#so i can have people get hooked on them later

[instantpansies]

oh my word THANK YOU!!! i've been trying to say this since the wicked movie repopularized all of the "wicked is canon" stuff, but you've put it in a way i wasn't able to. YES. certainly wicked is allowed to be a derivative work that recontextualizes Oz. assuming that whatever is in wicked retroactively and automatically changes details about the story (ie, that the scarecrow and the tin woodman knew each other before the events of Wonderful Wizard and/or the MGM film) is simply incorrect.

i'm all for incorporating a body of work that may not be fully compatible into a coherent canon that works as an alternative parallel to the original. i think it's completely fine and understandable that people are hooked on wicked and will want to understand some characters through the lens of wicked. but assuming that wicked's popularity makes it truly canon, or assuming that the history it presents is accurate to Baum's Oz, is ignorant to both the original context of the Baum books and the long history of Oz adaptation.

i'm also a bit of a hater, as i personally believe that understanding Wonderful Wizard characters through a lens of wicked, especially the musical but also the book, is a less interesting way of analyzing the text and symbolism present in that story than either the Baum novel or the MGM film presents as each stands alone.

wicked is, certainly, its own thing. of course it exists in the context of over a hundred years of adaptation before it, but that context is simply not known by most people. it must be able to stand on its own, and i believe it does. but when this retroactive wicked lens is applied to that context and history uncritically, we will run into problems.

i almost want to blame the seemingly recent, but really just more visible shift in fandom to a need for everything to be canon and confirmed? like, it can be difficult to reconcile in our minds that so many different versions of oz are allowed to exist and don't have to be compatible. wicked "confirms" things viewers are left wondering about after the mgm film, so therefore it must be canon, and therefore it's appropriate to correct people on facts they "get wrong" when they contradict wicked canon. that's how the thinking seems to work, at least in my observation. and that way of thinking seeps its way into the secondary or deeper oz fandom, which has led to (in my view) a sort of soft shift from Baum-centric understanding of oz as a whole to a binary star system where Baum and Maguire are seen as co-creators of a more true or real world and story. i'm exaggerating, certainly, but i've seen this shift occur over time. i hesitate to bring this up bc it sounds like i'm whining about the fandom's natural changes and how things aren't the way they used to be, and i guess i am. i digress.

anyways, your original point. yes!!! while oz became baum's most profitable endeavor, and throughout the series you can see him sort of wishing his other books were more profitable so he could expand in different directions, that doesn't mean he didn't care about continuity or cohesion at all. i'd argue he cared more about cohesion and telling a story that made sense and continued to make sense as it was expanded, than he cared about maintaining particular canon details through the whole series. oz changed as baum's tastes, needs, and audience changed, and that is just as important as the changes that would be added by adaptation later on. (hell, many oz fans don't think of the 1902 musical or the silent films as canon, despite them being created by Baum, both because they're less well-known and because they do change things up to better fit their respective media and contexts). this sense of inconsistency, whether overblown or minimized, doesn't mean that wicked is canon compliant with the baum novels. wicked directly contradicts baum's work in some cases--which again, is completely fine. it's a derivative work that takes certain aspects of the original books and the mgm film, synthesizes them in a grimdark expansion on especially the political aspects of the world, and seeks to tell a unique story that allows you to think about Wonderful Wizard and MGM in a different way. but it is not itself an explanation for Baum's supposedly undercooked or unfinished world. it is not itself a part of the original story (i mean this in the context of canonicity of baum's work. oz fans know how complicated oz canon is.) but instead is--as it claims to be--another branch on the complex tree of oz adaptations.

tldr. wicked does not "explain" anyone's actions in Wonderful Wizard or MGM. it seeks to provide an alternative context, or an alternative explanation, certainly. but it does not retroactively "fix" the story. it's perfectly fine to think about the original story or the mgm film in the context of wicked, if you like the alternative history it provides. policing others' adaptations and understandings of the story, or implying or directly stating that wicked should be incorporated into others' headcanons or interpretations or adaptations, or claiming that wicked is canon simply because baum didn't care about canon so everything is canon, is not helpful or productive or good. in fact, that actively makes oz analysis less fun, in my opinion. i hope my point is made here i've been trying to say this for months but as usual i was completely unable to get my thoughts across until acted on by an outside force (seeing this post). so thanks!!

I've seen a lot of people lately harping about how "Wicked isn't canon to the Oz universe", "it's just glorified fanfiction", etc., and I can't express how silly that is, and how annoyed it makes me every time I hear it, lol. Baum's original Oz books were never meant to be some canonical series — they contradict each other constantly; Baum called it a "fairy story" with loose cohesion at best; and it only became a series at all because the first one got popular enough that Baum felt a duty to the fandom to keep making more (even after he had wanted to end it). And the 1939 film is every bit as much "fanfiction" as Wicked — it changes the story in both major and minor ways, including a complete shift of framing (i.e., making Oz into a dream rather than a real place).

Maguire's great contribution to the overarching legacy and lore of Oz was to harmonize the very weak "canon" of the older works with a different shift in framing: recontextualizing all of the prior Oz material as a revisionist history (going off of Baum's own idea framing of himself as a "Royal Historian of Oz"), and attempting to tell "the true story" behind the other works (fictively of course — we're never meant to literally think Maguire's version preceded Baum's, irl). In literary studies, this is called an urtext. The Wicked Years and its adaptations are as much "fanfiction" as the 1939 film: it's just self-aware of that fact in a way that earlier works weren't, and uses that perspective to deconstruct the material and explore deeper (and darker) themes — not simply adapting or reimagining the original text (as the 1939 movie did), but actively challenging it; interrogating it. It's not meant to be "canon" as such: it asks you to ask whether (and why) there is such a thing, and what that might say about the stories that we are meant to literally believe in, in real life.

[niallerspayno]

About Last Night (Louis Tomlinson x reader) - Fic Request

Masterlist

Anonymous request: Hi!! I was wondering if you could do Louis Tomlinson x fem! Reader who is in the band, her and Louis always had a flirty relationship but always told people it was a joke until one night during one of their tours things get heated between them and they hook up, a few weeks later reader finds out she’s pregnant and doesn’t know how to tell Louis so she goes to her best friend Niall Horan for advice and Louis ends up over hearing them? Smut and fluff please!!

Tags: Louis x reader, friends to lovers, smut, pregnancy, fluff, angst

Part 2 | Part 3 - coming soon

…

The arena hums softly with the buzz of amps and muffled conversations, but your focus is already on Louis, who stands near the drum kit, spinning a drumstick between his fingers with that familiar mischievous glint in his eye. This is how it’s always been with the two of you—partners in chaos, constantly toeing the line of what you can get away with, but never crossing it. The harmless flirting, the relentless teasing—it’s your thing.

“Don’t even think about it,” you call out, a grin tugging at your lips.

Louis turns to you, all innocence and dimples. “Think about what, love?”

“Oh, you know exactly what,” you say, stepping closer. “Put the stick down before you get us all in trouble.”

“Trouble?” he echoes, mock-offended. “I am the very definition of responsibility.”

“You’re the definition of a menace,” you retort, grabbing the other drumstick off the snare. You twirl it between your fingers and smirk at him. “If you’re going to cause chaos, at least make it entertaining.”

His eyes light up at your challenge. “I knew I could count on you, partner.”

Before anyone can stop you, Louis taps the microphone stand with his drumstick, and you follow suit, matching his rhythm with the snare drum. The resulting cacophony blares through the speakers, earning a collective groan from Liam and the sound crew.

“Really?!” Liam barks from center stage, throwing his hands up. “Do you two have to do this every time?”

“Yes,” you and Louis say in unison, both grinning like kids caught raiding the cookie jar.

“Unbelievable,” Liam mutters, shaking his head.

“Oh, lighten up, Payno,” Louis says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “We’re just making things more fun.”

“Fun is subjective,” Liam replies, deadpan.

Louis doesn’t even acknowledge him, already pulling you toward the piano at the corner of the stage. “Come on, let’s give them a real show.”

You follow without hesitation, laughing as you plop down on the bench beside him. “Alright, Mozart, let’s hear it.”

“Watch and learn, darling,” he says, cracking his knuckles dramatically before slamming his fingers onto the keys.

The result is an aggressively off-key rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and you immediately burst into laughter, doubling over as he continues his “masterpiece.”

“Wow,” you say between giggles, clapping along. “Move over, Beethoven. Louis Tomlinson has arrived.”

“I know,” he says smugly, tossing you a wink. “Don’t be jealous of my talent.”

“Talent?” you tease, leaning closer. “This is more like a crime against music.”

“Oh, you wound me,” he says, clutching his chest in mock pain. “But I’ll forgive you because you look cute when you’re pretending to be unimpressed.”

You arch an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to close the space between you. “Who says I’m pretending?”

He falters for a split second, just enough for you to notice, before recovering with a smirk. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but the playful tone in your voice makes it clear you’re enjoying every second.

The moment lingers, his eyes locked on yours, the air between you buzzing with unspoken tension. But before anything can happen, Liam’s voice cuts through like a bucket of cold water.

“Enough!” he shouts. “Can we please get back to work?”

Louis groans dramatically, standing up and offering you a hand. “Fine, Payno. We’ll behave. For now.”

“Behaving’s overrated anyway,” you say, letting him pull you to your feet.

He grins, leaning in just enough to make your heart race. “Spoken like a true partner in crime.”

You smirk back, the flush creeping up your neck impossible to hide. “You couldn’t handle this partnership without me.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, before finally letting you go.

As you return to your spot on stage, his laughter still ringing in your ears, you can’t help but feel the familiar thrill that comes with being Louis’s partner in crime. This is just how it’s always been—safe, playful, and light. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

…

The club is alive with pulsing music, flashing lights, and the hum of conversation. The six of you—plus a few crew members—have commandeered a booth near the dance floor, a place to regroup between rounds of drinks and bursts of reckless fun. The night is supposed to be lighthearted, a rare break in the chaos of touring. But your attention keeps drifting toward the bar, where Louis leans casually against the counter, chatting up a pair of girls who can’t stop giggling at whatever he’s saying.

You take another sip of your drink, the sharp burn of tequila doing little to distract you. It shouldn’t bother you. This is Louis, after all—flirty, charming, and always ready to make someone’s night with a cheeky grin. It’s harmless. Always harmless. Just like it’s always been with you and him.

But tonight, it stings.

“You alright there, love?”

Niall’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to find him sliding into the booth beside you, a fresh pint in hand. His blue eyes are sharper than they should be after three rounds, catching onto your mood immediately.

“Fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just enjoying the view.”

Niall snorts, following your gaze toward Louis. “Ah. Him.”

“Him what?” you ask, though your tone is defensive even to your own ears.

“You’re watching him like he owes you money,” Niall says, smirking, but his voice softens when he adds, “What’s going on?”

You hesitate, swirling your drink in your hand. Niall’s always been the one you confide in, the one who listens without judgment. But this—whatever this is—feels like dangerous territory.

“It’s nothing,” you lie.

“Sure it is,” he says, leaning closer. “Come on. You’re never this quiet.”

You glance at Louis again, just in time to see him lean in to whisper something in one of the girls’ ears. Your chest tightens, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“It’s stupid,” you say, setting your glass down with more force than necessary. “I just… I don’t get how he can be like that. Flirting with everyone, acting like it’s all a game.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “That’s just Louis, though. You know that.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, staring at the condensation on your glass. “But sometimes I wonder if it’s ever not a game for him. If he ever actually means it.”

Niall doesn’t answer right away, his gaze steady and thoughtful. Finally, he says, “And what if he does? Would that change things?”

You laugh, though it’s bitter and hollow. “Not for him. He’d still be Louis, and I’d still be the idiot who gets worked up over it.”

“Hey,” Niall says gently, nudging your shoulder. “You’re not an idiot. You care about him. That’s not stupid.”

You look at him, startled by how easily he’s put words to something you’ve been trying to deny. “I didn’t say I care about him.”

“You didn’t have to.”

His voice is kind, but it hits you like a punch to the gut. You reach for your drink again, draining the rest of it in one go.

��Okay,” you say, standing up abruptly. “I need another one.”

“Hang on,” Niall says, grabbing your wrist before you can escape. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’re already—”

“Drinking?” you interrupt, flashing him a wry smile. “Yeah, I know. That’s kind of the point.”

Niall lets you go, watching as you make your way to the bar. You don’t look at Louis as you order another round, but you can feel his presence—his laughter, his charm—like a static charge in the air.

When you return to the booth, Niall’s still waiting, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to tell him, you know,” he says quietly.

“Tell him what?”

“Whatever it is you’re feeling. If you’re not ready, that’s okay.”

You sit down, your drink clutched tightly in your hands. “What if I never am?”

Niall shrugs, his usual easygoing demeanor softening. “Then that’s okay, too. But just… don’t beat yourself up over it, alright? He’s an idiot, but he’d be even more of one not to see how great you are.”

You manage a small smile, but the ache in your chest doesn’t fade. Across the room, Louis throws his head back in laughter, and you drain your drink, trying not to think about what it would mean if Niall was right.

...

You’re halfway through your drink, the alcohol starting to make the room blur at the edges, when you feel someone slide into the booth beside you. It’s not Niall this time—he’s gone to the bar for another round.

“Having fun, partner?”

You don’t need to look to know it’s Louis. His voice, low and warm, cuts through the haze like a match striking in the dark.

“Loads,” you reply, your tone sharper than you intended. You focus on your glass, not him.

There’s a pause, and then he leans closer, so close you can feel the heat of him against your arm. “What’s got you in a mood, then?”

You scoff, finally turning to meet his gaze. “Why would I be in a mood?”

Louis’s brow furrows, and he studies you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Dunno. That’s why I’m asking.”

You shrug, trying to brush him off. “It’s nothing. Go back to your fans.”

Realization dawns in his expression, and his lips curve into a small smirk. “Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. He tilts his head toward the bar, where the girls he’d been chatting with have moved on. “They’re just fans, love. Took a couple photos, had a laugh. That’s all.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say quickly, taking another sip of your drink.

“Clearly, it does,” he counters, his voice dipping lower.

You glance at him, and the teasing edge in his expression is gone, replaced by something quieter. More serious. It makes your stomach flip, and you hate how easily he gets under your skin.

“I just don’t get how you can do it,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Turn it on and off like it’s nothing.”

Louis stares at you for a moment, his blue eyes searching yours. Then he leans back slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You think it’s nothing?”

You don’t answer, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not. I just… I don’t know. It’s easier sometimes to keep it light, you know? Keeps people from expecting too much.”

Your chest tightens at his words, and you look away, focusing on the dance floor instead. It feels safer than looking at him when he’s being like this—honest and raw in a way that catches you off guard.

Louis follows your gaze, then nudges you with his shoulder. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Dance with me.”

You blink at him. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he says, standing up and holding a hand out to you. “Unless you’re scared you can’t keep up.”

It’s a challenge, one you’d normally accept without hesitation. But tonight, there’s something heavier in the air between you, something that makes you hesitate.

“Louis…” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Just one dance, love. For old time’s sake.”

You sigh, finishing the last of your drink before placing your hand in his. His grip is warm and steady as he pulls you to your feet, leading you toward the dance floor.

The music is loud and fast, but Louis doesn’t seem to care. He spins you around dramatically, earning a laugh despite yourself, and when he pulls you close, his grin is infectious.

“There she is,” he says, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, though you’re not sure it’s true.

“No?” he asks, leaning in until his lips are just inches from your ear. “Then what are you?”

The question lingers, hanging between you as the beat of the music thrums in your chest. You glance up at him, your breath catching at the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the room that matters.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, your fingers tighten around his, and you let him pull you closer.

The music is deafening, the bass vibrating through your chest as Louis pulls you closer. The heat of the crowd presses in around you—sweaty bodies moving together in time with the pulsing beat—but all you can feel is him. His hand rests lightly on your waist, fingers brushing against the bare skin where your top has ridden up, and the touch sends a jolt of electricity through you.

You match his rhythm, your bodies swaying together as the lights flash and the room spins in a blur of color and sound. He leans down, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs something you can’t hear over the music. But it doesn’t matter, because the low rasp of his voice alone makes your pulse race.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, then slide down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your fingertips. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire club has faded away.

He’s looking at you like he’s never seen you before, like he’s trying to memorize every detail. And you can’t look away.

“Louis,” you manage to say, but your voice is swallowed by the music.

He doesn’t answer, just pulls you even closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His hand tightens on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, and it’s almost too much.

The air between you is charged, thick with something you can’t quite name but can’t ignore either. And when his lips brush against your temple—soft, almost tentative—it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your resolve snaps.

Without thinking, you grab his hand and tug him toward the edge of the dance floor, weaving through the crowd until you find a dark hallway leading toward the bathrooms.

“Here?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless as you pull him into the dimly lit space.

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” you reply, your back pressing against the wall as he steps closer, crowding into your space.

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands are on your hips in an instant, his lips crashing against yours with a force that makes your head spin. It’s all heat and desperation, months of tension unraveling in a single, searing kiss.

You fist your hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groans softly against your lips. The sound sends a thrill through you, and you arch into him, gasping when his mouth moves to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your throat, his voice low and strained.

But stopping is the last thing on your mind. “Don’t,” you whisper.

The noise of the club fades into a dull throb, your pulse pounding in your ears as Louis pulls you deeper into the hallway. His grip is unrelenting, his hand firm around your wrist as he guides you toward the dimly lit bathroom, the air thick with the sharp scent of alcohol and sweat. When you step inside, he doesn’t hesitate. He closes the door behind you with a soft thud, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s already pulling you toward him, his hands sliding to the curve of your waist.

