#sorry I just couldn’t stop thinking about this lmaooo

[twistedappletree]

alternative coffin scene ⚰️

[bimrwolf]

The Christmas Arrangement (Part 2)

steve harrington x fem!reader words: 10,009 warnings: SMUT SMUT ALERT!!!!!!! 18+ minors dni :P summary: Steve Harrington thought asking his stubborn intern to play his girlfriend for the holidays would be simple. But "pretend" starts to get a little complicated when moments feel a little too real. a/n: sor maybe this will be more than 2 parts.... not betad and a little rusty on my writing still lmaooo i know...no real slow burn but steve and reader got a little impatient im sorry!!! Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

You woke slowly, the soft light of morning streaming through the curtains. The warmth of the bed was almost lulling you back to sleep when you noticed it—the weight around your waist.

Your eyes opened fully, and your breath hitched. Steve’s arm was draped over you, his hand resting lightly against your hip. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest at your back, the soft puff of his breath against the nape of your neck.

For a moment, you froze, unsure of what to do. The room was quiet save for the faint creak of the house settling, and it struck you how peaceful Steve looked—his usual tension smoothed away in sleep.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. People shifted in their sleep all the time. But as you carefully slid out from under his arm, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced.

When Steve stirred, mumbling something unintelligible, you quickly turned your back, pretending to rummage through your bag. 

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. You hated how… adorable his voice sounded in the morning. 

“Morning,” you replied, keeping your tone casual.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the clock on the nightstand. If he noticed the earlier proximity, he didn’t mention it, and you weren’t about to bring it up.

“You sleep okay?” Steve asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Uh, yeah. Like a baby,” you said, pulling out a sweater from your bag.

He watched you carefully and you hated how he made you feel. You didn’t exactly hate that he was watching you. You peeked over your shoulder, and he pretended to yawn. “I’m gonna take a shower.” 

He grunted in reply, standing up, stretching his arms up. You hadn’t really paid attention that he had put on sweatpants and a cotton shirt. It hiked up just a bit, and you felt your cheeks burn from seeing a sliver of his happy trail. Jesus. You hoped the water in the shower was scalding to cleanse you from the thoughts swarming through your mind. 

This was all because of being close to him. It didn’t mean anything. It was like stupid biology that your lady parts were screaming for attention. 

After your shower, you came out and guessed Steve was downstairs because he wasn’t in his room. You were grateful. You had remembered how uncomfortable the bra you were wearing was, and since there was no sign of him, you made the executive decision to change. 

You stripped from your sweater and took off your bra, stuffing it back in the suitcase so you wouldn’t get it out again. You grabbed the one you wore yesterday. As soon as you went to put it on, the door to Steve’s bedroom opened. 

Steve walked in, shirtless, dripping in sweat. “Is the shower free—” Steve stopped dead in his tracks, eyes bulging out of his sockets. He quickly turned around. “Jesus Christ…” His tone was indecipherable. 

You squealed, quickly putting on your bra and sweater. You didn’t even protest that he hadn't knocked. It was his room. He probably didn’t think that you would be half naked in the middle of it. You stood there a moment to collect yourself. 

Your head tilted. Since when has Steve been so… toned? His back muscles glistened. It took everything in you not to step forward and drag your finger down the crease of his back. “Uh… it’s safe. Sorry about that.” 

Steve hesitantly turned around, not looking you in the eye as he scrambled to get into his bathroom. You almost laughed when you heard the click of the lock. 

You were downstairs for forty-five minutes until Steve joined you, still not meeting your gaze. You smirked. You had unintentionally gotten under his skin. The best Christmas gift you have ever gotten. 

“My mom is in town. Tomorrow is this big Christmas auction gala she organizes for the community.” He grabbed a pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator. 

“Oh, so we have the entire house to ourselves?” You made sure your tone was suggestive. 

He looked up, already flustered. “Shut up.” 

You smirked. “Oh come on. I didn’t think you’d be so worked up about seeing boobs.” 

“You’re my employee. Of course I’m worked up about seeing your…” he trailed off, taking a sip of his orange juice. “Can we just drop it. I didn’t see much anyway.” 

Your face fell. “Geez. Way to make a girl feel insecure,” you mumbled. 

