#seltzer because water is good

[0-memento-mori-0]

So how come I haven’t seen anybody talking about Wade fixing Logan’s ruined X-Man Uniform after the movie ??

Come on, he talks about how important that suit was to him as his only reminder of his friends, and the sleeves are ruined, the top is ripped off, and it’s covered in blood by the end of the movie. BUT, who had an entire montage of making his iconic suit and fine tuning it in the first movie ? Who knows how to sew, fix, and make a super suit actually DECENTLY and knows to remove blood stains with seltzer water and lemon??

What I’m saying is, Logan being scared Wade will ruin what tiny scraps he has left of that suit when Wade offers to fix it, and he actually fixes it perfectly, complete with the iconic sleeveless version because “those guns need to be free to breathe for the good of the world, we just saved it, I’m not covering those and risking it all again”

Play with that as you please

[withahappyrefrain]

Unraveled- Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob Floyd likes to think he can keep it cool. Then along comes a sundress.

Warnings: friends to lovers, smut, so much pining, language,

Bob Floyd didn't like to brag, but he considered himself pretty dang smart and sensible. 

He knew the ins and outs of every jet he has flown. Hell,  he could break it apart and put it back together again within a few hours, if that.  He was able to quickly assess a situation, weigh the pros and cons, and come to a sound decision. It’s why he was the top WSO for the mission in Miramar. 

So why has a piece of fabric thrown him for such a loop? 

All Bob was trying to do was be polite. You had mentioned taking an Uber to the Hard Deck tonight and Bob knew the polite thing to do was to offer a ride. After all, he wasn't going to drink. You would save money. It's what any good friend would do. It had absolutely nothing to do with the crush he had been harboring since your first debriefing. 

He was just trying to be courteous. The gentleman his Mama worked hard in raising. Getting to spend time with you, without the other members of your shared squadron around or loud music, wasn't even near the forefront of his mind when he made the offer. Bob was just trying to be a good friend. A good friend who just wanted to help. A good friend who was forcing himself to look at you through a platonic lens, not a romantic one. 

Bob liked to think he was doing pretty well at that. 

That is, until a dress came along and unraveled him. 

Perhaps you said hello when you opened the door.  You probably did, considering how polite you were. But all Bob could focus on was the way the fabric of your dress hugged your curves. 

And what little fabric there was. He had seen you in civilian clothes before. But never anything like this. His mind absolutely went blank when you hugged him and he could feel how much of your bare skin was exposed. Due to the halter style of the straps, nearly your whole upper back was now perfectly visible.

“Um you-you look um nice,” Bob barely got out. He was too busy trying to burn the feeling of your soft skin into his brain. You were warm, like a walking ray of sunshine. 

“Thanks! I got it yesterday and I figured with the weather being so nice, today was the perfect day to wear it!” you said, giving a little twirl. Bob tried to focus on the pattern of dress; how the green brought out your eyes. 

But all he could focus on was the curves of your body, now being highlighted. The way the halter style made your breasts swell and the lack of a bra very apparent. How the fabric stopped at the top of your thighs when you spun, giving Bob a peek of what he often thought about late at night. 

This was bad. 

“I take it you came early to watch an episode of Love Island before we leave?” You asked as he stumbled walked in.

The truth was, Bob wasn’t a fan of reality TV. But he watched because it gave the two of you a chance to talk to one another. Just as friends, nothing more. When watching the silly show, you two could make jokes, talk about things other than work. 

“Yeah! Ready to watch hot people make poor decisions again,” Bob said with a nervous laugh. The joke failed to put him at ease. If anything, it reminded him that he was about to spend at least forty minutes with you and that did not include the drive to the Hard Deck. 

“You’re using my tagline!” your smile lit up your whole face. Bob was certain it could light up the whole turmac. All he could do was nod, his heart fluttering when you grabbed his hand, leading him into the living room. 

"I have some kettle corn in the microwave for you! I also made cherry seltzer water!" Bob could feel heat rush to his face. You always remembered the little details that no one else seemed to pick up on; that he loved salt but had an even bigger sweet tooth. How in an attempt to cut back on soda, he switched to sparkling water. His favorite flavor was cherry because it reminded him of cherry coke. 

"Did you see the video I sent you?" You gently squeezed Bob's hand as you two sat down. 

"Y-yeah. You're absolutely right, having three otters would be my dream." Ever since learning about Bob's favorite animal, you had sent him every otter-related video you came across while scrolling the internet. You even got him a pair of Otter socks for his birthday.  It was the fact you paid attention to seemingly minor details that made Bob fall head over heels for you. 

But alas, you were a coworker. The problem at hand wasn't whether it was allowed, ‘incest’ (as Jake unfortunately called it) happened all the time in the Navy. After all, there were only so many things you could do on a ship before switching to people. No, it was the potential issues that came with dating. Rejection being the main one. Bob had no trouble believing you and he could be professional should you two date and it not work out. That happened all the time. What worried him was rejection. Having to go to work everyday and put on a facade, that things were fine. When deep down, he knew he'd be heartbroken. And even worse, he'd no longer have your friendship. 

So Bob settled, as he often did when it came to love. He took comfort knowing he'd still have you, albeit as a friend instead of a partner. That should be more than enough. For the last few months, he had convinced himself that it was enough. 

But God was it difficult when you bent over right to grab the remote. 

The hemline of your dress inched upwards, showing off the backs of your upper thighs and- 

he could see the swell of your ass. He could see the flash of red lace. Your skin looked so soft and supple and you were so close he could just reach out and- 

Oh God he was hard. Oh no. 

This was bad. Worse than that time he popped an erection during sex ed in middle school. There, he at least had a jacket and a desk to cover it. 

But here? He was a full grown adult and San Diego’s seventy degree weather didn't give him any additional layers. Bob looked around, desperate for something, anything, to hide his cock that was currently straining against his jeans. 

Thank fuck for your love of decorative pillows. 

He grabbed the closest one, shaped and designed like a pomegranate. You were so excited the day you picked it up from some Facebook Marketplace deal. He had driven you, partly out of wanting to spend time with you, partly because he wanted to ensure you were safe. It was adorable and definitely shouldn’t be used for nefarious purposes, such as hiding a boner. This was wrong, so fucking wrong.   

Bob was trying to think of anything and everything that would kill this boner. But his spot on the couch aligned perfectly with the entranceway of the kitchen, where you currently were, rummaging around to fix Bob a drink. 

What ever happened to doors? Why were people so opposed to doors? Doors were lovely. You could close doors. Every time he tried to think of something, you were right in his line of view, turning every thought into something more devious. 

His family? His family would love you. If you two got married you could make  your own family. 

Work? You worked with him, in that damn flight suit that clung to your every curve. No one else could make that god forsaken green fabric look good.  

School? God, you were so smart. The top of your class. And witty, always ready with a clever, underhanded comeback. It’s how you two originally bonded, both having muttered something about Jake under your breath. 

Bob Floyd was screwed. Thoroughly. 

He tried to comfort himself with the fact that soon you two would be watching people in their early twenties making the dumbest decisions over dating. If anything were to be a boner killer, that had to be it. He just needed to make it through then. 

“Bob?” Your lithe voice broke him out of his thoughts. Not that it was much of a reprieve, with the way you were standing at the kitchen entranceway with a glass of sparkling water in each hand, “You good?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He said with an all too eager nod, desperate to convince you this was truly the case. Fuck, you were so beautiful. And you were showing so much skin. He had seen you on the beach before, adorned in athletic shorts and a sports bra. But this was different. 

The dress was far too nice for the Hard Deck. No, you deserved to be taken to a nice restaurant, one with a lovely outdoor patio. The image of you sitting on a lovely chair with a glass of wine in your hand came easily to Bob. It was also the perfect dress for a picnic, particularly at the nearby park, specifically in that little secluded area. God, the idea of you laying down on a red and white checkered blanket, the hem of your dress pushed up your thighs as he leaned over you, ready to take you-

Bob leaned forward, clutching the pillow as he tried to will himself the strength to get it together. 

“Bob? Are-are you okay?” You quickly placed the drinks down on the coffee table, rushing over to kneel in front of him on the couch. 

Oh what a sight that was, you looking up at him with big eyes, full of concern. Your hands were on his biceps, and Bob knew if he looked down he would have the perfect view of your breasts. 

 It was so hot and also the very last thing Bob fucking needed. 

“I’m good. Stomach doesn’t agree with what we had for lunch, that’s all.” Lying was never good, his mother instilled that in him at an early age. But in this scenario, Bob was certain the truth was much worse. 

“I’ll go get you a ginger ale!” Bob opened his mouth to protest, though no words came out due to seeing not only the tops of your thighs, but a flash of your ass as you spun around to go back into the kitchen. 

For a few seconds, the  supple, plump flesh was so close to him. Practically within arm’s reach. 

Maybe he should just leave while you were in the kitchen. 

But that would be rude. Not only rude, but it would raise your suspicions if they weren’t high already. Plus, he had already promised you a ride to the Hard Deck. He couldn’t just leave you hanging, not after you brought a dress for the occasion. He may be in dire need of a cold shower, but the last thing Bob Floyd was going to do was hurt you. He squeezed the pillow, knuckles turning white as he tried to find strength. For once, he couldn’t wait to start an episode of Love Island. Hell, he would even take an episode of The Bachelor at this point. 

“Here ya go,” You sat down on the couch next to him, glass of ginger ale in hand. You even remembered how much ice he preferred in his cold beverages. You were perfect. 

“Thanks,” Bob slowly took one hand off the pillow, the other still holding onto it for dear life. 

“You uh, like that pillow?” You chuckled, though your nerves still shined through. 

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Bob looked down, ensuring his big problem was still covered, “It uh, helps my stomach!”

You raised an eyebrow, though you didn’t further question it. Instead, much to Bob’s delight, you reached for the remote, clicking through until you finally landed on the desired episode. With a shaking hand, Bob gulped down the ginger ale, promptly placing it on the coffee table so he could have both hands on the pillow. 

The room was silent, saved for the ridiculous conversations happening on the TV screen. Normally you and Bob would be shoulder to shoulder, laughing as you both narrated your opinions on the contestants. But today Bob was rigid, his fingers still clutching to the pillow on his lap. He hadn’t even touched the bowl of popcorn. 

"Do you like my dress?" It took everything in Bob not to groan at your question. The last thing he needed was a reason to look at you. But how could he deny himself such a chance? So he put on his best smile as he turned to face you.    

"Uh yeah it's lovely. I'm sure everyone will love it-" 

"I got it for you.” Your voice was soft as you hit the pause button on your remote, eyes remaining on the screen. 

The words hit Bob like a freight train. 

"What? Why would you-"

You shrugged, fingers toying with the short hem of your dress, "I thought maybe, if you saw me in something different, something that wasn't my flight suit or a tee shirt, that maybe you would finally notice me?” 

You finally looked him in the eyes, “Maybe you'd finally notice that I've been trying to flirt with you for the last few months?" 

Bob opened his mouth just to promptly close it. He thought back to the last few months, now analyzing every seemingly ordinary interaction he had with you. 

The way you insisted on sitting next to each other during lunch. As well as during briefings. And when you went to the Hard Deck. Whenever a guy tried to flirt with you there, you turned them down, focusing your attention back on him, continuing your conversation about his latest D&D campaign or a Lego set you had found that reminded you of him. The way you always touched his arm, your hand lingering on his skin as you bore your eyes into his. How you always texted him. How you baked a cake for his birthday. The little trinkets you’d bring him. 

Oh god, he was a fucking idiot. 

The tension in the room was thick. You, sitting restlessly as you waited for Bob to acknowledge what you had said. Bob, processing your words and what they meant. 

“How long?” Bob asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You chuckled as you shook your head, “Honestly? First day. We hadn’t even spoken yet. I saw you walk in and you just were….not only handsome but also looked so kind? Then you offered me a spare pencil, made that comment about Jake’s driving and I….was a goner.”

“I saw you talking to Halo before the briefing room was open,” He confessed, “She said something that made you laugh and it….it was the prettiest sight I had ever seen.”

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, huh?” You both stared ahead at the TV, still too fearful to face each other. 

Bob dryly chuckled, “Yeah….a lot of time. Months, if we’re being more exact.” 

The two of you remained in silence, your words sinking in. Neither sure what should be said, if anything should be said. Until finally, you spoke up. 

“Bob? What’s underneath the pillow?” 

His hips shifted, involuntary, “What?” For a moment, he forgot about the darn pillow and the erection he was covering with it. 

The cluelessness in his voice brought a giggle, “The pillow? Why are you using it to cover your lap?”

Bob sighed, “Can I at least kiss you first?” 

You nodded, moving to close the gap between you and Bob. Pillow be damned, his hands cupped your jawline, giving you a sweet smile before leaning in, closing the gap between your lips and his. 

Bob Floyd’s lips were soft, no doubt due to the sweet mint chapstick you'd watch him apply countless of times. You didn't want to admit how often you'd wondered about the taste, what his hands would feel like on your body. God, they were huge. His thumbs rested comfortably on your jawline, but you could feel his other fingers spanning your neck, down to your collarbone. 

The first kiss was gentle, practically modest. Your lips were only apart for several seconds, if that, before connecting again. 

You easily found his shoulders, grasping them for purchase. The gap between your bodies was too much, Bob wanted to be as close as possible. So his hands trailed down your body, skimming along until they found the back of your thighs. Using his strength, he moved your body, situating you onto his lap. 

A high pitched gasp fell from your lips upon feeling the bulge that was straining against his jeans. Good god, he was thick. You had heard whispers, chalking it up to typical locker room talk. 

Nope, those rumors were one hundred percent true. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob groaned, hands exploring your soft curves. Worst of all, he sounded earnest, only making you want to touch him more. 

“I-I wore this on purpose ah-after all,” you confessed, finding it difficult to speak as he pressed open mouthed kisses along your exposed chest. 

Right. You wore this on purpose. To entice him. To see if perhaps he felt the same burning desire. Once realization hit him again, Bob’s hands moved along your back, just stopping above your ass. 

Wait, he was about to touch your ass. 

“We-we shouldn’t,” Bob mumbled, retracting his hands from your body. You stilled, a crestfallen look painting your face. 

“We shouldn’t?” Repeating the words felt like driving a knife through your heart. Had regret finally emerged, beating the rush of adrenaline? Was he going to regret this, ask that you two never speak about it ever again, pretend it never happened?