"Fuck," he breathes, his voice low, gravelly, as he looks you over. His eyes darken with something primal, raw. "I need you."

The way he says it—like there’s no choice in the matter, like he’s been waiting for this—makes your stomach flutter with anticipation. Your heart races as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His body presses flush against yours, the heat radiating off of him like a furnace.

You’re suddenly aware of everything—his breath against your skin, the brush of his chest against yours, the sensation of his hands sliding down to grip your thighs as he carries you toward one of the stalls. The door bangs against the wall as he kicks it open with a force that leaves you breathless. You barely register it, too caught up in the way he’s looking at you—so intensely, so urgently—that it’s like the entire world outside has ceased to exist.

Louis doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. He presses you back against the door, and the sharp click of the lock echoes in the small space. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, deliberately, until the cool air hits your skin. The contrast of the cold on your warm body makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of him against you.

"God, you're perfect," he mutters under his breath, his eyes raking over you like he can’t quite believe you’re here. His mouth finds the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes your pulse spike. He’s everywhere at once—his lips, his hands, his body—leaving no space between the two of you.

His lips trail lower, his breath hot as it brushes against your collarbone, and you can’t help but shiver, arching into him as his hands slip lower, tracing the curve of your waist and hips. “Louis,” you breathe, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“You want this,” he says, his voice rough with hunger as he presses his body into yours. His hands slide under your skirt, gripping your thighs, his thumbs brushing the inside of your legs. The sensation sends a shock of desire through you, and you tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.

You’re both moving instinctively now—his body surging into yours, your hands tearing at his jeans, pushing them down just enough so you can feel the hard line of him pressing into you. You’re both breathless, desperate, as your bodies start moving together, finding a rhythm born from nothing but pure need.

The heat between you is overwhelming, suffocating. You can feel every inch of him against you, your bodies grinding together with a desperation that feels like it's been building for weeks, months even. His lips find yours again, more forcefully this time, his tongue slipping between your lips as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his body.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans against your mouth, his hands moving to the zipper of your skirt, tugging it down, leaving you exposed to him in the dim light.

You gasp as the cold air hits your skin, but the shock of it only fuels the fire between you. You push him back slightly, giving yourself enough room to pull off your panties, tossing them carelessly to the side. His eyes darken at the sight, and he groans again, his hands trembling slightly as they slide down your body.

“God, you’re killing me,” he mutters as he presses his body into yours again, the door rattling against the force of it. His lips trail down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, and you can’t help the moan that slips from your mouth.

“You want me?” he asks, his voice low, dangerous, as his hands slide between your bodies, his fingers brushing against you, making you gasp.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, I need you.”

And just like that, he’s pulling you closer, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he positions himself against you. The first thrust is slow, deliberate, but it doesn’t take long for the urgency to take over, for both of you to lose control.

Your bodies move together with a frantic rhythm, the pressure building, tightening, until you feel like you’re going to explode. The sensation is overwhelming, dizzying, and you cling to him, feeling his hands grip your skin like he’s afraid to let go. His breath comes in ragged gasps against your ear as he buries his face in your neck, his body pressing into yours with every thrust.

The world outside the stall is forgotten—there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the rhythm of your bodies, the urgent need to feel more.

When it happens, it’s all at once—the sharp pull of release, the sensation of your body shuddering as he groans your name, the feeling of him inside you. You lose yourself in him completely, and for a moment, the entire world falls away, leaving nothing but the raw, pulsing connection between the two of you.

For a long time, neither of you speaks. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as you stand there, still tangled together in the small, dimly lit stall. The air is thick, heavy with the aftermath, and the sound of the club’s music feels distant now, like it belongs to someone else’s world.

Louis rests his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your hips as if he’s afraid to let you go. His breathing slows, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice soft, the intensity from moments ago replaced with something else. Something almost tender.

You nod, your hands tracing the lines of his back, still feeling the echo of his touch. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m more than okay.”

And for a brief, fleeting moment, it feels like everything has shifted.

...

The morning light seeps through the curtains, casting pale slivers across the room, and you wake with a pounding headache that has everything to do with last night. As you sit up, stretching stiff muscles, your fingers graze your neck, and you freeze.

You already know what you’ll find. Your stomach flips as you rush to the mirror, pulling your hair away to reveal dark, circular marks. Hickeys. Louis’s hickeys.

Heat floods your face as the memories from last night rush back—his hands on your body, the rasp of his voice in your ear, the way he kissed you like he was starving for it. A shiver runs through you, not from regret, but from how damn good it all was.

Still, the marks are a problem. You grab your makeup bag and get to work, layering concealer and powder until they’re faint enough to be hidden by your hair. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do. You can’t let the others see. You can’t let anyone see.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s a message from Louis: "You good?"

Your heart hammers as you type back: "We need to talk."

A few minutes later, you’re knocking on his door. When it swings open, Louis is there—hair tousled, barefoot, still half-asleep, but the way he looks at you makes it clear he knows why you’re here.

“Hey,” you say, stepping inside. Your voice feels thin, unsure, but you force yourself to keep going. “About last night...”

Louis closes the door behind you and leans against it, crossing his arms. “Yeah,” he says slowly, watching you with that sharp, unreadable gaze of his.

“I woke up with... these,” you continue, gesturing toward your neck. His eyes follow the motion, a smirk twitching at his lips as he realizes what you’re talking about.

“Didn’t think I went that hard,” he teases, but there’s something softer underneath his usual playfulness. “Sorry about that.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers brushing over the covered marks. “It’s fine. I covered them up, but, Louis... no one can know about this. The others would never let us live it down.”

Louis straightens, the smirk slipping into something more serious. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s probably best if we keep it between us.”

The weight of that decision settles over the room, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, Louis lets out a low laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, for what it’s worth... it was a really fucking good time.”

Your breath catches, your heart flipping at the sincerity in his tone. A small, involuntary smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah,” you admit softly, meeting his gaze. “It really was.”

The tension in the room shifts—heavier, but warmer. There’s something unspoken between you, something lingering from last night, but you force yourself to push it aside.

“But it was... a one-time thing,” you say, your voice firmer now. “We were drunk, caught up in the moment. It doesn’t mean anything. Right?”

Louis hesitates, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he nods. “Right,” he agrees, though his voice doesn’t carry the same conviction. “Just a one-time thing. We go back to normal. Friends. Bandmates. No weirdness.”

You nod, the words hanging heavy in the air. “Alright,” you say, standing and smoothing your shirt. “I’ll see you at soundcheck.”

Louis follows you to the door, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Yeah,” he says softly. “See you there.”

You step out into the hallway, feeling the weight of everything unspoken between you. The memory of last night burns in your mind, and as much as you tell yourself it was a mistake, a small, stubborn part of you knows it wasn’t.

And as you walk away, you know the secret you’re both keeping won’t be the hardest part. The hardest part will be pretending that you don’t want more.

...

The hotel bathroom feels impossibly small, its tiled walls closing in on you as you stare down at the pregnancy test in your trembling hands. The instructions are simple, straightforward, but they feel like a foreign language as you reread them for the third time.

Niall is waiting just outside, sitting on the edge of your hotel bed. You hadn’t planned to involve him this much, but when you decided to sneak out and buy the test earlier, he’d been the one person you trusted enough to call. Now, as the reality of what you’re about to do looms over you, you’re beyond grateful he’s here.

“Everything okay in there?” Niall’s voice drifts through the door, steady and calm.

“Yeah,” you call back, though your voice wavers. “I’m doing it now.”

“Take your time,” he replies, his tone gentle.

You follow the instructions mechanically, your heart pounding louder with every step. When it’s done, you set the test on the counter, face down, and set the timer on your phone. For a moment, you just stand there, gripping the edge of the sink to steady yourself.

When the timer buzzes, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the test.

“You good?” Niall asks from the other side of the door, the concern in his voice unmistakable.

You take a deep breath and pick up the test. The result is instant.

Pregnant.

The air rushes out of your lungs, and you open the bathroom door without even thinking. Niall is on his feet in an instant, his eyes scanning your face.

“What does it say?” he asks, his voice soft but urgent.

You hold up the test, your hand shaking. “It’s positive,” you whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Niall just stares, processing the words. Then, he crosses the room in two quick steps and pulls you into a hug. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

You cling to him, tears spilling over as the weight of the situation crashes down on you. After a moment, he pulls back, his hands resting on your shoulders as he studies your face.

“Do you… know who the father is?” he asks carefully.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “It’s Louis.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth falls open slightly. “Louis?”

You laugh, a short, incredulous sound that bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “Yeah. It was that night we all went out to the bar.”

Realization dawns in his eyes, and he stares at you like he’s trying to piece it together. “Wait—so… the bathroom stall?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Yes, the bathroom stall,” you say, your voice muffled.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, to your surprise, Niall starts to laugh—a low chuckle that quickly turns into full-on laughter. It’s contagious, and soon you’re laughing too, tears streaming down your face as the absurdity of it all sinks in.

“I can’t believe I’m having a baby that was conceived in a bathroom stall,” you manage to choke out, shaking your head.

Niall grins, his laughter fading into a warm smile. “Hey, at least you’ll have a good story for the kid someday.”

You snort, wiping your cheeks. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over great.”

As the laughter subsides, Niall’s expression grows serious again. “You're going to have to tell Louis.”

You shake your head, the weight of that reality settling over you. “Not yet. I don’t even know how to tell him.”

Niall squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “You don’t have to figure it out alone. I’m here, alright? Whatever you need.”

His support steadies you, and you nod, a small spark of determination flickering to life. “Thanks, Niall,” you say softly.

He smiles, giving your shoulder a final squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

...

The hotel dining room buzzes with the usual morning energy: clinking cutlery, muted conversation, and the aroma of coffee filling the air. You sit with the boys, doing your best to seem normal as you pick at a piece of toast. The nausea has become a constant companion, and exhaustion drags at you more with each passing day.

“Still not feeling well?” Liam asks, glancing at your plate with a worried frown.

You force a smile. “It’s just a bug. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Zayn points out, his tone sharper than Liam’s, though there’s concern in his dark eyes.

Harry leans back in his chair, studying you closely. “You need to see a doctor. You’re barely eating, and you look knackered.”

“Thanks, Harry,” you say dryly, hoping humor will deflect their growing concern.

Louis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet throughout breakfast, lifts his coffee cup to his lips but says nothing. His eyes linger on you, though, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

“I’ll be fine,” you insist again, grabbing your mug and taking a sip even though the coffee turns your stomach. “Just need some rest.”

The boys don’t look convinced, but they eventually let it drop as the conversation shifts to tour logistics. When breakfast wraps up, everyone begins dispersing to their rooms.

As you step into the hallway, Niall gently catches your arm. “Hey, can we talk for a sec?”

“Sure,” you say, letting him steer you toward a quieter section of the corridor.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Louis lingers just out of sight around the corner, pretending to check his phone.

Niall keeps his voice low as he speaks. “How are you holding up? Really.”

You glance around nervously, making sure no one is nearby. “I’m okay,” you lie, though your voice wavers. “Just... trying to figure things out.”

He frowns, clearly not buying it. “You’ve got to stop pushing yourself so hard. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

“I know,” you whisper, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just... it’s a lot, Niall.”

“Have you thought more about telling Louis?”

The question hangs in the air, and your heart sinks. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit. “How do I tell him that I’m pregnant and it’s his baby? That it happened in a bloody bathroom stall?”

Niall snorts, though his expression quickly turns serious again. “You’re going to have to tell him eventually. He deserves to know, and you deserve to have his support.”

“I know,” you say quietly. “I just… I’m scared, Niall. What if he freaks out? What if it changes everything between us?”

“He might freak out,” Niall says honestly. “But he’s Louis. He’ll step up. You’ve got to trust him—and yourself.”

Neither of you notice the shadow around the corner or the way Louis freezes in place, his breath catching as he processes what he just overheard.

“I’ll tell him,” you say finally, your voice shaky but resolute. “I just need to figure out how.”

Niall nods, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ve got your back.”

You manage a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Niall. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As the two of you part ways, Louis remains rooted to his spot, his mind racing. He had only stopped to grab his jacket, not to eavesdrop—but now, he can’t unhear what’s just been revealed.

Pregnant. His baby.

The words loop in his mind, crashing over him in waves of shock and disbelief. He grips the wall for support, his heart pounding as he tries to process what this means—for you, for him, for everything.

...

The hotel suite is unusually quiet, the remnants of breakfast scattered across the coffee table as the boys lounge around. You’re absent, having slipped away earlier, and the rest of the group assumes you’re just taking some much-needed time to yourself.

Louis, however, can’t sit still. He paces the room, his jaw tight and his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, but one thing is clear: he needs answers.

Niall, sitting on the armrest of a couch, notices the tension radiating off Louis. “Mate, you alright?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

That’s all it takes for Louis to stop pacing and whirl around to face him. “No, Niall, I’m not alright,” he snaps, his voice sharp enough to make everyone else in the room sit up straighter.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks, frowning.

Louis ignores him, his blue eyes locked on Niall. “How long were you planning on keeping it from me?” he demands, his voice rising.

“Keeping what from you?” Niall replies carefully, though his face pales slightly.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Louis shouts, taking a step closer. “I know. I heard you talking to her this morning.”

The room falls into stunned silence, and Zayn and Harry exchange wide-eyed looks.

“What are you talking about?” Harry finally asks, his tone laced with confusion.

Louis doesn’t even glance at him. His focus is still entirely on Niall. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she? And it’s mine.”

Niall’s mouth opens and closes a few times, but no sound comes out. The rest of the boys look utterly shell-shocked, their eyes darting between Louis and Niall.

“Is it true?” Liam asks, his voice quieter now, though no less serious.

Niall lets out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t my place to tell you, Louis,” he says, his voice firm despite the guilt flickering in his eyes. “She needed time to figure out how to say it herself.”

Louis’s laugh is bitter, almost disbelieving. “Time? You don’t think I deserved to know right away? That I deserved to hear it from her—or at least someone—before overhearing you whispering about it in a bloody hallway?”

“I was just trying to be there for her,” Niall says defensively, standing now to meet Louis’s glare. “She’s scared out of her mind, Louis. This isn’t easy for her.”

“You think this is easy for me?” Louis shoots back, his voice cracking slightly. “Finding out I’m going to be a dad like this?”

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw.

Zayn leans forward, his brow furrowed. “Wait. Are you saying Y/N’s pregnant, and it’s yours?”

“Yes,” Louis snaps, throwing his arms out in frustration. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Harry sits back, his jaw slack as he processes the revelation. “Bloody hell.”

“Look, I get that you’re upset,” Niall says, his tone softer now. “But she needed time to figure things out. I was just trying to support her until she was ready to talk to you.”

“She should’ve come to me,” Louis mutters, his anger ebbing slightly but still palpable. “I deserved to know.”

“And she knows that,” Niall replies. “But she’s been scared, Louis. She didn’t want to mess everything up. She didn’t know how you’d react.”

Louis takes a deep breath, his hands raking through his hair as he processes Niall’s words. “I don’t know how to react,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “This is... massive.”

“It is,” Liam says, speaking up for the first time since the confrontation started. “But it’s not something you have to figure out alone. We’re all here for both of you.”

Louis looks around the room, his frustration slowly giving way to uncertainty. “I need to talk to her,” he says finally, more to himself than anyone else.

“Then do that,” Niall says gently. “But give her some grace, mate. She’s dealing with a lot.”

Louis nods, his expression still tense but less combative. Without another word, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving the rest of the boys in stunned silence.

...

You’re standing at the sink in your hotel bathroom, clutching the edge of the counter to steady yourself as another wave of nausea passes. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly, adding to the headache pounding at your temples.

Splashing cold water on your face, you glance at your reflection, pale and drawn. You’d thought you could keep things under control, at least for a little while longer. But the toll on your body is becoming harder and harder to hide.

A knock at the bathroom door startles you. Before you can answer, Louis’s voice cuts through.

“Y/N, it’s me. Open up.”

Your stomach twists for an entirely different reason now. His tone is firm, no trace of his usual teasing lilt. You grab a towel to pat your face dry, stalling for time.

“I’m fine, Louis,” you call back, trying to sound normal.

“I’m not leaving,” he says, and you can hear the resolve in his voice. “We need to talk.”

With a resigned sigh, you open the door. Louis is standing there, arms crossed and a look of determination on his face. The blue of his eyes is intense, searching yours for answers you’re not ready to give.

“Can we do this later?” you ask weakly.

“No,” he says, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. “I know.”

Your breath catches. “You know what?”

“I know you’re pregnant,” he says, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “And I know it’s mine.”

The air feels sucked out of the room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

“How—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I heard you and Niall talking this morning,” he admits. “I wasn’t eavesdropping—it just happened. And now I need to hear it from you. Is it true?”

You look down at your feet, your hands trembling. “Yes,” you whisper.

Louis exhales sharply, leaning back against the door as he runs a hand through his hair. “How long have you known?”

“About a week,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I took a test. Niall’s the only one I told.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice cracking slightly. “Why did I have to find out like this?”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you sink onto the closed toilet lid. “I didn’t know how to, Louis,” you confess. “It’s not exactly an easy thing to bring up. And I didn’t know how you’d react. I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” he asks, his brows knitting together.

“No,” you say quickly. “Not of you. Just... of everything. What this means for us, for the band. I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

Louis crouches down in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. The unexpected tenderness in the gesture makes your chest tighten.

