other better. A little look into the person we married.”

Your husband shifts on the couch beside you. Presses his back into the arm rest and stretches out, arching a brow pointedly. Smirking, you do the same. Shift just enough so your back is up against the opposite end, your socked feet just barely brushing Steve’s. 

“Okay. Night out or night in?” you ask. 

“Before…night out.”

“Before?”

“Well, now you force me to watch Gilmore Girls.”

“I don’t force you! And it’s only been a few days. I’m sure it’s an absolute horror of spending time with the woman you fake married,” you gasp, feigning terror. “Just admit it. You like spending time at home.”

His eyes are set on yours as he says, “I like spending time at home.”

“I’d agree for myself as well. Life is so busy as it is lately, it’s nice having a space to come back to.” 

One thing you’re very grateful for on a growing list is the space your new bedroom has given you. Sure, it can get lonely, but it’s an escape from the long days, a haven from stress, a bed to crawl back to when your eyes can hardly stay open any longer after a particularly hard day at clinicals. 

“My turn,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his middle. And no, you don’t allow heat to crawl across your chest at the mere sight of his chest and arms flexing from the motion. “Would you rather go forward or backward in time?”

“And what would be my purpose of going forward or backward? Am I rectifying my mistakes? Seeing the future? Looking to see how my life pans out?”

“I…it’s whatever you want it to be.” He blanches. 

“I don’t really have a lot of regrets in life. I make a choice and however the cookie crumbles is how it crumbles. Exhibit A,” you say, holding aloft your left hand, where two rings glint in the dim living room. “So I probably would want to go forward. But that’s dangerous, because if you go too far forward, you might see things you don’t like. I definitely wouldn’t want to know how I, uh, you know? Check out of here. What about you?”

Steve pauses for a moment, brows drawn in thought. “Honestly? There are things I’d want to change about the past, sure. But I think I’d want to see the future. See if all I’m doing is worth it, you know?”

“You don’t think what you’re doing right now is worth it?” You wonder if he’s talking about the business. Assume he must be, but don’t press any further. 

“I wonder sometimes, yeah,” he admits. 

“Well, what would you be doing if it weren’t what you’re doing right now? To see if something else would potentially be worth it.”

He rubs a hand along his neck, shrugging. “I thought about being a teacher once. My dad thought that was a silly idea. But I’ve always been good with children, and I think I could have been good at that.”

“You are good with children,” you tell him, thinking to Will and El. To the friends you’d met at dinner in the past weeks who brought their little ones. “I don’t think that’s a silly idea at all. Not in the slightest, and I’m sorry if anyone ever made you feel that way. Like your interests were inconsequential.” 

“Thank you.” Clearing his throat, he asks, “Movie night or date night?” 

“Are you asking me on a date?” His eyes grow wide at that. Cheeks darken visibly in the moonlit living room. “I’m teasing you, Harrington. I think there’s a case that those can be one in the same. I would say broader…I love the idea of going out for a date, but I love those inside sort of dates more. They’re more intimate, there’s the comfort of your shared spaces, the fact there aren’t any crowds around you. Only that important quality time with your partner.”

“I don’t have much to contribute there, seeing as I haven’t dated much in the past year. And now I won’t be for another three years.” He chuckles, combing fingers through his hair.  

“Okay, this question is super serious.” You fold your hands across your midsection, inhaling deeply, eyes shut. “Would you rather have a third nipple or an extra toe?”

“Seriously!” 

“I’m very serious, Steve.”

“Extra toe.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck again, wincing slightly as he presses into a spot between his shoulder blades. 

Your lips tug southward. “Are you hurting?”

“Just my office chair, I’m sure,” he grumbles, nonchalant. 

“Get on the floor.”

His brows arch. “Huh?”

“On the floor,” you repeat, tapping the space in front of you on the carpet below. “In front of me.”

“Why?” 

“Do you trust me?” 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, long limbs slip off the edge of the couch and settle down where you’ve asked. You move to tuck his hoodie in as best as you can, fingers moving to spread across the slope of his shoulders. He exhales deeply at the first press of your hands in the muscle wrought with tension. A low sigh spills free, head tipping back to rest on the cushion nearest to your knee. Fingers crave to brush the hair along his scalp, to see if he’ll make that same, soft sigh once more. But instead you continue, pressing slowly into his flesh, listening to his cues, figuring out what works and doesn’t. 

“Would you rather have a big family or a small one?” You ask after Steve has gone quiet, thinking back briefly to the moment earlier with Theobald and Cami. 

Steve, with his wishes to be a father. Steve, who wants a huge brood of Harrington babies. Steve, who wants a family. 

And yet it’s not even that. Not the questions as to what he sees for his future. It’s the tangible worry of slipping up in your facade. Of revealing too many cracks in the foundations of your dynamics. That had been the first, and you know if this relationship is going to hold up for three years, communication is a must. Absolute transparency at all times, so as to not muck it all up and land yourselves both in some hot water.  

“Growing up, it was just me. My parents had me a little older in their life. They were already further into their careers by the time I was born. So…it was often just the au pair and myself,” he explains, letting go of another deep breath. 

His body slackens against your knee caps. Warm flesh of your husband pliant beneath your fingertips. 

“I always had this dream of giving my kids the opposite of what I had. Always knowing love, family outings, doing everything with them. Dance class, football, acting—whatever they wanted. And I’d wanted as many as possible. A silly dream of six of them, running all over the world together as a family.”

“It’s not a silly dream. None of your dreams are ever silly, Steve.” 

Warmth pools as Steve slides his hand up and covers yours where it rests against his shoulder. Heart stuttering, you continue, “Your family will be lucky to have you some day. I, for one, haven’t given much thought to that aspect of life. I hope Theo and Cami didn’t find that suspect. I just…”

“Have been busy with school. You’re becoming a doctor, that’s time and hard work. No one can fault you for that.”

“Right. Yeah.”

You resume your kneading, fingers stroking at shoulders, down the sides of his neck, attentive to all the tension. He grows softer beneath your fingertips, head against your knee, his eyes closed. Where you’re sitting you can see the moles on his face, the length of his lashes, the lines of his nose. Pretty. He’s pretty, and it’s always something you’ve known, but being so close—

“Sunrise or sunset,” Steve asks. 

“Hmm, sunrise.” You poke at the middle of his forehead, and hazel eyes meet yours. “That one was simple.”

“I could tell you were overthinking,” he says simply. “We’re not going to be perfect at this marriage thing. But no one expects us to be.”

“I still think we need to get our stories straight at the very least. And I sorta messed that one up with the honeymoon baby thing.” You shrug, palms sliding down a bit onto his upper chest. He’s still sitting there, taking you in with his stare, hand around yours. “Kind of why I suggested this game.” 

He offers you a gentle smile, saying, “Then let’s keep going.”

The conversation continues until the sun begins to change colors. Until the rain has since stopped, voices carrying above the television playing low in the background. You learn Steve’s a romantic; loves movies like the Titanic and The Notebook. And will also admit to enjoying some of the same romantic comedies you do. 

He prefers rainy days, because he enjoys the respite they give from a constantly busy city just outside the walls of your home. He’d rather have happiness than wealth; enjoys chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven for dessert (and you make a note to pick up some stuff to make them on your next planned night together); he’d never had any pets growing up, but he’d love a dog. 