Steve ran a hand over his face. There was that small unintelligible word that sounded too close to your name which came out of his mouth. “Have you always been this obnoxious? Was I drunk when I hired you?” 

You reached over and patted him gently on the cheek. “I think I was wearing that skirt.” 

He didn’t like that because he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you alone. 

The Harrington house was quiet after Steve stormed out, save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. You lingered in the kitchen for a moment, replaying the earlier exchange in your mind. 

Something about this morning had felt… different. Maybe it was the intimacy of waking up so close to him, or the way his voice had softened when he said your name under his breath. Either way, the air between you had shifted, and it left you feeling restless.

With no clear destination in mind, you wandered through the house, letting your curiosity guide you. The walls were lined with family photos, some faded and slightly crooked, others newer and perfectly framed. There were a lot of Diane—her vibrant smile unmistakable in every shot. But it was the few photos of Steve that caught your attention.

You looked at the one you saw yesterday. He looked about eighteen, wearing a Hawkins High basketball jersey and holding a trophy with an exaggerated grin. His hair was bigger than you thought humanly possible, curling in wild waves that practically defied gravity. You snorted, biting back a laugh.

The hallway opened up to a dimly lit room, the door slightly ajar. You hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. It was an office—clearly one that hadn’t been used in a while. Dust clung to the edges of the wooden desk, and the faint smell of leather lingered in the air. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books and old knickknacks that spoke of someone who had once cared deeply about appearances.

As you walked further in, your eyes landed on the desk. A single picture frame sat on top, the glass slightly smudged. You picked it up, the image of a younger Steve catching your attention immediately. He was maybe eight or nine, sitting on a couch with a man who had to be his father. The resemblance was uncanny—the same sharp jawline, the same hazel eyes. But where Steve’s gaze held an openness, his father’s was piercing, almost cold.

“Figured you’d end up in here.”

You jumped, nearly dropping the photo. Steve stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He wasn’t angry—if anything, he looked resigned, like he’d been expecting this.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, setting the photo back down. “I was just… exploring.”

Steve shrugged, stepping inside. “It’s fine. No one really comes in here anymore.”

You watched him carefully as he moved to the desk, his hand brushing against the edge like he was grounding himself. His eyes flicked to the photo, softening in a way you didn’t expect.

“Your hair used to have its own zip code.” You smiled. 

Steve huffed out a quiet laugh, his lips twitching. “Yeah. Mom called it my ‘fluff phase.’”

You grinned, leaning against the desk. “It’s impressive. I’m surprised you didn’t get recruited for shampoo commercials.”

“Missed my calling,” he muttered. Then he did something strange. He smiled at you. 

You glanced around the room, your curiosity piqued. “Was this your dad’s office?”

Steve nodded, his expression growing more serious. “Yeah. He spent most of his time in here when he was home.”

“When he was home,” you echoed softly.

Steve hesitated, his gaze dropping to the desk. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t say anything more. But then he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Christmas was… one of the few times he actually made an effort,” Steve said, his voice low. “I remember this one year—I think I was, like, ten. I’d gotten sick right before Christmas Eve. Just a cold or something, but I was miserable.”

You stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt.

“My mom wanted to cancel all our plans,” Steve continued, his jaw tightening slightly. “But my dad wouldn’t hear it. Said the Harringtons didn’t ‘sit out’ Christmas, even for the flu.”

You frowned, your chest tightening at the thought.

“But then,” Steve said, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips, “on Christmas morning, he came into my room. Had this stupid Santa hat on and everything. He brought me hot chocolate, sat on the floor, and just… stayed there with me. We watched movies all day. Mom kept checking in, but he told her not to worry.”

Steve’s smile faded slightly, his gaze distant. “I think that’s the last time I remember him actually being… present. Like he wasn’t thinking about work or his image. Just… me.”

The weight in his voice was palpable, and you found yourself wishing you could say something to take it away. But you knew better than to offer empty platitudes.

“That sounds like a good memory,” you said softly.

Steve nodded, his hand brushing over the edge of the desk again. “Yeah. It was.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, the only sound the faint creak of the house settling. Then Steve straightened, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Anyway,” he said, his tone shifting back to something lighter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You arched an eyebrow, folding your arms. “That sounds ominous.”