“You’re not ruining anything,” he says softly, his voice steadier now. “But you can’t shut me out of this. I deserve to know what’s going on, Y/N. This is my baby too.”

The weight of his words hits you, and you nod, wiping at your eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, Louis. I was just... trying to figure it all out.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone anymore,” he says, his hands squeezing your knees gently. “We’ll figure it out together.”

You look up at him, surprised by the conviction in his voice. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he says, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “We might not have planned this, but it’s happening. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in days, a flicker of hope sparks in your chest. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Louis stands, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of this bathroom. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. And for the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you won’t have to face this alone.

Louis doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you out of the bathroom, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. He stays standing for a moment, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather his thoughts. When he finally sits beside you, he turns to face you fully, his expression serious but gentle.

“I know this probably feels overwhelming,” he starts, his voice softer now. “But I need you to know something. I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

Tears prick your eyes again, and you bite your lip, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. “Louis, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupts firmly. “This isn’t about what I have to do. This is my baby, and you... you’re everything to me.”

Your breath catches, and you stare at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. “What do you mean?”

He exhales deeply, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips. “I mean I’ve been in love with you for ages, Y/N. I’ve just been too much of a coward to say it.”

“Louis...”

He laughs softly, though there’s a trace of vulnerability in his eyes. “It’s true. I’ve hidden behind all the jokes and the flirting because I was terrified you didn’t feel the same. I thought if I said something, I’d ruin what we have. And then that night at the club happened, and I thought maybe... but you said it was a mistake, and I didn’t want to push.”

You shake your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “It wasn’t a mistake,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I only said that because I was scared. Scared of ruining what we have, just like you were. But I’ve been in love with you too, Louis. For so long.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks utterly stunned. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” you whisper, reaching for his hand. “I mean it.”

He lets out a soft, incredulous laugh, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “All this time, we’ve been dancing around each other like idiots.”

You laugh too, though it’s choked with emotion. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

The two of you sit there for a moment, letting the weight of the truth settle between you. Then Louis’s grin turns mischievous, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Can you believe our kid’s going to have the most ridiculous conception story ever?” he says, his voice teasing.

You can’t help but laugh, the tension breaking slightly. “Conceived in a bathroom stall at a nightclub,” you say, shaking your head. “That’s not exactly the romantic story you tell at family gatherings.”

Louis chuckles, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “No, but it’s our story,” he says, his tone softening again. “And I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

The warmth in his gaze makes your heart swell, and before you can overthink it, you lean in. Louis meets you halfway, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s nothing like the heated, impulsive one from that night. This one is slow, deliberate, and full of everything you’ve both been holding back.

When you finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your face. “I’m all in, Y/N,” he says quietly. “For you, for this baby. For everything.”

A tear slips down your cheek, but this time it’s one of relief, not fear. “Me too,” you whisper.

The two of you sit there in the quiet, holding each other as the enormity of the moment settles in. For the first time in weeks, you feel like everything might just be okay.

...

Part 2

[itsallmouthwashing]

Band AU bullet points / slight timeline of events

This IS an AU, and they’re MY barbies I can make them kiss when I WANT /silly

Here are general bullet points for the Band AU with a slight timeline of events. Reblogs are so appreciated :)

If I write out a scene that's here I'll link the post and reblog this post as a sort of master list? Maybe? I'll figure it out. Also here's the playlist for the AU :)

Cw: mentions of parent death, implied neglect, drug abuse, assault, ooc characters

A little context---

Band Name: Tulpar

Record Label: Pony Express Records

Genre: Rock and Metal 

Canon divergence note: Anya does get assaulted, but by her boyfriend instead of Jimmy. I don’t really have a character set up for the boyfriend yet, but I wanted to keep that as an element of her story 

Curly on guitar and vocals, Jimmy on guitar and scream vocals, Anya on bass and fills for drums, Daisuke on drums and synth/keyboard, fills for bass sometimes when he’s feeling confident and Anya wants to switch it up

Swansea is their manager right before they go pro and remains their manager when they sign with P.E Records! He is the one the band has to impress with their new songs. If he doesn’t like it, it doesn't get used 

Curly and Jimmy formed Tulpar in their junior year of high school. Originally it was going to remain the two of them(Curly was learning drums), but the two clicked with Anya and Daisuke almost immediately during senior year (they were both transfer students). 

It for sure took convincing for Jimmy to let them join the band. He made them ‘prove’ they were ‘worthy of finding a place in their art’

They totally fucking blew him away (Curly was a little smug about it after Jimmy conceded.)

Jimmy does bond with Dai and Anya over the years

Dai is the one to propose they go pro. His parents have lots of connections in Hollywood and production, so it’d be easy to find someone willing to listen to them and give them a chance on the billboards

Jimmy gets a little pissy about this (he’s huge into actually working for things in life and hates the idea of using connections to get his success) and storms off without saying anything (normally he’d be dragged out of the room screaming. He’s been working on his temper since senior year. Curly literally slapped it into him that the world isn't highschool and he needs to change the way he acts around people if he wants to retain friendships)

But Jimmy’s mom dies. His dad can't take the grief and follows her into the afterlife. Jimmy breaks down and he’s lashing out at every turn

The rest of the crew take it for months and months, with Curly explaining that Jimmy's really going through a lot and should be patient. He would talk to him later if he hasn't calmed down in a few days

But it just gets worse over the days 

Jimmy is constantly putting down the rest of his bandmates but mostly targets Anya as she is the most insecure of the group and finds it easier to spit poison at

One day she visits Curly to discuss this (Salt and Mouthwash scene here)

Jimmy ends up apologizing but it takes time for things to return to normal for all of them

Dai brings in Swansea, a music critic for them to workshop songs with

He goes full manager mode, disapproving of songs the crew thought for sure he’d love and approving ones they were really on the fence about

Insert training montage here

Swansea eventually brings them in front of P.E Records execs

After a brutal five week waiting period, Tulpar officially signs with Pony Express records

To celebrate, the crew goes out clubbing. Anya hooks up with a girl for the first time. Lesbain shenanigans ensue in the bathroom. Jimmy and Curly get a little too drunk. Daisuke pukes outside of the car (and tries really hard to not puke inside the car. He fails.) 

Sleepover at Curly’s house (they all forgot they had exams in the morning and Curly’s house is right next to the campus.) Jimmy gets flirty and lonely when he’s drunk and through the heightened emotional states of it all, he goes in for a kiss

Daisuke stumbles into Curly’s room thinking it’s the bathroom. Almost pukes on the carpet like an ill cat. 

They startle apart and when Curly comes back from leading Dai to the bathroom Jimmy is already asleep (he’s a little faker- he’s just embarrassed)

Exams go like shit the next morning and everyone is too stressed to go back out and get their cars so it’s a week-long study session at Curly’s while everyone crams

Song writing breaks that become too frequent. Swansea suddenly appears to oversee the studying (Dai’s parents sent him over to check on him, but he finds a reason to stay and supervise. Writing breaks become nonexistent) and he actually helps everyone with studying. He’s the one to propose flash cards and Anya hs to scream into a pillow because why didn't she think of that sooner? Then again when she realizes She did, but her flashcards were in her car. Which was at the bar. Which was an hour away because they’re all idiots. 

Swansea and Curly get her car for her and convince her to take a break from her own material while they’re out (Dai just asks her to help him with studying.)

Jimmy like a fucking DOG keeps himself from begging to go with them, but Swansea says “I’ve known how to drive longer than your daddy’s been shooting into socks. Anya’s car will be safe with me, kiddo,” and pushes Curly out the door lmao

On the way, Swans and Curly have a little heart-to-heart and Swans reveals he’s been family friends with Dai’s parents for years and they’re actually large shareholders of the record company. 

Curly doesn't care, not really, but he feels his stomach drop and his heart drown in fire. Jimmy could never find out about this. He can hardly keep the radio on during his solo drive back

When they arrive back at Curly’s, Dai and Anya are passed out on the couch while Jimmy sits wide awake at the dining-room table. Swansea sees no reason to stick around (“I went to the club for the first time in twenty years, Grant. I need to get home and sleep it off.”) and dips. 

Exams go a little better, but on the last day Anya gets pulled over on her shame-stop to Burger King. She has a panic attack during the stop and it gives her the idea to write HAMMS IN A GLASS. She’s caught humming it and tapping on the coffee table one day while Swansea is over discussing logistics or whatever with Curly. He full stops their conversation, tells Anya to polish it and have it to him by the end of the week (“Motherfucker I might not have a degree if I think about anything other than my tests and where the fucking rotator cuffs are, PLEASE”), and then LEAVES (“Guess I’ll find what our budget will be after you’re finished…”)

She tries to workshop it with Dai between classes (he’s in an engineering course, but their buildings are pretty close together)(Ive only taken online college classes please) but Dai is becoming increasingly unavailable. She turns to her boyfriend. The night they work on it, he gives her a drink to help her relax from all the stress she’s been under

But he takes advantage of her that night. When she realizes what he’s done she flees to Curly’s house. Her boyfriend follows her, accusing her of cheating when she gets to the door and Curly is there to catch her. 

Curly tries hard to deescalate the situation, but when Jimmy catches wind of what’s happening at the door he makes his appearance (anya had no idea why he was there (gay reasons) but grateful for the surprise help). Jimmy punches his FUCKING lights out (“I didnt do it for you, Anya. That guy was pissing me off. So I took care of it… Now he won’t mess with either of us, alright?”). Everyone thinks it’s a little hot, even the guy getting punched (hey, everyones having a gay awakening this evening, huh?)

Anya stays the night, thwarting Jimmy’s plans to dick Curly down sexual style at last. 

[erinwantstowrite]

im so impatient because we have a whole other arc to get through before this but i want to write peter and duke being silly like so bad. they deserve silly time

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Rafe was so hot this season. Need more of him plsss Can you do Topper sister reader getting caught touching herself and then they start sexting and she ask him to fuck her? reader is 18, of course!

I have a few more Rafe requests in the work. Please keep them coming, I miss this man (and JJ!!)

Warnings: 18+, smut, brother’s best friend, sexting, daddy kink, protected p + v, 

—

Rafe never bought your sweet and innocent bullshit you put up in front of people. He knew that under your appearance, under the preppy clothes, the big doe eyes and the angelic laugh, you were anything but innocent. 

Him and Topper have been friends for over ten years, and have been hanging out almost everyday. He watched you grow two feet taller, and when your little girl body turned into a woman’s. He saw you. He studied you. 

It wasn’t until that afternoon the boys came back from the golf course that Rafe had his confirmation. Topper told him to use your bathroom since the main one was being reconstructed, thinking you weren’t home, but when Rafe walked into your room, he saw you naked on your bed, humping your pillow. It wasn’t just any pillow. It was the one with the face on it — a pillow pet, you had called it. The nose of the turtle was rubbing perfectly on your clit, drawing out the softest whimpers and mewls. 

He watched for a few seconds in silence as you rocked down on the pillow back and forth, a smirk curling on his lips. 

‘’Having fun here?’’ he said in a teasing tone, snapping you out of your bubble.

‘’What the fu—’’ You turned around, startled, and saw Rafe standing in your doorway. ‘’Rafe! What are you doing in my room?’’ 

‘’Just needed the bathroom,’’ he explained. His eyes trailed down your body, seeing it for the first time. ‘’Didn’t know you were busy.’’

You threw a plushie at him, hitting him square in the chest. ‘’Get out!’’ 

Rafe laughed and obeyed, closing the door behind him. ‘’If you want to do some naughty things and not get caught, you should lock the door.’’ 

୨୧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖୨୧

Since that afternoon, Rafe couldn't help but shift his eyes to you whenever you were around. Now that he knew what was underneath the skirts and girls tops, his imagination had free rein. He was careful, though, making sure your brother never caught on —Topper would kill him if he knew the things he was thinking about you. He made it crystal clear to Rafe and Kelce: you were off-limits.

You didn’t care about your brother’s rule though. Rafe was your brother’s hot best friend. Every girl in Kildare was begging to get in his pants — and now you got it too. But it didn’t cross your mind until the other day when he walked in your room. Maybe it was because you’d always known him, seen him as a kind of second big brother. But now? That image had changed, and there was no going back.

One evening, Rafe was hanging in his bedroom, ready to go out with nowhere to go since Kelce had bailed on him for a Tinder hook up. The asshole. Rafe was annoyed, but there was nothing he could say to make Kelce choose beers over sex. To be fair, He would choose sex too.  

He had texted Topper, but he was at Ruthie’s, which meant Rafe was completely on his own tonight. He’ll probably smoke a bit of weed and watch some porn later, a cozy evening. But Wheezie was still home and Rafe promised her he had quit smoking. 

As he waited, his phone buzzed on his bed where he left it. Rafe picked it up, confused when he had received a picture from an unknown number. It was a faceless girl in a delicate sheer pink cami, and her tits looked fantastic. He frowned as he typed ‘who’s that?’. Must be a mistake.

A reply came five seconds later.

You: You don’t recognize my tits Rafey?

Instantly, he knew it was you. It was a nickname you gave him when you were younger. No one but you called him that — Rafey. 

Rafe: How did you get my number?

You: Stole it from Top’s phone 🤭

Rafe: Naughty girl 

You: Did you like it?

Rafe: Like what?

You: My pic! 📸

You: [picture attached]

It wasn’t the same picture. Not exactly. This time, your sheer cami was pulled up and your tits were completely out. 

Rafe cursed and ran a hand through his hair. How did that happen? It was clear that you sent this picture with the intention of initiating something with him. But why was this happening now? What made you go and send him a picture of your tits tonight? You never flirted with him before, or showed signals that you were interested. 

He reached down to rub himself over his pants as he typed a reply. 

Rafe: Fuck those are nice 🥵 

You: They’re cold…🧊❄️ Can you come warm them up? 

Rafe had to do a double take when he read your message to make sure he hadn’t misread it. Can you come warm them up? It was right there on his phone screen. He looked down at his pants, tented and tight, and groaned. He wasn't sure if he should go through with this or not. Did he want to go to you? Absolutely. Should he break his best friend’s trust for a good fuck? 

Rafe: As long as you warm me up too. 

He sent a picture of his tented pants, which he was incredibly hard under.

You: Waiting for you 💕 

 ୨୧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖୨୧

When he arrived, Rafe turned off the truck’s headlights and made sure the neighbors didn't see him. The lady that lived in front of the Thornton house was a country club member and loved to spread gossip around. It wasn’t unusual for him to be at the Thornton’s, but Topper’s truck was not in the driveway. 

The last thing he needed was her spying through her curtains. 

You were sitting on your bed in a pair of panties your mom didn’t know you owned and your pink cami, waiting for Rafe to show up. Tannyhill was seven minutes away, he shouldn’t be long.

‘’Hi, Rafey,’’ you greeted with the most innocent smile and doe eyes.

Rafe shook his head, tsking. ‘’Uh, uh. Don’t play that game with me.’’ 

Your lips curled into a smile. ''Took you long.''

He rolled his eyes. ‘’What’s the hurry? Are your parents coming home soon?’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’I’m just so fucking horny.’’ 

Rafe laughed out loud. He never heard you speak like that, so raunchy and bold. 

You stood on your knees and lifted your cami off, leaving you topless. Your nipples were peaked and pretty, as if greeting Rafe. ''Are you gonna come and warm them up?''  

No need to ask twice. Rafe pulled you onto his lap and put his large hands on you, groping and playing with your tits. His calloused fingers kneaded into the soft flesh expertly. He found your hardened nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers, causing you to whimper at the sensation. 

‘’You like when I give your tits attention, uh?’’ he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You nodded, shifting so your needy cunt would come in contact with Rafe’s rock hard erection. He noticed what you were trying to do, and a smirk played on his lips before he attached them to your neck. 

‘’Can't get enough?’’ Rafe asked between kisses. ‘’Didn’t know you were such a needy little thing.’’ His hips rocked up into yours, grinding his thick cock against your clothed cunt. 

The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making you whimper and cling to his shoulders. ‘’Rafe.’’ 

‘’I'm going to fuck this sweet cunt until you can't walk straight,’’ he promised darkly, nipping over the sensitive spot where your pulse raced, making you gasp and arch into him. 

You’ve thought a lot about Rafe touching you these past days. You knew from overheard conversations with the boys — and talks around the island — and that he was experienced, that he knew how to please a girl. He had a reputation. And goddamn he didn’t disappoint. 

One of his hands left your breasts to slide down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to rub over your folds...which were slick with arousal. Rafe groaned. ''Fuck, you're already soaked.'' He rubbed slow circles over your clit, feeling how swollen it had gotten. ''Did you grind on that turtle of yours before I arrived? Turtles are an endangered species or some shit, can’t torture them like that.’’ 

A laugh bubbled out. ‘’Rafe…’’ 

‘’What?’’ 

‘’Don’t want you to make me laugh. Want you to fuck me,’’ you said, looking right into his blue eyes. 

Rafe raised an eyebrow, holding your gaze. ‘’You want my cock, babygirl? Want me to fill this pussy up real good?’’ His fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance before pushing inside. 

Your walls clenched around him. 

‘’Rafe…’’ you whined again. 

‘’Okay, okay.’’ He kissed your jawline sweetly, then removed his hand from your panties and swiftly stripped them down your legs. ‘’Might keep these as a keepsake,’’ he joked, holding your lacy thong.  

