#picking up on the e-string

[mitjalovse]

Some session musicians should have done more on their own thanks to the immense prowess they kept showing many times. Well, Carol Kaye, one of the best session bassists, sadly didn't do much on solowise, though we have to understand – she worked quite a lot. Still, one wishes she would've done more of her jazz trips, where she basically presented us with a major reason for her success. You see, she appears to be a jazzist at heart and this gave her a great playing field for her job. This also tells me one thing I must mention in our discussion here – the fact that session musicians are disappearing is terrible. They are probably another source of our listening enjoyment of the old pop chestnuts, their presence remains severely missed.

[thecosmickight]

Promises to keep.

Son Kihoon, at 20 years old, met his soulmate because of an accident. A wrong turn down a street during a grocery run led him straight to Jinwoo, or at least to Jinwoo's apartment building. Kihoon, now lost, hoped to find someone to get directions from.

Instead, he felt a tug on his left hand and found a 18 year old civilian at the end of his string. He is invited inside by an excited Jinah and an amused Park Kyung-Hye.

Jinwoo was cautious around Kihoon at first. He was worried about his mother being around a hunter, especially as high ranking as Kihoon. However, his other half blended into his family quickly. Kihoon was over nearly every weekend, Kyung-Hye made it clear she wanted him around, and Jinah was happy to have someone to help tease Jinwoo.

When Kihoon is asked to join the Hunter's Guild, the Sung family celebrates with him and his parents.

When Park Kyung-Hye falls to eternal slumber, Kihoon and Jinwoo fight. Jinwoo has awakened as an E-rank hunter and believes he has to shoulder everything. Kihoon wants to help the Sung family as much as he can. They were his as much as he was their's and he wanted to take care of them.

(Part of the fight is Jinwoo thinking his rank will drag Kihoon's reputation through the mud. He doesn't want to jeopardize Kihoon's future. Kihoon is, rightfully so, pissed when he hears this. He doesn't care what rank Jinwoo is nor what other people think. It takes a couple of days, and Jinah actually siding with her brother, for Kihoon to agree to keep quiet(with a handful of conditions).)

Jinwoo and Kihoon get married, with Mrs. Park's blessing, six months later. The records are sealed, and Kihoon is able to help with medical bills and chores around the house. (He tries his best to keep his family happy and safe. He promised his mother-in-law that he would watch out for Jinwoo and Jinah, and he would keep it to the best of his abilities. Jinwoo isn't the only stubborn one in the household.)

[waywardsalt]

tbh i might go ahead and put dungeons in as a part of the bellum x linebeck fic's plot since like. 1) struggling to actually figure out a main plot and having dungeons as sort of bit points to hit and be little bits of fitting exploration and bonding and 2) i do kinda want to do dungeons. i like thinking of them and again i do think its fitting.

[joonberriess]

3 D

p a i r i n g : jungkook x reader

g e n r e : pimp au.

t a g s : pimp!jk debut(!!!!), some degradation, jk watches videos and looks at ur nudes, masturbation, blowjobs, cum swallowing, head pusher!jk, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting(duh), phone sex(?), daddy kink but brief in some scenes, jk is whipped for his pretty gf :( , nasty dirty talk

w o r d c o u n t : 3.2 k

s u m m a r y : “I wanna see it in motion, in 3D. Cause you know how I like it, girl,” or: Jungkook wants the real thing and not some picture or video. Only thing is he’s on a business trip.

Jungkook tosses his phone off to the side with a quiet “fuck” under his breath. It’s only been three hours since he touched down in LA and not once did you leave his mind even during the long flight on his way over. He thought that after a much needed nap he’d wake up refreshed but it was quite the opposite. However, as soon as his eyes fluttered open he felt the tightness down below in his sweats—cock chubbing up and throbbing painfully through his boxers.

He tried easing the tension by rubbing his hand over the tent at first, he sighed quietly in relief as his hand slipped under his sweats and into his boxers. His cock sat hot and heavy in his hand, twitching when he ran a thumb over the leaky head. “Fuck.” He softly repeats while letting his head fall back on the pillow.

Jungkook’s eyes slip shut as he swallows harshly, he focuses on the hot pleasure boiling in his lower abdomen while slowly working his cock up and down with his thumb swiping over the tip. He pictures you in his bed after a nasty little pussy eating session laying there all fucked out with your thighs still spread and pussy out for him to look at. He swears he can taste you on his tongue just thinking about it.

His lips part as another breathy moan escapes his throat, he lazily flicks his wrist and strokes over his cock while more images of you flash in his mind. He groans out loud at a particular stroke, eyebrows pinching together in concentration as he struggles to keep the same angle and rhythm. Jungkook starts thinking about your ass—your soft, round, apple-bottom shaped ass.

God he just wanted to have his hands over both cheeks, gripping them tight and giving them a couple slaps here and there. His favorite thing to do was fuck you doggy just to watch the way your ass recoiled whenever he slammed in, the bounce was crazy as all he could do was watch in awe as you threw your ass back on him, doughy cheeks colliding against each other or his pelvis.

A low groan of frustration escapes him as he stops stroking himself all at once, slumping over in bed as he lays there staring at the ceiling trying to ignore the heat in his lower belly. He was not having it. He picked his phone up and immediately clicked on his private photos, biting his lip as his screen blew up with endless pics of you or some body part of yours.

He chewed on his lower lip while mindlessly scrolling through the pretty lingerie and ass pics you sent him almost a week ago. A low whistle leaves him, “Goddamn.” He muttered under his breath, he wanted the real thing but sadly these would have to do for now.

Jungkook palms his cock lazily once more, he wraps his fist around the swollen shaft and gives it a small squeeze. He’s even fucking harder now just looking at your pictures rather than before when he was just going off of by memory. He swipes and comes across a photo of your naked body only clad in a pretty g-string. He hisses low at the sight of the string swallowed up between your soft ass cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans in frustration once more, “this isn’t fucking working.” He stops touching all at once and tosses his phone away, a cold shower will have to do, no use in working himself up if he can’t jack off in peace because it’s not the same.

Jungkook sits up and looks off to the side, this is gonna be a long week without you (at least he had his videos though).

.

Two days. That’s how long Jungkook lasted.

After he finished up with his meetings throughout the day, he slipped into his hotel room and locked himself in for the night. God he missed you so much, he wondered what you were doing back at the club. Were you dancing? Playing? Were you missing him as much as he missed you?

Jungkook was half-tempted to call but he decided against it, while it was barely sundown where he was at, he assumed it was literally nighttime/the next day back at home with you. He settled for a hot shower, dimmed lights, and his phone. He went into the same private collection from before and clicked on one of the many videos he had in store.

He licks his lips hungrily and gets comfortable on the bed, hand dipping down to stroke over his hard-on sitting in his boxers:

“C’mere baby,” Jungkook lazily says, “daddy had a rough day.” He eyes you up and down appreciatively, admiring the way your new corset you bought looked on you. “Ah-ah, you know how I like it baby, why don’t you go on and make me proud yeah? That’s it.” He grins softly, watching as you drop down on your hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him with a devious smile.

“Like this daddy?” You softly say with a sway of your ass.

He groans quietly and nods, “Fuck yeah,” he man spreads invitingly while watching with hooded eyes, “those the new heels I got you baby?” He tilts his head to the side.

“Mm-hm,” you nuzzle into his thigh and press your cheek against him, “pretty aren’t they? Wore them just for you, don’t you think I look pretty?” You pout while giving him those sweet puppy eyes of yours.

Jungkook brings his hand down to cup your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek as he took his time to admire your beauty, “Course, my baby always looks so pretty.” He brings his thumb down on your bottom lip, “But she’d look prettier with a mouth full of cock, don’t you think?” He smirks. You softly moan with a nod and he gently tilts your head up by your chin, “Then why don’t you show me just how pretty you are baby?”

You stare back at him like you’re hypnotized, your small hands come up to undo his belt, the sound of his zipper being pulled fills the space between you two. Jungkook leans down to give you one soft peck on your lips before he’s sitting back like the kingpin he is, arms stretched across the back of the velvet sofa. He watches hungrily as your soft hand wraps around his swollen cock, the sight is obscene given that you can’t even fully close your fist around his cock.

“Go on baby,” he breathes out, “slip me in your pretty little mouth.”

You obediently lean forward, lips parted in a ‘o’ as you slip the head into your mouth. He groans quietly at the sight of your glossy red lips wrapped around his cock. You tongue at the slit of his cock, swiping your tongue over the head in repeated motions—left, right, left right. Your hand gently pumps the rest of his cock, you move slowly and twist your hand when you reach the base of his cock before bringing it back up with a nice grip.

“Fuck,” he sighs as he throws his head back with a hum.

You pull back with a wet pop and bring your hand over the tip, smearing your spit all over his cock as you use it to get the rest of his cock slicked up. After stroking him a couple of times you take his cock back into your mouth, this time pushing down until the head hits the back of your throat with a audible gag.

He swears under his breath and reaches up to bury his tattooed hand in your hair. You blink the tears away and bob your head slowly—swallowing messily around his cock. The noises he makes has your thighs pressing together in an effort to suppress your throbbing clit. Not to mention he looks so hot with his head thrown back and his mouth open.

“There you go baby, doing so good,” he pants softly, “tight little throat—’s like you were made for my cock, tight little cocksleeve.” He bites down on his lip and comes back to look down at you, “Love my cock don’t you?” He pats your head, watching in amusement as you moan and nod for him, “Course you do.”

You swallow noisily, slurping up the excess saliva you leave on his cock as you pull back to pop him out of your mouth, “ ‘s mine isn’t it daddy? No one else can have your cock but me right?” You pout while rubbing the tip over your lips, as if you were coating them in a shiny layer of gloss.

Jungkook nods, “Only yours baby.” He reaches down to grip his cock and guide the head back between your lips, “Nobody else does it like you,” he mumbles while watching you take his entire cock down your throat once more.

You reach up to cup his swollen balls in your hand, pairing it with powerful sucks as you hollow your cheeks. His lips part in surprise, a strangled groan leaving him when you begin massaging his balls while bobbing your head much quicker than before. He can’t help himself anymore, he reaches back down and begins pushing your head against his lap. Each push has you taking him deeper and deeper, until your nose is flush against his pelvis.

“Fuck..!” He moans out when you gag around him, your throat constricts tightly around his cock and it has him struggling to keep his composure. “Shit–gonna cum baby,” he breathes out while reaching into his pocket for his phone.

You hum in acknowledgment while bobbing your head to the best of your ability. Jungkook manages to record you sucking him off before he’s suddenly holding you still with a low moan as he cums down your throat. His cock throbs intensely as hot spurts of cum fill your mouth. “Fucking shit,” he shakily breathes out while running a hand through his hair and zooming in on your swollen lips that are still wrapped around his cock.

You pull back with a low pop, lips smeared in a shiny coat of spit and cum, “Am I prettier now?” You smile brightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he sighs in pure bliss while tossing his phone to the side, that was the meanest suck you ever given him.

+

Jungkook breaks on the fourth day.

“Jungkook!” Your happy little voice rings in the quiet hotel room, “I missed you lots, how’s LA like? Oooh can you bring me back something, pretty please!” You pout while snuggling into the many Kuromi plushies you begged him to buy you.

He bites his lip when he sees the state you’re in—practically naked with nothing but a white spaghetti top and your cheeky lace panties. He feels his cock instantly grow hard at the sight, “Hi baby,” he murmurs, “what’s my pretty girl up to hm? Heard about how wild the other night was for you.” He tries not to get jealous at the thought of so many men being around you, Namjoon had reported that the club was busier that night and it only progressed into something wilder when you came out to dance.

“Oh! Yes! Lots of people came the other night and it was just crazy in there, they literally had to use a broom to collect all the money I made during my dance. Joonie also had to tell ‘em I wasn’t available for private dances.” You blow a raspberry, “But anyways, it’s pretty boring without you here. I went shopping with the girls and today,” you ramble on and on.

He groans pitifully when his cock twitches in interest after you had rolled over laying on your tummy, he had caught a glimpse of your pretty ass and it was game over then and there. “Fuck baby,” he sighs, “you’re making it hard for me, ‘s not fair that I can’t have you here with me.” He mutters.

You giggled softly, “Awww, you miss me that much?” You coo softly, “Anything I can do to make it better? Hm?”

“Yeah, why don’t you turn ‘round and show me your pretty ass baby?” Jungkook bites his lip while reaching inside his boxers to stroke his cock.

In a heartbeat you set the phone up against the pillows and sit up on your knees, turning to show off the curve of your ass. “Like this?” You smirk softly, teasingly poking your ass out and swaying your hips side to side.

“Just like that,” he groans, “make it bounce for me baby, wanna see it,” he whispers while rubbing his thumb over the tip in quick little swipes. He nearly moans out loud when you bend over on all fours, ass bouncing just for him as your doughy cheeks jiggle from your movements, “Fuck I wish you were here,” he swallows harshly while keeping his eyes locked on your ass, occasionally his gaze falls down to your chubby little pussy which is kept hidden by your panties.

“Me too..’s not the same with my fingers,” you wiggle your ass and bend lower until your chest rests on the bed and your back is arched with your ass raised high. “Not even the vibrator you got me works.” You petulantly whine.

“Fuck, I promise when I get back I’ll fuck you as long as you want,” he breathes out while stroking his cock faster, “gonna have you pumped full of my cum, till you’re drippin’, you’ll be a good girl and clean it up won’t you?” He licks his lips.

You nod eagerly, “Course.” You reach behind to spread your cheeks apart, giving him a small little peek of your cunt. He groans loudly when he sees a small dark wet patch over the center, he just wants to bury his face between your cheeks and eat your pussy out till you’re crying and begging him to stop.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” he groans, “lemme see your little pussy, pull those panties to the side for me,” he watches as your fingers come down to hook around the fabric, he nearly blacks out when you yank them to side and show off your cunt to him. He swears he even sees a string of slick between your chubby folds.

Jungkook cums so hard he feels like his vision goes black. He slumps against the bed with a low moan as cum covers his fist and cock, some of it even landed on his pelvis—further making a mess of himself. “God I miss you,” he mutters, “just a few more days baby.” He licks his lips, “Then I’m all yours.” He grins.

“Can’t wait.” You smile dopily, “Sweet dreams.” You coo.

+

Jungkook can’t wait anymore. As soon as his plane touches down and the driver takes him home, he’s booking it straight to the bedroom. You had sent him a flirty message along with a picture of yourself in nothing but a thong waiting for him in bed with a cheeky little: don’t be late!

He stumbled through the door, eyes narrowing in on you. You licked your lips slowly and spread your thighs apart for him, “This what you were missing?” You teasingly slid your hand over your pussy, “I know you want me,” you softly whisper while pulling your thong to the side, “so come and get it.”

With that he climbs over on the bed, bringing you down as he slams his lips into yours rather harshly. You moan into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck, his hands are everywhere all at once. He goes from cupping your tits to cradling your ribs and then sliding down to your ass. It feels good to be holding your soft cheeks in his hands once more.

“I missed you so fucking much baby,” he growls softly, “thought ‘bout this pretty little ass and pussy night and day.” He lays kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

“Well now you’re here,” you moan softly.

Jungkook licks his lips, “Gonna show you how much I missed you,” he breathes out while sliding down the bed until he’s eye level with your pussy. He doesn’t hesitate to tear the thong off and toss it somewhere, he brings your thighs up and over his shoulders as he goes to town on your aching cunt.

He covers your entire pussy with his hot mouth, licking and sucking wildly at your folds, clit, and slicked up hole. You bury your hands in his hair with a loud moan, pushing his head down as you feed your cunt to him. Loud slurping noises fill the space between you two, his tongue runs over your clit in quick flicks going side to side. Your lips part as breathy whines and cries escape.

“Fuck right there,” you sob out while holding his head still, “w-want more..! ‘M too empty.” You buck your hips.

Jungkook isn’t in the mood to tease, he brings his finger up and prods at your tight little hole. Your mouth falls open when he opens you up with one digit, and then another. He hums as he takes your swollen clit into his mouth, harshly sucking on the sensitive little bud while he fucks his fingers into your throbbing cunt.

“J-Jungkook..!” You sob out while arching your back.

Your legs quiver from the harsh stimulation, you don’t know whether you want to beg him to stop or beg him for more. Jungkook however doesn’t let you think straight with the way he’s sucking on your clit and finger fucking you into another universe. His fingers perfectly strike your g-spot with each thrust making your pussy drip and gush around his fingers.

He pulls back to blow on your clit teasingly, “This is exactly how I wanted you—spread out like a little slut with your needy pussy in my face. Look at you,” he chuckles, “practically humping my hand with how desperate your little pussy is.” He leans down to press a chaste kiss over your clit, “Gonna be a good girl and squirt on my fingers?”

“Y-Yes!” You throw your head back, “ ‘m your good girl.” You weakly croak out while grinding your pussy on his fingers.

Jungkook laughs under his breath, “Go on then, cum on my fingers,” he leans down to envelop your clit in his mouth, suckling with a hint of teeth.

Your mind blanks out as you go stiff, your hands grip his hair tightly and you feel your cunt pulse wildly. Your orgasm hits you hard as spurts of slick squirt out from your abused cunt. You throb around his fingers and weakly try to push him away, “ ‘s too much..” You whine tiredly while shaking, “No moreeee,” you pout.

Jungkook pulled away with a smirk, “Messy little thing you are,” he says this as he wipes his lower lip/chin. You grumble back at him and roll away to lay on your side, “What was that, I couldn’t hear you.” Jungkook says while going over to lay on top of you, “What did you say?” He grins as he peppers your ear with tiny kisses.

“I said you broke my pussy, my leg keeps shaking.” You huff, “Get off you’re heavy!” You whine whilst wiggling around.

“Who did?” Jungkook just lives to annoy you.

“You did!” You whine louder.

“That’s right,” he smacks your ass hard, feeling accomplished with himself.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan

[lex-the-flex]

Soured Whiskey

Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Your one night stand with a handsome stranger at the bar leads to a different endeavor.

Word Count: 2k

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, brief cursing, small moments of action and violence, brief drinking, Logan being protective, MEGA FLUFF, SMUT 18+ – Unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), oral (f! receiving), fingering, skin + body appreciation, Logan being a gentleman and the reader being lovely. (Basically distant soulmates).

A/N: I'm officially seeing Deadpool and Wolverine tomorrow and I'm so excited! But in the meantime, I thought I'd add to the pile of Wolverine smut.

Strings of ornately hung light bulbs decorate the bar, bringing a cozy old-school vibe to the modernized saloon. Closing the door behind you, the cold city atmosphere was instantly transformed into a quaint and warm invitation. You’re friends couldn’t stop raving about this new bar and that you all just had to go here and try the endless menu of cocktails and tapas. 

So through your busy work week, your friends informed you to meet at the bar on Friday once the sun started to go down. But much to your dismay, your friends bailed on you, even after repaying that they’d be there for you and help you unwind, to de-stress.

You got stood up. By your own good friends who you thought had your back. 

Sighing to yourself, it was too late to give up now. You were already here, so you might as well order a drink. 

Sitting at the bar, you sat up straight on the stool, not paying attention to who was sitting next to you. It didn’t matter. Patiently waiting for the bartender, the sight of someone sitting next to you crosses your peripheral vision. The man’s muscular arms lean against the counter, reaching for a couple of fresh cashews. 

“Hey there, what can I get you?” The bartender asks. 

“Just a whiskey sour, please.” You reply. 

“Got it, and same for you, sir?” He questions, pushing a singular whiskey glass to the person to your right. 

“Yeah, thanks.” The stranger replies. 

The stranger’s gruff voice takes you by surprise, but you pay him no mind. 

Rolling the coaster in between his fingers, the bartender places your bright whiskey sour in front of you. The refreshing yellow foamy drink is adorned with a lemon swirl and a dried cherry for garnish. Just the sight of it makes a well-deserved smile rise through your lips. Taking a sip of the cold drink, the bartender turns to the back wall with the more expensive bottles of liquor, and passes it to the stranger on your right. 