“It’s not,” he said quickly, though his tone betrayed him. “It’s just… usually today, I go to this Christmas party. My friends host it every year.” 

“And since Robin’s probably already told them about us… it’d be easier if I came.” You said matter of fact. 

He shrugged. “S’okay if you don’t wanna. I know that’s a lot more than you signed up for. And it’s more people we’d have to lie to. But my mom will wonder why you didn’t go and—”

“Okay.” You replied. A small smile fixed on your lips. You weren’t going to tell him that you were going to say yes once he brought it up. Nor were you going to tell him that him stumbling, avoiding your gaze, was cute. You stared at him for a moment. “What time?” 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Seven.”

You looked at the clock. You had plenty of time but you didn’t want to end up going empty handed. 

The kitchen hummed with the soft sound of the oven preheating, the scent of cocoa powder and sugar already wafting in the air as you pulled out the ingredients for brownies. Steve leaned against the counter, watching you with an amused expression, arms crossed. His guardedness had melted somewhat, replaced by a warmth that was… nice. Too nice, if you let yourself think about it for too long.

“So, what’s the plan here?” he asked, nodding to the growing pile of ingredients. “You’re just going to wing it?”

You shot him a look. “Winging it is an art form. You wouldn’t understand.”

Steve snorted, pushing off the counter. “Right. Because following a recipe is such a niche skill.”

You grinned, cracking an egg into the mixing bowl with exaggerated precision. “You’re welcome to help, Mr. Harrington. Or are you going to just stand there and look pretty?”

“Pretty?” he shot back, stepping closer. His eyes sparkled as he grabbed the whisk from your hand.

“I said annoying.” You tried to correct yourself. 

“No, I’m sure you said pretty.” He said in a sing-song tone. 

You looked up at him, gawking at how different the Steve Harrington was standing right next to you to the Steve Harrington you knew twenty-four hours ago. “You misheard.”

“Did I? Then why are you blushing?” He teased. 

“I am not.”

Steve chuckled, nudging you. “Move over. Let a professional show you how it’s done.”

“Professional? When’s the last time you baked anything?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve smirked, starting to whisk the eggs and sugar together. “Does it count if I helped Robin make cookies once? By ‘help,’ I mean I ate the dough.”

“That’s what I thought,” you said, nudging him aside with your hip. “Here. Hold the bowl steady.”

Steve did as you asked, holding the mixing bowl while you dumped in the cocoa powder. A small cloud of chocolate puffed up, and you both coughed, laughing.

“Great job, chef,” he teased, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, try aiming for the bowl?”

“Oh, shut up,” you replied, brushing a streak of cocoa off your wrist. “Mix it.” 

You tried not to stare at how his forearms flexed as he mixed the batter. ”You’re not mixing,” you said, stepping closer and pointing at the bowl. “You’re obliterating. Look at it—there’s no love in that batter. You’re supposed to fold it.”

Steve scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Fold it? How do you fold a liquid? That makes no sense.”

“It’s not a liquid,” you countered, sliding next to him. “And if you don’t fold it, the brownies won’t be fluffy. Here, give me the whisk.”

He pulled the bowl closer to his chest like a petulant child. “I’ve got this.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “No, you don’t. Let me—”

But before he could protest, you grabbed his hands where they gripped the whisk. He froze, the heat of his palms bleeding into yours as you guided him.

“Okay,” you said, ignoring the way your heart did a tiny flip at the closeness. “Watch. Around the edges, and then through the middle. See? Gentle. Like this.”

Steve tilted his head, watching your hands guide his through the motion. “You’re not even doing anything. This is the same thing I was doing.”

“Uh, no,” you said, glaring up at him. “What you were doing was creating batter soup. This is how you fold. It’s all in the wrist. Look—soft, smooth motions.”

He mimicked your movements hesitantly, his frown softening into something closer to concentration. “So… like this?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “Just don’t overdo it. You want to mix just enough to combine everything without killing the air.”

Steve glanced down at you, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile. “Killing the air? You’re making this sound way more dramatic than it is.”

“Well, if you want good brownies…” you teased, not letting go of his hands.

“I didn’t realize baking came with a lecture,” he shot back, though his voice was quieter now, softer.