“I…” Bob sighed, “I need to take you on a date first.”

Bless his heart. 

Sighing, you relaxed your body into his, resting your head in the crook of his neck, “You’re too sweet, y’know that?”

Bob chuckled, “That's supposed to be my line.” 

His hands gave your hips a loving squeeze, causing you to nestle further into him, until your bodies were nearly molded as one. Your lips searched for his, trailing up his neck, his jawline, along the side of his button nose until finally reaching his soft lips. Bob shifted in his seat, causing you to do the same. As a result, you could feel his erection, despite the layers of clothes. 

“Good lord Bobby, you've just been walking around with all that?” Bob groaned, but not due to your words. No, it was because you had started moving your hips in circles, his erection now pressed against your covered core. 

“I’m- I’m trying to be a gentleman.” Bob couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to stop. He should stop. Maybe you two could skip the Hard Deck and go out to dinner. Then he could take you home and not feel as guilty. 

“You can be a gentleman later,” by throwing your arms over his shoulder you finally had access to his neck. His skin was so soft, so delicate. How could you not sink your teeth into his neck? 

Normally you'd have better self control than this. But you were ovulating and had six months of sexual frustrations and wet dreams- 

“You had dreams about me?” Uh-oh. That wasn't meant to be said out loud. Granted, maybe it was for the best to get everything out in the open. 

Timidly nodding, you explained, “Yeah. The days I didn't sit next to you were because….I had a dream about ya the night before.” 

A band had snapped within Bob, no doubt due to the numerous times you didn't sit next to him during briefings. 

Within seconds, you found yourself on your back against the couch, the bespectacled WSO hovering over you. There was a fire flickering in his blue eyes as he remained laser focused on your face. 

“After this, you're putting this dress back on and I'm taking ya out to dinner, is that clear?” his voice was gruff and deep, similar to when he did a hundred pushes that one day (that you definitely didn't think about while masturbating). 

Chest heaving, dress pushed up to your upper thighs, lips kiss bitten, God, you looked like an angel to Bob. He remembered learning about angels in church growing up. How pious they were, that seeing them was a sign of comfort, that they would guide one to safety, to a holy life. 

There was nothing holy about what he wanted to do to you. 

His mouth was hot, searing kisses along your skin. Your back arched into him, desperate for me. But he always seemed to pull away before you could get enough. Would you? Ever get enough of Bob Floyd? 

Finding an answer would have to wait, for now you wanted to relish in the feeling of Bob’s hands kneading your breasts. It was obvious you weren't wearing a bra, a fact Bob ob had spent forty minutes trying not to think about. He still felt a smidge of guilt, as though the newly drawn line between friends and more hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Was he even supposed to be doing this?

“You can keep going. I want you to.” You sensed his hesitation. In all the time you knew Bob, he had never taken someone home for a one night stand. He wasn’t like that. He needed time to build a connection, to feel comfortable enough to be himself. That’s why he loved spending time with you. With you, there was no need to put up a front, no need to be fearful of judgement. 

“And then afterwards, we can order some Thai food and continue watching the episode, if you want. Or we can just do that now,” your hands cradled his jaw, gently forcing him to look at you. He found a sweet, reassuring smile, similar to the one that made him smitten six months ago. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Bob could be blunt, and often was when it came to his colleague’s shenanigans. But with his own feelings? He always chose his words carefully. 

Hence why his admission took you some time to process. Bob could see it on your face; first your eyes widened, lips slightly parting as if driven by the need to respond immediately. But then your lips closed, your brain quickly gaining back self control. 

“I’m falling in love with you too Robby.” You were the only one who could call him that. It was that familiarity, that intimacy, that gave him the courage to move his hands to your hemline up to your hips, revealing the thin, lacy red fabric underneath. 

You were breathtaking. Always were. But this? This solidified things for Bob. You two had made a step forward in your relationship. Many things would still be the same. But there were now new things to experience. Simply another layer of intimacy had been added.

His long fingers skimmed over the fabric of your panties, every touch sending a spark of electricity along your spine. Every stroke caused a small gasp to fall from your lips, music to Bob’s ears. Lowering himself, Bob decorated your hips with opened mouth kisses. Finally, gaining enough courage, his fingers pushed your panties to the side. 

Fuck, you were wet. 

If there was any hesitation left in Bob, it died upon seeing how visibly aroused you were. He had done that. No one else. Lowering himself even more, he was now at eye level with your wet cunt. This wasn’t some vivid wet dream. 

When his touch licked a broad stripe up your slit, a broken moan fell from your lips, echoing off the walls. It was the prettiest sound Bob had heard. He wanted to hear it again. All the time. 

With more confidence, Bob begins lapping up your arousal, determined to taste every inch of you. His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer. Looking down, you see his glasses are now crooked, though you highly doubt Bob cares, given how his eyes are half closed in pleasure. 

Wait, was he grinding against the couch? 

The discovery caused your thighs to clamp over Bob’s ears, your hips thrusting upwards to get more of his talented tongue. Bob wasn't reserved around you, never had been. But this was a new side to him that you had wondered if it ever existed. Animalistic. Devouring. Loud. 

His groans vibrate against your core, only heightening the pleasure. Slowly, his right hand goes from your hips to your core, mouth moving to your clit as the long digits trace your opening. 

“Oh my God, please,” you all but beg, not quite ready to admit how often you thought about his fingers and how they would feel inside of you.

Always thinking about your comfort, Bob started off with just one finger. You tried to fuck yourself with it, your own fingers gripping the soft strands of his hair for better leverage. The thought of making you beg crossed Bob’s mind. Would you like that? Would you be open to that? There were so many new topics to discuss, so many new boundaries to explore now. 

You happily welcomed the stretch of two, three fingers. Bob found the little moans you let out to be quite adorable. He could feel his cock throb against his jeans, but pleasing you took priority. 

“C’mon honey. Wanna feel you come on my fingers.” His voice was low, husky even. 

“C-can you be inside me? Like your…your cock?” A broken groan fell from Bob’s lips at the very thought of being inside of you. 

“I don't….I don't think I'll last long,” he admitted sheepishly. Hell, he could probably come just from eating you out. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it sounded pretty good- bringing himself to the height of pleasure just from ravishing you. 

“I don't think I will either,” you giggled, “But we’ll….we have lots of other times to go slow.” 

Bob helped you sit up on the couch. “You wanna go to the bedroom?” He asked, thinking about how this could be more comfortable for you. 

Instead, you shook your head, hands moving to his jeans, hastily undoing the buttons. 

Now it was your turn to explore, to discover. There was a dark trail of hair that went past the waistband of his jeans. He wore boxer briefs. And Bob Floyd had the prettiest cock. 

His face turned bright red at the compliment, “Oh it's…I mean it's like fine, but it's not-” 

“Take the damn compliment Robert,” you all but scolded, eliciting a laugh from him, your favorite. The high pitch, near giggle one. The one that made your heart flutter. 

Feeling at ease, you moved so that you were hovering over Bob’s lap. Your fingers moved to the base of his cock, making you realize you would have to ease yourself into it. 

“I gotcha,” his hands found your hips, slowly easing you down. His sapphire eyes never left your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. He went slow, waiting until you made it vocally known you were ready for more. 

By the time you reached the base of Bob’s cock, you were a mess. You wanted him to move, to fuck you within an inch of your life. But he was also so big. The stretch was nothing you had experienced before. 

“Hey, we can take our time, okay? I know it's, that it's a lot,” he assured you, as though he could sense your internal conflict. His lips found yours, and in that kiss you found comfort. Bob grounded you, always had, whether it was up in the air or right here on your couch. 

How much time had passed, who was to say? You could recall both your phones vibrating a few times, no doubt messages from the rest of your squad. Those messages could wait. 

“I think I'm ready,” you whispered against Bob’s lips. He needed, digging his fingers into your hips to gain a better grip. With his help, you lifted yourself no more than a couple of inches off his cock, returning to the base. 

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Bob moaned. You just made Bob Floyd curse. Something not even a bird strike could do. That four letter word gave you the confidence to lift your hips up on your own accord, returning swiftly. Slowly, just an inch or two, which became several inches. Up and down motions turned to swiveling your hips in a circular rhythm. What was once a quiet living room, saved for a few small gasps and the static from the TV, had now become a symphony of melodic pants and groans. 

Bob could tell you were close. Your pussy was tightening around his cock more and more, your fingers dug into his broad shoulders, as if trying to anchor yourself. You practically whined at the sight of Bob taking two fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his tongue. He lowered them to where your bodies connected. 

Upon first contact with your clit, your head dropped to the crook of his neck, unabashedly moaning his name, hips moving in a now frantic motion. 

“That's it, I gotcha.” Fuck, we he going to talk you through it? Was Bob Floyd a talker? Ironic, considering at work he was known as a man of few words. 

“Feels s’good, being inside ya.” Fuck, he was a talker. You were doomed, “Wanna, wanna make us cum. Bet ya gonna feel even better when ya soak- fuck- soak my cock.” 

Your brain was hazy. Was this real? If it was a vivid wet dream, you never wanted to wake up. Was it wrong to hope that you were in a medically induced coma, so that if this  was indeed a dream, you wouldn’t have to wake up so soon? Surely, your friends and family would understand upon meeting Bob. 

Then he pointedly thrusted his hips upwards, reminding you that no, this wasn’t a dream. No, you wouldn’t wake up feeling frustrated and unable to look him in the eye. After this, you two could go out to eat, on a real date. Not some hey let’s get dinner that feels like a date in everything except in name. You could also order delivery and cuddle up on the couch. Maybe you could even shower with him beforehand, and see his bare body, find out what was truly hiding underneath that flight suit. Oh, he was deceptively strong, you always knew that. But to see it, to feel the hard planes of his muscles? Oh, that would be quite the joy to experience. 

“Sweet girl,” you clenched at that nickname, you wanted him to continue calling you that for eternity, “Let go. Know ya want it.”

“I-I do,” you all but whined. Bob found the noise cute. What other sounds did you make? What would you sound like if he kept fucking you after you came? What about if he ate you out for hours? Or teased you until you were teetering on the edge?

There were so many questions, so many areas to explore. But for now, Bob was satisfied with experiencing how tightly you clenched his cock, how you practically sang his name as you came. Your release triggered his, pulling your hips down until they were flushed against his. His lips smashed against yours, swallowing your moans. 

Then there was silence. No words spoken. Only the sounds of panting, you both clearly trying to catch your breath, and kisses exchanged, ones that neither of you could resist giving. 

Realization hits you like a freight train. “I’m on birth control.”

Bob’s eyes widened, “Oh thank God.” He was usually so good about asking, about pulling out. But you….you made his brain feel like cotton. 

“You saying you don’t want to have kids with me?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek to let him know you were only saying it in jest. 

“Not yet.” You sat up to find he had an earnest smile on his face, cheeks rosy and eyes shining in adornment. 

Bob Floyd was going to be the death of you. 

So you brushed several strands of sandy brown hair off of his forehead, replacing them with a kiss, "Gotta get me a ring first."

Luckily, you were going to be the death of Bob Floyd.

[jesuistrestriste]

cw (18+): sub!art, afab + femme!character, age gap, crying/dacryphilia, art being a sad and lonely hot guy in his forties, tashi and art never really got together, creampie

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dilf!art getting with a pretty young thing from down the block. . .

he always admired her effortless confidence and the way her body moved when she walked down the street to the corner store every weekend.

always watched her return from his brownstone apartment window; a pack of cinnamon gum and a case of peach seltzer in her hands.

she’s beautiful and bouncy and everything he didn’t get to have in his youth when he was too sucked into tennis to let himself live a little. he lost tashi to patrick. that was that. and he never tried dating again until about ten or so years ago.

they were all flings that crashed and burned their way through his thirties. meaningless moments where all he was left with was a wet dick and a heaviness in his chest. he hated it. he was done with it.

until her.

she was different.

she sparked a conversation with him one day when they ran into each other outside his doorstep. she was cracking jokes that only made her seem more intriguing because art didn’t understand the social context behind them— he was no longer hip and cool, he’d accepted it. but that, combined with the pop of her hip she did when she was making him laugh (not to mention the way she smacked her gum + batted her lashes when she smiled; all pearly whites) made him feel like even more of a creep.

but now she’s bouncing on his cock and gazing down at him while he gasps and squirms like a livewire underneath her.

they’ve only really known each other for a week and a half.

“say thank you, Artie,” she purrs, her hand tracing the spattered flush on his chest, “say it.”

he bucks his hips up as much as he can to meet her movements, and bites his lip hard enough to taste metal when his tip bumps her cervix.

“thank you, oh my god, thank you— thank you, thank you—! ha-aah-!”

he babbles; a broken record of whines and shaky moans. his throat hurts from all of the sounds being pulled from him when the most he’s talked all month has come from just a couple of boring, remote interviews about his athletic career.

and her, of course.

god, it’s all her..

he swallows and keens, and then his eyes are watering.

and then he’s sobbing. he’s choking on his tears and yet he’s still feeling the tight coil of warmth tense further and further and further-

“don’t cry,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss the wetness from his cheeks, her hips swiveling to ride him harder just as the first slimy blurt of his orgasm spills inside, “you’re a good boy, okay? you’re perfect… a total catch…”

she smells like candy. she’s wiping his tears now.

“oh fuck, thank you-uu—hnghh!”

art lifts his hips, his face crumpling with pleasure and sadness, before he yelps and his climax wipes him out. his whole body trembles as he feels his cock pulse and coat her pussy with gooey clots of his spend. he’s practically wheezing.

he grips onto her hips fiercely; like if he doesn’t squeeze hard enough she’ll just go *poof*, and then he’ll be alone again.

“.. ungh, ‘m sorry, im cumming inside you, im cumming, im so sorry,” he whimpers, the aftershocks leaving him feeling bare and weak. stripped of all of his armor. if he even had any left to begin with.

she kisses his shoulder gently, and then she’s dipping her glossy lips down to whisper right next to his ear. her dainty necklace chills his skin when it dangles from her body and meets his collarbone. she’s so close to him.

“don’t worry, Mr. Donaldson…

you’ll be a great daddy.”