Getting a glimpse his way, the man finally comes into view. His masculine features take over your attention; the man’s full dark head of hair, beard, and strong jaw seem to put you in a hypnotic state. Glancing towards you, his light hazel eyes gaze into your e/c orbs, providing a somewhat welcoming gaze, however his stern and annoyed expression makes you turn away. 

Returning to your drink, the stranger lowers his arm next to yours, letting you see a freshly lit cigar in his hand. Blowing the smoke away from you, he silently watches you take another swig of your drink before checking the empty text message bubble once again. 

“Rough day?” He asks. 

Sighing into your hands, you jokingly squint your eyes at the stranger, and set your phone down.

“You have no idea. I‘be been craving this damn drink all day.” You reply.

Running your index finger around the rim of the almost empty glass. Smirking, the stranger raises his glass towards yours. 

“Name’s Logan.” He says. 

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you Logan.” You answer, clinking your glass with his. 

Finishing your drinks and dinner in a comfortable silence, Logan silently watches you, observing some of your mannerisms that stand out to him. The way you sit perfectly straight, how you wipe your mouth after every bite, and even the outfit you picked for yourself. Your light grey cardigan sits perfectly on your shoulders along with the casual white button-up shirt that was underneath it. The pair of black dress pants and ankle boots make you look professional yet comfortable and he liked that. 

However, this minuscule moment of peace didn’t last long. The scent of strong liquor and the hint of douchebag lingers in the air behind you and Logan. Taking another puff of his cigar, Logan glances your way, warning you to not pay these drunken idiots any attention. 

Polishing off the remainder of your drink, Logan waves for the bartender, and prepares to take your tab. 

“I got it, Logan. Don’t worry about me.” You advise. 

Placing his hand over yours, Logan stops you from using your debit card, motioning to the three men behind you. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about, darlin’.” He warns. 

“You shouldn’t worry about her, man. We can take care of her. We’ll take her off your hands.” One of the drunk men sneers. 

“No thanks, boys. I’m happy where I stand.” You state, looking at Logan, rubbing your fingers over his knuckles. 

Joining you and Logan, the bartender slams his hands on the counter. 

“I told the three of you that you’re not allowed in here! Get out before there’s trouble.” He orders.

“Or what, man? What will you do? We’ve been coming here since… this place opened.” The idiot spurs, stuttering to give a clear answer. 

Blowing off his friends, the young man stumbles to your left side, slipping on the way to nonchalantly lean on the bar, still desperate to impress you. Ignoring him, Logan watches the other two men leave the bar altogether, clearly done with their friend’s shit. 

“Lemme take you out and show you a good time, beautiful. Surely I can do better than the guy on your right. I know I can fuck you better than him.” He explains. 

Not noticing that he’s crossed your personal space line, you instinctively back up into Logan, who’s nearly at his breaking point. 

“Look, bub. She said no. So, take the hint and get the hell out of here. She’s with me.” Logan rebuttals, just as a wave of rage overtakes his voice. 

The sudden sense of feeling claustrophobic creeps out on every single inch of your skin. Glancing down at your hands, you discover that you’re now white-knuckling the edge of the wooden countertop, and Logan begins to ball his fist around his whiskey glass. 

Leaning closer to you, the young man tries once again, and fully crosses the line. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Let me treat you better.” He whispers next to your face. 

Suddenly, you see red. The stranger’s hand touches your mid thigh and you merely fly back on the barstool. 

“Get the fuck off me!” You shout, pushing the man away. 

Within seconds, Logan pushes himself from his own seat, and grabs the young man by his hoodie. Punching the man in the face, he falls to the floor with a streak of blood leaking out of his nose. Wiping his nose, the bartender manages to pull Logan away, before returning to tend to the young man. Tugging Logan closer, he subconsciously wraps his arms around your frame, making sure that you’re out of harm's way. 

“You alright?” He asks in a low whisper.

Silently nodding, the two of you refuse to move, and your hand is still lingering on his chest.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You answer.

*****

Within seconds of shutting your front door behind you, Logan was on you. Deepening the kiss between you both, you could tell that he wanted more. Pushing you against the door, a growl escapes from Logan as he picks you up and walks into the kitchen. Placing you on the marble countertop, his hands work quickly to rid you of the cardigan on your shoulders.

Gliding his lips down to your neck, you wrap your legs around Logan’s waist. Feeling a small moan escape from your lips, you swore that he might fuck you on the cold countertop. But he wasn’t that rebellious. Tearing his own jacket off, Logan carefully carries you through the apartment and down the hallway to your bedroom.

Sitting you down on the edge of your bed, he momentarily breaks the space between you and lifts your shirt from your body. Tossing it across the room, Logan bends down and takes your face in his hands.

“You sure you want this, darlin’? I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.” Logan advises, gently stroking your cheek.

“I’m sure. I want this with you. And only you.” You consent with a nod. 

Silently nodding, Logan slowly leans in and pulls you in passionately. His kiss is slow and steady, allowing him to relax at this moment. Feeling his heart swell, Logan couldn’t remember the last time someone wanted him in the way that you do.

Discarding the remainder of both of your clothes, you lay down on the comforter, melting into the soft fabric and Logan follows suit. Gripping his broad shoulders, your fingers press into his hot skin as his lips lock onto yours. Trailing his hand down your bare body, Logan’s fingers reach beneath the waistband of your lacy underwear and press against your clit.

Meeting your throbbing folds with his fingertips, you break the kiss and moan into his mouth. Staring into his hazel eyes, his orbs light up, fueling the sensation of your lust. Rubbing circles into your clit, Logan descends your body with a series of longing kisses to each part he passes.

Discarding the fabric from your core, Logan kisses the sensitive skin of each of your thighs, feeling you shake before him. His scruff makes you chuckle as he can hear your heartbeat ringing in his ears. Licking your folds, your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you watch Logan become more and more mesmerized by you.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” He whispers in the dark.

Connecting his lips with your clit, a moan escapes from your lips. Pushing his tongue past your entrance, Logan holds your hips in place to keep you from squirming. Gripping the thin comforter, you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to handle the heat rising in your face.

Watching you from afar, Logan continues to eat you out in a steady fashion, letting you enjoy the moment. Running your fingers through his thick hair, you can feel a butterfly sensation rising up to your core. Sensing your body working with his, Logan gently squeezes your hips, lifting you just a touch. Tasting your orgasm reaching its end, your toes curl against the bedding and you cum against Logan’s tongue.

Gasping for air, Logan crawls before you, and his entire physique comes to life. His strong muscles and veins don’t frighten you like so many others, but here everything about him brings you comfort. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Logan balances himself over you, still making sure this is what you want.

“I want you, Logan. All of you, I trust you.” You declare, wrapping your arms around him.

Your vow brings the thought of tears to his tortured eyes, knowing that he has truly deserved this moment.

Lovingly holding his face, Logan briefly touches the tip of your nose with his.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He responds.

“You won’t.” You advise him.

Leaning his forehead against yours, Logan rubs the tip of his cock in time with your folds, sending excitement through his veins. Sliding himself past your entrance, the two of you look at each other, sharing a loving moan. Thrusting his hips together, Logan longs to be deep inside you. He wanted to forget about the world and get lost in you.

Burying his face in your neck, Logan leaves no space between the two of you. Moving in time with his loving thrusts, the sensation of Logan’s manhood against your walls felt like a new stress reliever that you didn’t know you needed. Surrendering to this new wave of euphoria, your fingers run along the strong muscles along Logan’s back, touching the flexing fibers beneath his hot skin. Sinking deeper into you, Logan finds your sensitive spot, causing you to aggressively scratch his back. 

Clutching the back of his head, the new scars heal within seconds, whilst Logan slightly groans from the light ripple of pain. A burning sensation of heat starts to rise in your core, you could no longer handle the tension, and Logan continues to ride out the remainder of your orgasm in pure awe of you. Gasping for air, Logan surrounds his arms around your body, and rolls the two of you on your sides. 

Pressing his forehead on yours, Logan’s warmth cascades over you, giving you a blanket of warmth in the cool room. Shifting in his arms, he gently runs his fingers through your hair, just as you trace his dimples. 

“Well, thank you for a very interesting night, Logan.” You whisper. 

Smiling, the two of you share a loving laugh together, and Logan pulls the comforter over you, succumbing to the warmth beneath the blanket. 

wolverine taglist ~

@dreamliners

@miss1sarcasmo

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@foursthemagicknumber

[thinkinonsense]

I CAN SEE YOU✰

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: curing, slightly nsfw, tiniest mention of blood

*mdni

wc: 900+

a/n: another one shot inspired by a song lmao. this time it is i can see you by taylor swift. thank you for all the love on my last one! this one is short n sweet too so i hope you enjoy <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It had been three years since you graduated from the school. Everyone was excited about your return. Storm and Scott picked you up from the train station downtown. It was an unexpected surprise when Professor Xavier reached out, asking you to teach for a semester. He has always been an important influence in your life; having brought you in as a troubled teenager. Being an X-Men changed your life for the better.

"You are going to love all the new students!" Storm smiles, helping Scott and you carry in your bags.

"I can't wait to meet them!"

Once everything was inside, you headed upstairs to your old room with a suitcase in hand. The room was located on the farthest end of the mansion, which was secluded and quiet; away from all the chaos. You never would've guessed what was on the other side of the door.

"Do you mind?"

There, lying in your old bed, a scruffy, annoyed, attractive man who looked double your age, smoking a cigar on his back. You freeze drinking in his appearance.

Who the hell was this man in your room?

"This is my room." You question if you opened the wrong door or took a left instead of a right. Nope, that was your old bookshelf and bedframe.

"I'm pretty sure this is my room." He replies, cocking his head to the side.

"No, you're in my bed." You bite back, growing more irritated with the stranger.

"This is my bed, sweetheart." He glares at you while his eyes linger down your figure.

He found your angered expression adorable. The way your nose scrunched a little and your hand found its way onto your hip. Your pretty short black skirt captivated him. If it wasn't for the stick up your ass, he would've been more than willing to let you stay in his bedroom.

"That's my bookshelf!" You pointed out. "And that is my bedframe!"

"Well, if that's the case, you need a new bedframe." His voice drops in a way that makes your stomach turn in a dangerous yet delicious way.

A small gasp leaves your mouth before you can catch yourself. Not wanting to see that stupid smirk on his face, you whip your head around and stomp downstairs to Professor Xaviers' office.

✰

It's been weeks since your first encounter with Logan. Ever since you had to move to a new room, you've avoided him at all costs. If what Scott has told you is any truth of Logan's character, then you knew he was trouble.

Despite your attempts to stay far away from him, Logan had other plans. Caught in every corner; stuck at every turn, he managed to capture you. He would go out of his way to brush past you in hallways. Even in crowded rooms, his eyes shamelessly burned holes into you.

The worst of it was when he would sit in during your lectures. Half of your mind focused on the lesson while the other half ran wild with the thought of him watching you.

If you weren't careful, you would cave.

Which was exactly what Logan wanted. He knew it was wrong to need you as badly as he did. You were so much younger than him yet you pranced around the mansion like you knew everything. He didn't want Charles to know about the feelings string inside of him. You had barely been gone three years, there's so much you hadn't experienced yet. The last thing anyone wanted was for Logan to taint you.

✰

On Friday nights you would stay in your classroom grading papers until the early morning hours. This Friday was no exception. It was almost two am when you scribbled a B+ on the final stack of papers. You stood up, leaving all your belongings in the classroom until Monday morning; desperately wanting to be in bed. Once you locked the door and turned down the hallway, you saw him coming up the stairs.

"What do you want, Mister. Howlett?" You glare at him. Logan's eyes darkened at the way you addressed him.

For such a mouthy girl, you did have some manners.

"You've been avoiding me." He states, following closely behind you. The clothing you wore drove him insane. Tight tops, unbelievably short skirts, and dresses. If Logan could die, he's sure it would've been at your hands.

"You've noticed? I figured you would have been too busy getting rejected by Jean to care."

The comment was supposed to sting painfully for him; instead, it backfired on you.

Of course, you noticed the way he shamelessly flirted with the redhead. It plagued your mind ever since you saw it happen with your own eyes. The way he gawked at her unapologetically, even with her boyfriend present. You would never admit it but it made you bitter, to say the least.

"Oh, I see..." Logan smirks.

"See what?"

"I can see you." His words make you freeze up. "You're jealous."

You roll your head back and laugh at his accusation; despite the truth it held.

Without hesitation, Logan grabs your hips and pins you up against the wall. You whine as your back makes contact with the cold grey wall. His grip tightens at the noise you let out.

"Not only can I see the effect I have on you..." Logan's voice is rough against the shell of your ear. "I can hear and smell it, sweetheart."

A flush of red creeps its way up your pretty face in the low light. Logan groans when he pulls back and sees it for himself. The second you are face-to-face, you pull him. A rush of teeth clashing into each other messily. One of your hands rests on his jaw while the other knotted itself in his hair. Logan's right hand slides up your thigh and under your skirt as he picks you up. You bite and tug on his lower lip; until you can taste the tiniest bit of blood. Both of you were desperate for each other.

"My room." You mumble against his lips. Logan chuckles, knowing that the only room on this side of the mansion is his current bedroom.

This will have to be your little secret.

[shybunnie20]

BFF!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

friends to lovers

★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie calls on you to help him plan his first date, and you wish that you were the one going on it with him.

Author's Note: This isn't quite as polished as I'd like it to be. But, I'm pushing through my last few weeks of college, so I'm working with the few brain cells I've got left lol. I still love how it turned out and the ending is worth all of the self-loathing, I promise.

No use of Y/N, est. friendship, ages aren’t specified but E & R are approx. in their early twenties & it’s an early 90s AU, Reader has never been asked on a date before. Mild angst with happy ending!

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Reader dwells on poor self-worth & feels undesirable, acts of eating and multiple mentions of food, contains profanity.

Nestled in the quaint corner of Campbell Ave and 2nd Street, you’re engrossed in a call with a customer, jotting down an order for two bouquets consisting of pink-white lilies and snapdragons. Your eyes follow the effortless glide of your glitter gel pen across the paper, detailing their contact information.

Similarly to Goldilocks, you’ve found a place of employment where the pace is just right. You can handle whatever tasks Joan, the owner, asks of you. Sweeping the wood floors with a stiff-bristled broom, tending to the plants, and arranging flowers adorned with decorative ribbon and crisp paper are all within your grasp.

This place gets steady business, but the concept of a lunch or dinner rush is nonexistent. However, you do face a unique kind of rush occasionally. Now and then, a frantic lover bursts through the doors, bug-eyed, having realized they’ve forgotten a special anniversary or birthday at the very last minute. 

As you recite the customer’s order and callback number into the phone’s receiver, their confirmational “uh huhs” cut through the buzz of the line. Suddenly, your attention is diverted by the sight of a van pulling into the parking spot out front, slightly askew. A small smile teases the corners of your mouth as you make a conscious effort to refocus on closing the conversation at hand.

The plastic shell of the phone clacks as you hang up, and you watch Eddie hop out of his van, and round the front of it with an unusual pep in his step—more than you’d see his best days.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Eddie’s voice carries across the room, accompanied by a genuine smile that lights up his face. He strides to the register counter you’re currently manning, wearing a vermillion polo shirt embellished with the neatly embroidered String and Strum shop logo on the breast. His hair is pushed back from his face with a black bandana, resembling a biker-like edge, tied firmly to ensure no stray curls disrupt his work as he repairs guitars and sells instruments for commission.

In seconds flat, he’s already scrunching his nose like a bunny, sensing a sneeze on the horizon. Being in a room packed with fresh plants is nothing short of hell, but he’s willing to endure it for the sake of seeing you. While he can handle flowers in small quantities, the confined space never fails to tickle his system like nobody’s business.

Vision blurring with mild irritation, Eddie blinks hard to disperse it. “Hey, how’s today going?”

You shrug, suppressing a giggle at the wiggle of his nose. “As good as it can, I guess. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Eddie sets a grease-stained paper bag on the counter that separates you, along with a cup of soda. “Figured you could use a midday pick-me-up.”

“Must be my lucky day because I overslept and didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Well, that and I found a penny on the sidewalk.”

Eddie crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Don’t give luck all the credit. I have instinctual powers, y’know. My Munson senses were tingling and I knew you were in need.”

“My hero,” You exclaim, clasping your hands and swinging them to the side like a swooning princess. 

Eddie chuckles with you, watching as you wipe your palms on your apron and eagerly dig into the bag, pulling out a foam to-go box. As you promptly open it and take a bite of your lunch, you can’t help but groan and throw your head back in satisfaction. Your eyes meet his thereafter, causing him to twist his mouth to the side and momentarily look away.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask, your words slightly muffled as you continue to chew.

Minnie, Joan’s cat, gracefully leaps onto the counter to greet Eddie. She perches herself beside the cash register, allowing him to scratch under her chin. “Nothin, consider it a favor,” He says with a wet sniffle, the tingling in his nose unrelenting.

The silence that falls is comfortable for you, but he’s seemingly lost in his thoughts as he continues to pet Minnie. Then, he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I just so happen to know a way that you can return the favor.”

Having taken a sip from your drink and another bite of your food, the inflection of Eddie’s voice causes you to slow your chewing. “And what might that be?”

“Come over later to find out.”

Your shoulders slump, eyes widened with mock defeat. “No! I can’t stand here and wonder all day. I'll die. The suspense will kill me.”

Eddie pouts mockingly, his sweet honey eyes betraying his faux-frown. “Then I'll be sure to have the prettiest floral arrangement for your funeral. Only the best for you.”

Your brows knit together in an authentic pouting. The irony of needing to meet an untimely demise to receive flowers from a guy isn’t lost on you.

He motions toward the untrimmed bundle of carnations on the workbench behind you. “Actually, if you’re not too busy, could you string those up for me quick so they’re ready to go for your wake?”

“Ha-ha.” You leer at him, taking the next bite of your food rather aggressively. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I beg to differ since I surprised you with your favorite from Val’s and all,” Eddie retorts, biting the inside of his cheek.

You grumble, “Yeah, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Eddie checks his watch and huffs. “Alright, I’ve gotta get goin’." He raps his knuckles on the countertop and beginning to walk backward. “See you later tonight.” He points at you before spinning on his heel and exiting the shop.

The bulky keyring on Eddie’s jeans jingles loudly as he steps onto the sidewalk. Abruptly, he stops in his tracks. For a moment he’s frozen, and then he braces himself against the nearby lamppost. It hits him like a brick wall and he sneezes mightily. 

Heads of nearby passersby turn in his direction, startled by the noise. As he straightens his posture, Eddie remains still, trying to find his center of gravity and regain his composure.

“You good?” You call out, your voice just barely reaching him through the propped-open doors. Taking a casual sip of your drink, you watch as Eddie steadies himself. Still clutching the street lamp with one hand, he manages to stick his other arm out and give a thumbs-up.

True to your word, you arrive at Eddie’s place straight after work. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow through the patio door onto the walls of the living room. The apartment is in its usual state of disarray, expectedly so, since it’s home to three guys who aren’t particularly concerned with tidiness.

Toeing off your shoes, you’re unphased by the subtle smell of dust in the air. What strikes you as odd is how quiet it is. Typically, at least one roommate is home, blasting the TV in the living room or music from their respective bedrooms. But the only sound permeating the silence is the erratic thumping and screech of the water pipes behind the paper-thin walls of the bathroom.  

As you snoop around the kitchen, hoping to find a box of saltine crackers or really anything to stop the gurgling in your belly. Having come up empty-handed, you turn your attention to the resilient plant that you challenged Eddie to care for—Keanu Leaves, as he so proudly named it. 