And you tell him about yourself. How you love cozy socks and would prefer scrubs over real clothes; how you also never had pets growing up and would love to adopt and foster as many as possible one day; how you enjoyed fantasy over romantic movies; how you’d watched Titanic about a hundred times in your life and you still cried. 

How you wanted to watch it with him next, and he agreed, stating it would be the next thing you do when you cook together. 

Before long he’s yawning and your eyes are closing. His fingers remain around yours as you knead his muscles, prattling on about your plans for the week, school, your friends. And he talks about his own schedule, his meetings, proposes dinner for the both of you that upcoming Saturday. A cooked meal in, with a movie and some wine. Maybe you tease him a little, because he makes it easy when he blushes that pretty pink, and maybe he grins up at you fondly, eyes hooded in his sleepy daze. 

Eventually, you lay on your side and he remains in front of you on the floor. You’re hardly awake as he drapes a blanket over your form and tucks a pillow under your head, whispering to one another as the sun starts to come up over the city. 

Eventually, both of you fall silent at last, comforting sleep there to find you. 

-

“I want to make it very clear before we go in there that we are not getting a dog. We are donating all the things we bought earlier, and then we are going home and having dinner together,” Steve reiterates for the umpteenth time that day. 

“We are not getting a dog,” you repeat, mock stonily, looking your husband dead in the eyes. 

Clearly unamused, he shoves at the arm you have jokingly curled around his forearm, but there’s no malice there. Only a gentle huff of laughter as he opens his car door and rushes around the other side to help you out. You never need him to, but he insists every time. Even offers an arm for you to grab as you hop onto the sidewalk. Once back on solid land, summer dress dancing around your kneecaps, Steve walks around to the back of the car and lifts the box of pet food, blankets and toys you’d picked up while at the pet store. Today, you decided, you wanted to give back to the local shelter in your new town. 

And maybe you had an ulterior motive of trying to realize a dream of your husband’s by making him fall in love with a shelter dog in a way where his only option is to bring them home to live with you forever. But he’s been adamant all morning—so certain today’s events will not lead to four legs becoming part of your odd little family.

Inside, you’re greeted by one of the workers. A woman named Chelsea rushes around the counter to collect your donations and asks if you’d like to walk around a bit. Steve’s reluctant at your side, sunglasses peeled off and tucked into the neck of his shirt, but he comes along all the same as you grip his palm within your own and drag him along behind you. 

You pass dozens of kittens and cats. Young and old all alike as you go. Some who meow as you pass, and others who linger in dark corners of their confines. It breaks your heart seeing so many, wanting to adopt them all, knowing you’re unable to. Sensing your unease, Steve squeezes your hand tighter and listens for the both of you while Chelsea speaks and your mind wanders. 

“Down here are all our adoptable dogs.”

It’s a sight you never get used to. Dogs barking as you pass, bodies brushing against their cages, yearning for attention. You linger by Chelsea as you walk, rubbing noses and ears and backs. Tongues glide over your palm, wet noses brush your skin, dark eyes hold yours through metal bars. Somewhere in the midst of introducing yourself to all your newest furry friends, you find Steve’s hand is no longer in yours. Turning on the heel, you find him crouched low to the ground, fingers curled inside metal bars, softly speaking to the animal hidden within. 

“Oh,” Chelsea mutters, shock evident in her tone. Steve looks up to her imploringly, then glances back at the dog inside. “That’s a new arrival. A ten month old male Bernedoodle. He’s a black tricolor puppy. His previous owners got him as a gift, and turned him over when he started getting bigger. They’re a smaller breed, but have a lot of energy and unfortunately you see a lot of this happening. People buy luxury pets and drop them off when they become too much. He’s been very timid since he arrived.”

“He just lost his family,” Steve says to no one, swallowing thickly. The woman at your side doesn’t speak, only watches as your husband continues to gently coax the puppy forward. “Hey buddy. I’m Steve. Wanna come over here? No?” 

“Should we…” the woman beside you begins. 

“Yeah, let’s give them a moment,” you mutter, a little breathless as you turn around and face the other direction, quiet footsteps carrying you further away. 

But you still hear it. 

Still hear Steve’s voice in your ears. A sad, “I know what it’s like. Feeling left behind, left alone. Especially from the people you want to love you most. But you don’t need to be afraid of me. I get it.” 

There’s an echo of soft paws padding against a tiled floor. And the soft exhale from Steve. “There you go. See, I’m your friend. I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid.”

And when you and the shelter worker turn around, you find Steve with his fingers in the puppy’s fur, that pink tongue of his brushing over the inside of your husband’s wrist. That resolve in Steve’s eyes crumbles, your heart shattering along with it as you press the heel of your palm to your sternum. 

He turns to Chelsea and asks, “Can we take him out? Just for a minute?” 

Chelsea passes you a knowing look and that minute Steve requests turns into an hour in the yard outside of the shelter. The puppy seems hesitant at first, lingering near Steve’s thighs as you stand nearby. But once Chelsea hands Steve a frisbee and ball, it’s as though the puppy is sparked to life once more. Soon enough he’s frolicking around the field, playful yips streaking the summer silence as he retrieves his toys and rushes back over to Steve, paws pouncing playfully against your husband’s designer jeans. 

But he doesn’t care. 

No—you haven’t seen him light up like this in the nearly three months you’ve been married. The joy illuminated his features. The crinkle of his eyes at the corners. The belly laughs as the puppy eventually knocks him to the ground and demands belly rubs on the grassy floor below. He falls in love before your eyes. With no warning, impossibly fast, and so suddenly it comes as no shock to either you nor Chelsea when he asks about adoption. 

As you sit in the lobby with the puppy on a leash on the floor, you turn to Steve, grinning widely. “You said we weren’t getting a dog.”

Steve pats his new fur son’s head and grins as the dog tips his head back to look longingly into his new father’s eyes. It’s sickeningly sweet, and does things to your insides that makes you feel hot all over. You chalk it up to the shoddy air conditioner system, tugging at the neckline of your dress to let the air chill your slick skin. 

“I couldn’t leave him,” he says, brushing fingers along a furry ear. 

“He picked you.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Fond. Smitten. He’s so in love it’s ridiculous, and all you feel is affection. 

Affection. 

Towards your husband. 

New. But maybe not so scary. 

You lean down to pet the puppy’s neck. He jumps up and scrambles up with his front paws against your lap, licking a broad stripe along your chin. “Steve, we have a puppy.”

Your first pet. 

His, too. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s only staring at you. You swallow. “I guess we do.”

A few questions and references and a small adoption fee later, and you’re both the newest proud parents of your still presently unnamed new puppy who pokes his head in the front seat as you drive to the nearest pet store in search of all the things you’ll need to make his transition as simple as possible. 

Steve, ever doting as he is, grabs the leash as soon as he helps the little guy out and greets you as usual on your side of the vehicle. You spend the better half of the afternoon purchasing things for him. A dog bed, food, toys, a new collar with his name and address engraved into it. 

Charlie Harrington, you both eventually decide, when the cashier asks how you’d like it engraved. 

Charlie Harrington, who the doormen at your apartment building immediately fall in love with as you later walk in, you holding the puppy’s leash this time, and Steve trying his hardest to carry all the things you bought. 

Charlie Harrington who bounds happily into your home and immediately starts sniffing around in his new space, excited to simply be around people who love him in such a short span of time and want to play with him like he deserves.   