If you hadn’t been so horny, you would have argued with him to get it back — you didn’t have many and you really liked this pair  —, but all you could think about was the beast in Rafe’s pants pounding into you and making you scream. He could get you on your fours like a dog or fold you like a little pretzel if he wished. 

You just needed him.

You reached for his belt and worked to unbuckle it, but Rafe pushed you back and told you to bend over your vanity. His request surprised you, but you complied. The cool air on your wet cunt made you shiver. You never tried that position before. 

You could hear the sound of Rafe undressing — the rustling of fabric, the undoing of a zipper and the clinking of his belt buckle on the floor. You wanted to look at him — at his cock, more precisely —, but he was already behind you, a hand on your back, making you lean down lower, and nudged your legs further apart. 

The air leaked out of your lungs in a squeaky rush when he pressed the tip, gently tearing through your tight walls. The sensation had you gripping the edge of your vanity. 

‘’You okay, baby?’’ he asked with genuine concern in his voice. 

You nodded. ‘’Y-yeah.’’ 

Once the first uncomfortable thrusts passed, you forgot about the initial pain and felt the pleasure flow through your body. Rafe gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging into your soft skin as he picked up pace. The vanity creaked, a rhythmic beat that matched your increasingly frantic movements.

Your tightness enveloped him like a vice as he pounded into you mercilessly. Christ, you felt incredible. Each deep stroke dragged a gasp from your lips, and he reveled in the sounds of pleasure you made.

''You feel so fucking good, baby,'' he grunted, gripping your hips and digging his fingers into your soft flesh. ''Is this what you wanted when you stole my number through Topper's phone? For me to fuck your tight cunt?'' 

Tears were pricking your eyes, your mouth hanging open while wanton sounds kept spilling out. ''Yes, Daddy!'' you uttered out.

The word slipped without noticing, sending a jolt straight to Rafe’s cock, making him throb inside you. ‘’That's it, baby,’’ he growled, even more turned on. ‘’Let Daddy know how much you love being fucked.’’

He pistoned into you harder, the force causing your breasts to bounce with each thrust. The obscene slapping of skin against skin echoed through the room, adding to the soundtrack of your other sounds. It looked like a scene straight from a spicy booktok romance.

Rafe brought a hand around your neck, forcing you to look up. “Look at yourself.”

You lifted your eyes to the reflection in the mirror. It was a view that was erotic. Seeing yourself nude and flushed along with him, and feeling it at the same time was nearly mesmerizing. The look on your face was hazy, strained, and blissful, eyes half-lidded and lips parted. You locked eyes with Rafe through the mirror, and he kissed below your ear.

Behind you, sweat was sticking to Rafe’s smooth chest, but he didn't slow down. He must have really good stamina. You locked eyes with him through the mirror, and he kissed below your ear. 

‘’Are we putting on a good show?’’ he asked, his voice hoarse and low. His words made your cunt clench around Rafe like a vice. He threw his head back with a groan, his whole body tightening. ''Fuck, you're gonna cut my blood flow if you keep squeezing me like that.''

You wanted to stop, but you couldn’t. You had lost all control of your body, gasping and clenching and rutting hard against Rafe until you came with a drawn-out moan. You shivered through your orgasm and Rafe's steady thrusts. 

When he started to shake, you swallowed hard and found your voice. ‘’Come on, Rafey. Fill me up. Cum deep in my pussy, Daddy!’’ 

That pushed him over the edge, his whole body spasming, cock forced all the way in and filling up the condom. Your chest heaving, trying to catch a breath as he rode out the high, grunts and groans leaving his lips. 

You've never heard anything sexier. 

When he was finished, Rafe pulled out and stepped back, leaving alone on your wobbly legs. You started to lose balance, and quickly grabbed the vanity's edge.

‘’Shit, you good?’’ Rafe asked, his tone hovering between concern and smug satisfaction.

You gave a small nod. You just needed to sit. 

His eyes scanned slowly down your body. ''Fucked you that good, uh?'' he said with a smirk, teasing. 

You shot him a playful glare, going to sit on your bed. ‘’Fuck you, Cameron.’’ 

Rafe laughed as he removed and tossed the condom in your trash. ‘’Just did, Princess.’’ 

God. Could he be more exasperating?

He checked on the way back, reading something that made him frown. ‘’Eh, I gotta go.’’

‘’Now?! We just fucked.’’ 

Although this was a casual fuck and that it’s usually how it ends, you didn’t want him to leave right after. You didn’t expect him to cuddle, but you had hoped he would stay a little. To talk or watch something on Netflix. 

Rafe dressed quickly, explaining that Wheezie needed to drive her to her friend’s house because Rose’s car was not starting. 

Before exiting your room, he called your name. ‘’You sound so pretty when you cum.''

Your cheeks flushed and you hid your face with a pillow. ''Rafe...'' 

The corners of his lips curved into a smug smile. He wasn’t done. ‘’Oh, and I liked when you called me Daddy. It's hot.''

—

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[catssluvr]

𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒍, aaron hotchner

aaron hotchner x fem!reader (906 words)

in which you get a necklace with aaron’s initial and he’s absolutely whipped for you <3

warnings: none, clingy hotch :)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

One of your hands holds the generous amount of shopping bags, the other moves to unlock the door. You open it slowly, in case Jack's already asleep. It's just after dinner time but after all the plans Aaron and him had for today, you know he's probably fast asleep in his bed by now.

"Aaron?" You call out gently as you take off your shoes, immediately hearing his footsteps approaching. He appears seconds later, towel draped over his shoulder from doing the dishes.

"Hey, honey. How was shopping with the girls?" He asks with a small smile, leaning over to peck your lips before taking the bags from you and setting them down on the coffee table.

"Pretty good, got everything i needed to get. I also bought Jack a shirt." In your defence, it had a picture of his latest cartoon obsession. How could you resist it?

"You didn't have to." He takes a step towards you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I disagree." You retort, though you know he doesn't mind you buying thing for Jack. He's not your own, but he's your boy nevertheless. "Is he asleep?"

"Yeah, just put him to bed." Aaron moves to hold your face, leaving kisses all over you forehead. Barely getting to see you on his weekend off feels like some kind of torture and he has plans to not leave your side until Monday.

"Hm, can i go give him a goodnight kiss? Wanna leave his new shirt there so he wakes up to a surprise." You smile eagerly, chuckling at his false annoyed groan.

"Sure, hun. I'll finish the dishes and meet you upstairs." He answers, giving your back a soft tap as you rush to pick up the bag and run upstairs.

You pad into Jack's bedroom, kneeling besides his bed to kiss his forehead gently. Setting the bag at the end of his bed, you leave the room as silently as you came in.

You head to the bedroom that by now is just as yours as it's Hotch's. Gathering one of his shirts before entering the bathroom to get ready for bed.

When you come out, you're met with the sight of Aaron in only a shirt and boxers. Sitting against the headboard of the bed as he waits for you.

"How was your day?" You move under the covers to get comfortable while he starts listing all the activities him and Jack did today.

His hands move to massage your sore legs and you can't help but smile at his thoughtfulness. But they come to a stop once his gaze falls on the gold necklace peaking out from your shirt. He hooks a finger around it, pulling it out from it's hiding place.

Aaron eyes you curiously as it is now completely visible, a small 'A' adorning the middle of the necklace.

"What's this?" He asks, the answer quite evident but he can't get himself to believe it. He looks at you lovingly, brown eyes contrasting with yellow light and making your heart race.

"Oh, i saw it at store and it was too pretty not to get. Besides, you're a part of me and i wanted people to know it." You answer almost sheepishly, fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. "It's also waterproof so i never have to take it off."

Aaron swears his heart might jump out of his chest. He knows you love him, he just didn't know it was this loudly. He hopes you never stop doing it.

He wonders what the best reaction to this would be, but he can't get himself to think about it too much before he's tugging you closer. Lips pressing against yours in a gentle kiss.

"I'll get one with yours." He mumbles a bit too seriously and you can't help but laugh.

"You don't wear necklaces, Aaron." You hold his face gently, making sure he knows you appreciate the suggestion anyway. You don't need him to get one too, you're content like this.

Aaron hums with a thoughtful expression, "I'll get it engraved on my watch then." He insists and you have to hold back another laugh at the way he raises his eyebrows trying to persuade you.

"Aaron." You try to sound stern but it's prove quite impossible when he kisses your cheek over and over again.

"How about on my handkerchief?"

"Please don't. We'll be looking like an old married couple." You tease with an affectionate smile.

"We could be." His answer is way more sweet than you expected it to be, heat rushing to your cheeks. He smiles at that and pulls you impossibly closer.

"Are you proposing, Hotchner?" You tease further, though your heart is beating wildly in your chest. He's way too nice.

"You think lowly of me." He plays along, his own smile never leaving his face.

Silence falls over you two for a moment and you take advantage of it to lay your head against his chest, relaxing at the sound of his heart beating against your ear.

"Thank you, seriously." Aaron mutters with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder and kiss against your hair.

"Don't bother." Your words come out a bit slurred, sleep starting to evade you. "Love you."

"I love you." He pulls the covers up to your shoulders. He makes note to start looking for rings before his own eyes fall shut.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

love you,

cat 🤍

[mrsstarkey1]

getting rafe hooked on dress to impress

my fav thing i’ve ever written i can’t even lie

word count: 1.2k

obx masterlist

you yawned loudly and abnoxiously as you walked into rafe’s bedroom. you kicked your shoes off, grabbing one of rafe’s t-shirts from his drawer, changing out of your uncomfortable clothes. “didn’t think you were coming back, it’s late as fuck.” rafe said, looking at you oddly as he sat up on the bed against the headboard.

“longest fucking day of my life. need to unwind.”

rafe smirked, reaching his whole body over the bed to grab your forearm. "like the sound of that," he mumbles.

you let yourself move toward him, but you groan, “not like that.” rafe momentarily pouts, but doesn’t let go of your arm. in fact, he pulls you closer onto the bed with him urging you to cuddle up into him.

he snakes his arm around you, soft fingers tracing circles into your side. "wanna talk about it?"

you yawn and shake your head, "nah, can we just watch a movie or something?"

rafe nods, grabbing the TV remote from the nightstand. "you don't wanna watch some chick-flick do you?" he asks, grimacing already.

you sigh dramatically, “i guess not. fast and furious?”

rafe obligies, satisfied with your suggestion. you get comfortable on the bed, your head rested on rafe's shoulder and your phone rested on his chest as you scroll through tiktok.

about 20 minutes later, you see a video about the new halloween update on dress to impress and gasp before you can stop yourself. rafe jumps slightly, eyes wide. “jesus christ, what’s wrong?”

"sorry, nothing," you grin apologetically, "can I borrow your laptop though?"

he looks at you like you've lost your mind, but he still grabs his macbook from the nightstand, handing it over to you. you sit up excitedly, leaning up against the headboard.

you open the laptop and sign into your roblox account, side eyeing rafe as he gives you an odd look. "the fuck are you doing?"

"playing a game," you respond innocently.

he raises his eyebrows, "roblox? wheezie used to play that shit.. when she was 8," he says, judging you hardcore.

you glare at him, "you don't understand," you sigh. "just watch me play, it's genuinely fun."

he watches you click on dress to impress, making a disgusted face. "yeah I can't defend you on this one," he says and you shove his shoulder.

"well have you ever played dress to impress?" you ask him.

"obviously not," he says, his sassy side on full display.

"well don't judge then. just watch and i'll let you play a round when i'm done," you say with a smile, patting his cheek softly.

"hell nah," he says, directing his attention back to the movie.

you shake your head, giving up on getting him to play. you start a round, looking around at all the new pieces they added. the theme is holiday for your first round, so of course you do halloween.

you notice rafe's eyes on the computer screen as his curiosity clearly starts to creep back in despite himself. he watches as you piece together combination of a witch hat, spiderweb dress, and dark boots.

“what even is this shit?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly intrigued.

you grin, not taking your eyes off the screen since you only have a minute left. “you compete with other people to make the best outfit based on a theme. you'd be pretty good at it, you've got great style," you say, trying to persuade him.

he gives you a look, shaking his head, "sounds dumb as fuck," he says, and you just laugh. he's silent for a moment before turning slightly to have a better view of the screen, "so what you just like... dress them up and shit?"

you nod, watching the time run out. "yes, then everyone votes on each outfit and the top 3 get on the podium. see," you point to the screen, "the voting's starting now."

an outfit that's completely off theme struts down the runway and you grimace, "see like that one's ugly as fuck so i give it a 1. oooh look, this ones mine," you say with a proud smile. "doesn't she look great?"

rafe shrugs, "i guess."

you ended up getting third place, losing to two terrible outfits. you curse under your breath, before turning to him. “you wanna try a round?” you smile, looking up at him.

rafe scoffs, glancing back at the movie, but curiosity gets the better of him. “alright, fine, hand it over.” he takes the laptop.

"okay the theme is beach day," you tell him.

he hums in response, looking around at the clothes aimlessly. "rafe, you gotta pick something that actually matches,” you say, stifling a laugh as he pairs a yellow bikini top with neon green shorts.

"shh, I have a vision," he says, dismissing your words. "wait why the fuck doesn't she have a face?"

"you gotta go to the makeup and hair room, over there," you point at the screen.

he scrolls through the makeup options, finally decided on one. "mhm, she bad ain't she?" you chuckle, knowing rafe is secretly loving this.

time runs out just as he adds the coconut drink, and you see him watching the screen eagerly, waiting for the voting to end. one girl dressed in long pants and a jacket walks out and he looks over at you, disgusted, "this bitch didn't even look at the theme." all you can do is laugh and nod your head in agreement.

when rafe places second, he smirks, looking way too pleased with himself. "ha," he says, "i did better than you."

you roll your eyes. "yeah you're done playing," you say, snatching the laptop back.

the next night, you texted rafe that you were gonna come over after your morning shift and you didn't get a response, which was odd. you let yourself into his house with the key he'd given you. "rafe?" you called out, walking into the living room. "you here?" no response.

you furrowed your eyebrows, walking up the stairs. maybe he was just in his room, you thought, taking a nap or something. you creak open his bedroom door, met with the scene of him sitting on his bed, looking intently at his laptop.

his eyes shoot up to look at you and he slams his laptop closed, guilty look in his eye. you raise your eyebrows, "what were you doing?" you question him, walking toward the bed.

he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, shaking his head. "nothin.'"

your eyes narrow, "were you watching porn?" you joke, sitting down next to him.

he sighs, "worse.." he trails off. he mentally debates for a minute, before pulling his laptop back into his lap, opening it slowly to reveal dress to impress on full display.

your hand shoots to cover your mouth, laugh escaping your lips anyway. all he does is glare at you, "this is your fucking fault."

you lean into him with a laugh, "I know I know, sorry. don't be embarrassed, rafe." you press a kiss to his lips.

as you kiss him, you can’t help but laugh again, glancing at his screen. "okay wait that's actually a cute outfit. you're getting good," you nudge him, "fashionista," you add quietly with a chuckle.

he looks at you straight-faced, "I'm only playing this dumbass game because you dragged me into it. i was just bored so,” he gestures to the screen.

“sure, rafe, whatever you say,” you tease, cuddling up beside him. "feel free to keep playing, don't stop at my expense."

he scoffs, but gives in and restarts the game.

you wrap your arm around his middle and watch as he puts together outfit after outfit, the grin rarely leaving your face.

you just love your little fashionista.

----

requests are OPEN 💌

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 5 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 3.8k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Years later, you’d still wonder if Topper did it all on purpose. 

When you asked him, he’d just wink and say “bet you’d like to know.” 

As your group walked down the dock towards the rental kiosk, Topper pulled out his phone, grinning down at the screen.

“What’s funny?” Carter tried to read over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he tucked his phone in his pocket quickly, failing to hide the cheeky look in his eyes, zero poker face. “Kelce is coming.”

The guy Carter had haggled with brought your group over to the three jet skis and gave you a demonstration on how to drive them. You weren’t paying very close attention, more focused on the uneven pairing of the five of you and how to ensure you didn’t end up on the same jet ski as Tom. His rudeness this morning was the final nail in the coffin of your crush.

The guy gave Carter three keys, and you met her eyes, knowing she was thinking the same thing. 

Topper looked at Carter hopefully, his big puppy dog eyes watching her with anticipation. You felt for him, the two of you really weren’t all that different. Sure, he’d gotten to hook up with Carter plenty of times, his crush not totally unrequited, but she’d never given him what he really wanted. At the end of the day, you were just two people who were really good at loving people who didn’t love you back. Still, you knew in your heart of hearts that Carter did love him back, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Maybe you would never get your dream, but you could make sure that two people you cared about got theirs, and that might be the only thing that made this all worth it.

You planned it out quick, knowing Carter was seconds from asking you to ride with her so you wouldn’t be with Tom, and also knowing that what she really wanted was an afternoon alone with Topper.

“I told Kelce I’d ride with him,” you blurted out. 

“Did you?” Carter asked skeptically, trying to figure you out.

“Yeah, I think he’s still worried I’m mad at him,” you made up off the top of your head. “Thought I’d throw him a bone.”

Carter watched you the whole time she boarded the back of Topper’s jet ski, telling him to wait up so they didn’t leave you alone. Tom and Sabrina didn’t seem to care about leaving you, speeding off the second they climbed on their jet ski, Sabrina’s over-the-top shrieks echoing through the air.

“That bother you?” Topper asked when he caught you scowling in their direction.

“Actually, I’m thinking they might be made for each other,” you concluded.

“So you’re not, like, into him?” Topper asked hopefully.