Finished with your fruitless search of the kitchen, you make your way into Eddie’s bedroom to settle comfortably into the chair that only you sit in; it’s your spot. While you get cozy, the beans rattle as they perfectly mold to your figure. You knock on the wall beside you, signaling your arrival to Eddie.

You resume the magazine left sitting open on the page you stopped on. You occupy yourself in the article about predicted spring fashion trends as you wait. After a minute or two, the pipes go quiet from the shower being turned off.

Eddie strolls into the room wearing nothing more than a clean pair of boxers. Droplets of water trickle down his toned and tatted chest. Harshly ruffling his curls with a bath towel, he smirks at you. “If it isn’t Little Miss Zombie, back from the dead.”

“Less than alive and in the flesh,” you reply, your annoyance at being made to wait all day still evident. You hold grudges better than anyone he knows, and Eddie is well aware that he’s not immune to being subject to it.

Your tummy rumbles loudly, the discomfort only emphasizing the sharpness of your tone. “When was the last time you got groceries? I didn’t see any preserved brains I could help myself to.”

“I’m definitely due for a restock,” Eddie says as he drapes his wet towel over the back of his desk chair. Then, he grabs the bottle of mousse from his dresser and dispenses a foamy dollop into his palm. “Funny you should ask, though. That’s sorta why you’re here.”

You flip the page of your magazine, not pulling your eyes from the glossy print. “You told me to come over to go grocery shopping?”

Eddie rubs his palms together to spread the product and then runs his fingers through his curls. “Not quite,” he starts, his tone cryptic. “I’ve been tasked with providing a meal, of sorts.” 

Finally, you look up at him. Watching him scrunch his damp hair with the remainder of the product that’s making his palms go tacky, you wait for him to elaborate.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the other side of the room, rather than meeting your awaiting gaze. “I have a date.”

You stare blankly at the back of his head, as still as a statue while your blinking intensifies. Dumbfounded, you struggle to survive the bombshell he just dropped on you. It’s as if a nuclear explosion has shattered your eardrums, leaving his continued words to sound muffled through the high-pitched ringing.

A million and one questions swirl in your mind, only adding to the disorienting whirlwind of emotions. Since when is he dating? Why all of a sudden? As you try to piece everything together, you note that he hasn’t had any recent romantic interactions, at least none that you’re aware of.

You always thought he’d confide in you if he was seeing someone, but now you’re not so sure; especially since you’re only finding out about this now. Without a doubt, Eddie has never had trouble attracting attention. But he’s always seemed so content with the ways things are. So why now?

Eddie turns to face you, a splash of desperation in his eyes. “I feel like doing this is the best way to know if she likes me back.”

Your mouth has gone dry, and you try to sound more curious than interrogative, but it doesn’t quite come off that way. “Who is this mystery woman, anyway?” A couple of names come to mind, some of the most beautiful girls in town—none of whom you hold a candle to.

His side of the room falls quiet when he’s hit with your question. Eddie’s eyes drop to the carpet. While it might seem like he’s lost in thought, it’s actually a glaring sign of evasion. You can’t help but feel a little hurt by his reluctance to tell you who it is.

A small smile forms as he leans back against his dresser, as though he can’t keep himself upright during his current daydream. Folding his arms across his pecs and rubbing his jaw, eyes still downcast, Eddie begins to gush about her. “She’s just- god, she’s something else. The way she laughs, it’s like... the sun coming out after a storm.”

“Sounds like quite the catch,” you mutter, trying to keep your tone neutral. You watch closely as blush tints Eddie’s cheeks and his smile threatens to grow. Without saying another word, Eddie walks out and returns to the bathroom.

You’re quick to follow, hopping up from your chair. “Do I know her?”

“Technically, yeah." Standing in front of the foggy mirror, he wipes it with the back of his forearm. Then, he starts rummaging through the counter drawer for his pair of shears.

You stand just outside the open door, the lingering humidity from his scorching hot shower kissing your skin as it disperses into the hallway. Leaning back against the wall, you cross your arms like he did moments ago, albeit far more tensely. Technically? It must be one of your ex-friends, then. That would explain why he’s been keeping you in the dark.

It’s your duty to be supportive, but right now, you could hurl. The thick nausea swirling deep in your gut is a storm raging within, overpowering your ability to stay present.

While trimming his bangs over the basin, the shears glint in the hushed light of the wall sconce. Eddie steals a glance in your direction, but his eyes dart back to his reflection too quickly to catch the discomfort etched on your face. “So you’ll help me, right?”

As you watch yourself anxiously wiggling your toes inside your sock, you mumble, “I can't if you won’t tell me who it is.“

“Sure you can, you’re a girl. You know how this stuff works.”

You scoff, your brows shooting up as your head jerks back. You open your mouth to object, but he promptly cuts you off.

“Ah, ah! Slow your roll." Eddie points the shears in your direction. “I’m not saying you’re all the same, but there’s gotta be some common ground of expectations, right?”

You don’t have the strength to argue, so you reluctantly allow for his generalization. “I guess so.”

“Like yeah, I could just study one of those lady magazines you’re always reading. But then I wouldn’t have a way of knowing what is and isn’t bullshit,” Eddie explains, his tone half-joking. “That’s why I’m going straight to the source, oh, wise one.”

Far too consumed with trying to narrow down who the chick could possibly be, you can’t be bothered to give him a huff of amusement through your nose. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Nope.” The shears hit the countertop, their metallic resonance echoing against the porcelain. He pivots to face you, hands resting on his hips. “Alright, Sherlock. How about you quit trying to crack the case and help me pick out a tie.”

“A what now?” You squawk, eyes widening in disbelief.

Eddie chuckles softly and rinses the hair trimmings down the drain, then flicks off the bathroom light. “I have to dress for the occasion. This is a big deal for me,” he elaborates as he strides back into his room. “For her and me.”

Once again, you find yourself on his tail, trailing close behind back into his bedroom. You unfold your arms and instead, start to rub the inside of your wrist with your opposite thumb. “Yeah, I get that. Just seems a bit out of character for you.”

Rifling through his closet, Eddie pulls out a hanger with a navy button-up shirt and nonchalantly tosses it onto the end of his bed. “Maybe, but at least she’ll know I’m taking this seriously." Eddie reaches for the high shelf to retrieve a tattered shoebox. Lifting the lid, he presents it to you. “Here’s what we’re working with.”

You step closer, your fingers deftly plucking out the rolled ties one by one, laying them flat beside the slightly wrinkled shirt. Side by side, your shoulders nearly brush. Meticulously comparing the patterns and colors, neither of you seems drawn to any particular one.

“Here, maybe it’s better to do it this way,” Eddie suggests, picking up and beginning to slip into the shirt. His thick fingers falter as he attempts to maneuver each small white button through its corresponding hole. Once halfway dressed—having tastefully paired his plaid boxers with a dress shirt—he smooths out the material from his chest to his belly.

Eddie grabs the nearest tie and lays it against his shoulder. He faces you expectantly, anticipation evident in his gaze, awaiting your feedback.

Your eyes flit between the tie he’s holding, the array laid out on the bed, and the hopefulness in his round eyes. “These are easily the three ugliest ties I've ever seen. No offense.”

He blows a playful raspberry at your harsh criticism and shakes his head. “None taken, they’re not mine. But Wayne might be a little hurt when I call him next and tell him you said that.”

Shooting him a pointed look, your brows furrow in skepticism. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I just might,” Eddie teases with a smile before turning his attention back to the bed. He tosses the first tie aside and reaches for the mustard paisley one. “What about this one, does it compliment my eyes?” He bats his dark brown lashes.

You clutch your chin in contemplation, carefully assessing the combination of hues. However, the richness of his chocolate irises captures you. You wade in their depths. The hot flash that envelops your body is enough to break the trance he inadvertently put you under. With a disapproving shake of your head, you dismiss this tie as well. “Nope, next.”

Eddie looks at you for a moment longer, even though you’re not doing the same. A faint frown creases his features as he tosses the vetoed tie aside, forming a rejection pile.

You pick up the remaining tie and drape it over his shoulder, admiring the harmonious pairing of the navy in the tie with the shirt, accentuated by its white and black diagonal stripes. While you ponder, Eddie watches your face intently, holding his breath.

You nod, a trace of delighted approval in your expression. “We have a winner.”

“Hell yeah, blue on blue it is." He wraps the tie around the back of his neck but struggles to recall the proper technique for tying it. Attempting a few different nonsensical loopings, he groans, his determination waning. “Stupid son of a bitch, wouldya just-”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Let me do it," you offer. Not receiving protest, you step closer to him.

Eddie uses one hand to gather his product-enhanced curls into a makeshift ball, allowing you to access the collar of his shirt. He juts out his freshly shaved chin, granting you ample room to work. Standing this closely, you catch the clean scent of shaving cream lingering on his skin.

You begin to effortlessly tie the knot. Without pausing to consider what you’re about to say, the words spill from your lips. “Why’re you asking for my opinion on stuff like this, anyway? You should be doing what you think she’ll like, not me.”

“You always know best.” Eddie’s expression softens to something more vulnerable. “When you’re taking the next step in a relationship, you want everything to be as perfect as it can be, y’know?”

It’s common sense to him. No one understands him like you do, making you the perfect person for navigating this nerve-wracking experience. But for you, it’s perplexing. You’ve never been on a proper, formal date. The idea of one remains an unfulfilled pipe dream. Yet, here you are, agreeing to help Eddie plan his.

Your only frame of reference comes from romance movies and horror stories of dates gone wrong recounted by your girlfriends. Of all the things you could be in the world, you find yourself an unassuming tree. Sturdy and dependable, sure. You serve your purpose. But you don’t captivate onlookers with blooming petals like flowers do. Instead, you take pride in your intricately branched personality, valuing it as your true strength that often goes overlooked.

Even so, it feels as though your traits fail to enchant others regardless; nobody seems willing. You go unnoticed, and you’ve come to terms with that.

Beautiful wildflowers get plucked from the ground and carried away to be cherished. Meanwhile, you simply exist, rooted in no man’s land, devoid of admirers. You may stand tall, but you’re easily overshadowed by what other women have to offer.

Perhaps this is why you like working at the flower shop. It’s somewhat cathartic to witness the delicate petals fall from time to time. It brings you a strange sense of satisfaction to hack away at their stems. The best part, though? While it’s a little twisted, you know that those flowers that dazzle in their pristine state are destined to wilt. They’ll shrivel and brown.

Whilst among your shared group of friends in public, you’ve witnessed Eddie getting nudged by one of the guys to direct his attention to a smoke show walking by. You watched as they bit their knuckles and exaggeratedly gawked. You don’t compare, it’s not even apples to oranges. It’s like… apples to rocks. A delicious, shiny fruit compared to you, mere clunky chunks of earth.

If life were an album, you’re the track that everyone skips within seconds of hearing the intro. Except for those rare moments when someone half-listens by accident and they resonate with you—that’s how you and Eddie became friends. He’d stumbled upon his new favorite song, one worth revisiting. What he sees in you is what everyone else overlooks.

Eddie is the only man on the face of the earth who treats you like you’re worth being around. Only an oddball would prefer to spend time lounging beneath the shade of a crooked tree instead of homing a rose in a crystal vase. That’s one thing you love about your best friend; he doesn’t make you feel like you fade into the background.

All fairytale cliché bullshit included, you want to be sought out in a crowd. You want to light up the room for someone. Much to your dismay, that can happen platonically too, and it has in this case.

If Eddie only knew how much the little moments matter to you—the ones where he makes you feel prioritized and valued. You know you’re not anything close to special or remarkable, but he always made you second guess that thought.

Obviously, you hadn’t meant to fall for him. It was kind of like catching a cold; one day, there was a tickle in the back of your throat that you didn’t usually feel. Unsuspecting, the days went on, and that sensation only worsened. You started to panic a little but ultimately continued to deny your worst thoughts.

Before you knew it, you were bedridden, bitten by the love bug. You didn’t go down without a fight. You thought that you could be strong and deny it access to your heart, but it had already invaded. So, all you could do was wait it out.

You tried to distance yourself, hoping to recover and act like nothing ever changed inside of you. But Eddie didn’t let you get too far away.

It wasn’t love at first sight, rather, a creeping plague. There was no swooning and giggling, no struggling to keep your hands to yourself. The change was undetectable. You were a frog in boiling water, unaware of the gradually rising temperature until it was far too late.

It wasn’t until your chest started to ache every time you said goodbye at the end of spending time together that you realized you were in too deep. You genuinely debated going to the doctor to get the pang checked out, but luckily you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have wasted a good chunk of money to find out that you’re a lovesick idiot.

Unfortunately, this is an illness you’ve been stuck with since, and you’ve at least learned how to distract yourself from it. But when you fail to do so, your imagination wanders. Naturally, you’ve wondered if pressing a mere kiss to his cheek would burn everything to the ground.

The forbidden territory beckons, tempting you to envision breaking those unspoken agreed-upon rules that forbid things like hand-holding and cuddling. The two of you uphold mutual respect, adhering to the expectations of friendship. Both of you reserve that level of touch for expressions of romantic affection. Actions such as those have no place in a true friendship.

That’s the most confusing part of this for you. How did you manage to catch such strong feelings for him when you’ve not crossed any lines? Sure, he’s a tactile person; maybe that has something to do with it. Eddie makes physical contact with those he trusts, but it’s not like he’s hanging off of you at any given moment. You receive the same treatment as the others in his inner circle: a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, and a brief gripping of the forearm to get your attention.

You’re not supposed to want the touches to be more frequent, much less of a different nature. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and it’s been plainly drawn in the sand. You understand and accept that. But why, of all lines in the world, does it have to be this one that you want to cross so badly?

Most of your days aren’t all that miserable. But there are those days that are more difficult than the rest, though it’s not his fault. Last weekend, the two of you were at a mall, and some chick waved at him flirtily. He returned it immediately, though playfully enough that it was almost mocking. He was fucking around and had no intention of entertaining the idea of approaching her. Regardless, it was humbling for you, to say the least.

In that moment, the world reminded you that there’s a reason you walk at his side at a respectable distance, not tucked under his arm. If anything, it’s for the best. There’s a sense of liberation in admiring him without the burden of articulating your feelings. There’s no pressure to meet a girlfriend quota or live up to a higher standard. What Eddie expects of you now is what you’re capable of, and clearly, all that you’re good for. You’re good for filling the void, but apparently not so much anymore.

You’re not lustrous and aching to jump his bones, and you’re certainly not desperate enough to kiss him on a whim by not allowing yourself to overthink it. But perhaps you are just desperate enough that a man simply paying your emotions, interests, and existence of any mind can shackle you to him. That has to be what’s done you in; Eddie gives a shit about you.

In reality, there’s more to it than that. Eddie is selective about who and what he lets in. He doesn’t care for conformity and lack of individuality. The idea of blending in with the majority of society repulses him. You find the flawed aspects of the Munson doctrine fascinating and raw. He’s not perfect and Eddie doesn’t care what others think of him, to a degree.

Not unlike you, he’s complex. Eddie is anti-establishment but still prefers a bit of structure over chaos in his day-to-day life. He’s independent and cynical as hell, but he’s also appreciative of his support systems and isn’t ashamed to rely on them. He’s not much of a rule breaker nor is he rebellious, but he’ll happily stir up a little trouble in good fun if given the opportunity.

Eddie is a hypocrite in some ways and a walking contradiction in others. You love that he’s unapologetic about being that way. He owns it for the most part, and you admire that.

His presence overstays its welcome in your thoughts. You’ve often yearned for him to call you in the dead of night, admitting that he can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Many times, you’ve fought the urge to do that. He owes you sleep, countless nights of it. It’s a debt that will never be repaid, an outstanding balance.

Despite the attempts at trying to talk yourself out of it, you still can’t bring yourself to stop loving him. Even as he’s actively pursuing someone else, you’re unable to shake this. You could be paralyzed from head to toe, and you’d still feel the love you have for him in your bones.

Once Eddie is officially with someone, he won’t have much time or energy left for you. The anticipation of being thrown aside for something new and far prettier has shattered your heart before any changes have occurred. Yet, any fragment of his presence surpasses total absence. The greed isn’t worth it, and you know you should be grateful for getting any piece of him at all.

The phrase fizzles on the tip of your tongue like a smoldering ember, threatening to sear through the muscle… I’m happy for you.

You should say it, but you can’t. Because if you did, that would be a blatant lie. It’s not even possessiveness that has you so bitter, it’s envy. You wish you were in her place.

“There.” You adjust the knot with a delicate tug, ensuring its tightness before letting the material slip through your fingers. Unable to meet his appreciative gaze, you offer a sad smile and take a half-step backward.

Your sigh, cleverly concealed as a deep breath, escapes as you settle back into your chair with a plop. “So, um,” you begin, picking at your cuticles absentmindedly. “Where are you taking her? Somewhere fancy?”

“Nah.” Eddie meticulously revamps his curls one final time in the mirror, wanting them to fall just right. Then, with great care, he tames his bangs to lay perfectly in place. “She’s gonna come over here. I thought it’d be more intimate. Besides, I can’t exactly swing a reservation right now. I’ve been tight on cash this week.”

Your fingers come to a halt, the stinging sensation apparent. Looking over at him, your eyes meet his in the reflection. “Ya big dummy, you shouldn’t have bought me lunch when that money could’ve gone toward buying her a nice dinner.”

“Don’t start with that shit,” Eddie warns as he digs through his dresser in search of pants to wear. “I’m happy to do that for you,” He pulls a pair of dark jeans from the bottom drawer.

“It really did make my day, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Having donned his pants, he nears his desk where his black grommet belt lies on the floor. Eddie threads his belt through the loops of his jeans, the buckle jingling before he secures it in place. “I felt better knowing you were taken care of.”

It’s only now occurring to you what he’s implied, and you think how absurd it is for him to host a dinner when he’s culinarily challenged. “Wait, since when do you cook?”

“Oh, I don’t. But you do.”

“Hardly.” You scoff, downplaying your abilities. Placing your magazine back in your lap, you flip the page despite not having read it. Unexpectedly, you feel the urge to quell his enthusiasm, to set him up for failure by trying to poke holes in his plan. “I mean, food is one thing, but atmosphere is another. Aren’t the guys going to be here?”

Eddie moves the clutter on his desk around in a quest to find something. “I kicked them out for the night.”

Like a spear plunged into your chest, you swallow hard. Not only is he having a girl over for dinner, but he’s gone out of his way to guarantee privacy because he’s hoping to get lucky too. More than likely right there, on that very bed, feet away from you. The cramped twin-sized mattress, where they’ll inevitably be body to body.

He turns to you after locating what he was searching for, fastening the slightly fancier watch around his wrist; it only supersedes his Casio due to it being analog, as opposed to digital. “I’ve been wanting to try that dish you keep raving about. You can teach me how to make it. Two birds, one stone.”

“It’s not difficult, you could handle the recipe.” You shrug away the opportunity to cook with him because the domesticity of it would more than likely kill you.

“I wanna do it together.” His voice softens, genuinely asking as nicely as possible. “Please.”

“Sure, yeah.” You maintain your downcast gaze and slump back in the chair, wishing for a black hole to open and swallow you up. “What if she doesn’t like it, or what if you don’t?”

“If you like it then it has to be good.”

Eddie’s seemingly endless compliments cause no sense of flattery. Instead, you’re consumed with persisting nausea as you envision a stunning girl seated across from him while they share laughter and partake in unspeakable activities in this very room.

Abruptly, a wave of heat washes over you, causing the soles of your feet and your palms to grow clammy. The scent of newly sprayed Old Spice floods the room and you’re overwhelmed by it, struggling to draw a breath. “I’ll be right back.” You all but choke on your words, swiftly rising to your feet and hastily leaving. Eddie watches curiously as you do.

In the living room, you push the heavy sliding door aside, stepping out onto the balcony to catch your breath. You inhale as deep as physically possible, and the stirring evening breeze cools the hot tears gathered along your lash line. Cars pass by, and you distract yourself by watching a person leisurely walking their dog. You do everything in your power to divert your thoughts away from him and the impending date.