“I’ll get started on dinner, if you want to show your fur child around the house,” you tease, laying out Charlie’s shiny new bowls on the floor, and the basket of toys and bones you got for him in the living room, right by his bed beside it. 

“You are a sneaky woman,” he jokes, coming up behind you in the kitchen. 

Heat blooms where he rests his hand on your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek like it’s something he’s done before in the confines of your home, with no one looking. So casually, and yet stark in contrast to the riot of butterflies that stir to life in your stomach. 

“And why might that be?” 

“Played that ice breaker game with me, found out I never had a pet, and then brought me to a shelter…where I then got a pet.” 

You shrug, turning on the stovetop to let the water boil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you’re welcome. Now go—play with him. I know you’re itching to. You’re like a little kid on Christmas right now. It’s kind of cute, Harrington.”

“Thank you.” 

He smacks another kiss to your cheek, his face pink from your compliment, before rushing into the living room where you hear Charlie barking as he’s once again joined by his new best friend. You reach over to tap Steve’s phone, where Spotify is already open from the car ride, and hit ‘play,’ Leon Bridges the background music to your cooking in the kitchen and Steve’s laughter as he crawls on his hands and knees to rub Charlie’s stomach on the floor. 

Perfect. 

It’s about as perfect as a day could be. 

And later, as you sit together in the dining room, with Charlie sitting patiently in the corner, and talk about the evening, you start to think maybe being married to Steve Harrington for three years will be a little more difficult than you imagined it would be. 

Because the feelings stirring in your chest are beyond that of friendship. 

No—there’s a suddenness to the clarity of your realization that you like your husband. And the sinking reality that this is merely transactional. 

In three years you’ll go your separate ways. Just as you both intended months ago at that coffee shop table. 

“You’re overthinking again,” Steve points out, reaching over to center your engagement ring on your left hand. His thumb lingers over the diamonds. “I was telling you about the benefit gala in a few weeks.”

“Oh,” you mutter tiredly. “Sorry. Yeah, uhm, I’ll go. Obviously. It’s part of our arrangement.” 

“If you don’t want to go with me…”

“No, I’ll go,” you say, taking a sip of your wine glass. “Black tie dinner event, I’m assuming?”

“Buy yourself a new dress kind of event, yeah.”

“Okay, yeah.” 

You nod. 

It’ll be October. 

Approaching four months into your agreement. Time is already flying. 

“Our first big event as a couple outside of our wedding,” you state plainly, gathering your things and Steve’s as you rise to your feet. He grabs the wine glasses and follows you down the hall to your kitchen, dumping all your dirty pasta plates inside. “Anyone I should know or be aware of when we’re there?”

“It’s a lot of partners in the company. Some celebrities, actors, musicians, models. Eddie will be there—he’s been invited. It’s a little bit of everyone. This time they’ve organized donations for a shelter for homeless youth in the city.” He hands you your wine glass, peering into your eyes. Noting your lingering hesitance from your overthinking once more, he continues, “I can cancel you as my plus one. Say you’re not feeling well—”

“No,” you place a hand on his sternum. Pause when you realize what you’ve done. He trails his eyes south where you touch. You don’t move away. “I love the purpose of the benefit. I want to be there. I-I want to go with you.” 

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. You could reach out and touch the outline of his jaw like this. The lines of his perfect nose. “Because I want you there with me.”

You don’t miss the way his stare lingers on your face, or the timber of his voice. The darkness in the depths of his eyes. How the weight of his chest against your palm as he pushes forward has it stuck as a barrier between the two of you. Mere inches of separation. 

It’s confusing, maddening, and terrifying all the same. 

Two years and nine months. 

You’ve got this. 

-

-

[gyubeom]

You are the love of my life

…………………………………………….

Pairing: Boss!Huening Kai x Office Worker!Reader

Genre: smut and some fluff

Warnings: Reader is a female, use of the pet names (babe, baby, hon), use of the word slut, loss of virginity, drinking, fingering, clit stimulation, nipple sucking

a/n: Hi guys Im back with another fic, I have been wanting to write for Huening Kai so thank you for requesting this! Anyways enjoy!

…………………………………………….

You’ve been going to the same company for a year now. In that year, you hate to admit but you developed a crush for your boss, Kai. You never knew how you fell for him. He was cold and distant to you, not to mention he would give you loads of work for you to do. Until one day, at a Christmas party, that would all change.

You were on your way to the designated place for the Christmas party. You brought some wine and cheese for the charcuterie board. When you arrived, you were greeted by your best friend/colleague Soobin. “Hi Y/n, glad you can be here!” he said with his dimple smile. You smiled back “Yeah, good thing boss didn’t drown me with work today” you said rolling your eyes.

Soobin chuckled “Yeah right, anyways get a few drinks and loosen up, who knows somebody might take your virginity tonight”. You choked on air at his remark “What the fuck Soobin!” You said playfully slapping him. “Just saying” he said raising his hands in the air while walking away.

You decided to drop off the wine and cheese on the food table. After that you joined a few colleagues in a table. “Hey Y/n glad you can make it” one of your colleagues said. “Yeah of course” you said back “have a few drinks” he said while handing you a drink. You took it and downed it without hesitation.

After many more drink you were wasted. “Woah Y/n what happened to you, you look so drunk right now” Soobin said laughing slightly. “Wha-Whatever Soobs” you said while walking away from him. You decided to go to the food table to get something to eat.

When you arrived, you decided to eat a few crackers. “Hey Y/n how’s the party” your boss Huening Kai said while sipping his drink. “Ugh here comes Mr. Cold shoulder, you know I almost missed this party because of the amount of work you gave me yesterday” you said while waving your half eaten cracker to his face.

You don’t know if it was the alcohol or your vision but you swore you saw him smiling at you. He never smiled at you, ever, so it was a surprise that he did now. “Y/n you’re really drunk, how are you supposed to get home? You can’t drink and drive” he said worriedly.

“As if you cared about me ever Mr. Cold shoulder” you said while rolling your eyes and looking away. He put down his drink and without a warning carried you outside. “Hey put me down!” You said while squirming “Nope, you’re not going home by yourself” he said while placing you gently in the car.

The both of you drove to his house, it was a silent car ride. Not long after you pulled up to his driveway, Kai got out of his car to open your door. When you got out, you suddenly burst out “You don’t even care for me! You hate me! Why did you even worry about me earlier! All you do is tire me all day! Can’t you see that I love you-“ you were cut out by a kiss.

You were in shock at first but melted into the kiss. You let your hands wander around his body while his did to yours too. You pulled away and unlocked the door quickly while capturing his lips in a kiss. He then pulled away, "When did I say I hated you or never cared about you" he started "I love you too Y/n, I'm sorry if I never got to express that properly-". You cut him off with a kiss.

This time the kiss was rough and hurried. You were both hungry for the same thing as you went to his bedroom without breaking the kiss. You then pulled away and looked at him with a worried look. “Um, I forgot to tell you, but this is my first time having you know” you said while looking down at your feet.

He then hooked his fingers under your chin which made you look at him. “Are you okay with this? I mean if you are I’ll be careful” he said reassuringly. You smiled, “Yes, I’m okay with it”. Thats all it took for him to start kissing you again.

Without breaking the kiss he pushed you to the bed. He pulled away and started leaving love bites on your neck. He then tugged at your blouse “Can I?” he asked while looking up at you with hungry eyes. You blushed at the thought of somebody aside from yourself seeing you naked. You nodded as he started to unbutton it.