You looked up at him, realizing just how close you were. His face was mere inches from yours, and for a moment, you forgot what you were supposed to be doing.

“Got it?” you asked after a beat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve cleared his throat, pulling his hands back carefully but keeping his eyes on you. “Yeah. I think I’ve got it.”

You stepped back, letting Steve take over the folding, but your gaze lingered longer than it should have. His hands moved with surprising care now, each motion deliberate, his brow furrowed in concentration.��

The soft light from the kitchen window caught on his hair, a mess of chestnut waves that managed to look both effortless and infuriatingly perfect. His jawline, sharp and dusted with just a hint of stubble, tensed with focus, and his lips—why were you noticing his lips?—were slightly parted, as if he was lost in the rhythm of the task.

He wasn’t just the boss who annoyed you at work or the guy with the quick comebacks and perpetual smug grin. He was… striking, in a way that made it hard to look away. 

The warmth in his hazel eyes when he glanced at you, the easy laugh he’d let out earlier—it all felt disarmingly genuine, and it left you feeling unsteady, like you’d lost your footing on solid ground.

What the hell was wrong with you? This was Steve. The guy who once called you “relentlessly stubborn” after a client meeting and smirked when you’d glared at him. You weren’t supposed to notice how his t-shirt clung to his shoulders or how the veins in his forearms stood out when he gripped the whisk. 

You weren’t supposed to think about how close his hands had felt under yours or how the faint smell of his cologne—something warm, woodsy, and distinctly him—seemed to linger in the air between you.

“Earth to you,” Steve said suddenly, breaking through your spiraling thoughts. He tilted his head, catching your eye with a teasing smirk. “You’re staring. Should I be worried?”

You blinked, heat rushing to your face. “No. I was just—” You gestured vaguely at the batter, your voice coming out higher than you intended. “You’re doing it wrong again.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. He just grinned, the kind that made your stomach do an annoying little flip. “Whatever you say, Chef.” He handed you the bowl back. 

As you poured it into the pan, Steve leaned against the counter again, watching you with a small smile. “You’re not bad at this,” he admitted.

“High praise,” you said, smirking. “From a guy whose contribution has been… holding a bowl.”

Steve stepped closer, picking up a spoon to taste the batter. He dipped it in, taking a bite, and hummed thoughtfully. “Not bad. A little more sugar, though.”

You swatted at his hand as he reached for the sugar jar. “It’s fine the way it is!”

He shrugged, stepping back to give you space, though his grin lingered. As you continued to pour the batter into the pan, Steve stepped forward, brushing past you to grab a towel. “You’ve got something,” he said, gesturing to your face.

“Where?” you asked, trying to wipe at your cheek.

“Here,” Steve said, his voice softer now. He reached out, his thumb brushing just below your lip, and you froze.

Before you could process the moment, he brought his thumb to his mouth, licking off the batter absentmindedly.

Your brain short-circuited.

Steve didn’t seem to notice, turning back to the counter like nothing had happened. He made a distinguished sound that embarrassingly made a spot in your stomach heat up. His eyes rolled back. “This is heavenly,” he said casually, tossing the towel over his shoulder.

You blinked, your pulse racing. “Uh… thanks?”

The moment hung in the air for a beat too long, but neither of you addressed it. Instead, you slid the pan into the oven, your movements more deliberate as you tried to regain your composure.

By the time you arrived at the party, the brownies tucked safely in your arms, the house was already buzzing with life. Warm light spilled from the windows, and you could hear laughter and holiday music drifting through the crisp night air.

Steve opened the door, ushering you inside. You barely had time to take in the garlands, twinkling lights, and festive decorations before a familiar voice called out.

“Harrington!”

Robin appeared, beaming as she made her way over. She grabbed Steve by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. “I knew you’d bring her!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve muttered, but there was no real annoyance in his tone. His hand casually fell on the small of your back. You smiled to yourself, leaning into his touch. 

Robin turned to you, her grin widening. “Glad you came.” 

”Thanks for having me.” You lifted the pan. “We brought brownies”

Robin smiled. “You’re a baker?” 

You opened your mouth to reply, but Steve interjected. “They are probably the best damn brownies I’ve ever had.” 