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from his room and slides open the door to the balcony, poking his head out to check on you. “Y’ready to go?” The shift in your energy is immediately evident to him, though he can’t quite pinpoint what’s amiss. He figures you’ve had a long day and you’re tired from your shift. Maybe you’re a little hangry, too.

With your arms folded on the balcony rail, you continue to look out into the neighborhood. “Go where?” 

“The store, duh. We’ve gotta get ingredients, do we not?” He says to the back of your head.

You nod meekly before turning to face him. “Right. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Eddie flashes a warm smile before sliding the door open wide enough for you to pass through. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand then, hot stuff. We’re losing daylight."

Arguably, you’re not losing daylight fast enough. You wish the sun would fall from the sky. That way, it would always be dark and you could hide in the shadows forever. You follow him inside and slide the closed with a subdued thud.

His car keys drag and jingle while he swipes them off of the counter. Once he reaches the entryway, Eddie drops the keys on the floor beside him as he kneels to put on his sneakers. A few seconds later, you’ve joined him to do the same. Eddie glances at you as he feels the evening breeze that slipped in finally reaching this side of the room. “It’s a little chilly out, wanna borrow a hoodie or something?”

Quickly tying your shoes to avoid prolonged eye contact, you get to your feet, hugging yourself as you do. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie snorts and stands, his shoes now tied as well. “I’m getting you one." He heads to his room, gesturing for you to follow.

“I said I’ll be fine without one,” You opt not to follow, instead calling out to him to compensate for the distance and his half-open door.

“Shut up, I’m getting you one and you’re gonna wear it ‘cause I said so.” His tone drips with feigned amusement at your stubbornness. “Come in here.”

As you step into the room, Eddie offers you the hoodie, watching as you just stare at it. “Sweetheart, put it on. You’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t. Then, I’ll have no choice but to cancel my super hot date because I’ll be too busy defrosting my ice sculpture of a best friend with a blow drier. You want me to blow you all night? I know you-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll put the damn thing on,” you agree begrudgingly, take it from him. “Happy?”

“Try elated.” Eddie smiles from ear to ear and winks at you, content that you’re allowing him to do what he deems best for you, knowing you’re too stubborn to do so for yourself. He’s got your back, always. Even if it means enduring a bit of attitude in the process. Eddie likes that about you, he always has. With a final glance, he leaves the room, flicking off the light switch.

Left standing in the dark bedroom, you blindly navigate the article of clothing to locate the opening. However, as soon as you go to put it on, it occurs to you that this hoodie is not fresh out of the wash.

The distant floral scent left behind by dryer sheets mingles with his natural aroma, enveloping you as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. He grabbed whatever was at hand, inadvertently submerging you back into the very sensory experience you fled from. The spicy notes from his cologne turn you into a human lava lamp, effectively melting you on the inside.

The mingling of Old Spice, tobacco smoke, his unique essence, and a hint of spring meadow flood your mind. You consider the idea of keeping the hoodie. You could tell him that you forgot to return it, and he’ll forget about it. Eddie can afford to lose one hoodie, he’d survive.

“Let’s go!” He barks, impatience peaking as nerves gnaw at him with each passing minute bringing him closer to the dinner.

Exiting his bedroom, you find Eddie stationed at the front door, propping it open with his foot. Once within his view, you extend your arms and twist your expression to emphasize your annoyed compliance.

“One last thing.” Eddie withdraws his foot, causing the door to slam shut, its latch clanging twice against the wood from the force. He reaches out and pulls the hood up, adjusting it to cover most of your head. “There.”

You stick your tongue out at him, your grin eliciting one from him in return. “Alright, let’s-” He begins, but instead of turning, he fakes you out and grabs both drawstrings. Eddie tugs them, causing the hood to cinch tightly around your face.

“You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, well.” Eddie turns around to leave this time and holds the front door open for you. “You’re stuck with me.”

With a narrowed glare, you fix the hood and your hair on your way out of the apartment. Eddie is close behind, closing the door and locking it. You take the opportunity to collect yourself and adopt a supportive, cheerful demeanor.

These are gonna be the longest two hours of your life.

You can’t fucking believe it. You’re preparing a meal for another woman, and doing so willingly. You tried to guide him through the prep process, but he grew frustrated. Now, he’s on dish duty, conquering the mountain of dirty dishes piled up on the counter. 

She may be getting a delicious and intimate dinner, but at least you get moments like these. But soon enough, she’ll have them too. If everything goes to plan, the memories of these moments will be all you have left of Eddie. As you lose yourself in the sound of his voice, the ramblings about a sale he made at work eventually circle back to the topic of his evening.

As he excitedly goes on, his voice carries a boyish enthusiasm. Unseen by you, Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet while standing at the sink. Ten minutes seem to fly by unnoticed as you both focus on your tasks.

After taking the food out of the oven, his demeanor flips like a switch. “Oh, it’s time for me to leave apparently.” You barely have the chance to take off the oven mitt all the way before he’s practically pushing you out of the apartment. “Be sure to heat it up at 375 degrees,” you suggest, struggling to put on your shoes fast enough.

“Sure thing. I’ll let you know how it goes!”

“Looking forward to it,” You lie. Eddie waves you off before closing the front door. Left standing alone in the hallway, you feel foolish.

Finally arriving home, you crawl onto your bed. The weight of reality crashes down upon you, and you physically collapse under the weight of your emotions. The pain in your chest burns up the back of your throat as you sob. This was a harsh wake-up call, but it’s what you needed to finally confront yourself.

It’s better this way. Not having to reject you outright or politely turn you down, Eddie doesn’t have to hurt simply because you are. This is best because Eddie doesn’t have to feel guilty or pity you. Just as you’ve loved him in silence, you can grieve the loss of him in it too.

Ten minutes pass and just as you’re starting to drift asleep from exhaustion, your telephone rings. The ringing in the kitchen pulls you from your room. You drag your feet on the way there, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie sounds panicked. “Can you come back over? I forgot the most important fucking thing and-”

You cut him off. “Relax, I’ll be there in twelve." Abruptly ending the call without another word, you rub your sore eyes, blow your stuffy nose, and splash your face with warm water. The last thing he needs is for his night to be ruined because he notices how hard you’ve been crying. If your feelings get in the way of him having a good time with the girl he’s head over heels for, then you don’t deserve his friendship.

Entering the building and letting yourself back into his apartment, you’re caught off guard by how different the space looks. He worked his butt off to tidy the living room and make certain that everything is presentable. Besides being notably neater, you also notice the faint smell of air freshener.

The apartment is blanketed in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering flames of candles and the light from the table lamp in the living room. Hushed music emanates from the record player in his room. It’s a genre you wouldn’t have expected him to own, because of how slow and romantic it sounds. You wonder whether he bought it specifically for this occasion.

Upon hearing the front door creak open, Eddie halts his pacing in the living room. “Thank god, you’re here.”

You teeter on the heels of your feet, feeling out of place in the carefully arranged setting that isn’t meant for you. “I really shouldn’t be. It’s quarter to seven, she’ll show up any minute now.”

Eddie makes his way over to you, rounding the dinner table and draping his arm along the back of the dining chair farthest from where you stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about that, she’s already here.”

Your eyes flit towards the bathroom, expecting to see a sliver of light escaping from beneath the door, yet the hallway is pitch black. There’s no dolled-up gal standing in his room either. You look back at him with a furrowed brow, confusion etched on your face. “Where, exactly?”

He can’t think of a time he’s ever had to remind himself how to breathe correctly. Eddie holds his hand out to you, his anxiety mounting. With hesitation, you extend your hand and place it in his. He wraps his trembling fingers around yours.

Rarely have you been in this position, and in those instances, it was never an act with deeper meaning. It’s only ever happened in urgent moments, like darting across a bustling street to avoid being separated—a mere safety measure.

Eddie’s attention fixates on your hands, willing them to respond to his touch. Then he notices your puffy, reddened eyes. “What’s the matter?” He instinctively squeezing your joined hands.

“It’s stupid.” You pull away from him, retracting your hand to wipe away the smeared mascara beneath your eyes.

Rather than forcibly turning you to face him, Eddie gracefully moves around to stand in front of you once more. “I bet it’s not,” he says softly, his compassionate expression tinged with concern. He reaches for both of your hands this time, praying you can’t feel his pounding pulse through the contact.

Eddie delicately lifts your hands and peppers velvety kisses across the tops of your knuckles. The warmth of your skin against his lips sends a shiver shooting through his core, goosebumps rising across his body.

You emit a wet giggle from the shock, uncertainty, and embarrassment bubbling within you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He chuckles a little too, his eyes sparkling as they reflect the dancing flames behind you. “What’s it look like? This is all for you.” Eddie presses one more featherlight kiss to your hands before lowering them, but he doesn’t let go, keeping them securely in his own. “It’s our first date.”

You’re the prettiest little package of unusual. From the moment he first heard your song, he couldn’t shake you. Eddie couldn’t get your tune out of his system, but it’s not like he wanted to. Never before had anyone shown him such unconditional care; no one had ever gone out of their way to get to know him like you did. You’re the safest thing he’s ever known, but you’re also the scariest, in the best ways possible.

The thought of confessing how you make him complete, unlike anything he’s ever experienced, is nothing short of terrifying. Yet, the fear of not seizing the opportunity to love you outweighs the fear of rejection. There’s no turning back now.

Your eyes wander to the table, taking in the details: the thoughtfully arranged mismatched plates and silverware, the glasses filled with expensive wine. At the end of the kitchen island sits a teddy bear beside a bouquet. In addition to the flower petals, there are red, white, and pink balloons scattered across the floor.

You turn away before he can see your face contort, biting your lip harshly to suppress the sob rising in your throat. It’s all useless, though. A broken cry escapes your lips.

Eddie’s stomach lurches and pressure builds behind his own eyes. The change he just caused is palpable, the damage has been done. He releases both of your hands and plants his on the sides of his head, stepping away. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m such a fucking idiot. I read this all wrong.”

“You’re not and you didn’t. They’re happy tears now.”

His frantic expression mellows out, his arms drop to his sides, and the tension in his body gradually dissipates. “Happy tears?”

You respond with a soft hum and nod, a grin forming as you admire the table setting and gifts once more before looking back at Eddie.

“Oh,” he chirps, wearing a cheek-splitting smile as he brings his palms to your face. He wipes away your fallen tears with his thumbs. Eddie studies your expression intently. “I didn’t mean to make you cry sad ones.”

“It’s not your fault.” You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his fingers calmingly swiping along the apples of your cheeks.

“It is and I’m sorry.” Eddie inches closer, his toes now touching yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause I thought spontaneity would make it more memorable.”

You look at him questioningly. “It’s not exactly spontaneous when you had me cook my own dinner.”

“Fair enough. You’ve got me there.” Eddie thought it was a foolproof plan. If you made the food, there was no chance that you’d hate it. “I went about this all wrong, huh? I should scrap the whole thing and start from scratch.” He becomes distracted, his train of thought shifting to how he’s going to clean this up and figure out a different approach.

“Don’t do that. Just ask me.” You grasp his forearm to regain his attention. “Ask me out and maybe I'll say yes.”

“Maybe?” Eddie scoffs airily, unsure if you’re teasing or genuinely undecided. He clears his throat and theatrically composes himself, gesturing with a downward motion of his hand in front of his face. “Okay, uh, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“No.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open.

“I’m fucking with you.” You smile devilishly and wrap your arms around his middle.

Finally, he can hug you the way he’s always wanted. Eddie brings you in close and tight, his arms encircling your head. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply to indulge in every aspect of you he can.

“A little.” You laugh. You remain in each other’s embrace for a moment longer before easing apart, though still connected by your pairs of lassoed arms.

Eddie’s laughter melds with yours, the relief in his tone evident. “Now that the cat's outta the bag, I can finally tell you that I absolutely love when you’re a crybaby.”

You pull a comical expression, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes. “What, why?” You take in the scattering of freckles across his T-zone while he responds.

“Honest to god, it’s mesmerizing to watch you experience things so intensely. It’s fucking beautiful.” With nothing but adoration in his eyes, Eddie strokes your hair, relishing the way it feels against his skin. “Can I call you my crybaby?”

“No, you cannot!” You swat at his chest and attempt to push him away, but he laughs smugly and brings you back in close. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, surrendering to him entirely. Locked in each other’s gaze, time seems to crawl.

Eddie’s hands, having made their way down to caress your hips, settle on the small of your back. “How about just baby?” He nudges the tip of his nose against yours, his voice taking on an almost sultry tone. “You like the way that sounds?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, watching his eyes fall to your lips.

Eddie mumbles, “Me too.” His hands flex where they lay, tugging you slightly so that your bodies are flush and you have no choice but to lean against him. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes finding yours again, the chocolate pools of his irises swirling.

You nod, slide your hands up his shoulders, and wrap them around his neck. The air was stolen from your lungs, rendering your voice a ghost. Eddie leans in and his lips hover over yours, your eyes fluttering closed in time with his. Then, you feel the gentle pressure of his lips against your own.

For a few moments, you’re out of sync, a mere beat behind due to nerves. But after taking a brief breath, you find each other without trouble. When you slot your lip between his, it’s as though there’s a sunrise in his veins; a new dawn spreads through his body. You tug a fistful of curls at the nape of his neck, your lips clicking wetly with one another, chests heaving in unison.

When the two of you finally have to part to breathe, Eddie whispers, “Jesus Christ.”

“You can say that again.” You exhale, releasing the grip you have on his hair and soothingly scratching the area with your nails.

“I mean I could.” Eddie borderline purrs, tightening his arms around your waist. “But I’d much rather keep kissing you.”

“Hard to argue with that." You smile against his lips and give him a quick peck, which he happily returns. Then, your mind begins to wander. “You got me flowers?”

He can’t discern if there’s a trace of disdain or disbelief in your tone. Eddie knows that you consider flowers cliché and overrated; after all, you deal with them all day. But just because you see them that way doesn’t mean he does.

Eddie pulls away slightly to get a good look at you. “Yeah, of course I got flowers for my flower. How could I not?”

Truthfully, he’s bummed about not being able to find a bouquet as exceptional as you. You’re unlike anything from this world, resembling something from his cherished sci-fi novels. You’re resilient, showing up any old rose or daisy. You unfurled your petals solely for Eddie and allowed him to see you bloom. Nothing on earth compares to you. So, a regular bouquet would have to do.

You comment with a slightly teasing tone, “I had no idea you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“Too much?” Eddie bites his lower lip, afraid that you’re offended.

“No, not too much." You remove your one hand from his hair and rest it on his chest, drawing mindless shapes while you avoid eye contact. “Far more than I deserve though." You’re slightly taken aback when Eddie cups your face without hesitation, forcing you to look at him. Despite his assertiveness, his touch is tender.

“Sweetheart." Eddie’s eyes carry an intensity you’ve never seen, brimming with affection and sincerity. “You deserve everything good that this world has to offer. I can’t give you that, but I can give you all of me. That much I can promise.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

[littlebearbun]

Stanley Pines NSFW Alphabet

(Written for myself. lmao)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tbh I think this depends. If it's with a one night stand, he's pretty “hit it and sleep” or he goes to the Stanmobile to sleep if they're being clingy or he's spooked. A quick “thanks, toots” and a slap on the ass and he's out. If he's with someone he cares about, he's very clingy. Will give them a sip of his Pitt from the side table and lots of kisses and his hands are everywhere. Does not care about sweat or wiping anything down. Wants to be big spoon to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: His hands/arms. Knows he's muscley and knows his hands are huge. Also likes his crooked grin cause it's very different from Ford’s smile. Theirs: loves a good pair of thick thighs. Tbh I don't see him disliking any part of his partner but he loves them “with meat on their bones” as he says. More to grab and squish. (When they've been together for a while, will say he adores their eyes, too, but especially when they're looking at him.)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Comes a lot and it's pretty thick. Doesn't taste bad but not good either (his diet isn't great) Would prefer to come inside but is fine with it on their face/chest/stomach/ass/etc. He's not picky.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I could see him keeping panties in his pocket and randomly touching them or holding them against his face.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's…experienced in one night stands. Knows what he's doing but only when it's rough/fast/etc. If it's slow and sweet he gets flustered and is easier to overwhelm.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sitting against the headboard with them in his lap, their back to his chest, slow deep fuckin or using his fingers. Will whisper naughty things in their ear and watch his hand between their legs. Would never forget the image of his lover wearing his gold chain, riding him, the pendant swinging with their movements.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Once he's comfy, he can be both. I can see him teasing and picking lil fights and trying to make them laugh, but I could also see him just wanting their attention focused. Is very “keep your eyes on me”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Grey hairs around the base. Probably doesn't care about trimming it unless his partner asks him to, and will probably make a grumbly comment about the effort. He does not care if his partner shaves.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again, depends if it's a one night stand or not. If it is, it's not romantic at all. He's there for one thing only, no strings attached. If it isn't, he's absolutely worshipful. Kisses stretch marks, moles, scars. Nuzzles everywhere he can get to tickle with his stubble. Calls them every pet name in the book. Says how lucky he is to have landed someone like them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Probably doesn't do it much after he takes over the Mystery Shack, reminds him of how lonely he is. When he was drifting, he does it to forget but only if he can't find a willing partner to spend the night with instead. After he gets Ford back and has a partner, he would do it but only to a, tease his partner or b, cope with them being gone for a few days. Prefers them on the phone for it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely into edging/overstimulation. Stealth collars, makes his chest puff up in pride.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His office or in front of a mirror. Or his armchair. Or his car. He has a lot of favorites, sue him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

For most of his life, he's only in it for himself. Likes when his partners beg and make him feel important. Later, when with someone for a while, domestic shit gets him. They brought him a Pitt and kissed his cheek and he's hard???? Still really likes feeling like the “big man of the house” tho.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doesn't like handcuffs on himself, they remind him of prison. Doesn't like if he can't see/hear/move his hands. Will never involve another in the bedroom. His self esteem is too low for that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers to receive I think. Again, makes him feel in control. Much rather use his hands on his partner so he can look at their face easier and see their expressions.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally rougher for sure. Sensual is a once in a while thing if he needs reassurance.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Often. Hell yes. He loves em. Wants to see how quickly he can get them off on a back closet, or his office, or in the shower. Power trip.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experimenting sure, I could see him trying a lot. Risks, depends. Doesn't want the twins to see. Doesn't want Ford to see. Doesn't want anyone to see, really.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s good for one round himself, but he's more than willing to use his mouth or hands until his partner is satisfied. Doesn't mind if that takes a while. Would absolutely lay in bed all lazily while fingering them after he's finished.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Some of them?? More into using them on a partner than himself. Would love collars, nipple clamps, maybe a flog. Would be strangely intrigued if they had different kinds of dildos. (What shape is that?? Let me watch you try it)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Merciless tease. Whispers naughty shit all day. “I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, babe, say it again? Louder?” Touches everywhere but where they want most.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He grunts and groans a lot. Will not shut up, talks for the entire time.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If you say he's a “good man” it breaks him. He still has a hard time remembering some things sometimes (can wake up missing pieces). Sometimes the bad things come back first and he needs kind words and to be reminded he's safe

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Huge arms, very very strong. Prominent gut, obviously. His legs are skinnier than the rest of him. Very hairy. Brand on his back and maybe a few tattoos from his gang days, but nothing too serious.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Once he has a partner he loves? It's high. Wants them constantly, even if it's just their body near his. When he was drifting, I think it was only if he wanted a place to sleep or was really lonely. Sometimes he felt worse after.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes the after sex cuddles, so he stays up a bit. Will tease them about the sex in a rough, quiet voice.