Your blouse was then tossed somewhere in the room. He then stared at your breasts which made you squirm from embarrassment. He then looked up and smirked at you before leaving hickeys on the valley of your breasts.

He then raised your back slightly and reached down to your bra clasp. “Can I” he whispered into your ear darkly. You nodded shyly as he unclasps your bra and tosses it along with your blouse. He then pulls away and takes a look at you then smirks.

He then loosens his tie and unbuttons half of his button up. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, your eyes started to wander around his body. From the half unbuttoned button up, to his chest slightly peeking out, the tie loosely hanging around his neck.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer hon” he said while smirking. You blushed and looked away in embarrassment. But you suddenly let out a loud moan when Huening Kai started to suck your hard nipples. You reached to grip the sheets while you let out lewd moans.

Once he finished, he started unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He tossed it aside before he started to remove his tie. Before he could you stopped him, “Wait” you said in a hurry. He halted his movements to look at you curiously “don’t remove your tie, I-I like it” you said shyly closing your legs.

He smirked before leaning to whisper in your ear “Yeah? You like that slut”. You felt your blood rush to your cheeks as he pulled away. You felt shy and tried to cover yourself with your hands as he removed his pants.

Kai noticed this and grabbed your hands gently and pulled them away from your body. “Don’t hide your beautiful body babe” he said while pinning your hands up. Your heart melted at his remark, you then felt a tug on the waist band of your slacks.

You looked down to him gesturing to remove your pants. You nodded as he unbuttoned it and removed it along with your soaked underwear. “Woah, you’re so fucking wet” he said while running a finger up your slit.

You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter each stroke of his finger. The more you yearned to have him buried deep inside you. “You want something baby” he said while looking at you. “I-I want you to finger me already” you said softly.

Huening Kai smirked at you before pounding two fingers into your dripping entrance. You heard the squelching sound of your wetness as he pumped his two fingers in and out of your hole. You moaned with pleasure.

“You like that baby” he said in between your moans. “Mhmm-yeah fe-feels so g-good” you said while grinding on his fingers. You then screamed his name when he started licking your clit. It made your fingers run through his hair in satisfaction.

He then started to flick his tongue on your clit making you reach your high sooner than you thought. “Ka-Kai I think I-I'm gonna cum” you said. With that, he added a third finger making you moan at the stretch. He then increased his speed of his fingers.

After a few more fast pumps, you were cumming all over his fingers, some getting on the bed sheet. Your pussy was drenched in a mixture of your wetness and cum. Without a warning Kai licked your slit, cleaning it up. You flinched a bit at the sudden action before relaxing yourself again.

He then stood up and removed his boxers and positioned himself on top of you, caging you in his arms. “Ready?” he asked while looking in your eyes seductively. “Y-yes” you said while nodding eagerly.

He gathered your wetness and spread it all over your pussy. He then prodded his tip on your entrance and slide in slowly. You felt some cum spill out of your core making you moan.

The delicious stretch of your entrance made your head lean back on the pillow under you. “You okay?” Kai asked, “Yes, its j-just that you’re kinda big” you said in between moans.

He smirked “Yeah? You like that baby?” he said teasingly. “Mhm-“ you were cut off by letting out a loud moan when he bottomed out. He then pulled out and slammed his dick into you again. You moaned “Oh fuck! K-Kai that feels so good!” you said in pleasure.

Upon hearing this, he increased his speed. You could feel his cock hitting the back of your pussy as he fucked you hard. You shot your hands up to grip his upper arm, leaving scratches each thrust.

You then felt the weight of his left arm leave your side, it trailing down to your core. He then rubbed your clit in fast circles making you scream his name. You dug your nails into his biceps as he thrusted harder into you.

He then leaned in and started leaving more hickeys on the side of your neck down to you collarbones. He then took a look at you, looking at the trail of beautiful hickeys he left on your gorgeous body. "You're so pretty babe" he said in awe.

You blushed at his remark as you tried to look away. You felt his fingers hook under your chin which forced you took look at him. You locked eyes with him before he slammed his lips to yours. He kissed you passionately, filled with love.

He pulled away and changed your position. Now, you're laying on your stomach with your hips raised and spread. Your face is buried in the pillows underneath you.

Even if the pillows are there, it wasn't enough to muffle your loud moans as Kai fucked his cock hard into you. Not long after you felt another orgasm nearing. When you couldn't hold it much longer, you cummed on Kai's cock. Moaning as you did. Kai's orgasm followed not long after yours did. His hot white liquid filling you up.

He pulled out and layed down on the spot beside you. After the two of you calmed down, he took you in him arms and spooned you. You looked up at him as he removed the stary hairs covering your face.

"How was it?" he said smiling, you were in awe. You never knew his smile would be so warm, it made you feel like you were the only girl in the world. "It was nice" you said smiling back at him.

"Glad to know that" he said while chuckling. He used his free hand to direct your head into his chest. He kissed the top of your head as he soothingly stroked your head. You soon felt sleepy and nuzzled your head into his chest before drifting to sleep.

…………………………………………….

a/n: Hi guys I hope you enjoyed! Thank you again for requesting this and thank you for reading!

[604to647]

Gouda Girl

1.3K / Modern AU Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: On a lazy Sunday afternoon, Din learns a few things about the Netherlands, and you learn a little something too.

Warnings: None - fluff! Bad puns! Established relationship, nicknames (pretty bird, pretty girl, baby).

A/N: This is for @happypedrohours' Charcuterie Board Challenge – I chose 1A and got Din and Gouda!  I legitimately tried to play around with ways that 'Grogu' could be mispronounced as 'Gouda' before settling on a kind of cheat and writing the story in the Safest with You universe with Modern!Din 🫣  (You don't have to read SwY - just know it's a modern au! If you do read SwY - here's a little fluff before we embark on some angst in the series 🫣) If there are any Dutch people reading this, I love you please don't be offended if I got anything wrong, and shout out to Mr. 604 who did in fact go to school in Rotterdam! Please see #happypedrohours for all the other wonderful works!

Orange divider by @saradika-graphics; all moodboard pics are from Pinterest, but I suspect the top and bottom Pedros are from the same source/edit. I’m sorry I didn’t have more info to go on but if you recognize your work, pls let me know so I can credit you properly 🥰

“Hey pretty bird, do you know it’s not actually pronounced ‘Goo-dah’?

“Yup.  It’s pronounced ‘How-duh’.”  You add a little roughness from the back of your throat over the H.

“How did you know that?” The truth is, Din is hardly ever surprised by the things you know – you’re generally a fountain of information; what he can't usually guess is how you come to know the things you know.

“The Dutch pronounce their hard Gs with an H-like sound.”

The two of you have very tentatively been talking about taking a trip to Europe, and a lazy Sunday with no definitive plans but to stay in seems as good a time as any to do some casual trip research.  You’re on opposite ends of your couch, you lazing on one end, one knee propped up against which you balance your sudoku book - twirling your pencil as you study the numbers in the grids.  Din’s extended his long legs on the L-shape end of the sectional, with his laptop open on his lap.  Alfredo the dog stretches out in between the two of you, his furry snoot and one of his paws curling over your calf.  Din was just reading an article entitled “10 Things You Didn’t Know About The Netherlands,” but apparently the proper pronunciation of Gouda, the Netherland’s most popular cheese, was something you knew.  Hmmm, he realizes that you didn’t exactly answer his question. 