[kisses4kaia]

god college!luke makes my emotions go haywire 😡😩 i’d honestly start dating someone else to spite him

you know what anon. ima need you to claim an emoji bc ur thoughts are TOO GOOD (also thank u sm for 1.5k💋)

so we’ve discussed previously that luke castellan does not get jealous easily.

however.

he never thought you would go this far. sure, you had danced on other guys at parties to get a rise out of him, maybe flirted here and there in front of him, but never this.

getting into a relationship—a serious relationship—with his frat brother? that was a new low. so what if he’d purposefully lead other girls into gross bathrooms at bar outings so you would see? this was uncalled for. how dare you?

so naturally, at your new boyfriend’s birthday party, when you’re sitting on his lap, helping him unwrap your present of a jean-paul gaultier cologne he’d wanted, luke���in classic luke fashion—thought this would be his chance. your sorority sister, drunk off of her wits—bless her heart—came up to you and whispered some slurred imperative about how you needed to get to ‘the square’.

your eyebrows furrowed at her as her eyebrows raised, questioning the significance of ‘the square’ and why the man who prompted her to ask chose there. you said no words, excusing yourself after finding her a water and alka seltzer.

“you really couldn’t help yourself, huh?” are the first words you say to luke, button up shirt open and lying on his back on the false grass. “me? you’re one to talk, sweetheart,” you rolled your eyes at his use of the nickname, crossing your arms as you stand over him.

beneath the twilight, your exposed shoulder skin glistened like the moon, just a sliver of it visible in the northern night sky. luke had obviously had something to drink or smoke, or both, because he slurred his words as he patted the turf next to him. “sit down. c’mon, like the good ol’ days,”

‘the square’ was a small patch of land in the middle area between his frat’s and your sorority’s backyards. it was insignificant to most everybody else, but you and luke had claimed it as yours on drizzly nights like these, when the owl called and adolescence snored. it didn’t even hold sexual reminiscences, for each night you spent on the square was spent just talking. he would gloat about some things he did over the summer, interrogate you on your sex life, laugh at your offense and crack bad jokes. he was the worst person to spend valuable time with, but you returned every night, nonetheless.

“i’m surprised, castellan. been here a full sixty seconds and you haven’t tried to fuck me,” you remained standing over his lax body, crossing your arms over your chest. “do you want me to try to fuck you? because i’m down,” he looks up at you with that smile of his. that toothy, million dollar, smile that reassures whomever it is on the receiving end that everything is okay and there’s not a thing to worry about.

you snort, giving in and sitting down. luke pulls you into his lap before your butt can even hit the cool grass, eliciting a yelp from you. his lips press against your shoulder, strong, warm arms wrap around your waist and you can’t help but melt into the body beneath you. “luke,” your voice is meant to be a warning, supposed to remind him and yourself that you belong to another and this was not right, but he did nothing except for hold you tighter and smile against your skin.

“he doesn’t make you feel like i do.” he spoke the words out of your mind, the voice of truth you swallowed down with a knowing conscience that it would rise to the surface eventually. this wasn’t what you wanted. your single goal wasn’t to make luke jealous, it wasn’t even to show him what he was missing. you just wanted it to be different. you wanted somebody to take you seriously enough to call you theirs.

but anybody who did wasn’t him.

“luke,” this time, you weren’t trying to ward off anything. this time, you were welcoming him and all his invasive, rude, luke-like, traits and the pain you knew would come with letting him in once more. “i know, baby, i know.” he said no further words before flipping the pair of you over and letting your back onto the ground. you focused on none else other than the feeling of his lips finally landing on yours, the trace of his fingers across your denim skirt’s hem. “can i?” luke’s fingers dipped past the fabric, drawing swirls on your skin. “mhm, yeah,” your smile is audible and spreads to luke’s lips.

if there was one thing luke always did, it was worship you. this time was no different. his lips were everywhere, and when they weren’t pecking kisses all over you, he was breathing praises like you were a mortal saint against your skin. and when he entered you, he fucked you like he couldn’t believe he got the chance to feel you again. but he knew what the outcome of this would be; of course he did.

you didn’t know him as a particularly selfish lover, but the way he chased his high, rutting his hips against yours to the point of overwhelmed stuttering suggested that to be true.

and when it was all said and done and the past hung in the air like a wonder of the world, luke stood and looked down at you like you previously did him.

“break up with him.”

“why?”

“you know why.”

there was no denying that, so you did none else than nod.

“yeah. i do.”

[erwinsvow]

rafe thinks you’re spoiling him.

it doesn’t seem that way to others, maybe, with the obviously pampered way about you—expensive jewelry that floats on your skin and never having to wait more than a few days for something new that’s caught your eye. at first you were awfully shy about it, flushing if he showed up with a new gift before a date and hiding your head in his arm if he offered to buy you the shoes you kept staring at in the store. you’ve grown into it now—which pleases him, a lot—mostly because no one else knows how much you’re spoiling him. 

making sure you have whatever your little heart wants is the least he can do to repay it, he thinks, looking down and into your concerned eyes, your hand resting softly against his chest.

“rafe? did you hear me?” you ask, and he tries to snap out of it, really he does, it’s just getting harder around you. 

“hm?” he murmurs, still a little dazed.

“i think we should stay in tonight,” you repeat, moving your hand so the back of it is flat against his forehead, and then his neck. “you seem warm, i think you’re getting sick.” 

he feels weird, not because of the cold—he already expected that since wheezie and sarah were coughing and sniffling up a storm earlier that week—but from the way you look distraught, just from the idea that he might not be feeling well.

“aren’t your stupid friends comin’ tonight-”

“who cares?” you interrupt, hand coming down to his to guide him upstairs, since you know he won’t budge unless he’s dragged. you get him into bed a little later, running your fingers through his hair until he falls asleep with one hand and canceling your plans with the other. when he wakes up, you’re not there, and he jerks upright, hand reaching for his phone to call you. the door opens and his body relaxes instantly, falling back into the pillows you had arranged carefully for him, bottles of water and gatorade and cough medicine in your hands.

you make him drink it, and you don’t even look grossed out while he’s coughing up green stuff or drooling onto the pillow. he hears your soft laugh and the feel of a damp towel on his skin—and he thinks in his delirium that this must be what getting spoiled feels like.

the next week he’s back in business, at some house party with kelce and topper trying to sell double to make up for being out of commission last week. you float around with your friends, nursing one of those canned seltzers that taste like juice to him but are enough to get you tipsy. when you find him after maybe thirty minutes of being alone you curl up on the couch, your feet settling on his lap and head leaning on the armrest. you are a little drunk—he can tell—but he stares down at you intensely, because he’s a little drunk too. 

he’s thinking some sappy shit, about how pretty you look like this—dolled up and giggly from the alcohol, your short dress showing him lots of soft skin that he wants to kiss. you sit up when his hands move to your knee, focusing on him with that sweet, concerned look. he wishes you wouldn’t—it makes him want to fuck you right here, infront of all these people, because he can’t stand how it makes him feel.

“are you okay?” you ask softly, your own hand resting on his shoulder.

“why wouldn’t i be?” he asks, taking another sip of his drink. you look relieved when he says it.

“nothing. just checking,” and then you lean back again, smiling again. 

you do that again, he notices, a few weeks later—the morning after another party, a longer one. he dropped you at home because he had shit he needed to finish up, but you call him first thing when you wake up. he listens to your calming voice on his phone.

“did you sleep okay?”

“yeah, kid.”

“did you have water yet? and a tylenol?”

“yes, kid.”

“oh-okay. good. i have to check, i worry about you-”

“get your ass ready. takin' you to the store.”

you agree, if not a little tentatively. you worry since you don’t want rafe to think you’re only with him since he spoils you like this, and you tell him as much. 

“y’know, we can just go to the movies. or the beach, i don’t even need more shoes at this point-”

“thought you girls always need more shoes?”

“maybe before i met you, rafe. this is just silly, let’s go get ice cream instead-” he stops your sentence with his hand on your face, fingers squeezing your cheeks together.

“pick out a dress, and let me rip it off later, yeah?” my way of saying thank you. 

“yeah,” you squeak. you pick out the first dress on the rack and wait in anticipation.

[writinginthesecrettrees]

Think about Sammy and he's five years old and he says "Spicy water!" when the waitress at the diner asks what he wants to drink. And she laughs and looks at John for an explanation but he doesn't have one and can't bring himself to admit that his nine year old is the one who usually takes care of the kid.

She brings a seltzer water and Sammy takes a sip and makes a face, because it's not the spicy water but the fizz is good too and he loudly declares that to the waitress. She smiles and gives the family a free slice of pie because the kids are so cute.

Later that night, back at the motel, John sees Dean pouring holy water into Sam's sippy cup and saying "you can't tell Dad that the water's spicy" and his heart shatters all over again.

[theweepingangelofcas]

Eat The Rich, Feed Them to the Cats - Moriarty Bros x Reader

Anyone else in the USA having a crisis? Me too! Let's all maladaptive daydream together that our sweet dear Sherlock boys are with us, on our side.

Title is inspired by a fav nonprofit cat shelter of mine, Wonky Hearts Animal Haven. Please go check them out. They have stories that are truly so heartwarming and uplifting, it's a great distraction.

(No, I do not believe all men are bad. I myself have a male fiance whom I love and trust very much. But the election has left me feeling helpless and scared, as though my rights or my body don't matter. I'm writing this to vent. I respect if your political opinions are different than me, but I ask that you do not attack me in the comments, my dm's, etc)

******************

William Moriarty

You two had been together for years now, since you two were teenagers. You've shared everything. Hopes, dreams, ideals... So when he saw someone try to harass you simply because of your gender? That won't do.

"Oi! Pretty broad!"

The random man's words did little to phase you. You didn't even speed up your footsteps. But your dear William stopped in his tracks.

Oh, yes, that's right. No one had ever been stupid enough to cat call you with him around before.

"Y/N..." his gaze had turned to the man, unblinking, "Did you not hear what that man just so crudely yelled at you?"

You shrugged, stopping in your tracks to try and let him catch up to you. He didn't dare move.

"It's nothing, William. Happens all the time to us ladies."

If you didn't know better, you'd say his eye just twitched.

"Is that so? And here I was, thinking it was mostly noblemen who were the rotten part of our society."

He smiled then. Like his mind wasn't 100% alongside you anymore.

His cane left the ground, being weilded in both hands almost like a baseball bat.

Or, more accurately, perhaps he was holding it like a mace.

It was safe to say, no man went within a few dozen meters of you for quite some time after that. After all, you always had your dear William with you now.

Louis Moriarty

Oh, did you think William would be protective?

Ha!

Louis is SO MUCH WORSE

To be completely fair, he was already practically a guard dog for both you and William. You had been engaged to him for a few months, and each passing day he just wanted to spend more time by your side.

This was how he found out how truly awful some men could be.

You two had boarded a train back to Durham, coming back from a lunch date together. You two had managed to score a semi-private spot in the lunch car, meaning that he could hold you without too much fuss from the rest of society. One hand was in yours, the other wrapped around your waist. You had both ordered drinks, his a sophisticated Earl Grey tea, yours a refreshing seltzer water. That was when your waiter came back up to you both.

"Sir, I know this is quite uncouth of me to say, but the gentleman a few seats down won't stop staring at your lady friend there." He gestured to you, specifically your chest, and you seemed to shrink into your seat instantly.

Louis scowled, "Thank you for informing me. You're dismissed, good sir."

The waiter stepped away, and Louis's grip on you got tighter.

"It's fine, darling. You mustn't fret." You tried to comfort him, but his scowl only deepened.

"I will fret." He turned his head, catching eyes with a man a few booths down. He did, indeed, seem to be staring at you. "And I'm going to teach him to respect others, or die trying."

You saw Louis stand, and approach the man in a terrifying calmness. He shook his hand, and gestured for him to follow him.

If you happened to see a person-shaped figure get thrown out of the train that day, no one has to know.

Albert Moriarty

He understands deep, seething rage. He dealt with it much when he was younger. So he understands that the best way to deal with it, is to take care of it yourself.

Normally, women weren't allowed into a prestigious college. But Albert, with his power and wealth, managed to convince the school that having one woman among its ranks wouldn't hurt. Hence, you being halfway through a science and medicine degree. Albert supported you all the way through. Your husband truly was a lovely, understanding man.

"It was fascinating, my love!" Your eyes lit up as you opened your textbook to that day's lesson, "We learned about the chambers of the heart, and all the illnesses and diseases that can correlate to it's health. Isn't that so cool!"

His smile widened at seeing you happy, "It certainly is, my dear. Do go on, teach me more about it."

You nodded, eyes bright, about to keep talking before-

"I'm sure anything is fascinating to a woman. But can she even understand it? Why, she should be at home, not trying to educate herself on something she could never possibly understand."

A man had approached you both. His smug grin was enough to dampen your joy immediately.

Albert blinked, his expression blank, before turning his head back to you, "My dear, would you like my walking stick, or do you want to use your textbook? After all, this fine gentleman seems in need of an anatomy lesson."

Your grin came back, "Your walking stick, please. I'd rather not get my favorite chapter dirty."

The man's eyes flew open as you took the wooden cane from Albert, weilding it more like a weapon than an aid.

"Now," The excitement in your expression was back, "I'll give you an anatomy lesson as I break all of your bones in alphabetical order."

[artificialstardust]

Okay I’m at the beach. It’s 1:08 in the afternoon. I’ve had two seltzers and have been collecting shells. So I’m thinking about Noah. Fucking obviously

Noah would have so much fun with a crow partner that just brings him every shiny thing they find at the beach. Just every find seconds “found you this” and this man smiles at every one and takes it.

He starts a small pile of the shells you bring him and it is already quite large at an hour in. He just lets you do your thing. A drink in one hand, shells in the other as you walk around the beach.

When you do go into the water he occasionally joins you. Sometimes you both bring boogie boards out and ride on some of the waves laughing. He also makes sure that you stay hydrated as well. And makes sure you have a snack or two as well as reapply sunscreen.

Then when you do finally go back to the beach house, he takes a shower with you because he likes the intimacy of that moment. He puts after sun lotion on your back when you’re done, then puts aloe on you as well. He knows you’re probably super tired so he asks what sounds good and finds the first place that has good reviews with what you suggested and takes you there. After dinner he drives back to the house. His hand on your thigh as you watch the lights of different places and cars pass by.

When you do get to the house, he puts more aloe on you before you put your pajamas on. Neither of you sleep with blankets that night from being warm from the sun still, but it doesn’t stop him from holding you close to him, one of the shells you brought him earlier sitting on the nightstand next to him.