[raceweek]

hello. alexalblondo's rude anon coming here to humbly and politely beg for galex primer because i dont understand their history. george said he lived at alex's family's house at one point? how - weren't they already racing? sorry thank you humble thank you 🙏🙏

hello!!! thanks chris for the referral FKFJDKD

i have overwhelmed my alex and george tags so much that i fear i could never capture all of it but my galex key moment anthology is under the cut!!

karting/early single seaters

Alex thinks they met in 2011 but the footage in georges flip phone says he knew alex back in 2009.

Their first actual interaction (so far as they've told the world) was when alex was world champion with the intrepid karting team and bc he was their reference driver he was asked to help pick the drivers who were quick to replace him when he moved up and he picked george (and charles) so they were then part of that same intrepid driver programme for a while. Interestingly, alex was always at least one year above him bc of their ages and george says the fact they didn't really race directly against each other before 2016 was probably why they became such good friends.

They did a deep dive of their camera rolls from this time on twitch a couple years back and talked about the oldest pictures they have of each other in their camera rolls (1:25:36) which was cute.

2017

2017 is the year george basically lived with alex. They were also sharing a trainer whilst alex was competing in gp2 and george was in gp3. George was doing mercedes sim work at their factory so rented a flat in milton keynes near where alex lived but according to alex that rent was wasted money bc george had more meals at alexs' house than he did that year. Also as detailed in those links, the Great Mountain Biking Incident of 2017 occurred at this time so we have the fun mental image of george literally wheeling alex into a&e on a wheelchair bc that is an actual event that happened.

2018

George and alex both in f2 fighting for the title year wooooo!! They never really fought on track but we did get fun tidbits like when alex pipped george to the win at silverstone bc george had a slow pit stop and giggled about it in parc ferme (5:42) & these post session interviews.

also some incredible photoshoots.

2019

Promotion to f1!!! We started the year at winter testing and this nugget that they have both accepted that they are actually tied together by the strings of fate. They're doing fun media stuff like karting and bullying each other over percentage of apexs hit at the skypad (video). 2019 also the start of the umbrella sharing. They were just together a lot… more skypad analysis!!!

2019 also has MY personal favourite galex moment which was hockenheim 2019 and the 45 minute phone call galex had on the way home after george missed out on scoring what would have been his first point in f1 and only point of the season.

There was also the summer break and enjoying a training camp together, exchanging infections etc. Alex also took george to meet lily for the first time, bc that’s a normal thing to do.

There was also the rookie of the year vid, and the rookie season review vid at the end of the year. Much was happening.

2020

The year started with f1 trying to race during a global pandemic. Fun! On the singular media day before everyone realised just how stupid that was they were being annoying. The lockdowns did give us the twitch streams. George was initially so bad at virtual racing he had to secretly consult alex's brother for help behind alexs back. George was also actively seeking alex out like a missile at any given opportunity and at one point felt necessary to declare that he wasn't alexs boyfriend when someone asked if alex was going to be streaming that day. Anyway my lockdown twitchscapades tag has a post with a playlist of all the streams that haven't been lost or deleted if you want to feel joy and have a spare million hours.

Racing resumed in July with the covid team bubbles and within two races and one qualifying session george was defending alexs honour to sky sports and the world in a truly remarkable fashion.

At the end of the year alex was unemployed....even more tragic than this loss was that alexs career difficulties were so extreme he started ghosting george, which devastated him to the extent he needed to publicly drag him for it.

There was also george asking lily to post alexs n*des on instagram and lily responding with if anyone has them it would be you which was perhaps the last time george had access to his own social media password.

Despite george not liking it they celebrated alexs first podium by going golfing! and reverse! George was also gifted an alex albon signed autograph card for christmas and said that he'll put it somewhere special x

2021

The beginning of 2021 was during lockdown and there was more fun virtual gps except the only two drivers doing it were george and alex so they were just bitching and gossiping and threatening to steal strategies and abu dhabi 2016 each other. Particular shoutout to the time they had a virtual race on valentines day and alex put a suit on for it and george was baffled. Immediately after valentines day was georges birthday which lily used to thank george for letting her borrow his boyfriend from time to time.

Then the season started with george enduring the season alexless and not letting anyone forget about it. Alex was turning up to races after being locked in the simulator until the early hours posting stuff like this on instagram and otherwise stumbling over his words after getting whipped on the ass.

Perhaps the defining moment of the galex 2021 season was george pushing the williams board to sign alex so heavily that they had to actively shut him out of proceedings. Also at this time there was this cute congrats from alexs family and one from alex to georgie about the mercedes seat.

anyway here's some more random 2021 nuggets:

i've seen him topless a few times

george getting alex a good deal on a merc x

yet More golf

the handover

georges driver room

2022

They truly lost every inch of personal space in 2022 like. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. The back signing Hello.

2022 had alex having his appendix out, nearly dying and alexs family updating george whilst alex was in the icu and then when alex returned for the next race in signapore a couple weeks later (insane behaviour) george was like mmm audacious of him to be here.

Elsewhere alex discovered georges photoshoot and was making screensavers about it. Alex also discovered hair dye and george was making instagram stories about it.

other random 2022 nuggets:

george is alexs fave f1 driver excluding himself

this skit williams did of lily finding a huge picture of george in alexs driver room

whatever this image is of lily george and alex

private plane carpool

double date

2023

@onadarklingplain covers the whole year for you much MUCH better than i ever could here!!!!!

and that brings us to present where they're just as weird and freaky with each other as ever!!!

[peachglazewrites]

can you write abby x femme reader where the reader is so down bad for abby but abby only sees reader as her fwb. maybe you can also add abby still being in a relationship with owen. i thought of it while listening to casual by chappel roan and i need to be IN PAIN SO BAD

𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby/femme!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: angst, smut (18+ mdni), use of words like tits/cunt/pussy, comphet, unhappy ending 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: pre-established relationship (friends with benefits), pet names (sweetheart, honey, baby, pretty girl), oral (r!receiving), masturbation (abby), outdoor sex (they're entirely alone in a field) 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n, outfit descriptions, modern au, ellie and dina trying to be good friends, relationship with owen mentioned but no cheating 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 7069k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Abby is a great friend. She's funny, kind, and when you're both single, you hook up. If only you weren't in love with her, and she didn't always run back to Owen.

a/n: hello!! thank you so much for this request! i took direct inspo from casual by chappell roan for this and had a lot of fun! it's smutty, angsty, and the more i wrote the more i realised i was just writing Abby with comphet so there's a lot of that sprinkled in there too </3

i almost want to write a sequel where abby wakes tf up and realises she's a lesbian butttt only if anyone would actually want it…

i hope you enjoy! ✧˖°

̗̀➛ master list ̗̀➛ request your own here

[1:07pm] Abs 🥊💥: oh yeah?

[1:07pm] You: Yeah, they look pretty good too

[1:09pm] Abs 🥊💥: hmm maybe you should send them so i can double check

[1:09pm] Abs 🥊💥: just in case 😇

[1:09pm] You: Just in case?

[1:10pm] Abs 🥊💥: yeah

[1:11pm] You: Of?

[1:14pm] Abs 🥊💥: i was trying to be hot and fun

[1:14pm] Abs 🥊💥: you’re making that difficult

[1:15pm] You: You poor baby 😔

[1:17pm] You: Here. An apology

[1:17pm] You: [sent an attachment]

Abs 🥊💥 is typing...

“Hellooo?”  Dina waves a hand in front of your face, snapping your attention away from the dancing dots next to Abby’s name. Ellie and Dina are looking at you when you blink up at them, your nose no longer buried in your phone.

The three of you have sprawled yourselves out in Ellie’s room, the air slightly hazy with the smoke of a joint she had passed around-- a pleasant hum settling in your bones. The smoke slowly curls out of the open window, curtains fluttering in the breeze.

Ellie sits propped up against her bed, legs crossed under her, guitar resting on her thigh as she picks at the strings. Joel just got her new ones yesterday, so she’s been fiddling with it all morning.

Dina has crawled out of the beanbag near her girlfriend to come bother you, kneeling on the floor next to your own.

Jesse was also invited, but got called in to work last minute. Boo.

“What’s got you so giggly over here?” Dina asks, placing a hand on your knee as she leans over, trying to take a peek at your phone.

You pull the device back to your chest, hiding the picture you just sent from her prying eyes. “Nothing,” you say far too quickly. “Just a funny post.”

“Uh huh,” she says, not even a little bit convinced. “Let me see, then.”

“What?”

“The post.” A smirk starts to form on Dina’s lips, knowing she’s got you.  “Let me see it.”

“Oh, it’s—” You shift your gaze away from hers, looking back down at your phone. “It’s gone now. Y’know. The algorithm, and stuff.”

Ellie snorts, rolling her eyes. “The algorithm? That’s the best you can do?”

“Shut up, Ellie,” you hiss, narrowing your eyes at the girl.

Dina, finding an opening, makes a grab for your phone. You yelp, twisting away from her and holding the phone high above your head, out of her grip-- but that doesn’t stop her. She pounces on you, faster than you’re expecting, straddling you on the bean bag as she wrestles you for the device.

You yell, wriggling out from underneath her and falling to the floor with a thump, Dina following and landing on top of you.

“It wasn’t even that funny! Dee, get off of me!” You screech, laughing as you grapple with each other.

“Aha!” Dina cries, prying the phone from your hands and holding it above her head, pressing a palm to your forehead to pin your down. “Now, let’s see this ‘post’, huh?” She taunts, grinning down at you.

You can do nothing but watch helplessly as she looks to your phone, eyes widening at the screen. You catch a brief glimpse of the photo in the reflection of her eyes; the angle of your body as you lay in your sheets, back slightly arched for the camera, delicate blue lace clinging to your hips and chest.

A low whistle leaves her lips.

“Shit, you look good.” Dina squints at the photo, removing her hand from your forehead to pinch at the screen, zooming in. “When did you even buy that? Where did you buy that?”

You sit up enough to snatch your phone away from her, swiping out of the picture before she can look at it any longer.

[1:18pm] Abs 🥊💥: holy shit

[1:19pm] Abs 🥊💥: you weren’t lying

“Dude, are you sending nudes from my fucking house?” Ellie asks, eyebrows raised, fingers pausing on her guitar.

Heat crawls across your cheeks, tapping the screen to swipe out of the messaging app and locking your phone. “They’re not nudes. I’m wearing underwear.”

“Babe, there was so much nipple peeking through that thing,” Dina says, still sitting atop of you.

“Okay, well now I’ve gotta see. Gimme.” Ellie reaches, making grabby hands for your phone.

You groan, letting your phone drop face down onto your chest as you cover your face with your hands. “I fucking hate you two.”

“I love you too,” Dina coos, giggling and rolling off of you to lay next to you on the floor, propping herself up on her forearms.

Ellie settles back with her guitar, strumming lightly at the song she’s been working on. “Who are you even sending that shit to, anyways?’

“Is it that butch from the bar last weekend? She was so hot.”

“Hey, I’m right here?” Ellie says, waving her hand to her girlfriend. Dina blows a kiss in her direction.

The hands stay glued to your face as you swallow, throat suddenly thick. You mumble through your fingers, knowing that neither of them would be able to make out what you said. A hand wraps around your wrist, prying it from your face.

“Can’t hear you,” Dina sings, shuffling closer. Her hand slides up, interlacing her fingers with your own, squeezing. “Come on, who is it?”

You nervously look to Dina’s expectant face, behind her to Ellie who’s not looking over, but has her head tilted to make sure she catches every syllable. You turn your head up to look at the ceiling, concentrating on the glow-in-the-dark stars and planets Jesse got Ellie for her birthday last year, unable to look at your friends.

“I’m texting Abby.”

Ellie misses a chord, a slight fumble as she whips her head up to look at you. Dina’s smile shifts slightly, a hint of something sympathetic behind her eyes. She squeezes your hand gently.

“How is she?” Dina asks, watching your profile.

“She’s good. She just got hired at this new boxing studio in the city as a personal trainer. It’s a really good gig, and she enjoys it a lot.” You smile softly, fiddling and twisting one of the rings on your finger. “Pays a lot better than her old gym, too.”

“How’s Owen?” Ellie asks, voice cutting through the hazy air.

Your body tenses, anxiety curling in the pit of your stomach. You knew this was going to happen.

“I don’t know… They uh—They broke up a couple of weeks ago, so I haven’t seen him.”

Ellie scoffs, turning back to her guitar as she mutters something under her breath. You completely miss it, but Dina doesn’t.

“Ellie,” she scolds, leaning over to whack at her ankle.

Your phone buzzes against your chest, and you can’t help but be thankful for the distraction, tilting it up to peek at the preview on the lockscreen. Two text messages block the squished together faces of you, Ellie, and Dina; your and Dina’s lips pressed to either side of Ellie’s freckled cheeks. Jesse stands behind the three of you, hands pressing you and Dina closer to Ellie, grinning as the girl groans and squirms between you.

[1:25pm] Abs 🥊💥: let me come see you

[1:25pm] Abs 🥊💥: we can grab food?

You can’t help the small smile that spreads to your lips, biting your cheek as you unlock your phone to reply.

[1:26pm] You: Tonight?

[1:27pm] Abs 🥊💥: please 🙏

“Well, it sounds like things are going well for her,” Dina says, rolling on her side to look at you, bringing the hand still laced with yours under her cheek as she rests on it. “New job, hot girl sending her nudes in the middle of the day…”

You roll your eyes, locking your phone and letting it fall back against your chest. “They weren’t nudes.”

“The technicals on whether they’re nudes or not doesn’t matter when they’re that hot. I don’t even send Ellie pictures like that.”

“You don’t send pictures at all,” Ellie pouts.

“Els,” Dina turns to look back at her. “The last time I sent you a photo of my tits, you set it as my contact photo.”

Ellie’s pout smooths out into a knowing smirk, an amused huff leaving her as she reminisces.

Dina turns back to you, rolling her eyes. “Anyway. I guess this means that things are chill with you and Abby again?”

You shrug, fingers flexing amongst her own. “I mean, yeah? We were always chill.”

Her cheek twitches as she forces her smile, her eyes softening into something that you refuse to acknowledge as pitying. “I know,” she says, tentative. “But things were kind of… tense when her and Owen got back together last time, remember?”

You stiffen, that twisting in your gut making you feel ill. “She was just—She just had a lot going on.”

And she did. Her and Manny had to move all of a sudden, she was starting to hate her old job, her truck broke down, and Owen kept trying to reach out again after he was the one to break things off.

So much was going on in Abby’s life, and you were there to help her through it. Late night calls when she couldn’t sleep, motivational texts to get her through her day, a day off from your own job to help Abby and Manny move everything to their new place. Just like a good friend would, because that’s what you are. Good friends.

Good friends who kiss sometimes, whose nighttime calls end in whimpers and soft moans, her voice flowing through the speaker as you cum on your fingers. Good friends who fuck on the mattress on the floor of her new room while her bedframe leans against the wall unbuilt, too desperate to wait until it’s all set up.

That’s just how things are between you. You’re there for her whenever she needs you, and if sometimes that need is something more carnal, driven by lust? As long as you’re both single, you don’t see the issue.

Except she’s never single for long-- those break ups with Owen never truly sticking. Give them a week or two before he starts texting again, another few after that for Abby to text back. And each time you hope, maybe wrongly so, that she won’t do it. That she’ll realise things with Owen just aren’t meant to be, and that maybe she’d be happier with someone else; someone who gives her both the space and attention that she needs.

That she’ll realise that you’ve been here the whole time.

But she never does, and it stings when she texts you that her and Owen are back together, knowing that it’s not just a casual update, but a temporary end to your arrangement— a hiatus, waiting for when they inevitably break up once more.

So yeah, she was busy, but so were you—busy ignoring her texts and her innocent offers to hang out. You promised yourself that you would spare yourself, that you wouldn’t let yourself get hurt anymore by hoping and wishing for something that was never going to happen.

But just like Abby, it only took you a couple of weeks of texts for you to finally respond back.

And so, the cycle continues.

Dina squeezes your hand, feeling you drift off somewhere in your mind. You turn your head slightly to look at her, feeling the familiar sting of embarrassment at the look in her kind eyes.

“I know, babe. We just worry.”

You frown slightly, brows drawing together. “Why? And whose we?”

Ellie scoffs, the sound sharp over the strum of her guitar. “Nice one, Dina.”

She ignores her girlfriend, holding your gaze. “We—Ellie and I—”

“And Jesse.”

“Ellie--” Dina pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she tries to tamp down her frustration. “We just want to make sure you’re happy. That this is what you want.” She looks to your again, words spoken soft between you. “All that you want.”

You slowly extricate your hand from hers, pushing up on your forearms to sit. “Of course it is,” you lie-- like a liar. You know neither of them believe you. “This is how it’s always been with Abby. We talk, we hang out, and when we’re single, we ‘hang out’. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not. Of course it isn’t. We just—”

Ellie cuts Dina off. “We hate seeing you get hurt over and over.”

You sit up even further, drawing your knees to your chest, making sure your dress falls over your knees. “I’m not— No one’s getting hurt. Abby’s really sweet to me.”

“Then why does she only text you this much when Owen isn’t around?” Ellie asks, guitar forgotten in her lap.

Embarrassment and shame twirl around each other, dancing atop that churning in your gut. Your body heats with it, blood rushing to the highs of your cheeks and the tips of your ears. “That’s not true.”

It is, and you hate that they’ve picked up on it too.

Dina sighs, sitting up with you, placing a gentle and friendly hand on your knee. “It’s okay that she does, but only if you’re okay with it. I know you…” she trails off, pressing her lips into a thin line, hesitating about going there.

That feeling inside of you bursts, lighting you on fire. You feel it down to the tips of your fingers, morphing and changing into something darker— frustration. “Know what, Dina?”

“Look, you’re an adult. You can sleep with whoever you want,” Ellie cuts in. “But you’re not dumb. You know exactly what she’s doing and you’re letting it happen. And if that’s what you get off on, then fine. But we hate seeing her use you like this—”

“Ellie, she’s not using me. I’m not being used.” You stand up, ripping yourself from Dina. “It’s just sex. We both get something out of it, and if I happen to like her company outside of that because she’s my friend, then that just makes it better.”

You stoop down, collecting your bag from next to the beanbag, shoving your phone inside.

Dina calls your name, reaching out for you. You dodge her, stepping back towards the door.

“I’ll… I’ll text you guys later, or something. I have to go.”

♡ ︎♡ ︎♡

Abby tells you to be ready around seven thirty, that she’ll grab you two some dinner before swinging around to pick you up at your place.

It gave you plenty of time to cool down before needing to get ready, crashing and taking a nap the moment you got home from Ellie’s.

You feel guilty for fighting with your friends. As much as you hate the idea of them being able to see through you, to be able to tell how you actually feel-- they’re just trying to look out for you. They love you, want the best for you.

But them knowing… Your friends seeing how infatuated you are with Abby, how you let yourself be dragged along like a dog on a leash, desperate to please and feel desired by her… It makes you feel ashamed.

So, you ignore the texts you wake up to.

[2:31pm] Deedee 😽: Hey babe. I’m sorry about this afternoon. If you’re feeling up to talking about it please let me know.

[2:32pm] Deedee 😽: We can go to that bakery you like. My treat.

[2:32pm] Deedee 😽: I love you. Be safe 🤍🤍🤍

-

[2:43pm] 🌿Els 🦕: [message unsent]

[2:50pm] 🌿Els 🦕: sorry. dina said that was shit.

[2:54pm] 🌿Els 🦕: be careful

[2:54pm] 🌿Els 🦕: always here for u

[2:55pm] 🌿Els 🦕: 💚

-

[3:14pm] J-Man 🐴: You’re seeing Abby again??

[3:14pm] J-Man 🐴: That’s cool…

[3:17pm] J-Man 🐴: Why didn’t you tell us?

You slowly start getting ready at four, taking a long ‘everything’ shower, only hopping out once your skin is smooth, soft, and smelling of your cherry blossom body wash.