“Do you… speak Dutch?”

“Ik doe niet. (I do not)” you grin playfully, still not looking up from your puzzle.  You don’t actually speak Dutch, but like a lot of other languages, you know a random phrase or two.

Din scrolls slowly through the listicle and picks a few that he thinks are the harder ones:

“Do you know what the iconic windmills are used for?”

“To pump water from the land.  A quarter of the Netherlands is below sea level.”

“Why is the national Dutch colour orange?”

“The Dutch royal family is from the House of Orange.”

Din smiles - looks like his smart, pretty bird knows all of these.  He’s now super curious just how familiar you are with Holland, and he knows the exact question to ask to get some additional insight. Pulling up a new web search, he asks, “What would you say are some common Dutch foods?”

“Stroopwafels, bitterballen… and kapsalon?” You look wistful at the memory of these dishes, clearly having actually tried them.

Clickity click click tap tap tap.  After a few seconds, Din’s eyes widen at his screen, “Oh wow, that does look delicious.”

Ok, this is fun, thinks Din – he’s not trying to stump you, he’s happy learning new things about this country and you.  And even though you haven’t actually looked up, he can tell by the way the corners of your mouth are curving and the shine of your eyes, though they remain focused on your puzzle, that you’re having fun too.

Click clack clickedy clack.  Din’s quiet for a few minutes while he reads.  Apparently not satisfied, he enters another search and reads through the new results before throwing out, “Do you know what they call peanut butter in the Netherlands?”

“Pindakaas,” you grin, “it translates to Peanut Cheese.”

“Do you know why?”

You do, “They can’t call it Pindaboter because only things that are actually butter can be called butter.”

Din scrolls, thoughtfully, “Do you know that the Dutch are the tallest people on Earth?”

“I think it has something to do with all the dairy in their diet? The Netherlands has the 3rd highest per capita milk consumption in the world.”  The truth is your knowledge of random Dutch facts is super limited, but by some hilarious coincidence Din is asking you the exact few things you know.  You can’t help but continue to tease him – he’s looking at you with a mixture of wonder and suspicion.

“Did you used to date a Dutch hockey player or something?”

“Don’t be silly, everyone knows that the Dutch winter sport of choice is speed skating.”

Again, it didn’t actually answer his question; Din’s sure that by now you’re just playing around, but he can’t help but picture you with some impossibly tall blonde with thick tree trunk thighs named Jan or Piet or whatever.  Involuntarily, he makes a face as he looks back down at his laptop, typing stoically.

You giggle - you’re out of facts and you want to give you big, pouting boyfriend a hug.  You and Din don’t have any secrets about your respective past relationships, and moreover, Din isn’t prone to jealousy or insecurity, but you feel the strong urge to reassure him nonetheless.  Putting your sudoku down, you hold out your arms, “Come here, baby.”

Din closes his laptop and wedges it against the back cushions before crawling over to your side of the couch; careful not to disturb Al, he comes to a rest between your legs, laying his head against your chest as you run your fingers through his soft curls, lightly scratching your nails against his scalp, “My firm sponsors an MBA program at Erasmus in Rotterdam, and I visited one year with my boss to give a talk.”

“Oh cool,” Din mumbles against your chest, “did you have fun?”

“I did!  We were given a lot of tours and did a few orientations with the students – that’s where I picked up a few Dutch facts and a little bit of nederlands.  It’s really such a lovely place - we should go together, Din.”

“We should, pretty girl,” and after a pause, “so, no 6’8” blonde speed skating paramours?”

“No, baby, I find that these days I only have a thing for brown haired boxers,” your eyes full of love when they meet the soft brown pair that peer up at you.  Then suddenly, those same eyes crinkle in mischief,

“What you’re saying is you’re my gouda girl?”

It takes you a beat before you get the good girl pun and you groan, but Din’s not done yet,

“And that I’m the only one who gets to stroop your waffle?”

You roll your eyes hard and attempt to push Din off, “Omigod, stahhhp.” You giggle as he settles more of his weight on you.

“Hang on, I almost had a good one for ‘bitterballen’ – it was right there.  Boter give me a minute.”

You shriek in laughter as Din lifts up and peppers your neck and face with a flurry of butterfly kisses before he gets off the couch.  Once he’s rounded to the other side, he leans over the back and peers down at you, still with a shit-eating grin on his face, “I’m going to get dinner started.  You gouda with that, pretty bird?”

Din narrowly dodges the swat of your book before chuckling all the way to the kitchen.  He’s ducked into the fridge, pulling out ingredients when you remember something, “Oh!  Can we do something new with the potatoes tonight?  I saw this recipe that I think you might like – and we can use up that dill we have.”

You phone is just out of reach on the coffee table and Al’s snoozing head has your lower half pinned down; you reach over by your feet to grab Din’s laptop so you can find the recipe you were looking at earlier.

Opening up the search engine, you click into the search bar and snicker at all the most recent searches:

Netherlands hockey team

hard little known facts about the Netherlands

Random facts about the Netherlands

How to spell capsulon Dutch food

common dutch foods

travelling to the Netherlands

2 week trip Europe best places to go

But when you get to the oldest recent search, you let out a little gasp that you hope Din doesn’t hear from the kitchen and your eyes widen to the size of saucers:

romantic European proposals

[rose-l-20]

Whipped ~ T.I.K

My first request! I’m so excited to write this!

Requested by @stinkygirl009 😊🤍

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Fem reader

WARNINGS: a touch of spice, pretty fluffy if you take the readers panic out of it. If I've missed anything let me know and ill add it.

She/her pronouns used

Ice was sitting in the TOP GUN classroom taking notes for the next mission, but the poor guys mind came to your face, your hair, your smile, your natural scent, your perfumes and your eyes. The amount of times Ice sighed caused Slider to nearly rip his hair out, as he knew the only reason he's agitated these days was because the poor guy hadn't seen you in nearly 2 weeks.

"Ice, I swear if you sigh one more time I'm going to loose my shit." Slider whispered, along with a firm hand gesture in the shape of a claw.

"I'm sorry!" Ice whisper yelled back rubbing his hand on his face. "can you blame me though? if you had a beautiful goddess of a woman within a 25 minute drive radius from here you wouldn't be itching to sneak out of here just for a glimpse of her?" His voice quiet yet felt like he was shouting at the top of his lungs.

Slider rolled his eyes and murmured under his breathe "pussy-whipped". This didn't go un-heard by the stress ridden blonde, and the heel of his boot met the side of Sliders shin. "You know that just proves my point right?" a chuckle left sliders mouth and in response he got the bird from the now annoyed piolet.

-

As the sun set over the TOP GUN base, Iceman went to his small home where all students were stationed and threw his helmet onto his bed. It didn't take long for his eyes to meet the picture of you sitting in a white frame on his bedside table. You were wearing a red dress he had bought you. The dress was ankle length with thick straps, and one had fallen down leaving your shoulder bare. You were looking to the side, the summer sun hitting your face just right and a small smile rested on your face. He groaned out "This is such bullshit!".

He started getting into comfortable clothes when a dangerous, career threatening idea came to his mind. He swapped his pyjama pants to his jeans, and slipped on his sneakers. There was a part of his mind that was screaming ‘just wait! You only have 2 weeks left!’ and another saying the complete opposite. He was desperate to get his arms around the one person who makes each day worth it. He has seen so many TOP GUN students leave during the night to see, or sneak their girls into the base and get away with it. So what was stopping him?