[wandasaura]

Please please please please go on for hours about Duckys relationships with the friends! Please, I'm begging you 🙏 😢

okay well literally to start, her and maria have the most hot and cold relationship ever. ducky was, and still is, terrified of maria. there's just this dominating aura to her and its nearly worse than wanda's, and god does maria play it up just to see how flustered she can make ducky before natasha comes to her rescue with a condescending 'are you making fun of my baby, hill?'. ducky knows both wanda and natasha are aware of their banter and ongoing teasing, and they have the time of their lives watching it unfold knowing maria won't cross any boundaries. but it does always leave ducky with a pouty face and a huffy mood, much to everyone else's amusement. maria is sweet in the same breathe though. she looks out for ducky in an almost older sister way. if she notices that ducks had too much to drink at a party and wanda and natasha are busy in another conversion or just misplaced from the crowd, she'll take her under her wing, getting her water and coaching her through small sips (which is no small feat because sober ducky is stubborn and drunk ducky is an entirely separate beast complete with incoherent babbling and huffing). she also gives some of the best hugs ducks ever received, so if she's feeling particularly cuddly when she's drunk and her girlfriends aren't around, she's leeching onto maria and the woman is loving it.

carol is one of the only people ducky would classify as a genuine friend, alongside yelena and kate. they'll text throughout the months, nothing frequent but always keeping in touch and updating on major life events or just small mindless things. carol always brings ducklings favorite hard seltzer to any parties they have, just generally being thoughtful which makes ducky want to sob because she's never been truly seen until now. carol is the best at advice, alongside maria although maria is typically harsher in her delivery so carols always confided in first. she takes no bullshit, she'll call ducky out when she's being utterly ridiculous but she's supportive and her delivery is always soft. carol also gives good hugs, but that might just be because her biceps are practically the size of ducklings head and it feels like hugging a giant buff teddy bear every time carol pulls her in.

kate and yelena are equally her older sisters and her little sisters, theirs truly no in between. she talks to them at least once a week, and whether thats just to send yelena a horrible picture of natasha asleep in random places, or to send kate iMessage games when she's bored and in class (she knows better than to send them to wanda) they're always in cahoots. at parties, kate is dragging her around by the hand convincing her to do the craziest shit, meanwhile yelena is 50/50. sometimes she's right on board with the chaos, and other times she's threatening to sick wanda on ducky if she so much as thinks about doing anything crazy.

everyone else just kind of blends into the background. they're the family friends that you only really talk to at parties but you still get excited to see them when the inevitable greeting rolls around.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 5: I've Never Been a Bad Influence a Day in My Life

You and Joel get closer as you put together your lists. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 4, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Masturbation, fantasy about P in V sex. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

October, 2022

“Why can’t I add to your list?” You pouted a little, can of hard seltzer in your hand as your float drifted to the middle of Joel’s pool. 

“Because you’re gonna just use that power for evil, not good,” Joel replied. 

“Would not!” You shoved off the side of the pool with your foot, floating back toward the middle of the water. 

“Am I allowed to put shit on your list?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the pool, his feet in the water and a beer in his hand. 

You scoffed. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Well, there you go,” he shrugged. “Goes both ways.” 

“You’d be a dick about it!” You kicked the water in his direction but the spray of it fell short and you watched him try to not laugh. “You’d put things on there like ‘buy Joel beer for the rest of his life’ or ‘speak in a bad British accent for a week…’”

“Can you do a good British accent?” He asked, brows raised. 

“That is beside the point.” 

“What are you gonna add to my list, hm?” There was a teasing edge in his voice as he took a sip of beer. “Get a new wardrobe? Get Sarah a dog?” 

“OK, both of those are good additions,” you said, defensive. “But no, not what I was thinking.” 

“Then what, Goldie?” 

“Put in a hot tub,” you said, chin raised. 

He barked a laugh. 

“A hot tub?” 

“A hot tub,” you nodded. “How can I come over to your house and float in the water if it’s too cold to go in the pool? Which it will be in like… a few weeks. You need a hot tub.” 

“It’s already too cold,” he said. “That water’s below 70 degrees, couldn’t pay me to get in there now. Lucky I’m in this far as it is.” 

“See?” You said. “Hot tub.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” he shook his head. 

“If your list is shitty can I add to it?” 

“If you actually think my list is shitty we can discuss it,” he said. Your float drifted close to him and you were afraid, for a moment, that he was going to splash you. Instead, he just pushed the edge of it with his foot, sending you drifting back toward the middle of the water. “Still down to compare tomorrow night?” 

“Think so,” you said, taking a sip of your seltzer. “As long as you don’t mock me relentlessly for it.” 

“When do I not mock you relentlessly?” 

“Excellent point,” you said. “I should get better friends.” 

“Probably so.” 

“At least now you come with Sarah,” you sighed dramatically. “So I guess I’ll keep bugging you…” 

“God, you two are gonna kill me,” he said, trying to look serious but a hint of a smile on his lips. “Worst idea I ever had, lettin’ you two get to know each other…” 

You giggled a little at that. You and Sarah had become thick as thieves since you and Joel had reconnected now two weeks ago.

It was hard to believe that he’d only been back in your life less than a month. But then, it was hard to believe he’d ever been out of your life at all. You’d only gone a few days without seeing him since that night at the bar and, on those days, the two of you were almost constantly texting. It was the most natural thing in the world, having your life fall into step alongside Joel’s. It reminded you so much of high school even though you were in your 30s now, your lives moving in parallel until they collided at the end of the day and you came over for dinner or went and cheered on Sarah at her soccer game or Joel showed up at your door with beer. Even after all this time, he just knew you and you just knew him. You could read his posture as easily as a book, instantly knowing the kind of day he had by the way he opened the door or flopped on your couch. He seemed to be able to peer inside your mind on command, just a raised eyebrow or a sigh telling him everything he needed to know about how you were feeling and how to make it better. 

There was one day where you hadn’t intended to see him at all but it’d turned shitty and he just somehow picked up on it from the tone of your texts. New paperwork had come over from Gale’s attorney and you resigned yourself to spending the evening picking over the bones of your marriage with a bottle of wine and a wilted salad - because you definitely didn’t have the emotional energy to go by the grocery store - when Joel texted. It was a meme that you responded to with just an lol before going back to the paperwork. He FaceTimed just 30 seconds later and you frowned, answering it. 

“Hi?” You said brows raised. 

He nodded sagely. 

“What I thought,” he said. “You look like shit.” 

“Gee thanks.” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“For you you look like shit. What’s wrong.” 

You narrowed your eyes and he laughed. 

“What?” He asked

“How can you just tell?” You replied. “It’s weird.” 

“Come over,” he said instead of answering. He flipped his camera around and Sarah made a face, sticking her tongue out, her hair in two springy buns on the top of her head. 

You frowned. 

“Where are you?”

He turned the camera back around.

“Picking up pizza,” he said. “I’ll grab an extra cheese bread, come over.” 

“I’ve been drinking…” 

“We’ll pick you up,” he said. “Come over.” 

“Please?” Sarah jumped to try to get in the frame and Joel laughed, tilting the camera so she was visible. “It’ll be fun! OH! Spend the night! Come sleep over again, please?” 

Joel tilted the camera so he was back in the frame. 

“You really wanna disappoint my kid?” He asked. “C’mon.” 

“Yeah!” Sarah said, bouncing just out of frame again, just a bit of her bun appearing in the bottom corner as she jumped. “Don’t let down the kid, that’s just shitty.” 

“Hey,” Joel said but you could tell he was trying not to smile. She stopped bouncing. “Language.” 

“Sorry.” 

He turned his attention back to you. 

“Be there in 10,” he said. “Can’t let you just sit and wallow. Need pizza for that.” 

He and Sarah picked you up and Sarah insisted on cranking Taylor Swift in the car, signing Look What You Made Me Do into her water bottle in the back seat while you balanced warm pizza boxes on your lap, trying not to laugh when you and Joel exchanged glances at red lights. 

At dinner, you pulled a pepperoni off your slice of pizza and stuck it on the end of your nose and held very serious eye contact with Joel and Sarah as they spoke, nodding along carefully so as to not disturb the topping dangling from your face. Sarah tried very hard not to laugh and did a pretty good job of it until you made a face at her from across the table when Joel’s back was turned and she cackled, laughing so hard she almost knocked over her soda can.

“You bein’ a bad influence on my kid?” He asked when he handed you the paper towel you’d requested.

“Joel,” you said, deathly serious, pepperoni slice still on the tip of your nose. “I’ve never been a bad influence a day in my life.” 

 After dinner, as Joel did the dishes, you sat on the couch with Sarah and listened as she told you about one of her friends at school who hadn’t been as kind lately. You nodded along until Sarah seemed to run out of steam, slumping down against the cushion with a slightly tired look on her face. 

“Well,” you said. “Have you told her that you’ve been feeling hurt by how she’s been treating you lately?” 

She scrunched her face a little. 

“No,” she said. “But I thought that’d be pretty obvious…” 

You shrugged. 

“Sometimes it’s not. She may not even know she’s doing it. If I were you, I’d tell her that you’ve been feeling hurt and ask if she’s doing OK because it sounds like this is a change for her. If she’s hurting you that might be because her feelings are getting hurt somewhere else.” 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she nodded a little. “That’s a good idea.”

“I do have those occasionally,” you said and she smiled a little at you. 

The three of you watched part of a movie before Sarah went to get ready for bed and you eavesdropped from the living room as Joel read to her in her room, the door opened just enough to hear when his voice changed with the characters. 

“Peeta sighs,” Joel said like Joel before his voice shifted to something that sounded more boyish but still strong and deep, almost what you remembered from when you first met him. You smiled. “'Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping…’”

Joel flopped next to you on the couch when he was done and you held out your glass of wine. He took it, taking a big sip before handing it back. 

“You look tired,” you said, holding the glass. 

He shrugged. 

“No days off from this whole dad thing. Don’t really want a day off but still… get tired after a bit.” He looked over at you and smiled a little. “Thanks for talking with her. Think she needs someone like you around.” 

“Oh, someone who managed to tank her relationship and got stuck starting over in her 30s?” You asked. “That kind of someone?” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“A woman…” 

“Oh, is that all?”

He glared at you. 

“A woman,” he said again. “But one who’s lived some life, knows how to navigate the hard shit. One who’s willing to listen to her problems. She’s got me and Tommy for that but can’t help but feel like I’ve let her down by not giving her some kind of… I don’t fuckin’ know, feminine influence.” 

“Ahh yes, the mysterious feminine,” you nodded sagely. Joel picked up a pillow and smacked you in the stomach with it, making you laugh as you caught it and held it to yourself. “Joel, you’re doing great with her.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, serious now. 

“Yeah,” you said, serious, too. “You really are. She’s so lucky to have you, Joel. You have no idea.” 

“I’m lucky to have her,” he said, looking toward Sarah’s room for a moment before turning back to you. “So, you have the kind of bad day that you want to talk about it or the kind of bad day that you want to get fucked up about it?” 

“The latter.” 

“Then chug that wine,” he said, shoving himself off the couch. “And maybe change into your pajamas, I’m getting the tequila.” 

You swapped numbers with Sarah at breakfast the next day. You and Joel were both hung over and trying to pretend like you hadn’t been up until 2:30 on a work night getting hammered until you passed out in a heap on his couch only to be roused by a groggy Sarah at 7 in the morning. 

She’d taken to texting you then, sometimes just silly selfies, sometimes memes you didn’t really get, sometimes with questions about friends at school. You were pretty sure your heart melted the first time she called you Aunt Goldie, a sense of belonging wrapping around you that you’d never really known before. 

“We still on for tomorrow?” Joel asked, eyes following the slow, lazy path your float was making across his pool. “Make a night out of this whole project, kick things off right.” 

“Hell yeah,” you said, drifting back to Joel. He didn’t shove you back out to the water this time. “Did I tell you I’m seeing Anna for lunch? I cannot just go into that blind, I’ll need an out…” 

“She’s doin’ that well, huh?” Joel asked. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “She’s supposedly sticking with her program but… I feel like I should be a better sister and try to check in more but then it just feels like babysitting and that doesn’t seem right, either.” 

“At a certain point, she’s gotta do it on her own,” Joel said. “You’re her sister, not her mom.” 

“I know,” you nodded. “But I feel like I should have checked in on her more after our mom died. She was a teenager and I just left her alone…” 

“You were 20 years old,” Joel said gently. “Not like you were equipped for that shit.” 

You shrugged and took another drink. 

“Hey,” he said, nudging your float gently, just enough to make you look up at him. “Don’t be hard on yourself for that. You were handed a shit situation and you did what you could with it. Trust me, I know.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Ended up in a similar boat with Tommy. Spent years - literal years - bailing his ass out of jail and begging him to get his shit together. Eventually he did a stint in the army and got it figured out. At least a bit. She’ll get there. But it’s not your job to get her there.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “You’re probably right.” 

“Who, me?” He asked, mocking. “Right? Never thought I’d see the day…” 

“Shove it,” you splashed at him, the water dripping down his face and soaking his t-shirt. You snorted as you watched him fight the urge to laugh. 

“Gonna pay for that,” he said, setting his beer down on the side of the pool and grabbing your float as you tried to paddle away. 

“No!” You shrieked and laughed, shoving your seltzer into the cupholder as more of you ended up in the cold pool water than you really wanted in your rush to escape. 

“You started it!” Joel was leaning precariously over the water now, trying to splash you again while keeping you from retreating. “Shoulda just kept those little hands to yourself…” 

“They’re not little!” 

He yanked your float back toward the side of the pool and nodded down at one of your hands.

“Freakishly small…” 

“Yours are just freakishly big you mutant!” You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and watched as he realized a second too late what was about to happen. 

“Oh shit,” his eyes went wide and you laughed in victory before you pulled him all the way into the pool, jeans and all. He brought you down as he went, the float capsizing and sending you and your mostly empty drink can into the cold water with a sharp yelp. 

You went under, the chlorine stinging your eyes as you twisted and tried to right yourself below the water. You and Joel surfaced at the same time, not even a foot apart and gasping for breath, laughing as you tried to brush your soaked hair back from your face. 

“It’s so cold!” You shivered and splashed at him before crossing your arms tightly over yourself. 