You spend way longer than necessary picking your outfit; something cute but practical for the cooler weather. You make a bit of a mess, but finally end up laying out a combination of pieces on your plush, purple blankets. A babydoll top to wear under a chunky knit cardigan, a long flowing skirt that brushes your calves. You’ve even selected cute underwear, that same blue lace set that you wore in the photo you sent Abby.

You keep your makeup simple, focusing more on your eyes than anything else. Abby described them as doe-like once, and now you make it a habit to spend a bit more time curling your lashes, lining them with a delicate wing. Some blush and a sparkly lip gloss that faintly smells like bubble-gum completes the look. Soft, feminine.

You’re painting your nails when your phone buzzes on your bedside table, interrupting the music playing through the speakers. You lean over, holding your hands out to try to avoid smudging them, glimpsing at the screen.

[7:13pm] Abs 🥊💥: picking up food now

[7:14pm] Abs 🥊💥: be there soon, pretty girl ❤️

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, your bottom lip catching between your teeth as you get back to painting your nails. Thoughts of your friends and their concerns drifting from your mind the closer it gets to seven thirty.

It’ll be fine.

It always is, right?

♡ ︎♡ ���♡

You press a manicured hand over your mouth, supressing your giggles. “He didn’t…”

Abby nods, grinning around her chewed straw. “Yeah, he did. All ‘prom-posal’ style with a big sign and everything.”

“Oh, Jordan,” you sigh. “I’ve only met Leah once and even I know she’d hate to be asked out like that.” You shake your head, reaching into the bag between you for another fry.

Abby shrugs, sucking the last of her shake from the plastic cup. “Well apparently she liked it enough to say yes, so…”

“She was always going to say yes, though,” you say, popping the salty shoestring into your mouth. “They’re obsessed with each other.”

Abby scoffs, humour in her tone, placing the empty cup off to the side. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

The two of you are sitting in the bed of Abby’s truck, shoes kicked off as you curl amongst the blanket and few pillows piled in the back, softening the metal underneath. She’d driven the two of you out to a field, some property a friend of her dad owns, parking under the open night sky. The moon was high and bright, casting a soft glow across everything it touched, giving you just enough light to see.

She looked sinfully good in your driveway when she came to pick you up; leaning against the truck in her muscle tank and utility jeans, a dark green overshirt open and rolled up to her elbows. Her dad’s dog tags from his brief stint in the military right out of high school hang around her neck, a faded friendship bracelet that matches with her best friend Mel tied around her left wrist.

She had grabbed the two of you burgers and shakes from a local diner Abby loves to visit on her cheat days—a strawberry shake for herself and a sweet vanilla one for you.

The night so far has been taken up with picking at each other’s food and catching up all the stuff you’ve forgotten or have been too busy to text about. A lot of it is just gossip, but you don’t mind. You cherish her company, and could happily sit here for hours talking about anything at all as long as she was the one with you.

“How’s the new studio treating you?” You ask, nudging her lightly. You’re still snacking on the fries in the bag, your shake and burger having long since been eaten.

“It’s good. There’s a lot more women on staff at the new place which is nice.” Abby steals a fry from between your fingers, popping it into her mouth.

“Hey!”

She smirks, shrugging and licking the salt from her fingers. You’re momentarily distracted, brain short circuiting as you watch the trail of her tongue.

You swallow, clenching your thighs together as you look back down to the bag. “Less bro-y?”

She laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you from the inside out, reaching for her own fries. “Yeah, much less bro-y.” She shoves a couple in her mouth, covering it as she speaks around her mouthful. “A couple of my clients transferred over when I moved which is good. Felt bad leaving them behind.”

“Did Yara follow? You liked her.”

Abby nods, wiping the salt off her fingers on the thigh of her pants this time. “I’m covering her sessions, actually. Paying out of pocket. She’s had to take in her brother so everything’s kind of gone tits up for her. Boxing was the only thing she does for herself, so…” She shrugs, leaning back against the truck cabin, head tilted up to look at the stars overhead.

You sit there transfixed, lips slightly parted as you look to the woman next to you. She’s gorgeous, her side profile making butterflies stir in your belly. Her nose is strong, slightly curved at the tip, crooked from it getting broken and reset over and over again. Her cheekbones are prominent and littered in freckles, a jagged scar under one eye that she tells you a different story for every time you ask. Her jawline, though strong just like the rest of her, is also surprisingly soft, slightly rounder under her chin-- one of your favourite places to kiss.

Handsome.

“You’re a good person, you know?”

The highs of Abby’s cheeks darken; you can just make out the colour under the light of the moon.  Her eyes flick down to yours. “You flattering me?”

You shift to face her more, leaning against her muscular arm. You catch the way her hazy blue eyes drift from your own, down to your chest which is pressed against her bicep, flesh peeking out from your top. Her cheeks darken even more, a delightful pink that makes her freckles more prominent.

“I’m being serious. You do stuff like this all of the time, just because you felt like it.” Abby’s eyes wander back up to your own. “You’re really kind. I love that about you.”

Something flashes across her face, so quick that you can’t make it out before she schools her expression again, a lazy smirk tugging on her lips.

“Yeah?” She tilts her head slightly, stray strands of hair that have fallen out of her braid tickling her cheeks. “You sure you’re not buttering me up?”

It’s your turn to flush now, skin prickling with heat under her gaze that bores into your own. “And what would I be buttering you up for?” Your voice is quiet, soft between you.

Her eyes roam across your face, down to your lips where you’ve drawn the bottom one between your teeth. One of her calloused hands comes up, cupping your jaw gently to swipe a thumb across your cheek. The pad of her thumb moves to press against your glossy lip, pulling it free.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, leaning in close. “You tell me.”

Her thumb swipes across the tackiness of your lip, the gloss rubbing off and onto her skin, sparkly and smelling like bubble-gum. She leans in impossibly closer, breath smelling like strawberries from her shake, nose bumping against yours softly.

You snake a hand up her broad chest, manicured fist curling into the front of her tank to pull her down, pressing your lips against her own.

You both sigh at the contact, finally feeling each other again after so long. The kiss doesn’t stay gentle, quickly devolving into hungry, messy kisses, Abby licking into your mouth to claim you.

A soft moan spills from your lips and you tug once more, pulling Abby with you as you lean back against the truck, needing to feel her weight against you. Abby obliges, never being able to say no to you when you make those pretty little noises, shifting to cage you in against the cabin of her truck. One of her arms comes up to support her weight as she slides to fit her body between your thighs that you part for her, skirt bunching up to make room.

“Missed this,” Abby groans, pulling away to kiss hotly down the side of your jaw. Her plush lips latch onto the skin of your neck, nipping and licking where your perfume is the strongest.

“Abby—” you gasp, arms wrapping around her neck, nails digging into the muscles of her shoulders as you arch into her, your head tilting back and thumping against the truck.

She hums, kissing down further to your chest, teeth grazing against the swell of your tits being pushed up by your bra. The hand on your cheek moves down, slowly pushing the sleeve of your cardigan and the strap of your top off your shoulder, giving her more skin to bite and suckle on.

You bring a hand up to thread through her hair, nails scratching against her scalp as you push your chest into her mouth. She groans, a deep rumbly sound that goes straight to your cunt.

“Been thinking about this,” you confess, hips twitching as she cups you through your top, barely hold back a whine as she pinches your hardening nipple between thumb and forefinger.

Abby chuckles, vibrations working across your skin as she palms you. “Yeah, sweetheart?” A particularly hard suck on the swell of your tit, making you moan. “What about?”

Soft pants leave your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as the warmth grows between your legs. “Fuck… Y-Your mouth—”

A grin splits Abby’s lips, eyes crinkling as she looks up at you, taking in the way your head is thrown back. “My mouth?”

You nod, swallowing hard as she drifts down, lips taking over for her fingers as she bites you through your top. You whine, high in the back of your throat, blinking your eyes open to look down at her.

She’s so unbelievably hot, big eyes smiling up at you as she teases you between her teeth, drawing those sweet noises from your throat. She’s playing you like a damn fiddle and she’s loving every second of it.

“Mmhm,” you moan, licking your lips. “Always feels so f-fucking good. Need it so bad--”

Abby breaks away from your chest, fingers taking back over the second her mouth leaves you.

“Where?” Her voice is low as she rises up, nosing along your soft skin while she moves up, up, up-- until her lips are barely brushing yours. “Here?”

She leans in, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss, all tongue and teeth and so, so wet. She pulls away far too quickly, a string of spit connecting you, hot breath fanning over your open mouth as you try to pull her back in. “This where you need it, baby?”

You do, you need her to kiss you again so fucking badly, but you know what she’s asking. So, you reluctantly shake your head, looking up into her fiery eyes. She smirks, shifting to kiss back down to your chest, burying herself in the fat of your tits, like she belongs there. She groans, hand moving down to grip your waist as she looks up at you.

“What about here?”

Your hips shift, back arching as you press her closer, feeling yourself growing wetter as she groans in appreciation. Your panties are soaked, thighs hot and sticky as you squirm beneath her.

Your head shakes, not trusting your voice right now while she’s looking up at you like this.

“Oh, I see,” she says teasingly, hand on your waist straying down, fingers dancing along your thigh to where the hem of your skirt is bunched up between you. Sparks shoot through your veins when her hand touches bare skin, thighs clamping around her hips as you feel yourself throb.

God you’re desperate.

Her touch is featherlight, grazing teasingly up under the fabric of your skirt, higher and higher until she reaches the edge of your panties, soft blue lace that tickles her fingertips.

Her strong hand, so big and warm compared to your own, cups you over the lace, ring and middle finger pressing against your weeping cunt. A shuddering gasp leaves your lips, hand in her hair tightening, the other scrunching the fabric of her tank across her back. She moans, muffled against your tits.

“This is where you need it, huh? Can feel how fucking wet you are,” she grunts, pulling away from your chest to lean up, capturing your lips once more in a desperate, hungry kiss.

You whine and keen into her mouth as she works you over, hips stuttering up to grind against her palm, your clit swelling against the friction of your soaked panties.

She pulls back, panting as the two of your catch your breath, eyes hooded as she looks down at you, black swallowing that lovely blue, tongue peaking out to lick at her swollen lips. Without another word she shifts, slowly sliding down your body, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses in her wake. It’s sensual and so fucking hot, her hand not stilling from where she fucks you through your panties.

She kisses down your sternum, your stomach, your hip, pausing when she gets to the fabric of your skirt. She uses the hand not rubbing at your clit to move it out of the way, smoothing her big hand up your thigh to drag the fabric up, pushing it to bunch at your hips.

Your hips cant up, and Abby gets an eyeful of you for the first time. She swallows, staring down at the lace she instantly recognises from the photo you sent, the blue that sits flush and clinging to the shape of your pussy.

“Fuck, baby,” she groans, moving to rest on her stomach, swollen lips kissing and nipping at the smooth skin of your thighs. “This all f’me?”

“Yes—Abby—All for you,” you whimper, coherent thoughts already slipping from your brain.

She pushes your thighs wider as she moves up, head disappearing underneath the fabric of your skirt as she finally, finally nudges up against your cunt. Her strong nose bumps your clit as she presses against the straining fabric, inhaling deep, tongue pressing thick and flat over the soaked gusset.

You both moan simultaneously, you at the hot, cloying feeling of her tongue against your clothed cunt, her at the first taste of you through the lace.

“Oh god—” You scramble at the fabric of your skirt, tugging it up and tight in your fist to see her pressed between your legs. “T-Take them off—please, I need to feel you—”

Abby’s already got her fingers hooked in the elastic, shuffling back to peel the lingerie off your slick pussy. You bring your knees up to your chest, wrapping an arm around them as you help her slide them off your ankles, biting your lip at the way she grips your calves and manhandles you.

She balls up your panties in her fist, shoving them in the back pocket of her jeans as she settles back down. Her strong hands grip the fat of your hips, pulling you down further on the truck bed so you’re lying flat on your back. She throws one of your legs over her shoulder, the other she presses down to the bed of the truck, opening you wide for her.

“Such a pretty pussy,” she murmurs, breath hot over your cunt, wrapping a strong arm around your thigh, fingers playing lazily in your folds. You squirm beneath her, twitching your hips up towards her face.

“Abby…” you whine, looking down at her, chin touching your heaving chest as you watch, eyes wide and hazy.

She flicks hers up to meet yours, a smirk splitting her lips as she uses two fingers to part you before finally leaning in.

You throw your head back against the blanket at first contact, the flat of her tongue swiping up the entirety of your cunt, the tip lightly flicking against your swollen clit. You take a deep breath, hips twitching under her at the sensation, sharp zaps of electricity setting your nerves alight.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, the hand gripping your skirt tightening.

Abby hums, indulging in a few more kitten licks before she’s wrapping those swollen. pouty lips around your clit, sucking the bundle into her mouth. She suckles, the lewd slurping sound making your cheeks turn bright red, the rhythmic throb punching the air from your lungs.

She releases you with a smack of her lips, flattening her tongue again to run up through your folds, briefly tonguing at your clenching hole as she passes, but always straying back to your clit, never getting tired of the way it pulses in her mouth.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” she murmurs, accent growing stronger the more pussy drunk she gets. She won’t admit it out loud, but she fucking loves being down here, drinking you up. If she had less shame, she’d beg you for it.

You push at the back of her head, pressing the heel of your foot against her back to urge her on, burying her deeper against you. She groans, messily licking up everything you give her. Drifting down, her nose nudging against your clit as she starts to fuck you with her tongue, the pulsing muscle slowly stretching your out the deeper she gets, slippery and so fucking hot.

You gasp, a choked off sound that has your toes curling as you hold her there, your hips coming up to grind against her face-- the way her nose feels against your clit making your head spin.

“Holy shit—Abs, baby—” You can hardly form a sentence, broken noises leaving your throat as you use her, fuck against her like your own personal toy. You could cum just like this, and she knows it.

Abby grunts, her shoulder dropping to the bed of the truck as a hand slips under her hips, hastily unbuttoning her jeans. A low groan, long and vibrating against your cunt leaves her lips as she sinks the hand past her boxers, shifting up onto her knees to get a better angle. You can feel the way her arm moves under your thigh, the way she rubs furiously at her clit as she fucks you on her tongue, drowning in you as you gush against her nose and mouth.

You lift your head up from the bed, blinking your hazy eyes open to look at the sight before you, the way she pulls you closer with the arm wrapped around your thigh, how deep she’s buried in your pussy as she works her own, the sounds of her wet cunt muffled through her jeans.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck—” you pant, needy sounds growing higher and higher in pitch as you watch her. You want to keep watching, want to sear the image of her fucking herself like this into your brain but your head falls back, back arching as you press up into her mouth.

“Gonna— Abby m’gonna fucking cum—”

“F-Fuck-- Yeah?” Abby groans, flicking her tongue over your sensitive clit. “Gonna cum on my fucking face, pretty girl?” She sucks your clit into her mouth, dragging her tongue over the bundle as you squeal and squirm underneath her.

You let go of your skirt, both hands coming to the back of Abby’s head as you tug on her hair, nails scratching against her scalp. You can’t tell if you’re trying to push her away or keep her there.

“I’m cumming—I’m cumming, I’m—” You mouth drops open, jaw slack as a loud moan spills from your lips. Your hips snap up, freezing in place as your thighs tremble, that coiling feeling in your gut snapping.

Abby groans, lapping hungrily at your cunt as you cum, swallowing everything you have to give her. Her hips twitch as she fucks herself, rocking against her hand as she works herself to the edge.

She’s relentless, suckling you and making borderline pornographic noises as she practically eats you alive. She pulls you closer, using that single arm wrapped around your thigh to bury herself deeper, nose coming back in grind against your throbbing clit.

That familiar feeling builds again, quicker and more intense than before.

“A-Abby you’re gonna—” Her tongue slides deep inside you, curling as she messily thrusts. “O-Oh fuck I’m gonna cum again—”

“Do it,” she murmurs, words slurring together as she fucks you, mind hazy and filled with nothing but your pussy against her face. “Need it so bad—"

Something bursts behind your eyes, white hot and all consuming. Your second orgasm shatters you, nothing but a long keening whine escaping your throat as you lock your thighs around Abby’s face, keeping her pressed so tight against your spasming cunt.

“Shit—I’m—” she gasps, a loud groan ripping from her throat as her own hips stutter, her orgasm rushing through her as she works you through your second, trapped between your thighs.

The muscles in your legs give out, thighs falling open and releasing Abby from where you were crushing her. You have to physically pull her away when it gets too much, when her tongue goes from being perfect and just what you need to overstimulating. “A-Abby… Too much…”

She parts from you with a groan, her wet cheek coated in a lewd mixture of her spit and your cum resting against your twitching thigh. She slips her hand out from her jeans, wiping her slick fingers on her inner thigh as her hips collapse down onto the truck bed.

You both lay there, catching your breath, the hand on your thigh rubbing soothing circles, your fingers gently massaging her scalp.

“That was…” You trail off, blinking your eyes open to look up at the stars. “I think you fucked the words out of me,” you giggle, smile growing as Abby laughs against your thigh, hiding her face against the flesh.

“Shit,” she sighs, laughter in her voice. “I really fucking needed that.”

You hum, raking your nails down her scalp. “Me too.”

♡ ︎♡ ︎♡

It takes you a bit to get situated again, gently cleaning each other up with the wipes you stashed deep in your bag, buttoning up jeans and pulling down skirts. Abby refuses to give you back your panties, keeping them buried in her back pocket for her to take home.

You’re sitting up against the truck cabin, back straight as Abby sits in front of you, letting you comb out and re-braid the hair that you messed up with your tugging and pulling. It’s nice, intimate, makes your heart pound wildly in your chest.

“There.” You finish tying off the end, letting the braid fall against her strong back. “You sure I wasn’t too rough?”

Abby snorts, leaning back to lay against your soft chest. You hook your chin over her shoulder, arms snaking around her middle. “Nah. You never are.”

You hum, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Just checking.”

The two of you sit there, basking in the post-orgasm glow as the sky glitters above you. The sex is always amazing, but this is your favourite part; where Abby is loose and happy, free with her affections. Where she welcomes your touches and kisses, offering them in return.

It’s so cruel of her.

A buzz from the corner of the truck bed, lower than the purr of the crickets hiding in the grass breaks the peaceful silence. You try your best to ignore it, to cling to Abby in this moment, but it buzzes again, then once more.

Abby sighs, leaning out of your grasp and over to her bag in the corner, rifling through it for her phone. She turns it on as she rests back against your chest.

“Who is it?” You ask, trying to be as casual as possible.

She sighs, locking the screen and dropping it face first onto the blanket next to you. “Owen. He’s been blowing up my phone all day.”

Your stomach drops, the taste of strawberry on your tongue souring at the mention of his name.

You can’t help but feel a bit guilty for your reaction, knowing that really, Owen isn’t that bad of a guy. You’ve met him a few times, and though it kills you to admit it, you enjoyed his company. Everyone does. He’s just… nice.

“What does he want?”

You know what he wants, what stage of the cycle you’re trapped in.

“He wants to meet up, grab coffee or something.” Her voice is even, though slightly softer than usual. She picks at one of the rips in her jeans, no longer looking at the sky.

“Oh.” You shift, clearing your throat. “Are you going to go?”

The muscles in her back tense against your chest. Her breathing stutters, just for a second, before she breaths out long and slow. Resigned.

“Yeah, probably.” Then quieter, so much so you almost don’t catch it, “I miss him.”

Your heart shrivels up in your chest, shame and embarrassment crushing you under its shared weight.

You know how this goes; it happens the same way every single time. But you usually get a bit more time than this, a few more chances to commit the feeling of her to memory before Owen convinces her to ‘meet up to talk’.

“Why?” You ask before you can stop yourself, too much emotion slipping through your voice. “Why do you keep going back to him?”

Abby just shrugs. “It’s easy. He’s… familiar. Safe.” She pauses, like she’s trying to think of things to say, reasons why it should be obvious. “My dad likes him.”