“Not anymore. That ship sailed so quick,” you snorted.

“Ah,” he tried to play it cool, “good to know.” 

“Don’t get any fucking ideas,” Carter warned him.

“I didn’t say anything!” He insisted.

“You don’t have to, you have zero poker face,” Carter said. “No Tom does not equal yes Rafe.”

“I’m just saying it’s good to know. Am I not allowed to know things?” 

You rolled your eyes at their bickering, less than surprised they were having this conversation right in front of you.

“Y’know, you guys can just take off, I’ll be fine waiting for Kelce,” you offered, desperate to move this conversation about your love life out to sea and away from you.

“Right, Kelce,” Topper nodded. “Kelce is coming.”

“Why are you being so weird?!” Carter squinted at him.

“I’m not! I just wanna go!” Topper revved the engine of the jet ski.

Carter looked at you one more time, checking that you were okay with this.

“Have fun!” You said to reassure her.

That’s all Topper needed to hear, he hit the throttle and pulled away from the dock as fast as he could. Carter’s laughter filled the air, she grabbed him tight and tucked her chin in the crook of his shoulder as he drove. She was happy, so you were happy. Your whole life, that’s really all it took, and you knew she felt the same way about you.

With that lovely thought, you climbed on the jet ski so you’d be ready to go as soon as Kelce arrived. 

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Rafe held the keys a little too tight, Kelce struggling to pry them from his hands.

“You gotta take it easy on the clutch, she’s sensitive.”

“I know how to drive, man,” Kelce wriggled the keys from his grip as he climbed into the driver’s seat of Rafe’s truck.

Rafe stalled by the door for a minute, his feet suddenly feeling very heavy. He looked around the marina, scanning for the group. His heart skipped a beat when he found only you, bobbing in the water on your jet ski all alone.

He’d texted Topper a head’s up that he was coming and asked him to let you know. He didn’t want you to think he was in on Topper’s dumbass scheme to get you two together. If he was gonna do this he was gonna do it right, not try to trick you into it.

Now you were waiting for him, looking so gorgeous with your legs on either side of the seat and your hair blowing gently in the wind. 

Usually, he didn’t call girls beautiful, typically opting for hot, or sometimes pretty if he was drunk. But the only word for you right now, and always, was beautiful.

“You gonna let me leave, man?” Kelce asked, gesturing to Rafe’s hands, still clutching the handle of the door.

“Yeah, sorry,” Rafe pulled away, wiping his hand against his board shorts when he realized it was clammy, the sight of you making him nervous in a way he had never been before.

“What’s got you so worried? Are you scared of her or something?” Kelce mocked him.

Rafe was surprised that Kelce had actually caught on to who he was looking at, giving him an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m not scared of her,” he defended himself.

“Don’t even worry about it man, I bet she’s still wrapped around your finger.”

Rafe shot Kelce a steely warning look he’d given him a thousand times.

“I’m just saying, you don’t need to worry,” Kelce explained. “You’re the man.”

Kelce was an idiot, and he spent a good ninety percent of their friendship pissing Rafe off, but he always tried to hype Rafe up. Usually he was annoyed by it, but right now, he actually needed it.

You used to talk about him that way, too. Oh, the money he would pay for you to see him in a good light again. He’d swim across this entire bay just to hear one kind word about him coming from your lips. 

“Nah, I’m really not,” he shook his head slightly, looking back toward you. “But I think with her I could be.”

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The audacity, the fucking nerve of him to come strolling down the dock looking that good. The sun actually broke through the crowds at his arrival, like he’d bribed the gods. He strolled towards you so casually, his grin easy, like he didn’t know he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in real life. It pissed you off.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped at him when he reached you.

His grin faltered, like he was the one surprised to see you.

“Didn’t Topper tell you I was coming?” He asked.

“No, of course he didn’t,” you said, finally understanding the reason for Topper’s strangeness earlier.

“I asked him to,” Rafe swore. “I didn’t want to make you think I was trying to-”

“I think I’m just gonna go alone,” you cut him off, turning the key in the engine of the jet ski, desperate to put an ocean between you and him before he said another considerate thing that he’d just undo later. “You can rent your own.”

“No can do,” said the owner, arriving to hand Rafe a lifejacket. “This is our last one. You better take your boyfriend with you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at the situation and the misogynistic comment. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mumbled. 

Rafe felt the correction was unnecessary, but you didn’t seem to be in the mood for constructive feedback at the moment.

“Is it cool if I, uh, can I come with you?” He wasn’t walking back down this dock without trying.

“Fine,” you agreed reluctantly. “But I’m driving.”

“Good with me,” he climbed on quickly before you could change your mind.

With a kick that sent you both lurching forward, the jet ski roared as you tightened your hand on the throttle. Instinctually, Rafe’s hands landed on your side, holding you both in place. You only had a second to feel the pads of his fingers clinging to the soft skin of your waist before he pulled them away.

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

The guy on the dock leaned forward to push the jet ski from the dock, redirecting you out toward the bay.

“No, actually you should hold on,” he instructed. “These babies go fast and it’s a little choppy out there today. Take it real easy out of the marina and then you can kick it up when you’re in open water.”

You could feel Rafe’s hands twitch with hesitancy before they rested on your sides again, so lightly you wondered if he was actually touching you at all.

With a push, you drifted out to sea, slowly picking up speed with the turn of the throttle.

“Do you want me to let go?” He asked, leaning in so you could hear him over the roar of the motor.

Somehow, you thought two completely conflicting thoughts at the exact same time:

Yes, now.

and

No, never.

You settled on, “whatever.”

Rafe started to let go, but the jet ski hit the wake of a nearby boat, and you both nearly flew off the seat. His grip tightened protectively, practically pinning your body down. With his strong hands on you so firmly, it felt like you could hit a tidal wave and he’d still have you in his grasp. You needed more of whatever that was.

Your laughter filled the salty air as you purposefully drove you and Rafe over the choppiest patches of the water, hair whipping behind you into his face, and he didn’t even care. He watched you in the side view mirror on the front of the jet ski, memorizing every inch of your smile like he’d never see it again.

“Jesus, are you trying to kill us?” He teased, yelling over the woosh of the wind.

“It’d be a fun way to go!” You yelled back, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Rafe’s hands still on your waist, you felt him lean in slightly. Even with two lifejackets between you, the proximity of your bodies was electrifying. You could feel his strong thighs on either side of your hips, closing you in everytime you hit a bump, securing you in place. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose or if it was just his instinct, you didn’t know which was hotter.

The water rushed behind you, a foamy wake marking your path as you continued driving as fast as you could. The others must’ve gone a different way out of the marina, because they were nowhere in sight. The sky was darkening slightly, the shift in weather causing most boats to drive the opposite way, back to the docks. But you just kept going, and Rafe didn’t tell you to turn around, both drunk on the adrenaline of the speed and the feeling of each other’s skin.

After a particularly jostling bump, the engine sputtered slightly.

“Fuck, what was that?” You puzzled, turning the throttle harder but gaining no speed.

“Here, you gotta twist it like this,” Rafe’s arms wrapped around you, his hands covering yours as he guided you to turn the throttle in the exact way you just were.

“That’s exactly what I was doing,” you bickered. “It’s not working.”

“Maybe I should drive?”

“It’s not my driving, something’s wrong with the jet ski,” you argued, swatting his hands away. 

“Can you just let me try?” He argued back.

“No, you’re making it worse!” 

The engine continued to sputter until it cut completely, causing both your bodies to lunge forward as it came to an abrupt halt.

“Rafe what did you do?” You accused him.

“What did I do? You wouldn’t even let me touch it!” He snapped.

You turned the key in the ignition over and over. The jet ski growled a few times but never started back up. Eventually, you gave up with a frustrated huff.

“I think we’re out of gas,” you conceded.

“Well, did you ask the guy if it was filled before you left?” Rafe questioned.

“Oh, so now this is my fault?” You craned your neck to see him, anger in your eyes.

“No, that’s not-”

“I’m so tired of this, Rafe.”

“We’ve only been out here for like a minute.”

“No, not this,” you motioned toward the water, “this,” you motioned between you and him.

“Oh. Me?” He tried and failed to hide his hurt feelings.

“Not you, just, all this back and forth. One second we’re having a good time and the next you’re pulling away or snapping at me. I have fucking whiplash.”

“Are you sure it’s not just from the jet ski?” He attempted a joke, it only half worked.

“How are we gonna get back?” You redirected the conversation before he could see you were smirking.

“A boat will come by,” he said confidently. “We’ll be fine.”

No boats came by in the following minute, or the following five. You sat in tense silence, your previous words still hanging between you. Your head hurt from the wind and trying to figure this man out.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost inaudible. “I know I’m…difficult.”

You turned your neck, not quite far enough to see him, but enough to let him know you were listening, that he should go on.

“I don’t know how to act around you,” he admitted. “One second I feel like I’ve fucked it up so bad that there’s not even a point in trying to fix it and the next…”

This time, you do turn, twisting your torso so you could look him intently in the eyes, imploring him to say something right for once, begging him not to let you fall off this cliff alone again.

“…you look at me like that,” he almost whispered. “And then I think fuck it, I’d try forever if you let me.”

For the first time ever, he was with you on the way down, finally jumping together.

“Can I?” He asked, voice low.

“Can you what?” you blinked at him slowly, the moment so surreal you worried it wasn’t happening, that you’d wake up in Carter’s bed, all of this day just one long fever dream.

“Fix things…with you?”

“I don’t know.”

It was the most honest answer you could give him.

“Can I try?” His voice broke slightly when he said it, and you could feel the vulnerability leaking through the cracks.

“Yeah,” you gave in.

“I miss you,” he breathed, and your heart felt heavy with longing and resentment at the same time.

“I don’t think you ever really knew me, Rafe,” you said, turning to face forward again, sad eyes scanning the horizon. “You never paid close enough attention.”

He thought over your words, and you could feel that there was something brewing in his mind, a decision he was making. When he finally spoke again, it wasn’t the words you expected.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you said, “huh?”

“Just tell me,” he smiled back, even though you weren’t looking, you could hear it in his voice.

You answered him, and he followed that question up with another, and another, and they kept rolling off his tongue and you kept answering, until the strangeness of it faded and the two of you were just talking.

For over an hour, you drifted, leaning forward on the handlebars with your back to him as Rafe asked you questions and listened intently to your long, detailed answers. You were hesitant, just at first. No one had ever let you talk this long without interrupting you. No one had ever wanted so badly to hear what you had to say. He nodded along to everything, responding with thoughtful mhms and carefully worded follow up questions.

After a while, you forgot about the surrealness of it all, where you were, who you were with. It was just you and your old friend, sharing your lives with each other. 

I could do this for a long time, you thought, like maybe forever.

Everytime you thought he must be bored by now, he just kept asking, hanging on every word like he was collecting them for some secret project.

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” and “Who’s your closest friend?” and “Are you still into that one band?” and eventually, when he was running low on ideas, “what’s the last movie you saw?”

You laughed. 

“What?” He asked with a timidness that squeezed your heart.

“The last movie I saw was the last movie you saw,” you reminded him.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, but there was an edge to it.

“It’s a good movie, though,” you leaned back toward him a little, trying to pull him from whatever thoughts were causing his spirit to fall. “My favorite.”

He nodded, “Tom did a nice job putting together that little shindig.”

“I guess so,” you said, not sure how to proceed.

“You know he plays football for U of F?” He said. “Or did I guess, before he graduated.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, he was All American,” he nodded. You’d give all the money you had for one glimpse of what was going on in his head.

“He’s an impressive guy,” he admitted. “I can see why you’d end up in his room.”

“Rafe, oh my god,” you huffed, standing suddenly. Your body rose above him, his eyes tracking every movement. You swung your leg over the seat, flipping around so you were facing him, sitting back down so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I didn’t sleep in Tom’s room.”

“Oh.”

It was all he could muster up, his throat going dry from both the embarrassment he felt for being wrong and the sudden proximity of your bodies. He willed himself not to let his eyes travel down to the way your lifejacket was pushing your chest together, or the soft skin of your bare thighs, now spread open in front of him as you straddled the seat. He kept his eyes on yours, the most respectful option, though it didn’t help his speechlessness. The uninterrupted contact with your beautiful irises nearly put him over the edge. He almost hoped no boats would come by after all so he could look into your eyes for hours.

“Is that why you got up and left last night?” You questioned, not missing the way his eyes were trained intensely on yours.

“The floor was uncomfortable,” he mumbled.

“The floor,” you nodded, “the floor was uncomfortable. Got it.”

“You're mad at me again,” he surmised.

“When was I ever not mad at you?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugged sarcastically, “somewhere between the movie and your panties hitting the floor.”

You wanted to slap him. And kiss him. He could tell, teasing you with a sideways smirk. You tried to channel the newfound confidence you’d had last night, addicted to the taste of power.

You leaned forward, hands on the leather seat between you, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“Did you like that?” 

“You know I did.” 

He responded so fast and his voice was so low you couldn’t tell if he was pissed off or turned on. Either way, he wasn’t fucking around anymore.

“Then why didn’t you stay?” 

It felt like that one question held so many questions, and based on the look on his face, you knew he could hear it too. You weren’t just asking about last night, you weren’t just asking why he went to sleep on the couch. You were asking about years of him coming up short, why he’d failed you so many times, why he never, ever seemed to pick you.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

As he said it, the wind kicked up, and the jet ski began to rock even harder as waves rose and fell beneath you. One particularly choppy wave had you tilting a little too far off the seat, and Rafe’s hands landed on your waist again. This time, there was nothing hesitant about it. When you didn’t push him away, his thumb brushed an experimental circle into your skin.

“Do you want me to let go?”

In lieu of answering, your hands came to rest over his. He assumed you were gonna pull them off of you, and for a moment you thought you might too, but then his words echoed in your mind: he didn’t know you wanted him to.

You could do this. You could lean into it and just let it happen. You were supposed to fight it, make him grovel more, make him pay you back for the years you’d waited. It’s what everyone expected. You were only a few hundred yards off shore, but the rest of the world felt lightyears away, and out here, there was nothing stopping you letting him touch you, kiss you, have you. You could just let it happen, and no one would have to know.

But before you could decide if you wanted to, a deep rumble of thunder broke out across the sky.

“Shit,” you jumped. 

“We gotta get out of here,” Rafe looked up at the darkening sky nervously.

“But how?” 

“How well can you swim?”

That’s how Rafe ended up in the water, gripping the back of the jet ski as the waves rocked it harshly, water splashing up and landing on your feet. You tightened your lifejacket, feeling apprehensive about the whole thing.

“I can just push us if you want to stay on,” Rafe offered.

“No, it’ll go faster if it’s both of us.”

You stepped to the edge, hesitating, wanting to rip the bandaid and just jump in but not wanting to jump too far off and get separated. Your indecision cost you, your foot slipped and you dropped into the water, your leg scraping against the edge of the jet ski as you fell. 

Blinded by pain, you reached for Rafe as your head slipped under the surface, but your hands came up empty.

(Chapter 6: part one)

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a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[simplyholl]

The Interview

Summary: After a talk show interview where secrets are revealed, things get heated in your dressing room.

Pairing: Rockstar Bucky x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Rockstar AU.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: Sebastian Stan as Tommy Lee has me in a chokehold. So this was born from my tatted, horny daydreams.

"Who is your celebrity crush?" The host of the Midnight Show, Chet Smith asked you. Your newest movie was a box office hit, so you had to do every talk show to promote it. To say you were exhausted is an understatement. Luckily, this was your last stop for today. This show was the most fun because Chet brought out all the celebrity guests together. At least you weren't by yourself answering awkward questions.

The other guests were Red Star, the hottest rock band at the moment. They went viral while playing at their local bar. An audience member threw a bottle at their lead singer, Loki and the whole band jumped off stage to fight. They were offered a record deal the same week.

They are known for their wild videos on TikTok. Women everywhere love them. Currently, they are squeezed on the small sofa with you for the interview. Bucky Barnes, their drummer sat on one side of you, his tattoos drew you in like a moth to a flame. You were doing your best to not stare at him the whole time.

The Odinson brothers, Thor and Loki were on the other side. Loki is the lead singer, his long, dark curls and piercing stare made men and women weak in the knees. Thor plays guitar and he is the band's himbo. He's a charmer, flirting with you the whole interview. Steve Rogers is their bassist, an All-American guy to balance the others out. He plays the part well, flashing his megawatt smile at the live audience. But you can tell there is a darker side to him lurking under the surface.

You consider Chet's question; your PR team warned you about questions like this. "Well, I don't really have one." You shrug your shoulders, as the audience begs for a real answer. "Come on, darling. I know you're lying." Loki smirks, reaching his hand over Thor to rub your thigh.

"If I go first, will that help?" Steve asks, being the helpful guy that he is. You nod smiling shyly at him. "Okay, but when it's your turn you have to be honest." He winks at you, and the audience goes wild. He answers one of your costars. You promise to hook them up later. You feel your cheeks heating up, suddenly embarrassed that you have to answer now.

Chet repeats the question, and you bite your lip, pointing beside you to Bucky. "My celebrity crush is actually this guy." Bucky looks ecstatic, high fiving his band members as they congratulate him as if he has won an award. Thor's answer is a pretty pop star who he had been spotted out with twice already.

Loki's celebrity crush is a famous author whose upcoming book features a main male character who looks suspiciously like him. Dating rumors swirled even though there was no proof, except for a few flirty comments between them on Instagram. When it's Bucky's turn he says you, draping his heavily tattooed arm around you. You smile, grateful that he lied to save you from public humiliation. You were sure he was going to say someone who didn't look anything like you.