He got his car keys and put his bomber jacket on. Iceman had subconsciously studied the base and knew the quietest route to his car. He walked fast, not wanting to waste a second of time. He saw some instructors walking, he shuffled into a shadowed area of the path and was out of sight. He paused and waited for them to walk a far distance.

He got to the car and did a final look out before getting in and hastily driving off. He had to keep reminding himself to follow the road rules and not speed or run a red light. The street of your house was slowly approaching and his thoughts were running wild. The time of his arrival was 7:45pm, and Tom was on the porch to the front door in a matter of seconds. Getting the spare key he got given, he unlocked the door and went inside.

He placed his keys and wallet on the entry table and walked into the kitchen. He didn’t see you in the main area of your home so he went up the stairs, seeing your bedroom lamp on. Walking in, he saw you enjoying a DIY cheese board and charcuterie board. You had a book in your hand and the record player was softly playing.

“Hey-” he softy spoke, but was interrupted by a startled scream.

“AHH! What the actual fuck?” Your voice sounded pissed off, and at this point he remembered you hated being scared. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you (y/n)!” He sat down on the bed and held your hand. “It’s ok, just don’t do it aga- wait, what are you doing here?!” The book in your hand met the floor as you threw it, and moved the boards onto your bedside table.

You grabbed his face in your hands and searched for injuries. “Are you hurt? We’re you kicked out? Did you QUIT?!” Ice couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sweetie, I’m fine…I snuck out!” He held both of your hands and rubbed your palms with his thumbs. Your eyebrows came together and you let out a ‘huh?!’ You knew how serious he was about his career, so this was not like him.

“Have you been hanging out with Maverick or something? Because that is something he would do not you!” Your thoughts coming out at a rapid rate. Tom rolled his eyes and smiled. “No, I haven’t. I missed you and couldn’t wait 2 more weeks to see you so I snuck out”

Toms hands found your waist and pulled you close. You were rambling on about your confusion and somewhat lecturing him on work ethic and rules. He shut you up with a kiss and you instantly melted into both the kiss and him.

“I missed you too idiot” you roll your eyes. “But seriously, what demon possessed you? You have 2 weeks until graduation and you risk it by doing this?” You just couldn’t wrap your head around both the situation, and the concept of the situation. “Well, when your Girlfriend has been the only thing you can think about…you just have to see her” Tom’s shoulders lift up and down.

“You are something else Kazinsky” your voice soothed the Pilot, and you reached behind you for the food. You placed it between the two of you and resumed your meal together. You guys caught up on what was going on in your separate lives, and what your plans were for the rest of the two weeks.

Fun beach days, working shifts, flight methods and jet safety were just some of the million topics that were brought up. Tom looked at the clock, which read ‘1:31am’, he knew he needed to get back but how could he when your body heat left him in a trance as your French painted nails carded through his blonde, slightly helmet headed hair.

“I’ve gotta go, it’s getting late” his sigh was a deep and dense one, yours was a tired one. “Ok, don’t worry 2 weeks will fly by ok?” You reassured him. He nodded in agreement… until his tired mind snapped awake with a more dangerous but fun idea.

“Come back with me!” He blurted “WHAT?!” you were not expecting your boyfriend to want to pull not 1 but 2 stunts in one night, so you placed your hand to his forehead to see if he was feeling unwell.

“You’re not my boyfriend! You are a clone! How are we going to pull it off? What am I supposed to be doing all day stuck inside your house?” You listed. He chuckled at your cuteness, you were always worried about something and he found joy in being your reassurance. “It will be ok, I’ve bought you some books I was going to give you after the next 2 weeks. There’s a TV in my house and I have a lot of movies you can choose from, and a whole lot more” he tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear while you processed his words.

“Ok, let’s do it. But if you get in trouble I will kill you” you got up and got a bag organised.

-

You both got to base at 2:20am and you heart rate was higher than the Eiffel Tower. Were you really going to do this? You took a deep breath as you both got out of his car.

Tom took your bag and swung it over his shoulder. He grabbed your hand and guided you along the safest path, and kept to the shadows as much as possible. You saw people walking around and it caused you to hear your heart beat in your ears. Ice squeezed your hand in reassurance as you got closer to his back window, which he always left 2 inches open.

He pushed it up carefully, then helping you get in along with your bag. Once he was sure you were safe and the coast was clear he climbed in. He closed the window and locked it, pulling the curtains shut and making sure there was no cracks.

“Oh my god, we just did that!” You whisper shouted, and hugged Tom close to you. He stroked a hand in your hair and swayed, knowing how to relax you. He made eye contact with his schedule for tomorrow and he didn’t have anything until 10:45am so he wasn’t stressed about sleeplessness.

You looked up and kissed him, he responded with a hungry growl. He had missed you and your body this close to him, so much so that his body temperature rose and he became hot. He could feel your body react the same as his as the kiss turned passionate.

He guided you to the bed and kissed down your jaw and neck. “God I missed you baby”

-

The next day Iceman sat in class, focused and relaxed. His notes were neat, his hair and uniform to match. Ice asked questions, gave recommendations and was very attentive.

Slider looked at him in confusion, because he had countless and endless days of being an annoying little pussy whipped shit. As the class went on, Slider observed his friend. When everyone started having their own conversations he decided to ask him what drug was he on.

“What’s up with you Ice? One day your all sulky and whiny and now your chipper and productive?” He questioned with a squint.

“You know how you said I was “pussy whipped”?” He smirked down at his work, making edits and adding more details.

Meanwhile Sliders brain was short circuiting. There was no way he, the sensible and responsible Iceman had broken the rules!

“No way” he mumbled and Tom’s smile got bigger. “You “I’m mister responsible and would never disrespect the rules” Tom “Iceman” Kazansky snuck out?”

Ice laughed and responded with a smirk.

“And snuck in”

Sliders body turned to his work and mutter in a surprised voice…

“pussy whipped”

[clarkeyhill]

☁️Surprise | Arthur Hill fluff

[Arthur is scheduled to appear on BBC radio 1 to premiere his new single, whilst he's out you gather a few of his friends and arrange a surprise party for him, to show how proud you all are]

It's 8am and Arthur's alarm rings, you both grumble at the sound but you both make moves to scooch over and give eachother a cuddle before Arthur gets ready for his interview. "I'm so proud of you Artie" you say smiling into his chest as he plants a kiss on your head. "Thankyou baby, I have you to thank for pushing me and supporting me constantly" he says back softly. "It's all deserved baby, you deserve everything this world has to offer" you hold him tighter as he rests his head onto yours. "I don't want to but I have to start getting ready, as much as I'm enjoying this" Arthur says brushing a hair behind your ear, you look up at him with a pouty face as you sit up from his chest "go smash it" you smile at him beaming with pride for your boyfriend.

Arthur gives you one last kiss before he makes his way to his interview, you wave him goodbye as he leaves. The times now 9:30am and you open the group chat you created with the other boys, to plan the surprise. Arthur is due home at 1pm.

You: "hey guys can you come round for 10:30?"

Clarkey: "yeah, do you need anything else grabbing?"