And that’s it. That’s everything she offers you, because she has nothing else to say.

She leans back, bringing a calloused hand up to cup your cheek. You subconsciously tilt into it, your body seeking out every single touch of hers that she so graciously offers you.

She leans in, lips brushing yours ever so softly. Genuine.

Final.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ request your own here! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[chr0llossexygf]

ON FILM

pairings; mean!ellie x fem reader

summary; spending countless nights wrapped in Ellie’s bed but not in her arms made you realise something. You want more, you’ve always wanted more. But Ellie doesn’t want more. Or maybe she does. But what if it’s too late?

cw; ellie is rlly mean :((, angst, guns, set in tlou universe!

“ Els could you pass me my shirt?” You ask sitting yourself up on your girl- well not girlfriend. Your friend with benefits? Not even, not like it was decided and talked between the two of you that you are friends with benefits. Does your relationship with Ellie even tick the boxes of a friends with benefits one? It has benefits, most definitely. Like now, when you're laying half naked on her fitted sheets, which are supposed to be tightly secured around the corners of the mattress, may have come loose as a result of you and Ellie making love or from how harshly she sprung from the bed the second you two came down from your highs.

A delicate and tender brush of the strings of her guitar is the answer you get, did she not hear you? It's not like you're far away. She's only a few feet away from you. Sitting on her worn out black rolling chair with her guitar placed delicately on her thighs. You watch as the auburn strands of her hair that were just in your hands a mere 5 minutes ago move softly with the gentle bopping of her head, as her skilled fingers sweep across the strings like they are the most fragile thing. Nothing compared to the roughness she displays on her fingers when they are touching your skin. “ Els-” The strum resonates with an unpleasant, off-key twang. 

She lets out a loud sigh. And suddenly, you're picking at the delicate skin of your palms. The same palms which were trying to feel the warmth of her palms only to be roughly grabbed and pinned above your head. With one hand gripping the neck of her guitar and the other resting over the strings she raises her head up. “ What?” She says with her eyes closed. You raise your hand and point at the dark green fabric laying down crumbled next to her feet. Ellie lets out a sigh as she bends over in her chair, grabbing your shirt and throwing it over to you. 

The shirt didn't even make the flight as it fell to the ground near the edge of the bed. You push your body towards the end of the bed, leaning over to pick up the shirt. The rough fabric of your shirt doesn't meet your fingertips, cold metal does. You raise an eyebrow in confusion as you pull your hand up. Your eyes widen and your lips part. “ Holy shit you have a polaroid camera Els?!” You energetically exclaim rotating the camera in your hand.

“ Yeah yeah.. Joel told me to start a photo album. Apparently-” She cuts herself off placing her guitar down on the floor gently against her table. “ Hey, you're still covering my shift for me this morning right?” She asks, leaning her body back against the backrest of her chair. Crossing her arms as her eyes are planted at your hands holding the camera.

“ pfft yeah- But oh my god this is so cool! I've been wanting one for so long! I've never had my picture taken-” You rotate the camera around towards you, your finger presses a button. “ No wait-” Ellie stands up from her chair, sending it flying back. Almost hitting a wall from the violent shove the chair has fallen victim to. There's a bright flash on your face, your lips puckered and your eyes widely opened. 

Ellie snatches the camera from your grasp. You furrow your eyebrows, your lips parted in surprise. “ E-Els what-” Your voice is high-pitched as your cheeks grow a slight shade of pink from shock. 

“ Damn it!” Ellie shouts, throwing the camera on the other side of the bed, away from you. Your head shoots around to look at the camera, afraid that it was gonna bounce off the bed and break into a hundred pieces. “ W-what are you doing-” She cuts you off.

“ No, what are you doing?! Jesus.” She shouts, putting a hand over her face. Harshly sliding her hand over her skin in frustration. You raise an eyebrow in confusion and tilt your head to the side, “ What did I do?” You ask your voice rising in pitch but growing weaker in volume. Like a child. 

Ellie throws her head back in annoyance, “ Do you have zero manners? Did your mom not teach you? You don't just grab someone's stuff and act like it's yours-” You shoot up from her bed quickly putting your shirt on, your lips are still parted in shock. Why is she so mad? 

“ Jesus Els i-it's just a picture.” You say crossing your arms, suddenly feeling insecure and small. Ellies pacing back and forth, letting out disgruntled cuss words under her breath. “ That was the last film I had- And now it's been wasted on you! It wasn't meant to be used on you damn it! Now where else am I gonna find more films!” She shouts, throwing herself on her chair. 

Ouch. You feel a sting in your heart. Actually no. A sting would be an understatement of the century compared to the hurt you feel in your heart. You feel sweat form on the back of your neck and your fingers immediately grabbing the ends of your worn out shirt. It feels like your heart was harshly grabbed and thrown into 50 layers of glass. Each little piece of glass  being every memory of you and Ellie in which she would treat you like a toy and the final big shard of glass piercing your heart through and through is this. Do you as a human being, as someone who searches for her in every crowd, as someone who looks at her whenever something funny happens during bar nights in Jackson, as someone who would be wrapped up in her sheets every other night have less value than polaroid film? 

You remain silent. The realization just now hitting you. The reality of the situation just now hitting you like a harsh tidal wave knocking you out on the sand. Your fingers which were nervously picking at the loose strings of your shirt suddenly stop. 

Your lack of response seems to anger Ellie more. “ You know what-” She shoots up from her chair and walks up to you. “ You're gonna find me more film today on your supply run. And your not coming back until you have it or whatever the fuck-” Her finger swats back and forth between the two of you. Just as she was about to open her mouth to throw more cruel words at you, there were 4 knocks on her door.

“ I don't wanna interrupt you two girls but Ellie, Jesse is looking for you.” A deep voice cut through like a worn, steadfast anchor falling down the depths of the ocean only to be pulled back as he mentioned Ellies name. 

Ellies body softens as she hears Joel speak. His voice snapping her out of her trance, her sudden fit of anger. She shakes her head and looks at you. Her eyes soften as she gazes into what usually are your warm and soft eyes now suddenly distant. As if a veil had descended over them. Her gaze, accustomed to finding solace in the familiar gentleness of  your eyes, in which she would hate to admit and despise herself for , now falters upon encountering their newfound coolness. Where once there had been an openness that mirrored the tender embrace of a summer breeze, now there lay a guardedness that spoke of unspoken burdens and distant thoughts. And it had all been her doing. 

“ Hey s-sweetheart- '' Her voice trembles at the nickname. And suddenly, you remember how her voice never trembles or shakes when she calls Dina or Cat sweet names. It 's just you. Do you disgust her so much you're not even worth the nickname. The sweet calling, the term of endearment which would usually make you melt. Not that she ever called you any sweet name. It's always Y/N or just ‘you’. And now that you've heard it. You never wanna hear it again.

“ It 's fine.” You whisper, scared that if you were to raise your voice just a note that you would break down. You gently push Ellie to the side, your shoulder hitting hers. Your voice, usually a beacon of exuberance, fell silent. It was as if the air around you had grown heavy with unspoken words and unshed tears, casting a solemn curtain over your once-cheerful demeanor. 

Your touch, once a balm against the trials of the day, met an unexpected resistance, a subtle tensing beneath the surface of your skin. Ellie felt it instantly. The fleeting hesitation in your shoulder, the barely perceptible shift in your posture. Where once there had been a seamless connection, a dance of harmony between your souls, now there lay a fragile distance. A silent rift that echoed with unspoken questions.

—-

“ You're unusually quiet.” Jesse says shoving the christmas mugs on the shelf of a store you two stumbled upon. His fingers wrapped delicately around the handles of the bright red,green, and white mugs. It's Christmas time in Jackson. Maria had sent you and Jesse on the hunt for christmas decoration. Not forgetting to repeat that if it's red it doesn't mean it's Christmas themed to Jesse at least 5 times. Or maybe it was more. You weren't exactly listening, your mind preoccupied with the Ellie situation. You feel your body tense up at the mention of her name.You feel something poke your knee, immediately looking down. You see Jesse's hand holding the mug nudging you.

“ Hey. You okay?” He speaks, his voice soft and gentle. You almost feel bad for zoning out on his rambles. Rambles that would usually be spewing out of your mouth. You nod your head smiling, “ Yeah no im alright- Hey uh.. do you think they've got like camera film in here?” 

Jesse laughs, shaking his head. “ Let me guess. Ellie has gotten you looking for film? Her fault for running out, she took like 30 of just Dina and Cat.” Jesse says standing up, turning around placing both of his hands on his hips looking around the store. He takes a deep breath in squinting his eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the store signs hanging above. “ Its too dark to see cus of these stupid lights but I think maybe-”

All you hear is static. Your entire body feels like it's being filled with static. You know that feeling, when your arm or leg is asleep and they feel too heavy to move and you just keep getting that stinging sensation. That's how your entire body feels. She took 30 of Dina and Cat. 30 pictures. 30 pictures of the flash hitting their face. 30 pictures of them doing a face. Maybe sticking their tongue out or even puckering their lips. So why was it a crime when you did it? Why was it a big deal when you did it? 

“ Yeah thanks.” You say patting Jesse's shoulder. You dig your cold hands into the pocket of your jeans and start walking. Following the way down the aisles of the store, peeking your head in each aisle hoping to find a bright coloured pack of film. You weren't gonna talk to Ellie after you find her the film, that is if you can even find the film. If you can't find the film she[ll be the one not speaking to you. 

You stop on one aisle. Removing your hands from your pockets, feeling the cold breeze hit them immediately. Cursing under your breath, you repeatedly rub your hands up and down the sides of your legs hoping that the friction would atleast give you some heat. You bring both hands up to your mouth, blowing into them. “ No way they had to worry about which color ribbon to buy.” You whisper to yourself, your eyes fixated on all of the colorful ribbons hanging on the shelves. Puckering up your lips, you breathe out through your nose. Walking down what seemed like an endless row of ribbons. You finally spot them.

You speed-walk towards the end of the aisle. You pull your backpack off and immediately start stuffing the packs of film. Grabbing as many as you can and shoving them in ruthlessly as you bite your lip. Your eyesight goes blurry. You're tearing up. Nope, scratch that you're crying. Tears roll down your cold cheeks as you keep shoving in the film at a remarkable speed. You're biting your lower lip trying to stop a sob from escaping. Before you were about to have a full blown breakdown you hear Jesse shout. 

“ Y/N! WATCH OUT!” Jesse shouts running to you, shooting a clicker behind you. You immediately shoot up, throwing your backpack over your shoulder and grabbing your gun from your holster. “ Jesus fuck!” You shout stumbling backwards at the hoard of clickers running towards you and Jesse.

Jesse grabs you, pulling you up. “ We can't take them all- We have to make a run for it!” He says running, your hand still in his. Your heart is racing, you can feel it in your fingertips, your ears, your toes. Turning your head around to catch a glimpse of exactly what you're dealing with, you almost stop on your feet. There's at least 20. “ Fuck fuck Jesse we wont make it!” You shout, pointing your gun backwards shooting aimlessly at the hoard of clickers only growing faster.  

Your brain is short-circuiting. Millions of scenarios are running through your head. 99% of them are of you dead, bleeding out on the floor with a hoard of clickers feasting on your body like it’s their first and final meal. Your chest is heaving up and down. Your breathing but it’s not enough. It probably is enough if it weren’t for your brain trying to convince you it’s not. 

You two won’t make it out of the store without them attacking your horses. You need to come up with a plan. You need to come up with a plan now immediately. 

“ Jesse, keep going! I’ll distract them!” You shout, ripping your hand out of his tight grasp, surely he’s left prints of his fingers on your hand. Jesse’s hand immediately tries to grab yours again, “ No Y/N! What are you doing you idiot!” Jesse shouts.

You push him forward out of the store doors, you turn around and shoot the clickers that were too close to you. You lean your back against the sliding glass doors, Jesse's on the other side pounding on the door trying to push it open. “ Fucking go!” You shout shooting more of them. God why are there so many.

“ Open the fucking door Y/N!” He shouts banging on the door. You shout in frustration, stomping your leg on the floor at his stubbornness. Your other hand reaches for the knife strapped to your thigh. Turning around you stab the window with the knife. The glass shattering all over the floor, some shards even landing on Jesse. You yank your backpack off and throw it throw the window  “ Give me your gun and fucking go!” 

Jesse’s hand shakily hands you the gun as he grabs your backpack, slinging it over his shoulders and runs to his horse. You turn around and watch him mount the horse, his eyes are shiny with tears. He leans down grabbing a rock and throwing it to a glass window on the other side of the store distracting some of the clickers. Mounting his horse he sets off.

You move away from the glass and keep shooting the clickers, alerting the ones Jesse had just distracted. The hoard rushes towards you. “ Fuck.” 

——

Ellie immediately runs to the gates of Jackson after hearing the shouts of the guards on the watchtowers announce Jesse’s arrivals. Her heart racing. Her hands sweaty at the thought of seeing you after everything that's happened, not like her hands aren’t usually sweaty when she thinks about you. Just the mere thought of you makes her heart race and her palms sweaty. And it scares her. Really fucking scares her. 

The gates opening cuts her out of her trance. She sees Jesse. She doesn’t see you. Where are you? She makes a run for the gates expecting you to be following behind Jesse but your not. “ W-where’s?” Her voice is cut off by Jesse’s. “ We need backup! Damn it Y/N!” He jumps off his horse, his hands in his head. 

No. 

She sees your backpack on his back. No. No. No. Please no. God no.

Your backpack falls off his shoulders. Ellie makes a run for your bag, almost breaking the zipper. 

“ T-the place got overrun and Y/N stupidly distracted them and-”

Your bag is full of films

[urfavleo777]

i saw u posted “need fluff requests” and i had the idea of Joost getting a tattoo of a (fem readers ofc) kiss mark on his neck and immediately showing the tattoo to reader and she kisses him all over the face cuz of how much she loves it

warnings: none ♡ just pure fluff and basically joost being a baby.

You were pressed in between the pillows, wrapped in your favorite fluffy blanket, with eyes glued to the pages of the book you were reading, when the love of your life walked through the door.

“Hi, baby,” he mumbled, coming over to kiss you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around him, holding him close as you kissed the top of his head. Joost buried his face into the crook of your neck, a string of muffled noises and whispered ‘I missed you’ breathed into your skin. Joost was always clingy, a bit of vulnerable and eager to show tenderness whenever he came home, which you loved. “I missed you, too,” you replied softly as you stroked your fingers senselessly up and down the blonde’s spine.

“Can I lie down with you?” He had the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, it looked up his whole face and radiated warmth. He lifted his head just enough to press soft kisses along your jawline, making a quiet and needy sound in the back of his throat as he did. “Please..?” His soft plea sent a warm, fuzzy feeling flowing through your heart, and you couldn't help but smile in a mix of adoration and amusement. Gently tugging on his arm, you gestured for him to get beneath the blankets with you. "Come here, you big softie," you teased, making space for him as you continued to trace tender patterns along his back.

Joost giggled quietly, and he didn't need to be told a second time. He immediately clambered onto the bed without preamble, scrambling clumsily beneath the blankets to get as close to you as possible. The book you were holding in your hand a moment ago landed on the floor with a loud bang, and you already knew that the next day you would have to listen to your neighbor squealing as she insisted that she couldn't sleep because of the two of you.

You were about to pick it up but Joost stopped you, nuzzling his face into your chest, making a content noise as he settled against you. “Stay with me if you love me.” He wrapped his legs around yours, clinging to you like a limpet. You couldn't help but let out a giggle.

"How is it fair that you've barely been home ten minutes and you already have me wrapped around your little finger?" You leaned back into the pillows, bringing him with you, until you were both laying comfortably against the sheets.

“Dunno.” You sighed at his laconic response, staring at his almost angelic face. You lifted your finger to trace one of his cheeks with your fingertip. His eyes were closed, which was telling you that he was on the verge of sleep. Joost groaned as you brushed his hair away from his forehead, the fresh ink on his neck finally catching your attention.

“What is this, love?” You questioned, gently caressing his tattooed skin. “Is that the kiss mark of mine on your neck?” Your eyes widened as you took a closer look at the tattoo - your own kiss etched onto Joost's body in permanent ink.

He let out a dry laugh, squinting under the light on the nightstand. “I thought it would take you less time to notice. Yeah, it’s your lips.”

“But— how?” Suddenly, a situation from about five hours ago flashed before your eyes, when you pulled Joost towards you, kissing him goodbye in the exact same place, leaving a trace of your blood-red lipstick on his neck. “My lipstick.”

"Surprise," he hummed in affirmation, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I hope you like it as much as I do.”

“Oh, I love it.” Without hesitation, you pulled him close and began showering his face with kisses. A series of chuckles escaped his lips as you covered his face in gentle pecks, his arms encircling your waist to keep you close. Joost tilted his head to allow you easier access.

You kissed his temple, up to his forehead and ending it on the tip of his perfectly sculpted nose. “I can imagine the pain.”

“Honey,” he gently placed his fingers under your chin, turning you to face him. “I'd take a thousand tattoos if it means I get to have your lips on me forever.”

Your stares lingered a little longer on each other; both parties in disbelief at how lucky they were.

“I love you.” You placed your hand on his cheek, gently cupping his face in your palm. Joost let out a soft sigh, his breath mingling with yours in the intimate space between you.

“I love you, liefje.”

[fcthots]

Can I request 27. "I'm going to carry you, okay?" with an angsty dash of 5. "You don't have anything to be sorry for." please?

You shouldn't have been out.

You should have never left your apartment, especially not in the middle of the night, especially when Jason didn't know you left, but you just wanted to go on a short walk, but one wrong turn turned your short walk into a very long one.

You could hear a few things: the beating of your heart, the sound of your feet hitting the ground as you ran, the sound of their feet running after you, shouting from behind you.

"Get your ass back here or I swear to God, we're gonna fucking kill you!"

Fuck. You just had to go on a walk to clear your head. You just had to get lost. You just had to forget your phone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You were running so hard you could barely breathe. You were faster than them, but not by much, and you couldn't keep it up. You were terrified, shaking, slightly crying. You tried screaming, but no one came. You were lost, alone, scared, and being chased. You wished more than anything that you never left your apartment. You wished you just called Jason to calm down, but you didn’t want to bother him. Regret. Regret. Regret.

You've basically run in one big circle, trying to get anywhere near your apartment, but you were so lost. That street sign, though was familiar, but more than that you had passed it before; something else.

Oh.

Oh no.

You knew the name on that street sign because Jason was telling you about it earlier

...in reference to a trafficking case.

Your heart sank. Their footfalls match the erratic beating of your heart. You were tired. You couldn't keep this up forever and they knew the territory. It seemed you were at every disadvantage.

You turned a corner. You had this one chance to lose them. You use all of your remaining energy to run into the gap between the closed down corner store and apartment complex,

and promptly trip on the uneven concrete. Yeah, you pulled something.

And with your absolutely stellar luck, you picked the one alley that was a dead end.

"Fucking finally. Nowhere to run now. I think we should take our time with this one. She made us waste all that time chasing her, what's a little more?"

You open your mouth to beg for your life, but the words won't come out. You try to get up but you collapse again. You use your good leg to move yourself against the wall.

The three men laugh as they slowly approach you, taunting you. They smile and joke at the tears you didn’t notice were falling. You try to think of any possible escape route, but come up empty. One pulls out a gun and you try not to look at it.

"You really thought you could just run away, huh?"

"You can scream as loud as you want. No one is coming."

The third man laughs. "Don't say that. The screaming is fucking annoying."

They get closer to you and you feel the sweat trickle from your hairline.

Everyone's heads turn when there's a loud thud outside the alley.

You aren't exactly focused on it, but it makes them temporarily stop, so you're thankful for it.

"Marcus, go check it out."

"Fuck you. Why do I have to it?"

"Be louder, why don’t you? Quit being a bitch and go."