You're already dreading what the headlines tomorrow had in store. You and Bucky cuddled up on this sofa would no doubt be on every website. You should have lied, you tell yourself. People will start shipping you, his fans would be saying horrible things about you. You should have said anyone else.

Red Star took the stage to close the show. They were playing their latest number one hit. The audience was on their feet, some girls were crying as Loki's sultry voice came over the speakers. You watched Bucky closely. He played the drums like it was his life's purpose. He tossed the drumsticks in the air, pointing to you and winking as he caught them. It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

When their set was over, Bucky walked toward the dressing rooms with you, stopping outside yours. "Thanks for saying I was your celebrity crush back there. I would have been so embarrassed if you would have said somebody else." He flips his hair out of his eyes. "You don't have to thank me. It was the truth." You tell him goodbye, feeling awkward about the whole thing. You turn to go inside your dressing room to change into comfy clothes before you go back to the hotel.

Thick fingers catch your wrist, pulling you back toward him. "I wasn't ready to tell you bye." Bucky's lips curl, the light shines on his nose ring, bringing attention to his face. When you look into his shining blue eyes, you realize you don't want him to leave either. You grab the sides of his leather jacket, pulling him toward you. His mouth is on yours instantly. He presses you against your dressing room door, his large body covering yours.

You tangle your fingers in his long locks, needing him closer. Bucky hungrily kisses down your neck, while one hand travels under your dress. He rubs his thumb against your soaked panties. "All this for me?" You whine when he rubs harder, your clit making contact with the silky fabric. You move your hips, lost in the moment.

Voices echo down the hallway, bringing you out of your horny haze. "Bucky" You whisper, trying to warn him so he has time to stop before they see you. "Shh. I got you." He moves his body, so he is blocking you from view. His fingers are relentless, dipping inside your panties. His rough thumb rolls over your clit, you bury your face into his chest.

"Oh my God, It's Bucky! We are huge fans!" A woman's voice comes from behind him. You aren't brave enough to look, so you keep your face hidden. "Thanks guys. I love meeting fans. So, what's your favorite song?" You try to pinch him so he will get rid of them, but he continues talking about the world tour they are about to go on.

He enters you with two fingers, curling them as you moan out loud. The women look around him, finally noticing you. "Is she okay?" The second one asks. "Yeah, she's fine. She just ate too much so she has a stomachache." His fingers caress your inner walls, thumb rubbing in small circles. The band in your belly snaps, arousal flooding his hand as you come apart. Your legs shake, and you hold onto his arm to steady yourself. You clench your teeth to keep from making noise.

"You better get her inside; she can barely stand." One of the women says. They tell you both goodbye, as Bucky leads you inside your dressing room. "You did so good for me, but I need more." You look at him incredulously. He just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life in front of two strangers and that wasn't enough.

Your legs are still trembling as he lifts you onto the vanity. Your back hits the cool mirror as Bucky slides your panties down your legs. His hot breath tickles your thighs as he lowers his face, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. He takes his time, nipping your sensitive skin. He licks a lazy stripe up your center, avoiding where you need him most. His tongue sinks inside you, firm nose pressing against your clit.

You cry out, head falling back, knocking into the mirror behind you. It bangs against the wall, hard enough to rattle the pictures hung there. Bucky drinks every drop of you, moaning as you writhe against his face. His plump lips fasten around your swollen nub, sucking and tugging like he can't get enough.

Your shaking legs close around his head, trapping him as you ride out your high. You cry his name, not caring who hears you. Bucky lifts you, slamming you against the wall. He holds you with one arm, the other works quickly to bring his pants down. His cock springs free, pink tip leaking. You swallow hard, intimidated by his size. "You're so big." You shiver, anticipation putting you on edge. He holds you, lining your bodies up.

"You can take it." He snaps his hips up, slamming into you. You try to adjust as he stretches you, wiggling around to see if the stinging will go away. When it starts feeling good, your arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he pulls out, leaving the tip in. He thrusts back into you, bottoming out. You have never felt so full, he fills every inch of you. He sets a steady rhythm, every part of him feels like it was made for you. You pulse around him, your back hitting against the wall as he sinks impossibly deeper.

Bucky bunches your dress around your hips, thick fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you. You try to meet his thrusts, but you're too weak from the explosive orgasms he already gave you. You hold onto him as he uses your body, his ragged breath on your neck brings forth the familiar pressure in your lower stomach.

"You're doing so good. Fuck! You take me so well." He praises, moving your thigh higher up his torso. He holds it in place, tilting his hips. The new angle makes your vision blur as he deliciously drags against a place you were sure was a myth until this very moment. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as you shatter around him.

Bucky's thrusts grow brutal, taking what he needs from you. "Oh fuck" He moans as he spills inside you. For a moment, you just look at each other, trying to catch your breaths. Thankfully, he knows you can't stand on your own, so he carries you to the sofa. Your dress is still around your waist, arm over your eyes. You can already feel a dull ache in your stomach where he had been just moments ago.

"Do you mind?" Bucky asks, pointing his phone toward you. You narrow your eyes, not understanding. "You're just so fuckin' hot and I wanna remember this." He says, his meaning finally dawning on you. You nod, almost too tired to speak. He angles his phone camera toward you. "Fucking perfect." He examines the photo he just took before showing you.

Your hair is disheveled, giving you the appearance of being caught in a windstorm. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The top of your dress barely contains your breasts. The bottom is by your hips, your exposed cunt glistening with his cum. Bucky set the picture as his phone's background. You protested because you looked like a mess. Bucky stopped your arguing with a kiss. "You know what you look like?" He asks, smiling wide as he turned his phone screen toward you. "What?" You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling insecure. "Mine."

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan @kcd15

[yeonzzzn]

book lovers ; park jongseong

pairing: booknerd/bf!jay x booknerd!afab!reader word count: 3.2k synopsis: when your book loving boyfriend has you read a specific part of the current book you’re reading out loud to him. warnings: book reading shenanigans, swearing, SMUT, marking, dry humping, praising, hair pulling, fingering, unprotected sex, finger sucking, cum eating, slight choking, lmk if I missed anything, MINORS DNI!! specially dt to: @niki-riki-nishimura-riki 🩵

Of course, it would be on the top shelf. Why wouldn’t it be? 

You tucked your button lip between your teeth, glancing around the bookstore to see if any ladder or step stool was available, and to your dismay, there wasn’t. 

And as much as you’d love the climb up these shelves like a fucking gremlin, you hold yourself back and instead stand on your tippy toes to reach as high as the length of your arm would let you. It's not your fault you’re a short queen. 

Or that you already have a stack of books in your other arm tucked closely to your body that may or may not be another reason you can’t reach the top shelf. 

Who are you kidding, it’s honestly just because you’re short. 

You feel with another willpower and praying, your fingers will grab the spin of the book and pull it from the shelf. Once you can get a grip, it’s being pulled from the shelf—but not by you. 

With confusion written on your face, you turn to grab the book, slowly placing both feet back firmly on the ground. The one who grabbed it was incredibly handsome. Dark hair and black glasses pushed up his nose, his hair falling over the frames as he looked at the cover of the book, blue button-up long-sleeved that was rolled up to his elbows, and black slacks. He finally looks up at you, a small smile curling up. 

“You know, I was caught between if I should continue to watch you struggle—and laugh, or to help you,” you raised a brow at him, damn tall people, “I chose the ladder.” 

“Obviously,” you mumble, reaching for the book as he extends it out to you, “But thank you for deciding to help me.”

He smiles more, eyes drifting to your book in the other arm, “Nice book haul you have there,” he points to the books and you all of a sudden forget what you even had in your arms. 

You quickly glance down, seeing a few volumes of manga, a new fantasy book your best friend recommended, a popular fiction title, and lastly, the book you were having trouble reaching, “Uh thanks,” you say, looking back up at him, and noticing his own couple books in his arm, “You have good taste as well.” 

“Ah! Thanks!” he glances down at the carpeted floor, “Not every day you meet someone with the same book interests as yourself.” 

Now it was your turn to smile, “Yeah, really is hard to find nowadays.” 

He made eye contact with you and you swore your heart stopped, lips parting slightly. His dark orbs really drew you in. Until he places his index finger on the book he grabbed for you, “Pretty cute covers like these always have the nastiest smut in them.” 

Your face heats up. With a grin, he turns and starts to walk away, “You’d know, wouldn’t you!” You shout, loving the way he turns back around and gives you a wink. 

“Obviously!” he shouts as he is further away, “We like the same genres.” 

You don’t know what came over you, because the next you knew, you were shouting even more, “YN!”

“Jay!” he replies, tilting his head towards the check out, “Let me buy your books, YN.” 

A year and a half later, you still get Jay’s heart racing just like when you two first met. He’s hooked on you. Absolutely fucking hooked. You were also completely hooked on him too. Not even hesitating to let him buy your books that day and even agreeing to get coffee with him afterward. Which obviously led to exchanging phone numbers, book recs, and eventually make-out sessions after meeting up a few times. The two of you just fit so well, two pieces of a perfect puzzle. Of course, it was meant to be and of course, you said yes when he asked you to be his girlfriend, how could you not when he showed up to your doorstep with a bag of books from your to-be-read list and a bouquet of your favorite flowers and your favorite coffee two months after meeting. 

Jay just couldn’t get enough of you. You are his every waking and sleeping thought. So it only made sense for him to ask you to move into his studio apartment with him nine months into your relationship. It was the second easiest thing he’s ever done, the first being buying your books that first day. 

The hardest thing though, was adding your book collection to his. You had to buy a second shelf just so all your books had a home. But Jay didn’t mind one bit. Honestly, it gave him a reason to not buy even more books and to just steal from your stack. 

It’s the perfect relationship, truly.

You are lying comfortably on your stomach in bed, swinging your legs back and forth with your nose in your recent read. It’s a mixture of fantasy and romance with some HEAVY smut scenes. You truly had no idea this book had so much graphic sexual content, but hey! You’re not complaining! 

The two main protagonists were starting to get steamy when the front door unlocked. You turn and glance over your shoulder, smiling up at your boyfriend as he walks in the door, “Welcome back home, Seongie.” 

Jay gives you his loving smile, “Good to be back, baby,” he glances down to the book in your hands, kicking his shoes off as he closes the door behind him, “Did you make a trip to the bookstore today?” 

You nod, turning back to your book, “I even got that new sci-fi book you were talking to Heeseung about the other day. I was fixing to head to the checkout when I noticed it on one of the new release tables. Thought you’d appreciate it.” 

And oh god did he appreciate it more than words could express, “Thank you so much, baby,” he whispers, leaning over the bed to press a kiss to your forehead, ���What are you reading anyway?” You didn’t stop him nor did you stop reading as he tilted the book to look at the cover, “You’re such a pervert.” 

You roll your eyes and swat his hand away, “As if, do I need to remind you of all the smut books on your shelf?” 

In any normal relationship, one would get embarrassed to be caught or find their partner reading something smutty, but thankfully your relationship with Jay isn’t normal. Both of you read sexual books all the time. Never once has it bothered either of you. Maybe it’s because your sex life was fucking fantastic and you both felt comfortable and secure with each other and sex that it wasn’t—nor ever will be—a problem. 

Jay chuckles and you continue your read, the two protags are finally getting it on and you need to know how it ends. 

Obviously, it piqued your boyfriend's interest on how good this sex scene has to be that you continued reading even though he just got home from a very long workday. So he leaned further into the bed, placing one hand on the other side of you and tilting his head against the top of yours. 

Fuck. 

His pants suddenly grew tighter against him. No wonder your interest was so attached to this book at the moment. He doesn’t blame you one bit. 

But now he has a problem, and the idea that just slipped through his brain is too good to pass up. 

Jay pulled your hair to the side, kissing from your temple and down to your neck, sucking the skin into his mouth, just like the male protagonist is currently doing in the book. You lean into him, knowing exactly what he is doing and still gripping the book in your hands. 

“Jay,” you breathe. 

“Read it out loud,” he whispers, flattening his tongue against the now purple mark he’s left on your skin and laying his body against yours. His hard length pressing to your ass, “Read out the steps to me, baby.”

With a shaky voice, you read out what the male protagonist is doing to the female protagonist. Jay’s hands move up and down your body like in the book. Squeezing your sides as he sucks more of your skin between his teeth on your neck. Leaving more and more love marks scattered around your skin. 

You’re already dizzy by just his kisses and touch. You’ve only ever dreamed about recreating sexual acts from your books and the fact it’s happening right now, the exact way you’re reading out loud, how could you not be dizzy?

“Keep reading, baby,” he bites the shell of your ear, grinding his hips against your ass, his cock twitching between your perfect cheeks. His head spun knowing you aren’t wearing any panties under your shorts.

Jay, honestly, has been wanting to spice up your sex life for a while now. Not that sex with you wasn’t fantastic already, or even in need of changing. He personally just wants to find more ways to pleasure you. To fulfill your every fantasy. What better way than to create the acts in this book?

“H-he’s wrapping her hair in his fist,” you barely make out, feeling a shift in the bed as your boyfriend pulls your hair back, twisting it around his hand, his lips not leaving your body, “P-pull it.” 

Jay hums against your neck, pulling your hair, forcing you to crank your head to the side, exposing your neck even more to him, sinking his teeth back into your skin. 

You close your eyes, relishing how good this feels, dropping the book onto the pillow. But the feeling is short-lived once Jay catches wind of this, loosening his grip on your hair and removing his mouth from your neck, “Stop reading, and I stop too.” 

“Take my clothes off,” you quickly mumble, picking the book back up and focusing on the words on the page, “He’s removing her clothing…please.” 

Jay smirks, his warm fingertips brushing against your skin at your hips, moving up your body. Goosebumps rise on your skin from his touch, “Such a good girl, baby,” he praises you, your shirt now bunched just below your breasts, “What position are they in?” 

You bite your tongue, skimming to the top of the page where you first saw it, “Her back is pressed to his chest.” 

With a yank of your hair still in his fist, your back was now pressed tightly against his, his cock now gently grinding against your lower back. Jay dropped your hair to place both hands on you, slowly lifting your shirt above your breasts, fingers gently gliding over them, “My next step?”

Your hands tremble as you continue to read the page, giving him step by step on what is happening. Your shirt is now thrown across the room along with Jay’s shirt and pants, leaving him in his boxers and bare chest to your back. Hands cupping your breast and squeezing them in motion of his hips grinding against you. 

He did each step you read, leaving now your bare bodies touching, his teeth once again sinking into the skin of your neck just below your ear. One hand squeezed your breast while the other snaked down to your clit, rubbing soft circles. With shaky hands, you turned the page, barely being able to do that simple task as your boyfriend abused your swollen clit, and your nipple now being flicked and pinched between his thumb and index finger. 

You honestly just wanted him to fuck you already. Your cunt clenching around nothing and your head going dizzy from the amount of moaning and heavy breathing you’re doing, trying so hard to keep yourself upright. 

“Seongie, please,” you beg, “Please.” 

Jay shifts his face to the other side of your neck, satisfied with all the red and purple marks on the other side and knowing damn well the male character is very much still marking up his female. Jay secretly has been reading along with you. How could he not? This was hot as fuck to him, “Please, what, baby?” He knows what you want. But you’re not getting it until it happens in the book, “Be a good girl and keep reading. You’ll get what you want, my sweet girl.” 

Jay skimmed the next line on the page, “He slowly removes his finger from my clit,” Jay read out loud, “Continue it.” 

You swallow, “And slide the middle and ring fingers into my—ahh!” You don’t even get to finish the sentence, feeling your boyfriend’s fingers pushing between your gummy walls and curling them up onto your spot. Pumping them quickly in and out. 

To be honest, Jay was also starting to get impatient. His precum covered your lower back and left a string connecting each time he rutted against you. He’s already read far enough ahead on the page to know exactly when he gets to fuck you. And it’s so so close. 

“Such a good girl, baby,” he moans into your ear, grinding against you faster in movement with his fingers. You fling your head back on his shoulder. He raised his shoulder to push your head back up, “Keep reading. What do I do to you next?” 

With slightly blurry vision, you focus on the words on the page, “Fingering until my pussy is dripping cum down my thighs and your fingers, you picking up your pace.” 

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, pressing your body tightly against him, shoving his digits in and out faster than before. Your whole body is squirming against him. Your moans fill the apartment along with strings of fuck and his name. Continuing his movements of abusing your hole until you once again fling your head back against his shoulder, dropping the book to the store and thighs squeezing his hand as you came unglued. 

And sure enough, your cum dripped down both your thighs and covered his hand. 

Jay slowly pulled his fingers from your soaked hole, collecting your essence and raising his two fingers to his lips, sticking his tongue out and wrapping it around them. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he sucks his own fingers, completely losing it at the taste of your cum. 

Jay couldn’t wait anymore. The book was long pushed to the back of his mind. Not that he needed to read it anymore anyway, he knew exactly what to do. 

And no longer had the patience to wait. 

One moment you were pressed against your boyfriend, the next you were face first into the pillows, your hips hiked up and Jay’s legs spreading yours apart. Yessss, this was exactly what you wanted. What you’ve craved for since the moment he started touching you and reading out loud to him. 

“Yes, babe,” you moaned into the pillows, turning your head just enough to look at his face, seeing the look of pure lust and want on him. His eyes burn with the desire to tear you apart and leave nothing left once he’s done with you. And oh good fucking god you want him to destroy you, “Fuck me to pieces, oh god Jay please!” 