Chris: "yeah 10:30 is good"

You: "no george I just need you two to help me blow all these balloons up😂"

Chris: "like your gob isn't big enough"

You: "you are the size of the balloon pump I bought be quiet Christopher"

Clarkey: "okay, be there at 10:30"

You shuffle out of bed and throw on some comfy clothes and get all the things you hid in the spare room to prepare for for Arthur surprise. The boys arrive and you hand them a packet of balloons each, you opted for red balloons to match in accordance to Arthur's new single cover. You begin to blow up the balloons, tying string to the end of each one so the float along the ceiling. You also got "congratulation" balloons to weigh to the floor. "I hope he appreciates this, my jaw is killing" George laughs, "I'm sure he will, stop whining now you now how is girls feel when our jaw hurts" you say bonking him on the head with a balloon. The balloons are now competed and it's 12pm, you have an hour before Arthur returns home. You quickly make up a charcuterie board with the stuff you had in the fridge and made small snacks whilst the boys were here. Placing them on the kitchen island

12:30pm "are you still home? I'm 10 minutes away 💕" Arthur texts you, "shit he's ten minutes away" you all scramble to put the balloons into place and set up the cameras to catch it from a few angles. You all then stand infront of the balloons all in clutch with a confetti cannon. The door clicks open and Arthur walks through the door, you pop the cannons and all shout "surprise" in unison.

Arthur's mouth drops as you walk over to him "congratulations baby, we're so unbelievably proud of you" you say giving him the tightest hug. "I can't believe you've planned this for me, with the boys too" tears form in his eyes as the boys walk over to give him a hug themselves. You stand back and look at them all, smiling in awe for the love they have for eachother. Not only are you busting with pride for your boy, but his best friends are too, your eyes well up as a tear rolls down your face. "Come here you big softie" Chris holds out his hand for you to join the group hug, you slot yourself in and immediately start crying. "What are you crying for silly" Arthur says wiping the tear from your face. "I'm just so proud of you, it fills me with so much happiness to see you succeed and for everyone around us to see it too" you say sniffling, Arthur plants a kiss on your forehead as you all break away from the hug and sit down on the sofa so Arthur can tell you all about it.

-

🫶🏻

[vidavalor]

Can you share another horny homophone? Count me obsessed with Ineffable Husbands Speak.

Same, obviously. I can do that. Since "ma tante"/"my tente" was Aziraphale, here are a couple from Crowley this time:

To be bored/board and wrath/wroth

We know that when Aziraphale is hungry for sex, he ironically busts out this word below that means that one could go for a little snack:

And we also know that Crowley sees this as the most Aziraphale word that has ever Aziraphale worded because he was all oh babe really this one? in response to it in 1793:

His attitude is a bit: We're doing this now? We're calling it "peckish"? I mean, it meets the food-related criteria for a sexual euphemism in our wordplay and it's also funny as hell, since you have never eaten just a little bit of food once in all your days, and it's even got this weird, bird-like bit of hilarity to it but I can't do it. It's fine for you but there is no way on this Earth that I am ever going to tell you I feel like sex by saying that I'm feeling "peckish"...

This is not a Crowley-ish word.

So, what does he say then? What's the Crowley version of "peckish"? It's a homophone and it's...

To be "bored/board" (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). The Crowley version of "peckish", which is a word that is fine for Aziraphale but which Crowley is never going to use in all his days.

To be bored is to lament the fact that you are lacking in stimuli and activity and to be stuck in a temporary dearth of anything interesting happening. A homophone for "bored" in English is "board", which has several different meanings that are amusing in an Ineffable Husbands-y way-- much like "wily", "thwart", "smitten", "explode", etc..

A board in one bit of common usage today is a plank of wood-- as in, "honey, I'm going to Lowe's to grab some more boards for our home improvement project" but, inevitably, since you're all such wonderfully dirty-minded little skamps, your minds also went to the sexual euphemism for having an erection. As such, Crowley can speak aloud one sound-- like Aziraphale did with "tante"/"tente"-- and have it mean two different words at once and "board" has additional meanings that meet the criteria for being a word in Ineffable Husbands Speak... like its food-related one.

One of the original meanings of "board" is a table that is set for a meal. As in, "he was ravenously hungry when he returned to the house and sighed with pleasure at the board before him." The board, in this case, would be a table laid with food that was ready to eat. A more modern version of this kind of usage is less the whole table set up for a meal but more if I were to go fill a plank of wood or a stone slab or a platter with various deli meats, cheeses, olives, breads/crackers, etc., what have I made? A charcuterie board.

Additionally, a "board" can be used to mean those working as a small collective to make decisions and direct an organization-- as in, "she sits on the board of directors of the company"-- and is then a nod towards their healthy sexual power balance. More euphemistically, as a verb, you "board" modes of transportation-- like planes, buses, trains, ships... the latter two of which we've already seen Crowley and Aziraphale turn into sexual innuendo.

Ships are related to the sea and feature into Aziraphale's drunk innuendo around The Kraken and his more detailed Biblically-inspired dirty talk in the "seeds of destruction" scene. Trains are what Crowley parries back with after Aziraphale turned The Bentley and the bookshop into a sexual metaphor for Crowley and himself when teasing control freak Crowley about how he has been letting Aziraphale drive his car for centuries but is having a whole meltdown about letting him drive the actual, literal car.

While you "sail on" a ship and "fly" on a plane, in the cases of most other forms of transportation-- including the two Crowley and Aziraphale are flirting about in S2, cars and trains-- you, of course, "board" one to ride it to a destination. If you wish to board a mode of transportation, you wish to go somewhere-- you're bored and need to board. And you've a whole board of delicious-sounding meal options circling around in your mind lol.

So, Crowley can make one sound and it encapsulates two words with collective meanings of lacking in stimuli while being hard up/horny and fantasizing about a whole damn charcuterie board of sexual options.

Crowley can tell what Aziraphale means by his tone of voice and the reasons Aziraphale calls Crowley, according to Crowley in 2.01, are that there's a "something's wrong" emergency (which is what this scene in 2.01 is), that he has to tell him about something clever he did and can't wait the short amount of time until he sees Crowley next to tell him (which is so married and is also what happens when Aziraphale can't wait to tell Crowley how good a job he's doing managing his trauma in Edinburgh by having gone to the spot by the Gabriel statue), or that he's "bored"/"board"-- he's restless, lacking in stimuli, very peckish and wants to mess around (which is Good Omens: Lockdown).

Aziraphale: I just called to see how you were doing during lockdown.

Crowley: I'm bored... so *very, very*... *board*. *Transcendentally* (homophone) bored/board...

Maggie and Nina partner scene, in which they are locked down together, and Nina's a bit of a bitch but also kinda not wrong about physical media shops as unlikely targets for robbery:

Aziraphale: ...except for the other night, when (salacious tone of voice) *a few young lads* broke in and (faux-innocent tone of voice) tried to steal the cashbox! (mischievous, innuendo-laden tone of voice) But they soon saw the error of their ways.

Crowley: Did you smite them with your (homophone) wrath/wroth?

Wrath: righteous fury; of an angel, in Biblical terms. Pronounced by people with a moneyed English accent like Crowley's as "wroth", for some weird fluke of language/reasons no one is really sure on, probably because it sounds posh. *shrug* However, 'wroth' is a word itself...

Wroth: like 'wrath', means extreme anger... but is also the past tense of 'writhe'

To writhe: to make continuous twisting movements of the body; to thrash; to flail; to twist and turn. Frequently used to describe the movements of a body experiencing sexual pleasure or an orgasm.