'Marcus' leaves with a string of curses. The attention is turned back to you again, with impatient smiles and twisted laughter, but not for long.

They make it about two more steps before Marcus yells and there's a crunch and thud.

The two men stop dead in their tracks. Communicating as if with eye contact, one nods, and the other begins to walk slowly along the wall of the alley with his gun raised until he turns the corner. While the first man tries to split his attention between you and his friend, his friend screams.

The last man turns towards you. He rushes forward in an attempt to grab your arm, presumably to drag you, but he never gets that chance.

There is a loud thunk to the back of the man's head before he's on the floor. You look up and see a red helmet.

You don’t think you've ever been happier to see that shiny red.

"Hey, it's ok. It's just me. I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you, I promise. You're safe now."

You try to say his name as he rushes over to you but it comes out as more of a pathetic and terrified whimper.

"Are you hurt?"

You nod your head and watch him freeze.

"Where?"

You drag your leg out from underneath you. He sighs in relief. His shoulders hunch forward, his forehead knocking against yours. He lands a helmet kiss there.

"C'mon. Let's get you home. I'm going to carry you, okay?"

Before you could even think about attempting to reply, he has you scooped up in his arms. He takes a deep breath in and out and locks eyes with you.

"You ok?"

"no fatal injuries"

He hums in acknowledgement. The walk is quiet. Too quiet. You don’t remember most of the walk. The adrenaline wearing off was making you tired, but Jason's silence concerned you. You shouldn't have gone out alone, it was dumb, but you couldn't handle a fight with Jason right now. That's probably why he was being quiet, he’s mad at you, but knows you don’t wanna fight. He was being so sweet, but to be honest all you wanted was comfort. You can't take him being distant right now.

Fuck it. You can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry."

He stops on the outside of you apartment complex's elevator, moving to look at you.

You open your mouth to speak again but he cuts you off. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"Aren't you mad?"

"I could never be mad at you."

"But you're being all silent."

"I thought you'd want space. Do you not?"

"...no... I want comfort..."

"Alright. And I'm not mad at you. Never mad at you. That wasn't your fault, ok? I was brooding just now because I was scared at the thought of losing you. I love you. So much."

"I love you too."

[belovedivies]

Heyyy I love the killer Peter writing that you do it’s amazing🤩

Could I request relationship head canons for Peter like you did for Raphael but this time reader is an assassin like him

peter relationship headcanons

a/n: i'll be taking requests again now that i'm done with midterms (spoiler alert i got my ass beaten :3). this came out a little too long and specific for a hc but i plan to flesh this out on another oneshot- anw, enjoy anon!!! cw: minor spoiler, pre-canon, brief canon-typical cruelty wc: 1.26k m.list

IDEA

You met on neutral ground, mainly because his friend just wouldn’t shut up about this cute girl a few rooms down the hallway. You were three years older than Simon then, with a stature shorter than Peter himself.

Glory Club’s foundation is three things: violence, money, and ego. Assassins were pitched against each other on a daily basis, risking their lives to climb to the top where the Apostles rightfully resided. Where jealousy burnt red hot and became a driving force for success, the flame in you had long died out. Peter stared sometimes, and in your eyes, an ocean of arctic iciness stared right back.

He didn’t think much of it. He couldn’t begrudge anyone for it either. The paycheck was nice, and so was the control, the chokehold over others. Peter had and would play the part of an obedient puppet on strings to this organization as long as he drew breath, and as long it benefited them. Wouldn’t you do the same too? Downed a pill, cracked a skull, tossed and turned in a dusty corner later on because the dried blood felt so uncomfortably sticky on your nape, the scream of agony fresh on your mind. It wasn’t the nicest job out there, but it was for survival. A better cause. And Peter had thought about it rationally; he just owed that much to Father Gabriel.

It did get a little more complicated when you got roped in with them. Peter’s apathy had been evident while you stayed painfully austere, and Simon… was just trying his best to get both of you to talk. Five minutes in and a few hours after that afternoon, he couldn’t fathom why his comrade had thought it was a good idea for them to spar with not just a B-rank killer, but one whom neither of them had ever talked to.

OUTLINE

You really hated your job. Anyone would, at some point in their life.

Solo missions were a norm for Peter—things always worked out smoother and faster for the guy when he was on his own. On the rare occasion, he did get paired up with another person. Sometimes his fellow Apostles, the others a far too prideful assassin who chewed more than they could bite. But today there was you. And there wasn’t anything to go about besides a few surface-level exchanges and the silence in between. He couldn’t begrudge you. It’s only for survival.

A hit to the jugular and the job was done. Once out cold on the ground, the body wasn’t his responsibility anymore. Still, the boy watched with some amount of interest when you picked up the knife and poked around their insides. He left to light up a cigarette, took three brief puffs, and went back to the bedsheets covered in blood with the corpse nailed against the wall.

Sadism wasn’t intentional, but it was a running theme among the ranked Glory Club killers. The only collar made of metal and swine that bound them together by the neck. That you were so deep into the pit of insanity, you either shut off your emotions completely or learned to love the carnage.

Death reeked in every corner of the room, yet it was in you that Peter could tell the scent the clearest. You were there, so strangely out of the place, knees pulled tight against your chest. The look on your face was downright miserable.

When Peter made his way closer to inspect the scene, you tilted your head up to meet his face. The knife slipped, the moon shone, the rain tapered. Then you blinked, which was already so rare in itself. And Peter had blinked too, eyes widened, lips parted open just a fraction in surprise as tears welled up in your eyes. You sobbed and wept your dying heart out all the way until the cleanup crew showed up at the motel. One old lady, grey hair and croaked voice, held you in her arms. Months later when Peter finally asked again, he learned that it had hardly been the first. 

FIRST DRAFT

Just down the road, past the cut of dense trees leading to a lonely seashore, there was an orphanage tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Seoul. The kids always waved whenever Peter passed by during his morning run, a gesture that he had returned with equal warmth. Twice a week, the courtyard was lit up with colorful string lights and music, the mouth-watering scent of food wafting through the night air.

He had seen you outside of the Cathedral before, but not like this. The gentle fluorescents accentuated your features with a certain softness, like marshmallow, like the sea breeze carding through his hair. And you had talked, had smiled, had laughed along with them, had stared at Peter with eyes wide as saucers when one of the caregivers invited him in. You were in an apron with the children clung to your waist, vying for an ounce of your attention. It was a week after the mission and you two had rarely crossed paths. 

Peter wondered if you resented him for it; serving him a rather generous portion of seafood barbecue while dodging teasing comments from the kids through grinding teeth and knife-point smiles. But when your shoulders bumped against him on the bench, the tip of your right ear was burning red.

Simon ended up joining the week that followed, bringing more laughter to the shared space with his horrible singing and playfully flexing his swordsmanship. The edge of your smile grew softer and your shoulders more relaxed as you stuffed everyone’s plates with more food. Peter watched you through the rim of his cup with a tightness in his throat; you had only wanted to be normal. 

EDIT

“The kids are my rock.” You confessed a few months later when the ice wall between you and him finally melted. This late into the night, there wasn’t a wisp of cloud in the sky. The waves hit the shore every second, washing away the footsteps as Peter took a stroll with you along the beach.

You asked him about his dream. He didn’t know how to answer it. Taking away the cruelty and violence that made him the way he is today, what was left of the Apostle Peter? A caring brother to Simon and a good son to Father Gabriel. He might as well have been a husk before and a pretty face after, but there rarely had been anything in between for Peter to define himself. A label. A purpose.

Before he could say it, you gave his shoulder a gentle pat and chuckle, eyes glinting with mirth. “You’ll probably be a bookstore typa guy when you grow older.” And against all odds, the statement drew a chuckle from him too.

Maybe he would. Maybe if there was ever a disbandment order from the Cathedral and Peter had lived long enough to have a hunched back and a head full of grey hair, he would run a small bookstore on his own. Maybe the future Simon would drop by sometimes and tease him for his old-man look despite being older than Peter was.

Maybe the future you, still alive and kicking then, would also visit him, and the future Peter, older and wiser than he is right now, might have had the courage to ask you to stay.

But tonight, there was just the two of you. The moon hung high above the sky, the sea glistened with stars and mysticality. Peter watched as the white moonlight lined up the bridge of your nose and the curves of your cupid bow. The artificial heart inside your chest might not have a pulse, but his own did.

And it was very much beating for you.

[moonstruckme]

I recently found ur page and omfg I spent hours yesterday reading all ur work!!!! What a lil fic of Sirius and reader but like pre relationship where she's in the hospital (u can pick reason) and she refuses to see anyone and just asks for Sirius

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: hospital, mention of stitches

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

Sirius feels awkward and stiff as he pulls back the curtain, though for all he knows you’re too hopped up on pain meds to even know it’s him. Really, that’s the only reasonable explanation for the directions the nurse had just delivered: “She said she’ll only see Sirius right now.” 

He has no clue why you’d ask for him. He’s probably the least comforting of your roommates, and as soon as he catches sight of you, knees tented in front of your chest and hands clasped around your ankles, his worry for your choice deepens. 

Someone’s tried to clean you up, but they’ve done a shit job of it. There’s still blood crusted on your chin, and your face is blotchy, your cheeks smeared with dark gray like you’d wiped across them with your hands only to spread your makeup off to the sides. James had said you’d cried the whole car ride to A&E, but Sirius still wasn’t prepared to see you like this. His chest feels hollow and achy. 

“Hey,” you say, voice scratchy. If hearts have strings, you’re playing his like a fiddle. 

“Hey, doll.” He goes for a smile as he sits on the edge of your little cot, managing to sound halfway normal. “Come here often?” 

You start to grin, then stop like it hurts. Sirius stops, too. 

“Yeah, you know,” you say, “now and then.” 

“Don’t see why.” He makes a show of looking about him, at the papery blue curtain and beige-ish linoleum floors. “Place is sorta depressing.” 

You roll your eyes, and Sirius’ heart lightens to see you in a better humor. “Yeah, I think I’ve judged my hangout poorly. I’m dying to get out of here.” 

He’ll bet. You’ve been here hours longer than him. James had been the only one home with you when you’d tripped on the stairs and bitten through your lip, and Sirius and Remus had only found out when they’d gotten home and seen the note James left, his already scribbly handwriting worsened by haste and panic. By the time they’d arrived they’d missed most of the action (Sirius was secretly thankful for that) and James had filled them in before the nurse had come out to inform them that you’d gotten three stitches in your lip and summoned Sirius back. 

“I can understand that.” He gives you his best approximation of James’ easygoing grin. “You ready to go home then, gorgeous?” 

The shift is slight, but Sirius sees your bravado fade, a shyness entering your expression. “That’s actually why I wanted to see you,” you say.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t bother to hide his curiosity. “Why’s that?” 

“Because I know you’ll be honest with me.” 

He feels his eyebrows go up. “About what?” 

You shrink a bit, knees drawing closer to your chest. Your voice is small when you ask, “Is it awful? I mean, do I look awful?” 

Ah. Sirius can see why you’d want him for this, but you’re wrong in your assumption. He’d absolutely lie to you if he needed to, just like Remus or James would in his place. But you’ve asked for him, so Sirius tries to do right by you. 

“You could never look awful, dollface. Be sensible.” He squints his eyes teasingly, reaching for your ankle and giving it a reprimanding little shake. “It’s just a couple of stitches, you haven’t been warped unrecognizable.” 

You frown, and it’s even more upsetting than usual. Your eyes look heart-breakingly insecure. “Are you sure?” you ask softly. 

“Yeah, I’m fucking sure.” Sirius scoffs like you’re unbelievable. “You said it yourself, babe, I wouldn’t lie to you.” He definitely would, but there’ll never be an occasion for that. He can’t imagine you genuinely looking bad. “I can clean you up a bit, though, if you’d like.” 

You blink. “Um, yeah. If you think it would help.” 

“Brilliant. Sit tight.” Sirius gets up and starts going through drawers, sifting through medical supplies for something he can use. 

“Fairly sure you’re not supposed to do that.” You sound like you’re trying not to smile. 

“Fairly certain my taxes pay for this place, and they’ve left my best-looking roommate with a dirty face.” He finds a box of mini-wipes, turning back to you. “Don’t tell James I’ve said that.” 

“Oh, I’m definitely tattling on you,” you tease, and Sirius is caught between feeling triumphant and worried that you look very near to grinning. He has no clue how easy it is to tear your stitches. 

“What, you want us to match? That’s cruel, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes. “He won’t punch you.” 

Sirius huffs a laugh, holding you still with a hand on your jaw as he wipes gently at your chin. “You haven’t known him as long as I have.” 

Your brows flick up as you meet his eyes, disbelieving. “Our James? You really think our James would hit you for saying he’s not the best looking roommate?” 

“Well, not if you’re in front of me,” he muses. He throws out the first wipe, ripping open another. “He already feels bad for you, so maybe that can work in my favor. If you are going to tell him, lean on me as we walk out, okay, doll? Give me a fighting chance.” 

The corner of your lips twist as you close your eyes and Sirius wipes sideways across your cheek. “Yeah, fair enough. I’ll do my best for you.”

[baelabong]

ᴅʀʏ (ꜱᴍᴜᴛ) ᴅᴏᴍ!ɢ!ᴘ! ɴᴀᴛᴛʏ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Plot: natty wants to have control

Warnings: s e x, g!p, p in v, more i think

rq: yess

Pairing: G!P Natty x Fem!reader

------------------------------------------------------------

Looking at the mirror ahead of you, you were pleased with the makeup you put on today. Picking up your phone from the edge of the sink, you open your camera immediately to take photos.

But not before a hand came snaking around your waist. Seeing Natty’s reflection in the mirror you gasp lightly because she had texted prior she will be home late because of practice.

Nuzzling her head into your neck, breathing in your scent you let out a small laugh “hey baby, how was practice hm?”

You wrap your own arms around her arms as she lightly sways the two of you back and forth, bringing you a sense of comfort that you craved the whole day. 

Letting out a grunt of frustration she mumbled in your neck “it was terrible, nothing went my way and i dont wanna talk about it”

Frowning slightly at her response you turned your body around, your back pressed on the sink and she rested her hands on the sink with her head still nuzzled on your chest.

“Hey no, natty look at me”, looking up at you with pleading eyes she hums in acknowledgement 

“Y/n can you please let me do whatever i want to do tonight? I need a sense of control, please baby.” She breathes out “you look so good in your makeup too, I just want to see it all smudged because of me”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. The intensity in Natty's gaze made you weak in the knees, but you wanted to comfort her more than anything. Gently cupping her face, you brushed your thumb over her cheek, feeling the tension in her muscles.

"Of course, Natty," you whispered, your voice soft and reassuring. "Whatever you need tonight, I'm here for you."

Her lips curled into a small, relieved smile as she leaned into your touch. You could see the relief wash over her, the frustration from practice melting away as she found solace in your presence. Natty's hands moved from the sink to your waist, gripping you firmly as if anchoring herself to you.

"I knew you’d understand," Natty murmured, her voice low and husky, her eyes dark with desire. The intensity of her gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the air between you crackling with tension.

Without another word, she captured your lips in a fierce, demanding kiss, her hands roaming over your body as if she couldn’t get enough. You responded eagerly, desperate to give her whatever she needed, your body already trembling under her touch.

In a fit of desperation, Natty stumbles over her own jeans, wanting to relieve the tension in her pants as you help her, eyeing down her hard length. Getting back up, you connect your lips again, string of saliva connecting you two.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel Natty's frustration melting away, replaced by a burning, almost primal need. She broke the kiss just long enough to growl against your lips, "Turn around, baby."

You obeyed instantly, your heart pounding in anticipation as you faced the mirror once more. Natty’s hands were on you again, pulling you close, her breath hot against your ear. “I want you to watch,” she whispered, her voice dripping with authority. Grabbing her hard length she enters your pussy making you swallow her dick whole, making you both groan.

"You’re gonna watch me fuck you so hard, you're gonna get knocked up," she growled, her voice rough and commanding. The words sent a jolt of electricity through you, making you tremble as you met her gaze in the mirror.

"You want that, don’t you?" she taunted, her hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. "You want me to ruin you, don’t you, baby? Say it." Your body jerks forward because of the impact.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks, your body aching with need. "Yes, please Natty. M-more. I-i need more," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but it wasn’t enough for her.

"Louder," Natty demanded, her hand coming down sharply on your ass, the sting causing you to gasp. "I want to hear you say it like you mean it."

"Yes, Natty, I want it," you cried out, your voice trembling with need. "I want you to ruin me. Please."

A wicked smile spread across her face as she pressed her body against yours, her lips brushing against your ear. "That’s my girl," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you? So desperate for me to fuck you senseless."

Her words made your knees weak, and you could barely keep yourself upright as she began to trail kisses down your neck, her hands exploring every inch of your body with a possessive intensity. She tugged at your shirt, yanking them off as if they were in the way, her hands rough and demanding as her hands circle your hardened bud.

"You’re gonna look so pretty with your makeup all smeared," she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. "I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to think straight. That’s what you want, right? To be my little toy, to be used however I want?"

"Yes, please, Natty," you begged, your voice shaking with need. "I need you so bad."

"I know you do," she mocked, her hand wrapping around your throat as she forced you to look at your reflection. "Look at you, already falling apart for me. You’re pathetic."

Her words stung, but they only made you want her more. You whimpered, your body trembling as she tightened her grip on your throat, the pressure making your head spin.

"You’re mine," Natty hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "And I’m gonna remind you exactly who you belong to."

As you released, Natty kept going even as spurts of come filled you up making you shriek.

"Keep your eyes on the mirror," she ordered, her voice brooking no argument. "I want you to watch every second of this." The sound of squelching and your liquid dripping down your thighs make the scene even more lewd.

You nodded, your breath hitching in your throat as you looked at your reflection, your makeup still perfect for now but knowing it wouldn’t stay that way for long. The thought sent a thrill through you, and you could feel the anticipation building as Natty began to move faster, her hands gripping you with a bruising force.

The pleasure was overwhelming, a mix of pain and ecstasy that had you crying out, but Natty wasn’t gentle. She was relentless, driving into you with a fierce intensity that left you breathless, your body shaking with every thrust.

"Look at you," she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "You’re nothing but a desperate little slut, aren’t you? So eager to be fucked, so eager to be used. You love this, don’t you? Being my little whore."

"Yes, Natty," you gasped, barely able to form the words as you were overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. "I love it. I love being yours."

Her grip on your hips tightened as she slammed into you harder, her eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "That’s right. You belong to me, and I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t take it anymore."

You nodded frantically, your body trembling as you felt yourself reaching the edge, but Natty wasn’t done with you yet. She slowed her pace, drawing out your pleasure until you were whining and begging for release, your makeup now smeared as tears of frustration and desire streamed down your face.

"Please, Natty," you begged, your voice hoarse and desperate. "Please, I can’t take it. I need you. Please."

She smirked, clearly enjoying your desperation as she leaned down to whisper in your ear, "I know, baby. I know exactly what you need." 

“Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck, milk me dry baby” she grunts “take it all”

Then she sped up again, her movements more intense and punishing than before, driving you closer and closer to the edge until you were trembling and gasping, your body a quivering mess beneath her.

When you finally came, it was like a wave crashing over you, your body convulsing with pleasure as Natty held you close, her grip never loosening. She watched your reflection the entire time, her eyes filled with satisfaction as she watched you fall apart for her.

"That’s it," she whispered, her voice softening just slightly as she held you close, her lips brushing against your ear. "That’s my good girl. You did so well for me."

You collapsed against the sink, your body spent and trembling as Natty finally released you, her hands gently rubbing your back as you tried to catch your breath. 

In the mirror, your makeup was completely ruined, your face flushed and tear-streaked, but there was a satisfied, blissful smile on your lips.

Natty smiled down at you, her earlier frustration gone, replaced with a deep sense of contentment. "You look perfect, baby," she murmured, kissing your temple gently. "Absolutely perfect."