“Why are you complainin’ to me?” He shivered back. “You’re the one who wanted to be in the damn pool…” 

“In the floatie!” You said. “I was mostly dry until you got involved!” 

“Got justice you mean,” he said, reaching for your can and pulling it out of the water, dumping it out before setting it on the side of the pool. “You’re the one who put us in here…” 

“You’re the one who was being mean,” you said, reaching out for him and pressing your cold fingers to his chest, the heat of him still apparent even in the water. You sighed contentedly. “That’s better…” 

“Jesus, what are you, ice?” He griped, tugging you against him with a little yelp. “Gonna fuckin’ freeze to death if you’re not careful… ridiculous…” 

You giggled once but pressed yourself closer to him, soaking up his heat and pressing your cold fingers to his exposed skin. 

“OK, you could be less mean about it,” he said, pulling back from you just enough to scowl down at you. “Frozen fuckin’ hands…” 

You laughed and realized, very suddenly, how close you were to him. You weren’t sure the last time you’d been quite this close to him, the last time you could feel every line of him through his clothes, the last time his mouth had been that close to your own. Your heart sped up. His eyes searched yours and you could feel his breath on your skin and suddenly, you weren’t close enough to him. Not close enough at all. 

“Dad?” Sarah’s groggy voice called from the sliding glass door, making you jump, both of your heads turning toward her. Her face was scrunched and a curl had broken free of its braid, sticking straight out from the side of her head. “Is everything OK?” 

“Course it is, baby girl,” Joel frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be? What are you doin’ out of bed?”  

“You’re being loud,” she groaned. “You’re never loud.”  

“M’sorry kiddo,” Joel said, separating from you and working his way to the edge of the pool, pulling himself out of the water and dripping on the stone edge. “Gimme just a second to get Goldie out of the water before she freezes to death and dry her off, I’ll come tuck you in again in just a minute…” 

“Can I get another chapter?” She said it fast, the words all strung together, her eyes big. “Please? They just got into the arena and…” 

“We’ll see,” he said. “But only because it’s Friday and you’re sleeping over at Emma’s tomorrow so you won’t get one then. Inside, go on.” 

He watched her go and then went to the lounge chair at the side of the pool, getting the only towel he’d brought outside and holding it away from his body, spread open wide. 

“Hurry up, before I change my mind,” he said. 

“Such a gentleman,” you said, trying not to let your teeth chatter and trying to shove the ache that was still growing all hollow and wanting inside you down deep. You got out of the water and he wrapped you tightly in the towel, his arms going tightly around you. 

“Not really,” he said, pulling you back against his broad chest and squeezing you so the water from him soaked into the towel before he shook his shaggy curls over you so drops of water got all over your face as you laughed. “There, cured you of THAT notion…” 

“Thanks so much,” you said wryly as he released you. You turned to face him as he ran his fingers through his soaked hair and his shirt pulled up just enough that you caught a glimpse of the smooth flesh around his hips and you found yourself drifting closer to him again before you stopped yourself. Joel put his arms down and seemed to notice exactly where you were, just looking at you for a moment before he cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“I should go tuck Sarah back in,” he said. “Get into something dry so I don’t get her all soaked…” 

“Right,” you said, stepping back from him. “Sorry we woke your kid up because you just couldn’t leave well enough alone…” 

“I will throw your ass back in that pool,” he said, going to open the door for you. “Don’t try me.” 

“Oh don’t worry Miller,” you teased. “I know just what you’re capable of.” 

He started toward the stairs, a little trail of water in his wake as he went, and you watched the pull of the wet fabric of his shirt over his shoulders. You swallowed, hard.

“I’m just going to head out,” you said and he stopped, turning to frown at you. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “Really should go wash this chlorine out of my hair. But see you tomorrow?” 

“With the list?” Joel asked. 

“With the list,” you answered. 

“Lookin’ forward to it,” he said, turning to go up the stairs again before looking back over his shoulder. “Drive safe, Goldie.” 

He didn’t wait for a response, just heading for his room. 

Your heart was still racing. 

You left the towel draped over the banister and just pulled on the oversized t-shirt you’d put in your bag before going to your car. 

You tried not to think about Joel as you drove home. 

It didn’t do you any good to think about him that way. It was Joel. He didn’t see you that way, drifting in that direction was what had ruined things so many years before. You’d just gotten him back, things were so good again, you felt like you belonged again, you couldn’t fuck that up, not because you’d never been able to move past a school girl crush. 

But you wanted to kiss him. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him. 

You tried not to think about kissing him. You tried not to think about what happened after the last time you’d kissed him. How quickly everything had dissolved, how you’d gone from picturing a future with Joel - a different one than you’d held in your mind outside of fantasy before - to running as far and as fast as you could in a matter of hours. 

It’s Goldie, he’d said then. It’s the worst thing that could happen, I wish it was anybody else…

You flinched at the memory, shoving it away. No, you didn’t think about that, not when you could help it. Just like you didn’t think about the way Joel’s lips felt against your skin, how his fingers - warm and think - had traced over you, how he made you feel so clearly seen and adored in a way that no one else had before, in a way your husband had never really seemed to. How he still made you feel that way. 

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself as you parked, dropping your head to your steering wheel with a groan before you went in your house, closing your car door with a little too much force. 

You showered and forced yourself to keep your hands away from your aching slit. You were not going to fuck yourself in your bathroom to the idea of sleeping with your best friend. You weren’t. You weren’t a teenager anymore and you weren’t going to act like one. You were better than this.

Your hair was still damp when you gave up on getting any writing or grading done and went to bed, an almost frustrating, throbbing ache between your thighs. You stared at the ceiling in the dark for a while before you all but threw the covers off and rifled through your nightstand for the discreet little pink vibrator you’d bought years ago when you’d first figured out that, while your husband had many talents, making you come wasn’t one of them. 

You went to your usual fallback for porn but didn’t find anything that was really working for you, the ache of longing just getting worse as you gently toyed with your clit under the covers in the dark. Your cunt was slick, your wetness seeping down to your nightie and coating your fingers. It felt like forever that you’d been touching yourself and getting nowhere when the batteries on your vibrator died and you whimpered, kicking your legs down into your mattress in frustration. 

“Goddammit,” you moaned into your pillow, tossing your phone and vibrator aside, the ache in you worse than you’d ever really remembered it being before. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep like this, your whole body drawn tight and needy. You fumbled in your drawer for the charging cable and plugged the vibrator in before sighing and staring up at the ceiling again. 

Your thoughts drifted to Joel again. You couldn’t help it, he’d felt so good against you in the pool. He knew you so well, even after all this time. He kept your favorite snacks at his house and draped a blanket over you when you started getting cold when watching a movie. He was so funny and so handsome it hurt to look at him and he’d felt so fucking good.

Your fingers slipped between your legs again without really thinking about it, brushing against your swollen, sensitive clit. You resisted it for a moment, the idea of falling into the fantasy of you with Joel, but the need drawing everything inside you all tight and molten won. 

It swallowed you quickly once you gave in. 

The memory of him was there at the fore so fast, the way his lips had felt on you so many years ago. How you thought they’d feel against you now. His hands ranged over you, around your waist, down to your hips, his fingers twisting and knotting in the fabric there as he bunched it up to hold you firmer, reach you better. You moaned and rocked into your hand, sliding lower, your palm pressed against your sensitive nub as you slipped a finger inside yourself with a moan. You worked yourself open slowly, your slick making easy work of it, as you imagined it was his hand between your legs, his fingers sinking into you. How he’d take your swimsuit off and line his cock up with your entrance and push inside of you as he moaned your name. How his fingers would grip your flesh, prying at you as though he was trying to take you apart to keep pieces of you for himself. How he’d work himself so deep into you that you were certain no one else had ever come quite so close to climbing into another person’s skin before.  

You rocked your hips against your hand to the thought of him, not sure where memory ended and fantasy began, the fingers not plunging needily into your hole finding their way to your breast, grasping at the soft swell there, your own hand so unsatisfyingly small compared to his. You remembered the way his voice trembled as he breathed your name - his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear - as his cock filled you, the whole of him buried inside like he belonged there as he came. 

“Joel!” You gasped as your own orgasm hit, tight channel throbbing around the three fingers you’d managed to fit inside yourself, slick pooling in your palm and your tit filling your other hand. 

You came harder than you had in years, let alone from only using your hand and not your toy. It took you a few minutes to come down from the high of it, indulging in the fantasy of him in a way you hadn’t done since your freshman year of college. He last time you gave into it was back when you’d first started dating Gale but you’d felt so desperately alone, like no one had ever bothered to learn you at all. So you’d let yourself pretend that your best friend was still your best friend, that he loved you the way you loved him and that fucking you hadn’t been some mistake he’d made on prom night. It had seemed the most supreme extravagance, pretending that Joel would have wanted you to come like that with him. It still did. 

You put a stop to all that when Gale proposed, solidifying your relationship in an entirely new way. You tucked the memory of Joel and his body on and within yours away then. You’d never intended to think about him that way again. But then, you’d never intended to get divorced, either. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, shoving yourself out of bed to pee and clean up the mess you’d made of yourself. Before you lay back down, you opened the golden notebook on your bedside table and found the page with the list. You went to the bottom and tried to add another line but the pen in the elastic loop wouldn’t write. You groaned before fishing out the red pen you’d left in your nightstand from a night you were editing in bed from the top drawer. You added two words to the bottom of your list - trying to ignore the way the diamond of your engagement ring caught the light from your lamp, casting little rainbows on the paper - and circled them, pressing the pen into the paper harder than you really needed to. 

“There,” you said, capping the pen and dropping it on the notebook you hadn’t bothered to close. The pen rolled until it came to a stop, the red cap almost pointing to the newly added words as though they needed any more attention. 

That, you thought, was the solution. If you could just figure out how to accomplish that, you could put Joel back in that little box and keep this stupid crush from blowing up your whole life a second time, as long as you weren’t an idiot about it. 

You switched off the lamp and pulled your blankets tightly around yourself, trying to ignore the feeling that the words were glaring at you from their perch on your night stand. They blinked at you like neon behind your eyelids and you tried not to see them in the same way you tried not to think about Joel’s body on yours in the pool as you drifted off to sleep.

Get laid.

Next Chapter

A/N: I just adore these two. Honestly, they keep getting away from me, their conversations are so fun to write and explore that I get lost in what I'm trying to accomplish with a chapter. But that's OK! The ride is the point of this whole fic thing, right?

Thank you for being patient with this chapter! I got a bit sidetracked with another project but I think I'm in a good place to get back to my once a week updates here for a while. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!

Thank you for being here! Love you!!

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

The Night We Met

Inspired by Lord Huron’s “The Night We Met”

WC: 1.2k

TW: Cursing; abandonment; fear of loss; angst

.

.

The last few months had been hell. Forgetting Jake Seresin was no easy feat. I need somewhere to think. Somewhere to escape my house, that is now filled with memories of him. I decide to walk to my favorite part of the beach. The dunes are perfect to lay in and look up at the stars. Grabbing my blanket and lantern, I head out the back door of my house.

.

.

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

.

.

The stars are shining bright. The waves are crashing on the sand. But somehow, all I can think of is Jake. We met 8 months ago. In the span of a few months, he completely changed my life. Now I lay here, 4 months clean of him, wishing our paths had never crossed.

.

.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

.

.

Jake broke down walls that took me years to build in a matter of days. His southern charm and million dollar smile came crashing in, wreaking havoc on my heart. Phoenix told me that he left for a mission 6 weeks ago. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. But it is like his ghost is right here beside me. I close my eyes, thinking about the day Jake Seresin came into my life.

.

.

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

When you had not touched me yet

Oh, take me back to the night we met

.

.

FLASHBACK

*My eyes were glassy as I sit there with my feet in the water. The ocean has always been my safe place. I flip to the next chapter of my book as a football hits me in the side. My anger bubbles over, I stand up and hurl the ball back the direction it came from, “Watch out, asshole!” The football thuds into a man’s chest and he grunts, “Damn, you’ve got an arm.” I roll my eyes and turn back to the water. He yells out, “I’m sorry!” Not looking his way I respond, “I’m not!” The man chuckles and goes back to his game. A few chapters later, someone sits beside me. I hear the same southern accent as before, “I really am sorry about before. I’m Jake.” His hand reaches out and I shake it, “I’m Y/n.” He smiles, “Can I get you a drink? My friends and I brought a bunch of beers and seltzers.” “I’m okay but thank you.” “Do you want to play dogfight football with us? You have a pretty good arm on ya.” I sigh, “Honestly Jake, I’ve had a really shit day. I just wanted to come to the beach to read and forget about it. So thank you, but I will pass.” He runs his hand through his hair, “Then how about you let me take you to dinner sometime, as an apology.” “And why would you do that?” “Because somehow the football hit the prettiest girl I have ever laid my eyes on.”*

.

.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

.

.

From that day forward, we were inseparable. Jake found any excuse to come by. I had never felt happier. After a couple months of bliss, Jake slowly started to pull away. I wracked my brain, wondering what I could have done to cause it. He stopped showing up without a warning. The goodnight calls turned into goodnight texts.. which then turned into nothing. When he would come around, we’d eat a meal and chat, but then he’d rush out the door. I sat there at my kitchen table, wondering how things changed so quickly.

.

.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met

.

.

I look up to the stars, sighing, “What am I supposed to do now?” The only answer I get is the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Tears stream down my cheeks. I had heard things about him, word around here travels fast. But none of that bothered me. It wasn’t what he had shown me.. until he did. I curse myself for falling so quickly. How could I be so foolish? Headlights blind me as I start folding up my blanket. “Y/n?” The southern accent makes my heart jump to my throat. I grab my lantern and start walking, pretending like I didn’t hear. “Y/n! Please stop!” He’s caught up to me now, grabbing my arm, “Please, I need to talk to you.” I whip my head around, “Jake Seresin, I don’t want to hear what you have to say. You haven’t said a word to me for 4 months. 4 months! You told me that you loved me. You told me that you had never met anyone like me before. And then you slowly fade away! With no explanation, might I add. So no, you don’t get to talk to me. I wish I could go back to day and tell myself to walk a little further down the beach.” His eyes water, “You don’t mean that.” I lean in, “With every fiber of my being.” The way he looks at me makes me want to melt. And I hate the fact that I feel that way. How can you be so angry at someone and want them to kiss you at the same time? He closes the space between us, our noses practically touching, “I was scared and I ran. I’ve regretted it every single day, Y/n. I haven’t told a girl I loved her since my high school girlfriend! Then here I am, 1 month in, madly in love with you. Having nightmares that something happens on a mission, then you’re left alone. Dealing with the aftermath. For some reason, I thought leaving before it went any further would save you from that and I am sorry. I am so sorry, Y/n.” Tears threaten to spill over and I turn towards the ocean, wiping them away before turning back to him. “So you left me because you are madly in love me?” He sighs, “I know, it doesn’t make any sense. I tried to stay busy with work, but I can’t focus on anything but you.” I look at my hands, “You are all I can think about.” His green eyes meet mine, shining with hope, “Really?” I nod, “Yes, really. That’s why I came here tonight. My own house makes me think of you.” Jake pulls me into his chest and I breathe in the familiar scent. He kisses my head, “Can we start again?” I look up at him, “Deal.” Jake smiles and stretches out his hand, “Hi, I’m Jake.” I giggle and shake it, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” He takes my blanket and spreads it out, “Would you like to look at the stars with me?” “I would love to.” I lay my head on his chest and he plays with my hair, “This is a good night to meet the love of your life.”