Oh was this music to his ears. Jay pressed his chest to your back, licking at the shell of your ear, his hand stroking himself slowly, “Yeah, YN? Do you want my cock that bad? Want me to split you open?” 

You nod fiercely, gripping at the bedsheets. Rough sex with Jay always left you unable to walk after, but with how he is right now, you knew you’d barely be able to survive this time. 

Not another second was wasted as he pushed his cock inside you. Both hands gripping your hips, fucking into you at a fast pace. You arch your back and press your ass as much as you could to him, his hip bones surely were going to leave bruises against your cheeks. Not that you cared, you welcomed any marks you received from him during sex. 

“Fuck! Jay!” you whine, knuckles turning white from your grip on the sheets. 

Jay knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, not from the amount of grinding he did on your back earlier and at his quick pace right now. But he can’t help it. You feel so fucking good and he loves how well his cock slides in and out of your cunt from how wet you are for him. He needed to cum. Now. 

With a pull of your hair, your back is pressed to his chest. One hand slightly grips your neck while the other finds your clit again, “I’m fixing to cum, baby,” he breathes into your ear, sending chills down your body, “Can you cum for me again? Can you give me one more?” 

You try your best to answer verbally but settle for another nod, taking a deep breath in the best way you can with your airways being slightly constricted but it still has your cunt clenching tightly around his cock, sucking him perfectly. 

His tip kisses your cervix with each sloppy thrust and fingers aggressively circling your clit, the knot in your tummy ready to burst for the second time of the night. 

“J-Jay,” you manage to push out, “Cu-cum..I’m cumming.” 

Jay leans his head against yours, “Fuck me too, oh fuck me too baby girl.” 

Your second organism releases at the same time his cum fills you whole. His hips slapped against your ass to a halt, making sure every last drop of cum spilled into your cunt. Jay moans out your name, slightly tightening his fingers around your neck until he comes down from his high and pulls out. With a shift motion, he collects the mixture of both your cum onto his fingers, “Can’t waste this, can we, YN?” 

His fingers come into your vision and on instinct, you open your mouth wide and tongue hanging out, ready for the salty and sweet taste of his fingers and both your cum to fill your taste buds. And oh man does it have you reeling once the digits fill your mouth. Your lips close around him, tongue swirling around and between his fingers, sucking up every last drop. 

You pout once his fingers are removed, and pout even more when the cold air touches your back from his disappearance. 

You barely can drop to your knees and twist around to see the beautiful and sexy naked back half of your boyfriend standing at the bookshelf. 

“Jay?” you call for him, swallowing your spit to soothe your now dry mouth, “Are you looking for something?” 

He has a smirk on his face as he turns around, a new book in his hand, “This one has the nastiest fuck scene. You down for round two?” 

Not even waiting for your answer, you’re being pulled to the edge of the bed, Jay now kneeling in front of you, the open book being shoved into your hands. You glance down to see the first line, the male character starting off eating his wife's pussy. 

Jay spreads your shaking legs apart, leaving gentle love bites on your thigh, “Go ahead, YN. Read.”

—taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

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@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

@heeseungsbm @star-hoon

[punkshort]

First Impressions

Thanks anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: When your heater breaks in the dead of winter, you get more than you bargained for when Joel Miller arrives to fix it.

Warnings: language, some fluff, the stress and fear that comes with living in the wilderness during a zombie apocalypse, competency kink (a little), smut (18+ MDNI), dirty talk

WC: 4.2K

Adjusting to life in Jackson was tough. You had been on your own for so long, you found it nearly impossible to ever fully relax. You were grateful Tommy and Maria took you in after one of their patrols stumbled across you freezing in the thick Wyoming wilderness, but to be yanked from the brink of death and dropped into some thriving community that seemingly even managed to still celebrate the holidays was too jarring.

So, you kept to yourself for a while. You pitched in around the stables. It was where you felt most comfortable: less people, more animals. You didn't go to the dining hall to eat and you didn't visit the bar for a drink. You had a clear cut path from your house to the stables and back, and you rarely ever strayed.

Unfortunately, while Jackson had a lot to offer and did incredibly well at reviving civilization, things still did break. Like your space heater.

You piled on extra blankets for a week, and then you moved to the living room to sleep on the tiny sofa in front of the fireplace, but eventually your back was screaming at you for it and the cold weather wouldn't let up for at least another two months, so you had no choice but to ask for help.

Tommy was shocked you hadn't said something sooner and apologized for making you feel like you couldn't ask for help, even though it wasn't at all his fault or anyone else's except your own, and promised to have his brother stop by that afternoon to take a look at it.

While you kept to yourself and hardly socialized at all, that didn't stop you from overhearing things at the stables. You knew of Tommy's brother. How people whispered rumors behind his back and fell silent whenever he stepped foot inside the building.

Did you know he slit a raider's throat and made the guy's girlfriend watch?

He beat the shit out of Seth the other night just for looking at him wrong.

Back in Boston, I heard he knocked some guy's teeth down his throat for taking the last of the beef jerky.

Someone told me he only sleeps two hours a night.

He fixed Greg's shower and told him not to fuck it up again or else he'll be taking baths in the kitchen sink.

Were you intimidated? Maybe a little. But you had been on your own for so long, fighting and scratching and clawing to stay alive. Some asshole wasn't going to shake you up.

Then you saw him.

Well, you'd seen him before, sure. But just glimpses in the barn or passing by him on the street. Never up close.

When you opened your front door later that afternoon, you were a little taken aback. He was so much more handsome than you had thought. He was built like a refrigerator; broad and strong. His cheeks and chin were dusted in a patchy, greying beard, growing right below a hooked nose and deep, velvety brown eyes. There were a few scars littering his bronzed skin but what drew your attention more was his hair. His fucking hair. Loose, mostly grey curls that fell past his ear and down the back of his neck. Not long enough to pull into a ponytail, like Tommy, but give it a few more months and he might. He had them pushed back from his face, making the silken locks look like a cascading river so enticing, you had to hold yourself back from touching them.

He said your name and readjusted the toolbox in his hand and you blinked yourself back to life before stepping aside to let him in. When he passed you, you were hit with the strong scent of wood shavings and coffee, an intoxicating combination that had your brain buffering once again.

"Tommy said you needed your heater looked at?"

You nodded and pointed up the stairs. "It's in my bedroom. Can I, uh, get you something to drink? Coffee?"

He perked up at that once he slid off his jacket and shoes. "You got coffee?"

You nodded and walked toward the kitchen, rummaging through your meager belongings until you found the precious tin can. "That's the one thing I always made sure I grabbed if I ever saw it out there. If we have to live like this, at least I'm still having my coffee."

Joel grinned and set the toolbox down on your counter, watching as you filled up a kettle with water. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest. He couldn't believe how lucky he was that your stupid heater broke, giving him the perfect excuse to finally meet you so he could stop pining from afar. "You don't like it much here, then?"

You startled at that, giving him a look of surprise before lighting your stove.

"No, I didn't mean here, I just meant... you know... the world in general."

"I know, I'm just teasin' you," he said a little awkwardly with a soft chuckle. You turned around, leaning against your counter and crossing your arms over your chest. You had just spoken a few words but so far, nothing about this man screamed scary. In fact, he seemed rather... sweet.

"How long have you been here?" you asked while you waited for the water to boil.

"'Bout five years," he said thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "You're new, though."

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting underneath your bicep. "Yeah. I think it's been almost a month. I'm not really sure, never bothered keeping track of the days out there."

Joel studied you up for a moment, picking up on your eyes shifting over your surroundings, your foot tapping anxiously on the floor, and the way you kept your back protected when you spoke to him.

"I remember when we first got here," Joel said. Your fidgeting paused and you looked at him again. "It was tough. Acclimatin' to this kind of life. Hard to sleep. Hard to trust anyone. It took time but eventually, you start sleepin' soundly again and that guard comes down. You'll see."

A slow smile spread across your face and you looked down shyly at your feet. "Am I that obvious?"

Joel laughed and strolled over to the two mugs and can of instant coffee you had sitting out. "Wouldn't say it's obvious but I haven't seen you at the dining hall one time. In fact, pretty sure this is the first time I've heard your voice." Your cheeks warmed up behind his back and you bit your lower lip. So he's noticed you enough to realize you never went to the dining hall.

"It's a pretty one," he said over his shoulder, focusing on scooping the correct amount of coffee into each mug. "Your voice, I mean. Shame you been keepin' it hidden all this time."

"O-oh," you stuttered, completely flustered by his compliments. This was not at all the man everyone made him out to be. "Thank you."

Joel carefully poured the boiling water into each mug before giving them each a stir, then handed you one. "You're welcome, darlin'. Now why don't you show me to your bedroom?"

Your eyes must have bugged out of your head because at first, he frowned, then after he realized what he said, turned a shade of pink you didn't know he was capable of.

"I mean, for the heater."

"Yeah, oh Christ, I know," you said, waving him off and heading for the stairs, your mug clutched so tightly in one hand you thought it might break. You lead Joel to the first door on the left and stepped back so he had room to swing his toolbox through the narrow door with him.

"I don't know what happened," you said, trailing in after him while he began to set out some tools on the ground. When he knelt down, he groaned at the creak in his knees and you quickly grabbed a spare pillow. "Here, kneel on this," you offered. He looked up at the pillow, then at you, and shook his head.

"I ain't kneelin' on your pillow."

"It's a spare. I only use the one. And honestly, even that seems too much sometimes."

He sighed and hesitated for only a moment longer before taking the pillow from your hand. "Thank you," he said softly. You smiled and sat down on the edge of your bed after putting your coffee on the end table with his.

"Anyway. As I was saying, I don't know what happened. It was working fine and then one day it just wouldn't turn on. I tried other outlets and I didn't see any issues with the cord, so I just gave up."

Joel began to unscrew the back of the heater while he listened. "So you gave up and slept in the cold for two weeks?"

"Nothing I wasn't used to."

He couldn't argue with that.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence while he worked until he began to hum some old country song under his breath, making you smile again. You couldn't remember the last time you smiled so much.

"What're you smilin' for?" he asked with a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

"You aren't at all the way people say you are," you said boldly.

He quirked an eyebrow and turned his attention back to his work. "And what have you heard?"

You shrugged and leaned back on your hands. "Threatened a man after breaking his shower. Knocked out some guy named Seth. That you only sleep two hours a night," you chuckled at the last one when you heard how silly it sounded.

"Well," Joel said with a heavy sigh. "I didn't threaten anyone about their shower. Just reminded him he's gotta take care of the pipes or else the whole place'll rot."

You grinned to yourself as he continued to explain the rumors.

"I did punch Seth but he said somethin' real nasty 'bout my girl and, well, that just don't sit right with me."

Your grin slid right off your face. "Your girl?"

He stopped what he was doing and swiveled around to face you. "My - Ellie. Her name's Ellie. She's, uh, well... she ain't my daughter, but..."

Relief flooded your veins. "Oh. I thought you meant -"

"No, no," Joel said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "No, not like that." He twirled a wrench around in between his fingers as he nervously bit the inside of his cheek before adding, "Don't got anyone like that."

Your mouth formed a silent oh. Message received.

Joel cleared his throat again and turned back to the heater. "And the sleep thing, well, they got me there," he chuckled with a shake of his head. "Although some nights are better than others."

"I know what you mean," you said with a nod. After a moment of silence, Joel smiled to himself.

"Imagine y'do if you ain't got any heat at night."

You giggled and he smiled again, this time his chest swelling when he heard you laugh.

Joel continued to work on the heater while you studied him quietly. He took you by complete surprise. The last thing you expected was to make a friend out of the fearsome Joel Miller. It didn't hurt that he was so easy on the eyes, either. How old was he? Your gaze roamed over his greying hair and the crinkles next to his eyes. Older than you, definitely, but it was hard to tell by how much.

You couldn't even remember the last time you were interested in anyone. It must have been when you were in the Atlanta QZ, and that was years ago.

"Alright, let's give her a run," Joel suddenly said. When you refocused on him, you saw he had put the heater back together and was fixing it upright. He plugged it into the wall and hovered his finger over the power button before glancing back at you. "Ready?"

You nodded and swung your legs back and forth over the edge of your bed, then he winked at you, sending warmth all over your body. Jesus, if Joel kept giving you little looks like that, you wouldn't have much need for a heater anymore.

He pressed the button and sure enough, the coils inside the heater began to glow orange and heat started to fill the room.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, jumping off the bed in excitement. "Thank you!" you added, kneeling on the floor as well so you could warm your hands in front of the heater.

"Anytime," Joel murmured, and it wasn't until you heard the deep timber of his voice next to you that you realized he was so close. You tilted your face, smiling shyly at him next to you. Up close, you could see the fine lines in his face in much more detail, each one calling out to you to trace with your fingertip. When you met his gaze, you found he had been examining you, as well. Quickly, you looked away and stood up.

"Is there anythin' else?" Joel asked as he began to pack up his toolbox. You shook your head.

"No, I think that'll do it."

"You sure? Thought I saw that faucet drippin' in the kitchen."

You frowned. "No, I didn't notice that," you said slowly.

"What 'bout those windows?" he asked, standing up with a grunt and gesturing to the two bedroom windows on the other side of the room. "Need help hangin' curtains?"

You looked where he was pointing. "No, never really bothered me. Besides, it faces the backyard. No one can see in."

He laughed softly and rubbed his chin before shooting you a sheepish look. "I'm tryin' to find a reason to stay, sweetheart."

Your eyes widened and once again, you felt your cheeks heat up.

"Oh," you said, shyly dropping your gaze to the floor to hide your smile. "I would like that."

"Yeah?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah. You're, um," you shifted your weight nervously, "you're sweet. And nice."

Joel huffed and set his toolbox back down. "I ain't nice all the time," he warned. "But you ain't gotta worry 'bout that."

"No?" you questioned, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he began to close the distance between you.

He sighed and cupped your face with both hands. Your body instantly melted at his touch, your knees practically giving out when he dragged his thumb across your lip, saving it from your teeth. "Am I readin' this wrong?" he asked, his eyes darting all over your face. You quickly shook your head and stepped even closer.

"Thank Christ," he breathed before capturing your lips in a deep kiss. It had been several years and you were a little rusty, but you quickly found it was like riding a bike.

Joel's kiss lit a fire in you, one that had gone dormant for so long. Your fingers curled around the lapels of his flannel, the material warm and soft, just like him, and with the confidence boost that came from his hands dropping to grab excitedly at your hips, you walked him backwards until he bumped against the edge of your mattress.

He sat down on your bed with an oomph and you crawled into his lap, not once breaking the kiss.

"Wish I got to know you sooner," he whispered, tipping his head back when your lips traveled down his neck. Fuck, even his neck was sexy. "Always so skittish and shy," he continued, his palms gliding up and down your back.

You laughed softly against his skin and leaned back. "You still don't really know me."

He grinned and shrugged. "I'd like to, if you're willin'," he said, his vulnerability making your chest ache. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip again and nodded.

"Good," he said, his hands roaming further past your waist to cup your ass. "'Cause I like what I know so far."

"You're full of surprises," you told him, giggling when he gave your ass a firm squeeze. "You're so much more... you're more gentle and sweet than I expected."

Joel smirked and tugged you closer so you felt his erection trapped within his jeans. "I can be gentle," he told you, nipping at your jaw. "Or I can be rough. Whatever you like."

You swallowed when you caught the mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhmm," he said, and before you could blink he had spun you around so your back was pressed into the mattress while he hovered above you. You had to admit, he was adorable. He had to be pushing sixty but he was talking like a man half his age. After you heard the way his knees creaked when he was fixing your heater, you figured he was all talk, or maybe he just needed the ego boost to hype himself up.

But the speed in which he removed your clothes should have been the first sign that your impression of him was wrong. When he buried himself inside you, his surprisingly thick length stretching you open and nudging the furthest depths of you, you got the message.

When you gasped and tipped your head back, his big hand immediately rose to cup the side of your face and tilt it back down so he could watch your face as you unraveled beneath him. Each little noise and moan seemed to egg him on, like he fed off your sounds and the way your face twisted in pleasure when his coarse hair rubbed against your clit with each roll of his hips.

"Wanna see you," he explained, eyes scanning all over your face. "Wanna watch you take it. You'll keep your eyes on me, won't you? Hm? You'll be good for me, yeah?"

You nodded, your mind a muddled mess. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the slow and deliberate drag of his heavy cock in and out of you. Joel pressed your knees back against your chest as far as you could handle and pushed inside you further with a rough grunt. He managed to get so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach and the sensation left you breathless.

"So fuckin' pretty, y'know that?" he groaned, gazing down at you without breaking rhythm. His long locks loosened and hung past his eyes, tempting you to smooth them back. "Wanted to get to know you f'so long but I couldn't ever catch your eye," he admitted with a little smirk. You moaned when his hips began to swirl, switching the angle ever so slightly and setting your nerves alight.

"I-I... oh, god," you whined, already struggling to keep your eyes on him like he asked. "I didn't know."

He lunged forward and crashed his mouth against yours hungrily, his exhale fanning over your cheek. Then just as suddenly as he kissed you, he leaned back and pulled out.

"Turn over," he instructed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he dragged in air. You did as you were told and shakily held yourself up on your hands and knees.