[See also, other kinds of writhe-related wordplay: to founder vs. to flounder ("Seeds of Destruction" scene) and to get a wiggle on vs. to get a wriggle on (Discorporated!Aziraphale scene), when I finish metas on Fish and Seeds.]

Crowley: Did you smite them with your *wroth*?

Meaning: Did you discipline your imaginary burglars, angel-- is that where this one's going? Did they become smitten with you from your smiting-- all three young, strapping, muscled, cash-starved members of the local university crew team, I'd imagine?

[nattinatalia]

Urban Wyatt x Reader : PICNIC DATES

Today was just not your day, maybe you were overreacting but that’s how you felt.

It was Mother’s Day, and up until now you still haven’t had any sort of text or calls from Urban or your daughter.

It was his weekend to have Cassie and unfortunately he had to travel with Jack for the week, so his only option was to take Cassandra with him. Which you didn’t mind at all, he’s a great father. But you had forgotten it was Mother’s Day week and you were missing your daughter.

You were in bed all day, but you decided to stop with the self pity and actually do something, even if it’s on your own or even if it means finishing a bottle of wine.

You were finishing up setting up a charcuterie board when you heard muffled voices come from the living room.

You quickly grab a baseball bat you had in the walk in pantry and make your way to the living room.

“I’m calling the co-CASSIE?” You gasp out surprised to see her, since she’s supposed to be in New York.

“Hi mommy.” She waves at you.

“What are you doing here?” You look around, not finding a mop of blond curly hair. “Where is your father?”

“Outside.” She points to the slide door, so you try to open it but Cassie blocks your way. “Not time yet.”

You smile down at her and raise your eyebrow, “What are you two up to?”

“N-nothing.” She covers her mouth and shrugs.

“Okay you little liar.”

She gasps, “I’m no liar, it’s a surprise.” She crosses her little arms against her chest.

“Aww, I’m sorry princess, you’re right you aren’t a liar.”

The slide door is being opened and a smiling Urban walks in. “Hi.”

“Hello.” You smile at him shyly. The two of you might be taking time apart from one another, but you can’t lie that your heart skips a beat every time he’s near.

“How’s it going?”

You nod, “Way better now that you two are here.”

“Ugh guys.” Cassie interrupts your little moment. “Can we get to it?.”

“Cassandra Wyatt, watch yourself little lady.” Urban tells her.

“Well I want to see it too, you can smile at each other out there.” She points outside.

“Alright, let’s go.” Urban faces you and extends his hand out for you so you take it.

You three walk outside to the backyard and see the most beautiful setup. “Urban, this is-wow.”

He had a picnic section on one side of the yard, on the blanket laid all of your favorite snacks, drinks and food with some flowers. He also set up the screen projector and had candles spread around on the other side of your yard.

“You like it?”

You shake your head, “I love it.” You go to hug him. “Thank you so much.”

“Mommy, daddy got you flowers and chocolate.” Cassie runs to sit down on the blanket.

“Did you help him baby?”

She nods “I got the blankets and did the drawings. He did the rest.”

“Well I love it all baby, thank you.”

You three sit down and start snacking.

“You okay?” Urban notices that you’ve gone quiet and that you’re crying.

“Yeah.” You hiccuped. “I just thought I was going to be alone today.”

“Hey.” He pulls you to his side. “It’s Mother’s Day, when have I left you alone to celebrate?”

You shake your head “I just thought since we’re taking time to think things through, that you wouldn’t be here.”

“I love you, I’m never going to stop loving you. I had to be here, just like I’ll be here every day and every Mother’s Day that’s to come.” He kisses the top of your head.

“Happy tears mommy?” Cassie says, staring at you both but blowing bubbles.

You nod. “Most definitely princess.”

Cassie goes back to blowing her bubbles, you sit up and face Urban. “I love you, I promise you I’m working on it. I’m working on getting us on the right path.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t think about that right now, let’s just enjoy today. Let’s eat all this junk food, and enjoy our family time.”

“Okay, yeah you’re right.” You wipe your tears, lean in closer to Urban, to the point your foreheads are touching. “Thank you.”

“AWW, KISS KISS KISS.” Cassie chants.

You and Urban both smile at that.

“Well Mr. Wyatt, you heard your daughter.” You whisper.

He pulls back and looks down to your lips, then to your eyes to make sure you were one hundred percent sure. “Y/N?”

“Don’t keep me waiting.” You tell him.

Those words were all he needed to hear, he leaned in, placing his hand on your cheek and kisses you.

It’s a toe curling kiss, you missed his lips against yours, you missed the way your body gets warm whenever his lips would touch you.

“YAYYYYY.” Cassie cheers.

You both pull away and laugh.

“We’re going to make it through, just watch.” He whispers into your ear.

That sounded like a promise and if there’s one thing you love about Urban, is that he always keeps his promises.

• • • • • • •

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[m--rtyr]

I just saw that the Au is based off of Star Wars so hell yeah! As someone who loves Star Wars and Star Trek, this is gonna be fun.

Now, I am going to how into who of the main cast I think should be aliens, humans, and other. I will be missing folks

Garroth and Zane always need to be humans in my mind. They are objectively the most human characters with flaws that are so inherent to humanity that making them aliens to me is always odd. Same with Dante, as he is the most human for his strengths. Dante and Garroth are the different sides of the same coin and Zane is a very dirty penny.

Zoey, Travis, Aaron, and Lucinda can all be aliens because the majority of the characterization comes from them not being entirely human. Even MCD Aaron had a very "not like other girls" type of vibe in regards to humanity.

Now the ones I place under other

Shadow Knights - SInce the Au is leaning more star wars and space magic esc, I think you could mostly leave them as they are if not make them worse, cause it isn't just magic, but aliens. I am a big fan of alien parasites for this

Half-Humans - Katelyn I feel should be very human passing along with Aph, cause they are shown struggling with their identities a lot. Aph more so but we do see Katelyn with moments of weakness

Robot - Brendan as a very very sexy robot. That is my only note, robots are hot. Members of the Jury of Nine could also fall under this as more cybernetics to make up for a lack of space magic n stuff.

Ooo yeah. I like this a lot.

I like the idea of Brendan either being a basically ‘hauling’ robot (built for the sake of carrying/hauling/dragging large loads) that was put to use on a farm. Or a refurbished war robot which was completely rewired to be a farm hand. Mostly just bc I want him to be big… Kiki’s not robot but she’s believes in treating them like people since they’re conscious, and her parents were the same. Hence Brendan. Her parents either built him or fixed him as he’s been her brother ever since.

I actually need to come up with designs for the alien cast tho… because broooo I love aliens.

Travis is half-human but doesn’t look it. Ironically I feel like it would be on his father’s side. Who else would be a crime syndicate leading piece of shit?? Being human doesn’t inherently mean you’ve got any more humanity. Especially with the narrative that Travis’ mother was one of the natives on Enki Island and Micheal was there to cause strife.

Lucinda probably would be half too. Considering the concept of her and Hyria being run out of Pikoro because they weren’t human. Whilst her father was lord, and human.

I think it’s obvious all Meif’wa and werewolves are aliens. What else would they be?? Elves too.

Also just Aph out here collecting one of everything. Human, aliens, robot, parasite-infected dude. the whole charcuterie board.