[alliskit]

BG3 Headcanons Nobody Asked For.

Part 2: “Cheap” Alcohol.

As Astarion once asked, “But what would they taste like?”

Well, I don’t have the money to spend drinking brandy (sorry Gale), but there’s enough on the shelves I can buy that would describe them quite nicely.

A heads up that these are U.S. based, but I’ll make sure to describe them so you get the picture.

Gale:

He wants to be brandy, scotch, or a flavored liquor, but he’s not.

He’s a mid tier red wine — still a cab sav, but mid tier.

This is NOT a bad thing. This wine is your personal go-to especially if you’ve got no one coming over.

It’s flavorful enough on the palate but not too risky. It’s likely from a good brand that has more expensive options but this is good enough to buy repeatedly.

This is your wine you pair with your favorite dinner, a good book, watching tv, and after a stressful day. Your ride or die wine.

This wine is the kind of wine you can finish in one night and not feel guilty even when drunk. You can buy more later.

It’s dependable and delicious, makes you want to tell everyone about it.

It’s a favorite among many different kinds of palates.

Gale is always either the husband or male wife because he’s the easiest to commit to wholeheartedly, just like this wine.

Lae’zel:

She is Silver Patron Tequila. You will pay extra for this but the pain is worth it.

Githyanki are the definition of work hard play hard.

Once all the nonsense with the Elder brain and Orpheus is done, you will find her beachside on the Astral Sea, tatas out, a fresh squeezed lime house margarita in hand. Some Gith bard singing a rendition of Margaritaville they picked up passing through earths realm.

It’s the drink you deserve for all your hard work now that you’re in vacation mode.

It’s “exotic” but in safe way. Lae’zel may be from an asteroid but she’s your typical Gith fighter.

You don't put patron in every marg, but just the ones you want to hit fast and last.

Karlach:

Fireball Whiskey. The name itself just says it all.

You can get so many bottles of this for cheap in so many flavors.

It hits hard and fast and will make you ache by morning.

It’s not a party until someone pulls this out. Expect to get trashed.

It will coerce you into losing all filters and masks, learning to express who you really are.

It will burn going down and possibly coming back up, yet you will continue to wonder why you’re so willing to get burnt again.

She runs hot and so will you.

Wyll:

Craft beer. All craft beer.

He is ALL craft beer because he is the living embodiment of the dichotomy of an IPA made in someone’s garage that costs $14 a pint.

He is a man of his own making, gritty and self made, who can’t quite escape his silver spoon.

He has variety and many sides. Is he just your average guy or a sly devil? A little bit of both? A little sweet? A little sour?

Also he pairs well with all your favorite comfort foods.

He makes you want to dance a jig or sing a ballad at your local bar. He will lead it.

He’s of great taste, yet something in him longs to fit in. And with him, you can’t go wrong, even if it takes a minute to get past the initial bitterness.

Shadowheart:

Wine seltzer/vodka seltzer. Something really sweet and feels like a soda.

She’s the easiest crowd pleaser, even if it’s really watered down.

She not only tastes like this, this would be her drink of choice. Girl is tired and just wants a buzz while drinking something she can pound after a long day of saving lives.

You can enjoy this for near any occasion. Bring it to any event. (Someone at a funeral is craving a comfort drink and this will slap)

She, like Gale the red, is a comfort drink, but for a pick me up instead of a lay me down.

Astarion:

Prosecco and/or brut (poor man’s champagne because he’s not living the high noble life anymore)

He’s worthy of being celebrated, kicking your shackles off and stabbing your abuser warrants a celebratory kind of drink.

He’s not to everyone’s taste, but you’ll bear him for a good time.

If you get drunk on brut, you are a special kind of drinker. (Just like your fascination with vampires, some of us truly fear the feeling of death in the morning. If you’ve never had a Prosecco hangover, you’re better for it) I can hear him as he asks, “How are you feeling?” The morning after. LOL

He said he likes spicy food and spicy bubbles seem right up his palate. Also brut is great to pair with spicy!

Also drinking from a wine flute just makes you wanna say: “I’m fuckin posh” even if it’s plastic.

Minthara:

Our Spiced Rum mama. I’m talking Kraken spiced. The smooth rum followed by a heat like whiskey that makes you instinctively want to cough as it burns down your esophagus.

But oh how we love how it burns. Similar to Karlach but not nearly as in your face.

You will have a drunk existential crisis while dancing naked to Fleetwood Mac that will change how you see the world as you feel it burn deep in your soul.

You can drink this straight or in a cocktail and you will NEVER forget the experience. You will crave it.

It’s a smooth talker as it insults your inability to hold your alcohol. It will challenge your tolerance, making you think you really are a big baby. And I can hear her saying it. I’ll let her call me a cry baby whenever she wants.

Halsin:

Mead. I could just finish with just that, but I won’t.

Mead is honey wine if you didn’t know. Once again, it speaks for itself.

It’s comforting, it’s hearty, it’s sweet, it’s tasty, it warms the heart. Makes you want to lay back in the sun or sit warm by a fire.

Getting drunk on this is like getting drunk on sunshine and you will end up with the wine version of a sunburn but you’ll keep drinking.

Just like Halsin getting drunk and singing, dancing, and professing his love to strangers, you will too.

Honey wine will always treat you well and will make sweet love you “as nature intended”.

If you have more options you feel each of these guys embody, let me know! 👇🏻

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart, Chapter 25

18+ MDNI

On Ao3

All other chapters

Tate has devised a plan to get a Girls Trip™ for the two of you, you just need to execute it to perfection.

I definitely don’t dream about having Ace snuggling me when I’m on my period. Like a living weighted blanket who would say sweet things into my ear. That is definitely not a wish of mine and complete self-indulgence.

~

This is the set up for the divergent endings. The good ending will be first, the bad ending will be last.

The next morning, you knocked on the door to the women’s quarters, holding your sketches under your arm. You knew you didn’t need to knock, it had been your living space too at some point. But it didn’t feel right to barge in unannounced. A very hungover looking Heidi cracked open the door and smiled weakly at you.

“What’s up?” she rasped at you. Evidently, more nurses than just Tate had a wild night. 

“Is Tate up? I was hoping to get a few minutes with her before work.” You had all your ideas with you, you were ready to show her some and see which ones she liked.

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Heidi replied, opening the door all the way. “Tate!” she yelled. There was a chorus of ‘shhhhh’ that rang out among the darkened room. Tate shuffled up to the door, looking worse for the wear. You smirked at her.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked with a bright smile. She glared at you, but without malice. “C’mon, I’ll make you my hangover cure. Chug it and we’ll chat after that.” Tate blinked slowly, but shuffled out the door and put her arm in yours. The two of you walked silently down the halls together, ending in the kitchen. Just like with Ace, you sat her down while you made your drink of lemon, honey, vinegar, chili peppers, seltzer, and a little dash of secret ingredient. Tate emphatically frowned when you handed it to her, but shrugged. 

“Can’t be worse than whatever I drank last night,” she lamented. “Bottoms up,” she said, chugging the drink. You handed her the water right after, which she sipped. “So, I remember some of what we talked about last night. Did you say that you finished the sketches?” 

You grinned at her, putting the drawings in front of her. “I did, we can go over them together and see what you like and what we need to change.” You spread them out, showing her your ideas. “Basically, these are mix and match pieces in a few colors. You can pair any of the tops with any of the bottoms for a good outfit. I even included skirts of various lengths in case you…miss…the mini skirts,” you finished with a wink. “I thought darker fabrics would be better in the case of bodily fluids. Teal and periwinkle tend to be universally flattering, no matter your skin tone, but black or gray are also good choices. In terms of fabric, cotton would be a good choice but we’ll have to go to a fabric store and find some samples…” You went on about dye lots, fabric blends, and clothing cuts, explaining everything in detail to Tate. She nodded along, looking through the sketches. 

“So, what do you think? What can we change to suit your needs better?” you asked the now revived nurse. 

“Absolutely nothing. These are incredible! I love the long pants, it’s so annoying to wash other people’s blood off the tops of your thighs.” She was looking over the drafts intensely, making notes with a pencil she had. “I have nothing to add other than you’re a genius. Let’s get off the boat at the next large island and get some samples. Make a whole day of it,” she said, putting her hand over yours and smiling kindly. You smiled back, but were unsure. You had a feeling it would take a lot of convincing for Marco to let you off the ship. “I’ll work on Marco,” Tate said as if reading your mind, “I have a plan.”

You felt lighter after your brief meeting with Tate. She had to go back to the infirmary for work and you had to go to breakfast. While you ate, Thatch was pretending to be upset with you because he found out that Ace had joined you and Marco for the night. You could tell he wasn’t actually upset but you still felt like you had to walk on eggshells.

“But we did that too, remember?” you reminded Thatch. “Ace came in once when you were brushing my hair for me?” You were seated on Thatch’s lap, like always, eating whatever he was serving you. And, like always, it was delicious. 

“ Mija, of course I remember, Ace snores like a train and burns hotter than the sun when he’s dreaming of you,” Thatch scoffed. He speared another forkful of eggs and brought it to your mouth. You opened without thinking and chewed the gooey, cheesy dish. “Look mami , you ate it all, I’m so proud of you!” Thatch kissed the top of your head. Recently you noticed you gained some weight, your clothes were fitting differently. You felt physically well, better than you had in a long time. You couldn’t say the same for your emotional well being, but at least some part of you was healing. 

“Thanks to you,” you said, giving Thatch a kiss on the cheek. He really was a good chef, and you were in a good mood from your conversation with Tate that morning. 

“Someone’s feeling well,” Thatch commented. You hummed, you didn’t want to reveal your plans with Tate yet. It would take a lot of convincing but you thought she figured out a way to get off the ship together for a day. Thatch kissed you again, this time on your mouth, and set you down. You went off to work, feeling energized and ready to take on the day. 

Until later that morning. 

You felt a long gone but familiar sensation of cramping in your lower stomach. One of the only upsides to being starved half to death was that you lost your period for a long time. Obviously, it was a sign of incredibly poor health, but you liked to look on the bright side of things. You always had terrible cramps when you had your period, and it looked like this time would be no exception. You put your hand on your lower stomach, you needed to talk to the nurses quickly. You apologized to Blenheim, promising to fix his scabbard later in the day. You scurried off to the infirmary, hoping to avoid Marco.

Logically, you knew Marco was a doctor and had studied the female reproductive system. But you still felt much more comfortable talking to other women about menstruation than men. You slunk into the clinic, quickly ducking into one of the unoccupied examination rooms. Peeking through the cracked door, you waited until you saw a lurid pink miniskirt pass by the door. You darted out, scaring Bethany, who dropped her clipboard.

“You can’t just pop out at people like that!” she scolded you. 

“Sorry,” you replied sheepishly. “I need pads and tampons, can I use the ones in the women’s bathroom here?” you whispered. There weren’t many women’s restrooms on the ship, you only knew of the ones in the infirmary and connected to the women’s quarters.

“Sure, they’re communal. You don’t need to ask,” Bethany replied at full volume. You hoped Marco wasn’t listening in.

“Thanks, see you later.” You sped off to the women’s bathroom in the infirmary, grabbing what you needed. You were still wearing a stupid dress, but you swiped some underwear from the clean patient laundry. They were too big, but it was better than nothing. If Marco was mad, well, he could solve the problem himself. Leaving the bathroom, you jumped as you saw the very man you were trying to avoid leaning against the opposing wall. Served you right for surprising Bethany, you supposed.

“Everything alright?” Marco asked, assessing you with his eyes. He was in doctor mode, which made you feel more comfortable. You knew what to expect when he was like this, he was professional, detached, and had good bedside manner.

“Oh, um, yeah. I just got um, my…period.” Marco smiled kindly at you.

“Congratulations yoi. It’s a sign of recovery. However, the first menstruation after extensive amenorrhea is often quite painful. I recommend you go lay down, rest and relax.” Even though it was phrased as a clinical recommendation, you knew it was an order. 

“Ok Marco. Where should I go? I don’t want to ruin any-” Marco waved off your concerns.

“We’re all adults here, no one is upset by the human body. Ace cleaned his room, would you like to go there?” You tried to hide your disgust when you thought about Ace’s room and the last time you’d seen it. Marco laughed.

“I understand your hesitation yoi, but I checked it myself. It’s clean and always the perfect temperature. Go there. I’ll give you some medicine to take with you.” Marco left to rummage in a nearby cart, grabbing a bottle of low grade pain killers. “Take two, and drink some water. I’ll have Ace check on you in an hour or two.” Marco kissed you on your head, turned you around by your shoulders and sent you off with a little push. You didn’t feel that bad, you’d been having your period for many years. Going to lay down preemptively was overkill, you thought, but you weren’t going to disagree with Marco.

An hour later and you were glad Marco had sent you to lay down. You remembered having cramps, of course, but nothing like this. You were curled up on Ace’s freshly made bed, writhing in pain. After the first wave of cramps, you’d taken the pain killers, but they weren’t getting close to helping with the pain. Marco had stopped by briefly, bringing you tea, a hot water bottle, and tucking you under the covers. You asked him to heal you but he said there wasn’t anything wrong with you, that it was excess uterine lining being shed normally. There was nothing to heal, so his flames wouldn’t do anything. He had a busy day and couldn’t stay long but promised to send Ace up. 