"Fuck," he muttered behind you. Your face went hot and you tucked your chin into your shoulder as you waited for him to enter you again, but he chose to take an extra minute to glide his hand over the curves of your hips and ass. If you had been able to see him, you would have seen a look of awe and appreciation on his face.

"Always wondered what you had hidden under all those clothes," he said as he lined himself up at your entrance. You cried out his name when he finally slid back inside, the angle already too intense and he hadn't even begun to move. "Goddamn, wanna run my tongue over every fuckin' inch of you, baby," he growled, fingers gripping your sides as he tried to ground himself.

He gave you a few gentle thrusts to get used to it before he couldn't hold back any longer. He pounded into you, his eyes fixed on your ass and the way it bounced with every snap of his hips. One hand slowly reached down to trace your spine, marveling at the way your body welcomed him. Then you arched your back and you both moaned at the slight change and he could feel his stomach begin to tense in anticipation of his release.

"So fuckin' tight," he said through clenched teeth. You could hear him breathing heavily as his thrusts grew sloppy and you began to panic, sensing he was about to come before you were ready. But then as if he read your mind, one of his hands snaked around your front to draw fast circles over your clit.

"C'mon, give it t'me," he said with a grunt. "Wanna feel this perfect pussy squeeze me, want you to be feelin' me for fuckin' days, sweetheart."

"Oh, shit," you gasped, mouth hanging open in a mixture of ecstasy and surprise. You wondered how on earth everyone in town had so much to say about Joel's reputation but somehow managed to leave out how mind-blowing he happened to be in bed.

"Christ, honey. Ain't gonna last much longer," he groaned, his fingers working even faster between your legs. He pounded into you harder, punching the air from your lungs and pushing you closer and closer to your peak. Your breaths were coming in shallow pants and you could feel the swell building deep inside you, threatening to unleash at any second. You reached behind you frantically, searching for some part of him to hold onto when you found his hand pressed firmly onto your hip. Your fingers clasped over his as you felt the pressure build up quickly and you knew in that moment this one encounter was going to single-handedly ruin you.

The moment you fell apart while practically screaming his name, your cunt pulsing around him and your body shaking, he almost made a huge mistake. Finally getting to witness what you looked like when you came was more than enough, but hearing his name over and over while your body shook with pleasure? It was too much and he was only just a man who was holding on by his goddamn fingernails as it was. But fortunately, he managed to pull out just in time to paint your lower back with his cum. He knew he was making some ungodly sounds as relief flooded his veins, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had been daydreaming about taking you apart like that for weeks and now that he finally had you, there was no turning back.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped, lifting his chin towards the ceiling while dragging in deep lungfuls of air. You collapsed flat onto your stomach with a grunt and he tilted his face back down to grin as how spent you looked.

Still got it.

"I'll be right back, darlin'," he told you. You mumbled something tiredly in response before he slipped out of your room to get a washcloth from your bathroom and returned quickly to clean you up.

"Thank you," you said, turning your face so you could watch him gently wipe up his mess. His eyes flickered to yours and he smirked.

"You thankin' me for fixin' the heater, for fuckin' you, or for cleanin' you up?"

You giggled, your voice a little hoarse when you replied, "All of the above."

You flipped over onto your back and his eyes immediately drifted down your naked body, his breath catching in the back of his throat at how perfect you were. Even better than he ever imagined.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, letting the rag fall to the floor so he could glide his hand up your thigh, over your hips and stomach to one of your breasts which, he realized far too late, had gone neglected. Next time.

"So are you," you whispered back, bringing a hand up to play with the long curls resting on the back of his neck. He shook his head shyly and looked away.

"I need a haircut."

"I like it just the way it is," you told him, twisting a lock of hair around one finger and watching as it loosely bounced back when you let it go. "Gives me something to grab onto," you joked. A wide smile stretched across his face and his eyes looked like he was staring at the tree on Christmas morning.

"So, uh," Joel began when the silence stretched on for too long. "I meant it earlier. 'Bout gettin' to know you better." He couldn't remember the last time he felt so nervous. He could feel his face heating up and he prayed you didn't notice. "I know you don't like goin' to the dining hall but I'd really like to have dinner with you. I can't make much but I can make stew, if y'wanna-"

"I would go to the dining hall with you," you said, cutting him off. His eyes snapped back up to yours and he shot you a nervous smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said with a little shrug before sitting up and draping your arms around his shoulders. "As long as you're there, I'll go."

He grinned and leaned forward to kiss you, still in complete disbelief his wildest fantasy actually came true.

"How 'bout tomorrow, then?" he asked a little breathlessly when he broke the kiss.

Your eyes lit up and you nodded. "It's a date."

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[solarmorrigan]

cw: implied sexual content, mentions of anxiety/PTSD responses

-

The first time Eddie lifts him off his feet, Steve is pretty sure he has an out of body experience.

He’s never dated anyone as strong as he is, is the thing. It isn’t that he hadn’t dated girls who were strong—cheerleading takes more muscle than many people seem to think, and there had been a couple of girls from the soccer team besides that—but none of them had been strong enough to just casually lift Steve up.

But Eddie does it. He does it mid-makeout session, doesn’t even break the kiss as he gets his hands under Steve’s thighs and lifts him up to sit on the counter he’d been pinned against. And maybe it doesn’t break Eddie’s concentration, but it shatters Steve’s.

He stops kissing back long enough to make Eddie pull away and ask, “What’s wrong?”

Wrong? Steve’s heart is racing, his face is flushed, his lips are kiss-bruised, and he’s sitting on top of his kitchen counter because Eddie had put him there – just grabbed his legs and hoisted him up, left his hands resting on Steve’s thighs, and Steve can feel them burning through his jeans, which are suddenly quite a bit tighter.

Nothing is wrong.

“That was hot,” Steve blurts, and Eddie blinks at him.

“What? Me lifting you up?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

A slow smirk spreads across Eddie’s face. “You like that?” he asks. “That I can throw you around a little?”

“Yeah,” Steve rasps, surprising even himself with the raw want in his voice. Given his history with people throwing him around, it shouldn’t be something he wants, but the more he thinks about it—the more he thinks about Eddie doing it—the more appealing it becomes.

“The information is noted and will be filed away for later consideration,” Eddie says, like the fucking nerd he is, and when he leans back in to kiss Steve, he digs his fingers into Steve’s thighs, holding him tight, like he might leave little bruises when he pulls away. (Steve hopes he does.)

Eddie doesn’t abuse the knowledge he’s been given, but he does put it to good use.

He pulls Steve across the couch and into his lap, holding him close with his arms looped around his waist, making Steve feel wanted and warm.

He manages to pick Steve up and spin him around, laughing as he does so, making Steve laugh, making him feel light and adored.

He carries Steve to the bedroom, his hands hooked firmly under Steve’s ass, Steve’s legs wrapped around his hips, arms around his shoulders, and tosses him onto the bed, making Steve feel very much like he wants Eddie to fuck him.

Then, reasonably assured that Steve is enjoying the treatment, Eddie ups his game. He pins Steve to the wall of the bedroom one evening, fisting a hand in his shirt and pushing him back, leaning heavily into his space, and Steve is for a moment viscerally reminded of another time and place. He thinks about the smell of lake water and dust, of the prick of sharp glass against his skin, of the frightened and desperate look in Eddie’s eyes.

But the memory is chased away by the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his. This is so much better – this is Eddie’s free hand running gently through Steve’s hair, this is the warm, familiar weight of Eddie’s body pressing into him, this is Eddie’s thigh shoved between Steve’s legs. This is good.

Eddie grips Steve’s hair close to his scalp and pulls. Steve moans and mindlessly grinds down.

It becomes a new and intimate normal, something they barely even have to think about, something that just feels right. Even when Steve starts out on top, the instigator, the one in control, it’s easy for Eddie to turn the tables.

As Steve straddles him on the bed now, both their shirts lost but the effort to rid themselves of their pants temporarily derailed, Steve is too eager in his pursuit of Eddie’s mouth to notice the coiling tension in the body below him.

He doesn’t notice until the tension springs, and Steve finds himself rolled onto his back with Eddie weighing him down. Quicker than Steve can keep up, Eddie is straddling his waist, taking his wrists and pulling his arms above his head, pinning them to the mattress.

Instinctively, Steve struggles against the hold, but he has no leverage, and Eddie’s grip remains firm. Steve can’t move – yet the expected wave of panic never comes.

He doesn’t feel trapped beneath Eddie, he feels secure, like Eddie is shielding him, keeping him safe. The hold on his wrists keeps him tethered to the Earth when the rest of him feels like floating away, and Steve tugs a little more so Eddie will grip him tighter. He hopes it leaves marks, wants to wear the bruises like bracelets in the shape of Eddie’s fingers.

Then Eddie pulls back, ends the kiss to ask, “This okay?”

He sounds serious, like he really wants to know, like he’ll let Steve go the moment he asks, which is precisely why Steve nods quickly and begs, “Please don’t stop.”

And Eddie grins and leans back in for another kiss, holding Steve tight.

[Prompt: Rolling over in bed, switching positions during a kiss]

[gay-dorito-dust]

Is it okay if I request Deadpool and Wolverine having an s/o that likes to bite them affectionately and like they keep doing doing it trying to leave a mark on them?

Headcanon or story is fine ❤️

Wade Wilson/ deadpool

‘Do I taste delicious bbg? I must seeing as how you’re eagerly coming back for seconds just to get your teeth into me.’ Wade would tease as he watched you bite onto his shoulder, no thoughts behind your eyes, only chomp.

‘I’m trying to see if I can leave a mark.’ You tell him, biting down a little harder on his shoulder but not enough to cause him any discomfort.

‘And In public too? *gasp* You naughty minx, I didn’t think you were like that but then again I guess voyerism has always been something I wanted to try.’ - Wade.

‘No’ - you

Wade doesn’t mind you biting him, bite him as much as you want but don’t be surprised if he were to say that he got the bite marks from something far more intimate. He’s just built like that but you love him regardless for it, he made life fun in a chaotic way.

He’d even might attempt to bite you back, make it your couple thing to bite each other affectionately and hard enough to leave a make but not enough to cause the other pain.

So when you bit his hand, he’ll bit your arm, which then leads to an all out biting war between the two of you to see who can bite the other the most. You could just be chilling on the sofa together and somehow bite each other simultaneously. This happens one too many times to count on one hand and even after the marks have gone away, it was just an excuse for you and Wade to bite each other as much as possible all over again.

So please by all means bite him as much as you want he’s not going to stop you, he’s enjoying it too much that he may or may not find himself developing a biting related kink sooner or later because of you.

‘Do I look pretty with your bite marks, claiming me as yours and yours alone?’ - Wade, battering his eyes.

‘The prettiest’ - you slapping his ass and giving him another bite on his bicep.

The fucker would moan when you do, loudly too so I hope your bit easily embarrassed.

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine

‘Ow! What the-‘ Logan sees you latching onto his bicep with your mouth, teeth digging into his skin, ‘-are you a fucking cannibal now? What’re you doing?’ He’d ask and you’d shrug.

‘Marking you?’ You questioned, still biting him.

‘Why?’ He’d ask.

You shrug again. ‘Your bicep look too nice so I had to bite it.’

Logan swore you were going to give him grey hairs with your shenanigans, but he just lets you do your thing. So half of the time you look like a fish on a fishing hook with the way you latch onto his bicep with no intentions of letting go anytime soon.

Even if people were to ask who gave him that many bite marks, he’d just raise his arm and reveal you hanging off of it and just point at you with a deadpan expression. ‘My nippy little shit of a partner did.’ He’d say in response.

He doesn’t mind a couple of bites but a fuck tone then he’ll probably tell you to tone it down with the biting, just until the current marks fade away.

‘I look like I got attacked by a fucking piranha.’ - Logan as he points at you. ‘Enough biting from you.’

You didn’t like that as much and would get all pouty because the whole point of you biting him was so that the marks would stay! This was torture! Logan tends to ruin the fun but that doesn’t stop you from biting him unexpectedly but there is moments where he does catch you in the act and you bolt away as fast as you can.

However in the end you’re the one coming out of the room with a couple of fresh bite marks yourself across your neck as Logan smirks to himself with pride. You did push your luck and Logan wasn’t one to let you get away with it without…a punishment or two…

[astrow1zar6]

Astrology Oberservations - 41 🦃

Aquarius placements look really good in circle frame glasses.

Aries moon women I notice are single most of their life or don’t really date until later in life. They are very emotionally independent which can intimidate men into getting serious with them. If they do end up having a lot of relationships however they are usually pretty short termed until they mature.

On the other hand libra moons usually maintain healthy long term relationships. They usually have no issue finding a partner & a lot of people have crushes on them!

Neptune in the 1st house can give the native eyes that people can’t tell what color they are. They truly have the most beautiful eyes of the zodiac.

Gemini placements are way more sexual than Scorpios. They can detach from sex easily so it’s easy and stimulating for them to hook up a lot. I notice a lot of pronstars and sex workers have heavy Gemini placements. Scorpios are sexual but I feel most prefer emotional intimacy before giving up their bodies.

Saturn in the 7th house people I’ve seen tend to look more like their grandmas than their parents. Their grandmothers also could’ve impacted them a lot growing up and were usually the closest to their grandmas.

Capricorn risings tend to have very fast metabolisms. They can eat a lot and barely gain any weight. (Very blessed imo) I also notice that their hands and feet are always FREEZING 24/7. Their body temperature in general is normally very low, they get cold very easily. (Saturn is the coldest planet after all)

Venus in Pisces normally have really nice full lips (especially in the 1st house)

Libra suns are usually the prettiest in the room always.

Pisces moons just ghost people randomly. They will just stop reaching out of nowhere then will hyu months later and you find out they moved halfway across the world and are expecting a kid lmao. They do this to friends and family. Can be really secretive about their lives and what’s going on in them.

Taurus sun/moon women look amazing without makeup and they usually prefer a bare face over makeups. If they do wear makeup it’s usually very natural looking most I notice aren’t into heavy makeup looks.

Moon in libra/leo/pisces have a hard time being single

Moon in aries/capricorn/aquarius usually find it more comfortable to be single over having a partner.

Mars in Leos care a lot about their reputation and always want to come off as successful or the best. They can have very big egos & can get really pissy when people say things that make them look bad or embarrass them in any way.

Taurus/Pisces mars tend to have issues with binge eating when stresssed or anxious.

Libra Venus women tend to play dumb a lot to seem more attractive to guys.

Cancer moon women are usually such girly girls💕 they are so ethereal

Libra mars people have amazing bodies (especially the women).

I hope everyone have a fun and safe thanksgiving yesterday! Happy late turkey day 🦃🤣♥️

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Kissing

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Imagine Yandere!Zhongli in a Reverse!AU, where you're Liyue's Archon and you seal him away. Thousands of years ago, you and him were friends ruling over different sections of what would become Liyue. You hardly noticed the way his eyes lingered on you whenever he saw you, hardly knew how he would dream of having you all to himself.

One day, he makes an advance as you both sip on tea at Mount Aocang, pledging to move mountains and sink continents if you ask. The price of his eternal affection remains unsaid, but you can see it in the feral, draconic look in his eye. Every dragon has a hoard, even Zhongli. And he will stop at nothing until he can have you as his most valuable treasure.

Despite his efforts to prevent you from escaping, you manage to flee back to your territory. Weeks later, Zhongli attempts to catch you off guard with a surprise invasion, but in the heat of battle, you manage to seal him away beneath the earth.

Millenia pass, and you mourn the loss of a friend, but work to build the nation of Liyue up to the ground. The Fatui come, offering a deal for your Gnosis, and you refuse. It is a mistake you will regret every day for eternity.

One day, the earth shakes in a way that makes your stomach turn.

You feel his presence before you even catch a glimpse of his crystalline horns or golden eyes. Warm and earthy like petrichor. Running out into the city streets, you help an elderly couple around some piles of rubble, before continuing towards the source of the power.

The God of Contracts finds you first, though, easily snaring your feet in stone. His power is choking in a way, and when you try to fight back with your own magic, you feel the power in your body quickly draining from you. Zhongli notices the surprise in your face, and a small smirk plays on his lips. "I've had many years to learn some new...tricks, my treasure," he murmurs, striding towards you confidently. His fingers hook under your chin, pulling it up so your eyes gaze into his. "The people that freed me said they would let me keep you if I gave them your Gnosis."

In an instant, his hand is in your chest, grasping around for your Gnosis. You cry out in pain and try to struggle, but Zhongli grabs your shoulder in a tight grip, forcing you steady. It only takes a moment for him to pull out your Gnosis, gazing at it intently. "You cannot truly understand how long I have dreamt of this day. Of you, my dearest. And now, we will never have to be apart," he whispers, pressing his lips against yours greedily. He allows himself a few seconds to savor this scene, before pulling away.

"Now, my treasure. I wish to make a contract with you." With a wave of his hand, he manifests a piece of parchment filled with words on it out of thin air. "I will help repair all the damage I have done if you promise to be mine, in body and spirit, for better or for worse." You glare at him vehemently, spitting out your refusal. In return, Zhongli simply chuckles. "In that case, I will turn every building to dust," he threatens.

Turning to some already-damaged buildings, he raises a hand, ready to demolish them with a flick of the wrist. Your cries of acquiescence stop him before he can, however. When you finish signing, Zhongli gives you a predatory smile, brushing his fingers against the side of your face. "I knew you would surrender, my dearest," he purrs, possessiveness filling his eyes. "Now, allow me to fulfill my own contract, and then we can return home," he says.

You get the feeling that you will not be leaving home for a very long time.