You rolled your eyes. “He hasn’t even had one yet. All he did was lick the spatula.” 

“Not true. I folded it like you asked.” 

“Barely, it looked like you were auditioning for The Great Destroyer of Brownies.” 

“But they came out perfectly fine. So I must have done something right.” 

It was like you two had even forgotten Robin was there. You were looking at each other. Your faces only inches apart, playing a silent game of whoever smiles first, lost. 

“Geez, get a room you two. I’ll take the brownies before you get freaky.” Robin’s face was twisted like she had eaten something sour. She took the pan from you, walking away into the house.

You thought Steve would take his hand off you, but instead he guided you further inside until you both were at the entrance of the living room. He must have seen how nervous you were at the sight of not only a couple of friends, but more than a handful. His hand moved across your back and rested on your waist. 

“Steve!” Everyone cheered in unison. Their eyes immediately drew to you. 

“I thought Rob was lying,” a petite girl with long brown hair said. “I guess she did. She said you were pretty but that’s an understatement.” She walked closer to you and you recognized her from a picture hanging at Steve’s house. “I’m Nancy.” 

You smiled shyly, introducing yourself to her. She then hugged Steve, and you couldn’t help but feel some sort of jealousy as he held onto her a little longer. She turned back to you. “Do you drink?” 

“Uh… occasionally.” You replied. 

Nancy linked her arm with yours, looking up at Steve with a toothy grin. “‘Scuse me, but I’m going to steal your girlfriend. Make yourself at home.” 

You gave Steve a look you had never given him before. A sad puppy dog face, eyes round, eyelashes fanning as you blinked. Steve’s smirk made your stomach flip as Nancy dragged you into the kitchen. Robin followed. 

They were talking about some person named Jane… and that she was eleven? You weren’t sure. All you picked up was she was in Indianapolis with a boy named Mike and the family was leaving after the auction to spend Christmas there. 

You hugged yourself, feeling overwhelmed. You listened, nodding along to the conversation. Nancy looked over at you, handing you a cold beer with a warm smile, tilting her head slightly as if to include you in their conversation. “Here.” 

You took it with a quiet “Thanks,” gripping the bottle just to have something to do with your hands. The kitchen was alive with conversation, Robin perched on the counter while Nancy leaned against the island. They volleyed stories back and forth, mentioning names you barely recognized—Jonathan, Jane, Hopper. Their shared history was palpable, a comfortable rhythm you weren’t sure how to fit into.

Nancy must’ve noticed, because she turned to you, her smile softening. “So, how long have you and Steve been together?”

You froze, fumbling with the bottle in your hand. The words felt too big in your throat, but before you could even attempt to answer, Robin cut in with a mischievous grin. “Fairly recent.” 

Nancy's eyes widened in surprise. “And he brought you home for Christmas? That wasn’t meant to sound rude. He just hasn’t brought anyone around since…” she trailed off, taking a sip of her drink. 

You bit the inside of your cheek nervously, unsure what to say. 

“Oh, you know Steve,” Robin said, kicking her feet playfully against the cabinets. “When he falls, he falls hard. I give it six months before they’re picking out curtains.”

Nancy laughed lightly, but her gaze stayed on you, curious. “You must be pretty special,” she said.

Special? That wasn’t exactly the word you would’ve used. You managed a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as awkward as you felt. “He’s, uh, full of surprises,” you said, which was at least half true.

Robin snorted into her drink. “Yeah, surprises. Like when he thought putting a bike together meant duct-taping it until it stopped rattling. Romantic and handy.”

You laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing a fraction. Nancy smiled too, and for the first time, the air felt a little less heavy. You took a sip of your beer, the coldness grounding you.

“So,” Nancy said, leaning in conspiratorially, “how did Steve get you to put up with him? He’s charming, sure, but that only gets him so far.”

Before you could think of a response, Robin piped up again. “I’ll tell you how—she’s a saint. That’s the only explanation. And a really good liar.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between you and Robin. “Liar?”

You opened up your mouth, but Robin interrupted. “That she isn’t totally in love with him.” 

You froze. In love? You barely knew him. “I—“ you couldn’t even disagree. I mean it would sound weird to say you didn’t like him while dating him. The entire lie would be for nothing. Your mouth went dry. 