In between pains so intense you thought your stomach was being sliced in half, you took a look around Ace’s room. It was so much better than the first time you’d been in the room. He had cleaned out all the food, all the old papers, and done his laundry. Marco was right, it was warm and cozy. You weren’t sure if it was the room itself or if it was somehow the residual effects of his Mera Mera, but you didn’t care. You tried closing your eyes and falling asleep but the closest you could get was dozing in and out of consciousness. 

Creaking, the door opened, and you heard Ace ending a conversation. You kept your back turned to the door and pretended to be asleep in case he could see you.

“ - don’t think she likes it, not like I do…” Ace sounded doubtful about whatever it was. 

“Remember how you were when you joined yoi? All anger and fury? And now look at us,” you could tell he was speaking with Marco. “Give it some time, it will be everything you ever wanted. Family and love, happiness and a place where you belong, all here with us. Here, give her these,” Ace hummed, and it sounded like they kissed. Footsteps told you Marco left, and Ace opened the door, holding a few bottles of pills. He spotted you on his bed and kicked off his shoes, putting the bottles on his desk. You really wanted to ask him about what they were talking about but didn’t have the courage to admit you were listening in to their private conversation. 

“Poor baby,” he said, as you heard him taking off his pants and knife.

“S’ok,” you replied, stretching a little. Ace got into the bed with you, crawling behind you. You whined, you didn’t want to be manhandled right now. You saw Marco had given Ace a bottle of vitamins and another of anti-nausea medication for you. You'd take them later, you couldn't move right now.

“Shhhh. S’gonna be alright.” Ace curled up behind you, spooning you. He moved your hands away from your lower stomach and replaced them with his own. You felt the gentle warmth of his Mera Mera heating you. You mewled and scooted backwards, snuggling into him. Ace buried his face in your neck and held you closer. He let you relax and drift to sleep, holding you tightly in his arms. 

It was a challenging few days for you. Your period was lighter than it normally was, but extremely painful. You didn’t leave Ace’s room much, spending your time reading and thinking about your reply letter to Vista’s brothers. Thatch, Ace, and Marco all visited as they could, with Ace staying with you at night. They were actually…sweet. You wished they were always this way, then you’d have no doubts about staying on the ship with them. Thatch brought you desserts and savory food in equal measure and gave you massages when your muscles were tight. He didn’t make you sit on his lap but let you eat by yourself in Ace’s bed. He tried to hand feed you, but sulkily accepted when you declined. Marco brought you medicine, tea, pads, and more books from his collection. He made sure you were physically comfortable, bringing loose pants, extra blankets and pillows. Ace, of course, warmed you up and snuggled with you until you thought you would merge together on an atomic level. You were thankful he let you hole up in his room.

“Sorry, I know it can’t be easy having me in here all the time,” you said to Ace on the third day. You were laying in bed together, limbs entangled, facing each other. Ace was still dozing after the night you’d spent in each other’s arms. You were brushing his freckles lightly with your fingertips. You were feeling better, you’d be out of his room by the afternoon, you thought.

“S’great. Wish’is all the time,” Ace mumbled. “Would lock you in here’f I could,” he continued, putting his chin on the top of your head. You sighed because you knew that when you got up, you would be back to your previous life of rules and punishments from the three Commanders. You nuzzled deeper into Ace’s arms, keeping the real world at bay for just a few hours longer.

~~~

A few days later, you needed to find Ace once more. You and Tate thought you had figured out a way to finagle a girl’s day out of the Commanders. The two of you wanted to stop at the next big island, coming up in about a week. It was close to the calm belt, but you’d actually been to the island years prior. It was known for its large textile factory and incredible fabric inventory. You’d done a few fashion shows there, maybe you could use some of your previous fame to get a discount on fabrics, or at least try to. It also had a day spa that was known for its wet saunas and hot tubs. You really wanted to go with Tate and enjoy a relaxing girls trip. Tate’s plan would require you to be crafty and a little conniving, but it would be worth it if it worked out. 

Ace was going to go on a mission later that morning, you needed to find him quickly. He was still inhaling food in the mess hall after you’d eaten breakfast. You waited for him outside the mess hall, wanting to speak to him in private. When he left, you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside. You looked up at him with hope in your eyes.

“Ace, can I get off the ship with Tate at the next island? They have a fabric store I want to go to. Please?” You weren’t sure this would work, but you really wanted to go to the fabric store in person. 

“Ah, I don’t think so. You’ll have to ask -” you stopped Ace from talking by pulling him down by his hat string to kiss him. You kissed him deeply, holding him at the back of his neck. All that time you’d spent with him in bed had you feeling connected to him, and you hoped the reverse was true as well.

“Please?” you asked again in a pleading tone. Ace smiled at you, disarmed by the forward display of affection.

“I know you’re trying to manipulate me, but I have to say, it’s working. OK, as long as someone’s with you. Ask Thatch or Marco, though, just to be sure. I’ll be gone by the time the Moby’s docking at the next island, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“Thank you Ace! Thank you, thank you” you kissed his cheeks every time you thanked him, making Ace smile even wider.

“You should ask me for favors more often, I like the way this is going.” Ace husked. He pulled you against him, you could feel his growing erection through his shorts. You rubbed up against him a little bit, teasing him.

“Let’s finish this in a bit, I need to go eat breakfast and Thatch doesn’t like when I’m late,” you replied. One last kiss to Ace and you were on your way. The first part of your plan had been a success.

Next, you waited until it was lunchtime. You were extra good for Thatch, complimenting his cooking and allowing him to feed you without complaint. You finished about two thirds of your food before you started talking to him about the island.

“Thatch, I have a favor I want to ask you,” you began, eyes wide.

“If I can grant it, I will mami. What do you need?” Thatch rubbed your palm with his thumb.

“Can I get off the ship with Tate at the next island? There’s a fabric store I want to go to for the new nurses’ uniforms.” You looked at Thatch hopefully.

“Ah. No, I don’t think so. I don’t want -”

“But Ace already said yes, I was so excited,” you said while making yourself cry. Tears fell down your face and you twisted the knife in Thatch’s heart. “I t-told Tate we could g-go, and I was going to invite y-you -” Thatch frowned and rubbed away the tears from your cheeks.

“ Querida, if it’s that important to you, I’ll talk to Marco. We can try to make it work. I’m not sure it will happen, but we’ll try.” You smiled, stopping the tears.

“Thank you Thatch! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Just like with Ace, you kissed him with every thank you. 

“ Mija it’s not a guarantee, you understand that, right? I don’t want you to be upset if it doesn’t work out in the end,” Thatch said, still stroking your cheek. You gave him a genuine smile - you knew he would try his hardest to let you off the ship. He would go and talk to Marco on your behalf and try to convince the Phoenix into letting you off the ship. Marco would be the toughest of the three, but you thought between you, Thatch, and Tate it would be possible to convince him. You exchanged a few more kisses, thanking him, until he had to leave to prepare lunch for the crew. Part two of Tate’s plan had worked. 

Marco found you in the afternoon as you were on the deck leaning against the main mast, relaxing. You were still taking it easy but the little work you’d been doing had tired you out. How did the crew break so many toilets?

“So I hear you want to have an excursion on the next island,” Marco began, standing over you. He seemed to be in a good mood, or at least hadn’t outright denied you. His half open eyes showed some amusement, which was a good start.

“There’s a textile store that I want to go to with Tate. To get samples for the nurses’s uniforms. I haven’t been off the ship yet.” You tried to keep yourself from rambling but it was always hard for you to keep your cool around Marco.

Marco hummed. “And it has nothing to do with the spa on the island yoi?” You looked up at Marco with wide eyes. He still seemed amused, he wasn’t mad with you yet. He squished your cheeks gently between his thumb and index finger, the corners of his lips quirked up into a cold smile.

“Tate asked me about the store and the spa. And Thatch also came to talk to me about it. You’ve been working everyone to get off the ship yoi.” You swallowed dryly, you felt caught. “You’ve been a good Doveling lately yoi. Had a hard time this week. I’ll allow it with the understanding that one of us will be with you at all times.” He squished your face with a little more force. “We wouldn’t want you to get lost or hurt. We’re always looking out for you, you know that, don’t you Doveling?” 

You nodded. “Yes, Marco. Thank you Marco.” you replied. Even though Marco had said he allowed it, you felt the lingering threat behind his words. He’d be watching your every move and if anything went wrong on this trip, you didn’t think you’d ever be let off the ship again. 

“You can show your appreciation to me later tonight yoi,” Marco said, moving his hand from your face to your hair, pulling it gently. You were forced to tip your face up even higher. “It’s quite lenient of me, don’t you think?” 

“Yes, Marco. Thank you, Marco.” You shivered thinking about what Marco would want in exchange for allowing you off the ship for a day. He kissed your mouth briefly and released his hand from your hair. 

“Stay here and relax a little longer. You look like you need it yoi.” You agreed. It felt like you’d have to pay for your time off the ship with a pound of flesh. And you knew they would be collecting. 

[lilbitdepressed27]

Okay so I already have an idea for Tara from Scream. I was thinking where Reader had a stomach because she ate so much cookies and cakes. Tara is looking after her till Mindy brought in some delicious strawberry cupcakes. Reader was looking it very hungry, she try’s to get it but Tara didn’t allow her. At the end night where everyone was sleeping. Reader took this chance by sneaking into the kitchen and grab a cupcake till she saw Sam staring at her with a grin. Reader begged Sam not to tell her sister.

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: hope you like it bud. Sorry for any mistakes.

One things about parties was that you loved trying every single food that was brought. Whether it was the hotdogs that Ethan made. The spicy noodles that Anika made, the cookies Danny made, the chocolate brownies Quinn made, the chicken Sam made, the corn bread Chad made or the cake Tara made. You were eating good. Maybe a little too good.

You felt like you were going to explode. Unbuttoning your pants did not help. You were on the verge of the worst tummy ache. And unfortunately Tara had noticed.

“Baby I know you want to try everything but you’re gonna make yourself sick.” Tara had watched try every single dish on the table. She knew it was cause you wanted to make sure everyone’s food was tried. Which she found cute but now it was obvious you had eaten too much.

“But the cake is soooo good babe. I want more but I’m so full.” You groaned in annoyance. You wanted more cake but curse your stomach for getting so full so damn quickly.

“There will most definitely be leftovers. You are done. No more. I don’t want you getting sick.” She took your half eaten cake. Ignoring your whine of protest as she walked away with your plate. She was honestly amazed at how much you had ate. Complimenting everyone on how good their food was. She was even sure Ethan had sneaked you some extra bacon. Not to mention the food you had made that you also ate.

“Yo! My famous delicious strawberry cupcakes are finally done! Y/n! I added extra sprinkles on yours!” Mindy barged into the apartment with big dish filled with cupcakes.

Tara was quick to look at you. Your excitement, pure joy filling your eyes at the sight of the cupcakes. Now she did feel a little bad for intersecting you.

“No, go sit. I’ll save this for you for later.” She took the cupcake from Mindy.

“But Tar! Just a little bite. Please baby.” She felt herself almost cave in at her sight of your pout. But remembering how sick you got last time you over ate was enough for her not to cave.

“Sorry baby but no.”

*

The rest of the party was spent with you drinking some Alka Seltzer. It was nasty but you’d hope that your stomach ache would go away. Unfortunately it didn’t.

But night time arrived and you were now in bed. Tara cuddled up to you. Her face on your chest as you held her close. Now your stomach ache was gone and all you could think about was that cupcake. You tried to go to sleep but you couldn’t. That delicious cupcake was calling out your name. So with some skill, you got out of Tara’s grip with out her waking.

Sneaking into kitchen the dead of night was easy. With everyone asleep. Getting your cupcake was easy. You were now a bite in eating your cupcake in the dark. Humming in satisfaction at the delicious taste when the lights turned on. Your head snapping to who stood at the entrance of the kitchen. Standing there arms crossed as she leaned on the door frame.

“Please don’t tell Tara.”

Sam laughed as she shook her head. Grabbing what she came for, a bottle of water. “Enjoy the cupcake Y/n. I won’t tell.”

With a satisfied smile you continued to eat your cupcake. No longer worrying about getting a stomach ache.

:)

[shieldofiron]

Vibe Check Part 8

You Can Sleep When You're Dead

The Frat Boy Au

Read Previous on Ao3 or tumblr.

Steve doesn’t know what time it is when the door swings open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Billy announces in a booming voice, flinging his keys vaguely in the direction of the hooks by the door.

“Sorry, Steve.” Carver bustles in, scooting around Billy and grabbing the wastepaper basket, positioning it next to Billy’s bed.

Steve blinks into the light coming from the hallway, seeing only the vaguest outline of a female form. Did Billy bring home a girl from the bar? Maybe Carver did, because he can’t imagine a girl wanting to stick around for Billy in this state.

Only a few people can handle Billy like this. Argyle and Argyle’s girlfriend Eden are used to him. Steve is pretty used to it too, although he’s gone a few weeks without it.

Is it weird to say he’s missed it. Missed Billy’s drunken rants about gossip, the way he moves a little sloppier, not so tightly wound.

Steve misses him. Present tense. He feels like all he does lately is miss him.

And his eyes hurt but he refuses to close them, watching Billy take out his wallet and lay it on his dresser with supreme concentration. Steve'd been up the night before reading the queer theory that Robin had sent him because apparently gay porn and being in love with a man wasn’t enough.

And he’d also held Robin’s hair tonight when she’d puked in the bushes. Luckily Heather Holloway agreed to walk her back to Heather’s sorority house or he’d have let her sleep here too. Blessedly Eddie’s girlfriend had taken the night off too, so at least they didn’t have to contend with that too.

When he’d finally gotten around to asking about Billy, the party was over, and only Eddie had offered a halfhearted explanation.

Guilt crept over him now as he watched Billy struggle out of his jeans, bare ass on full display.

Steve pushed himself up and reached over to his desk to retrieve the open box of Alka Seltzer. Billy snatches it out of his hand before Carver can add it to a bottle of water.

“For me? Oh, Stevie. You shouldn’t have,” Billy began to struggle with the paper wrapper.

“I’ve got it,” Carver said.

“I’ll just eat them dry,” Billy said.

Carver winced.

“He will too,” Steve muttered, “get in bed, asshole. Quit fucking around.”

Billy drops the alka seltzer to the floor and Carver topples over trying to retrieve it with a very un-Carver-like giggle. 

Great. They’re both drunk as skunks.

At least that’s a good excuse as to why Billy yanks on a pair of Steve’s sweats and pulls back Steve’s covers to get in beside him.

“Hey!” Steve is cold for a moment before it’s replaced with a blistering guilty heat and Billy, warm and sweet.

Billy snuggles right up next to him and takes the offered bottle from Carver like a little princeling, born to the Manor. Steve looks blearily towards the hallway but it’s empty now. Maybe he imagined the girl after all.

“Billy, you can’t-” Carver says, frowning.

“It’s fine. We’ve shared beds plenty of times,” Steve says weakly. It’s true. They bunked together last year on the ski trip and it was no big deal.

They were just plastered from ankle to chest and Billy’s hair was adorably askew after he threw off his t-shirt.

“Have it your way.” Carver throws up his hands and he moves the trash can to Steve’s side, throwing Billy an inscrutable look.

Billy sucks down the still fizzing water bottle with a disgusting slurp before turning into Steve’s chest, curling into himself.

It is disgusting of Steve’s heart to skip, but it does, and it’s disgusting that he thinks w e’re not alone with a mix of disappointment and panic. But he does.

Steve is disgusting, not because he has gay porn on his phone or because he has feelings for Billy. But because he can’t control these wayward thoughts, can’t seem to corral himself. He wants to brush Billy’s static-y curls back. He wants to feel Billy’s sweat sticky skin and have it not be a big deal but it is.

“Thanks, Carver,” Billy croaks. “I’m still gonna kick his ass.”

“I know, Cheryl.” Carver nods. “You… you take care of yourself, alright?”

“I’ve got him,” Steve says.

Carver nods again, like a little blonde bobblehead. “Kay. Uh… goodnight. Want me to get the light?”

“Yeah. Yes,” Steve says, worried that his voice is giving him away. He should ask Carver to stay. Not because anything’s gonna happen. Just because he can’t be alone with these thoughts.

And then they’re alone in the dark. Steve and Billy. Not alone like that, just… alone.

Steve lies stiff as a board while Billy won’t stop curling closer.

“You have a good time?” Steve asks after a period of silence that feels at once way too long and way too short.

Billy snuffles a little, adorably, “Yeah.”

“Why’d you leave the party?” He hates how he sounds. Needy, like a girlfriend.

Something seems to wash over Billy then, and his limbs rustle a little, settling around Steve a little differently.

“No reason,” he says lightly. “Carver and I just decided to go out for a bit.”

The stab of jealousy is expected, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Billy never used to leave a party Steve was at. Not without taking Steve. And the feeling is worse close up, with the bear sticky smell of Billy skin tight.

He could just turn his head and kiss Billy and get pushed away. He could push Billy out of the bed, too. Both would probably be a relief.

So he’s not sure why he chooses the pain. He stays there, breathing lightly. Not trying to touch Billy, and not moving away either. Lightning crackles over his skin with every brush against Billy. It’s so close to what he’s imagined when he’s trying not to imagine it.

They could be together so easily. Walk each other to class and come back to their room. Kiss and play wrestle and fuck with each other and fuck too. They could be together, all the things Steve has wanted forever, if Billy wouldn’t hate his guts for him even suggesting it.

He’s only ever been on the edge of feeling this once before, with Nancy. He thought they could be everything to each other: best friends and lightning and thunder.

But that was all a lie.

And this is too much to take in at once. Being gay is the easiest part to understand, it almost feels soothing.

But being in love with Billy is much harder, much more painful. It feels like he’s seeing a glimpse of everything he’s dreamed of again, only to see it dashed before it even had a chance.

And Steve knows it’s shabby that he hasn’t been talking to Billy, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He wants to be near him so badly but he doesn’t know if he can bear it.

And so he just lies there, not moving, listening to Billy’s breathing even out, feeling Billy’s arms go heavy. Until Steve eventually can join him in that in between place, letting go.

[nevernonline]

✧.* crash into me; lsm one shot.

A one shot based off what transpired before these texts.

✧ Synopsis: Lee Dokyeom was your closest friend. After a friendly dinner you head back to his apartment, to play a game little did you know it would crash the friendship barrier between you two.

✧ genre/s: fluffy, friends to who knows?, 

✧ warning/s: suggested smut, suggestive humor and theme, kisses, lots of hands, some light drinking. 

Sitting at your favorite table awaiting the arrival of your best friend Seokmin, felt like a lifetime. It was a Friday night so of course the line was accumulating outside the restaurant and the patriots were waiting for your seat where you selfishly look like you’re taking up a table for you and your seltzer water. 

Through the large glass windows waiting at the cross walk you spot him looking for a chance to jaywalk across the street safely and sprint breathlessly to your side. 

As Ola, you and Seokmin’s favorite waitress brings him to the table alongside your cocktail orders, you can feel at peace again. That’s what he was to you, peace. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I got stuck helping someone with a task just as I was ready to leave. I feel so bad.” 

The brown haired boy now stripped of his denim jacket, resembling a puppy now flipping through the menu as if he wasn’t sure what to order. 

“It’s okay, seriously. I just mainly feel bad because all of those couples outside were starting to give me the stink eye. Also, I already ordered for you, why are you looking at the menu?” 

“You’re so right, I don’t know. I’m really flustered for some reason.” 

You slide his gin and tonic closer to him. 

“Drink this, please. You’re going to pop a forehead vein if you don’t settle down, Seok.” 

“You are right, for the second time. Maybe you should take up gambling.” 

As his breaths get back to normal, he takes another look at you. Your hair was up off your neck elegantly, a cream colored blouse with brown trousers, and the loafers he bought you for your birthday last year on your feet. He noticed you wore makeup today, a rare occasion for you since you didn’t need it. 

“Why do you look so beautiful today?” 

The words just escaped his mouth like word vomit, he couldn’t help but tell you. 

“Do I not look like this everyday?” 

He leans back in his chair to get a better look at you, sizing you up again. 

“No, something is different. Not that you don’t look beautiful all the time, but something is standing out to me..” 

You raised your hand from your side of the table to rest on top of his. 

“Seok, you’re rambling again.”  

His long fingers enclosed around yours as he held onto it a moment longer than normal. 

“No, I’m just trying to get my point across. I’m doing a bad job of it, but you are really beautiful. Got it?” 

A blush rose to your cheeks as your hand found its way back to the now sweaty glass and finished off the liquor inside. 

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” 

 His megawatt smile flashed itself your way and you continued to enjoy your meal without any more of Seokmins semi-sober ranting. 

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“GOD, I am so fucking full. That was amazing.” 

You giggled slamming the front door shut behind you, making your way into Seokmin’s apartment. 

“You know it’s extra good when I can sleep on your shoulder the whole bus ride without you smacking me.” 

“Seok, I do not.” 

“Uh, yeah you do, you're like some little old woman.” 

Suddenly a t-shirt hit your lap, coming from the entryway of Seokmin’s bedroom door. 

“I figured you’d want to wear that to sleep, I’m not letting you leave here alone when you’ve been drinking.” 

Your head turns slightly to your right to reply, but your eyes caught a glimpse of Seokmin in only his boxers changing into his own sleep shirt. It’s not wrong to stare at your best friend, right? 

“Do you want to watch a movie or play a game, maybe have wine?” 

His voice grew closer as you were still stuck staring at him. 

“Uh, can we do all of the above?” 

“Yes. Hurry up and go get changed, dummy.” 

You’re now standing in the same spot Seokmin was moments before, not at all baiting him to glance your way, but for some reason you couldn’t help yourself. With your back turned to him it’s impossible to see if he’s actively watching you, but you can tell by his sudden silence that he just might be. 

“Okay, so what shall we do first?” 

Sitting down next to him now matching his own outfit, underwear and his t-shirts.  

“I say we put on some music and play that funny truth or drink game you made me for a gift a few years back.” 

“Only if you want to die tonight, you NEVER answer any of the questions unless it’s like ‘golden retrievers or huskies?’”

Seokmin slapped your arm, removing himself from the floor to hunt down the laminated pieces of paper. 

“Okay, well how about we only get three chances to plead the fifth, any other question you have to answer or you have to drink.” 

Your eyes roll watching him move swiftly through his home, now grabbing a freshly opened bottle of red wine. 

“Plus it's only wine so we can cap it off at one bottle otherwise I do have opened tequila.” 

“Seok, do you not remember what happened the last time I had too much tequila?” 

“Sort of. I was equally as drunk as you if not more, all I remember is you’re  clingy as hell.” 

Taking the space across the coffee table from you, he placed the stack of questions down, and poured half of the red liquid in two coffee mugs. 

“Ladies first.” 

His eyes crinkled on the side as he smiled, waiting for you to read the first interrogating question. 

“Okay,” A laugh escaped your lips before reading out loud. “What’s the shortest amount of time you’ve known someone before hooking up?” 

“Oh come on, you can answer that it’s easy.” 

“Hm, I really was a little crazy when I first went to college. I’d have to say maybe a half hour?” 

Seokmin just nodded, nothing about that was too crazy. He knew about your freshman year of college. 

“Alright, Seoky. Saddle up.” 

You giggled, taking a sip of your wine out of turn, watching the face of the other player turn red. 

“What’s your most embarrassing fantasy?” 

He flirts with the idea of answering that most of his recent fantasies have involved you, but instead he takes a swig of his drink. 

“Oh come on. You’re no fun. Pick another card, Seok.” 

“That’s not how this game is played, you go.” 

“What’s the most embarrassing time you got turned on?” 

You stretched your head thinking you should confess to your friend that watching him change earlier brought on some sort of fever, but decided against it. 

“Actually, this is embarrassing. But, do you remember my friend Jeonghan from college?” 

“Yeah, of course. Tall, blonde, and gorgeous guy.” 

“Well one time we were studying for a biology exam and the AC in the library was broken, so it was ridiculously hot. We were both sweating a bit, but he was wearing a sweatshirt and I fought and fought him to remove it so he could be more comfortable. Like, it was clearly distracting him. But, he told me he didn’t have a t- shirt to wear underneath.” 

As your story continued Seokmin felt himself catching a wave of jealousy. 

“Lucky for him, I did have my gym bag for later. So I lent my workout top to wear. When he came back from the bathroom he was in a white crop top and for some reason I got so turned on by him wearing my clothes and studying. Like when he burst into the room I swear I almost fucked him right there.” 

“So you got turned on by a guy wearing your clothes? You’re such a typical man, Y/N.” 

“Hey, shut the fuck up. Men wish they were like me.” 

Seokmin’s face now hotter than ever reached back into the pile. 

“What’s the dirtiest text you’ve ever sent?” 

He tried to think of anything even remotely scandalous he could tell you, but came up flat and a little embarrassed. 

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever sexted in my life.” 

“There’s no way you haven’t.” 

“No, I’m serious. The only girl I really dated long term used to try to send me stuff like ‘oh i want you so bad, Seokmin.’ or ‘I wish you’d come over to take care of my problem.’ But I was oblivious and would just respond with things like ‘Well you already have me.’ and ‘What’s wrong?’ I promise I’ve never sexted or even tried too, I would be awful at it. I can barely flirt and make it obvious.” 

“She was trying to get you to fuck her and you thought she had an actual problem?” 

“Yeah, I’ve never been good at flirting.” 

As you laugh at his innocent mistake, and continue to drink your wine you come up with an idea. 

“Okay, let’s practice.” 

“Practice what?” 

“Flirting, like we can roleplay you flirting with me right now, let’s go.” 

“Are you serious?” 

You patted the floor on your side of the glass table trying to get him closer to you. 

“Deadly, now come on.” 

He still didn’t move, so you pushed yourself off his carpeted floor and sat facing him at his side, finally turning to you, you noticed how nervous he seemed. 

“Look, it’s just me. Nothing bad can come out of it.” 

“How do we even start doing this?” 

“Hmm, here scooch is a little closer to me. Just tell me a line.” 

“Okay.” 

Seokmin placed his warm hands on your criss-crossed knees and looked deeply at you, almost into your soul. Your stomach fluttered at the closeness, even though touching for the both of you wasn’t unusual. 

“Hey, baby. I -” 

You cut him off blissful with laughter, nearly spitting your sip of wine onto his white t-shirt. 

“Oh, come on. I wasn’t that bad was I?” 

Dialing it back slightly, your now crying eyes and painful belly, just shook your head. 

“Why were you so serious? Like be yourself, come on.” 

“Let’s just stop. I can't do this, it's too embarrassing.” 

“Fine, here. I’ll teach you.” 

You stood up now, gesturing to him to follow. When he does, you hand him his mug and give him a little nod. Walking over to the knob for the lights to be more dim, only the sound of your feet and the soft party playlist lingering in the background, you strutted back over to him.  

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” 

Your free hand snaked its way up to his shoulder as you gave it a little squeeze indicating you’re going to start now. 

“So, I was over there.” Your hands gesturing to the very bedroom you watched him changing in earlier. “And, I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re really hot.”

“You do?” 

As you nodded, his eyes followed the traces of your exposed neck all the way down to your bare legs. 

“Do you want to dance with me?” 

A question a little silly for you two just being in his apartment, but anything to make him more comfortable without having to talk. 

Seokmin took back both of your mugs and placed them down onto the table, wrapping his hands tightly around your lower back as yours reached into his hair and laid your head down onto his shoulder. 

As you swayed looking out the window to the sparkling cityscape you felt him pull away slightly from you. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

A simple question. 

“How badly I want to kiss you.” 

The words left his mouth with honesty. 

“See that’s a good line.” 

“It’s not a line, I just really want to kiss you.” 

Your head came up off of his shoulder to search his eyes. 

“I, uh. You do?” 

Suddenly you were the one rambling, finally not in the dominant position. 

He just nodded, leaning down to your wine stained lips and planted a kiss as light as a feather on your face, just missing the target. 

You now rolling your eyes dug your fingers deeper into his brown locks and crashed into him. 

The two of you still swaying your bodies to the song started to go deeper into each other, kissing more rapidly now. 

When he stopped for a minute to lift you into his arms, Seokmin’s lips reached the spot on your neck that was just sensitive enough to have a moan breathe out. 

No words were exchanged as he laid you down on his perfectly made bed and continued exploring you, not until it was over did he mutter something that he often says to you, but it had a different meaning now. 

“I love you.”