Your heart stuttered at Robin’s words. The idea seemed absurd at first. You barely knew Steve outside the confines of work—and even then, most of your interactions had been steeped in teasing, bickering, and stolen glances. But the longer you sat with it, the less certain you felt about brushing it off. Because if you were honest with yourself, there had always been something about him—something you didn’t dare acknowledge until now.

You thought back to those late nights in the office, when the hum of the city faded and it was just the two of you, working side by side. How he always remembered the way you took your coffee, even when you changed it up without warning. 

The way he never let you leave without walking you to your car, muttering some excuse about safety as if he wasn’t the one watching over you. Even the way he poked at your stubbornness during meetings wasn’t cruel—it was almost… playful, like he liked seeing you riled up. 

And you remembered how, after every disagreement, he always found a way to smooth things over, slipping a comment or a smirk that left you reluctantly smiling despite yourself.

Maybe you’d been fooling yourself all along. Because in between the quips and banter, in the quiet moments where his guard slipped and you saw the person beneath the bravado, your feelings had crept in, unnoticed but deeply rooted. You’d just been too scared—or too stubborn—to admit it. Maybe you were in love. 

The three of you walked into the living room. Nancy walked over to an empty space between a lanky, short haired boy, and another man who looked strikingly similar to the boy. He smiled at Nancy, putting his arm around her. 

You noticed the ring on his finger and realized hers. You hated to admit the relief you felt that they were married and her and Steve were just good friends. Steve. He sat on a cushioned chair, smiling at you. 

You moved closer to him, handing him a beer you had grabbed before you left the kitchen. He thanked you and when you went to sit on the ground, he grabbed your arm and pulled you gently into his lap. “This okay?” He asked, low enough in your ear so no one else could hear. He was making sure, remembering the deal. You had final say in all PDA unless absolutely necessary. 

Why did you feel so shy? You nodded bashfully, looking away so he couldn’t see your face heat up. His arm snaked carefully around you, his palm resting on your stomach. It felt normal. But then again, this was exactly how it felt this morning.  

Except now, you felt heat grow in between your legs as he gently pushed you so your back was flushed against his chest. He took a swig of his beer, drunk on smugness. What an asshole. 

You wanted to kiss his smirk off his face. 

And you did. You gently kissed the corner of his mouth, like a whisper. He didn’t push you off. His eyes glimmered and sparked with a sudden firework exploding in his irises. His grip became tighter.

“Oh my god, Steve. You’re down bad.” A chubby, curly haired boy that looked the same age as the one on the couch with Nancy and her husband. 

“Alright man, tell us how you guys met.” A man with a buzzcut said. He was sitting on the ground criss-crossed. “I’m Eddie by the way.” 

You began, “Oh we met at work—”

Steve cut you off mid-sentence, his voice warm and teasing but laced with something that made your chest tighten. “Oh, come on,” he said, his arm shifting slightly around your waist. “That’s way too boring. Let me tell it.”

You glanced up at him, your brows knitting in surprise. His smirk was firmly in place, but there was a softness in his eyes that caught you off guard.

“Alright,” Eddie said, his grin wide as he leaned forward. “Let’s hear it, Harrington. Lay it on thick.”

Steve rolled his eyes but chuckled. “So,” he began, glancing down at you like he was gauging your reaction. “She came storming into the office on her first day, looking like she was ready to fight someone. Hair all windblown, heels clicking loud enough to wake the dead—”

“I was not storming,” you interjected, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You absolutely were,” Steve shot back, grinning. “And then she marched right up to me, handed me a coffee—black, no sugar, just how I like it—and said, ‘If you’re the guy who hired me, then this better be worth it.’”

Robin snorted from across the room, nearly choking on her drink. “She did not.”

“Oh, she did,” Steve said, nodding solemnly. “No ‘hi,’ no ‘nice to meet you,’ just straight to business. And, honestly? I was impressed.”

You felt your cheeks heat as everyone chuckled, their attention fully on Steve. “It wasn’t that dramatic,” you muttered.

Steve’s grin widened, his hazel eyes sparkling as he leaned closer. “It was. And she’s late, by the way. Not just a couple minutes late—fifteen minutes late.”

Nancy snorted from her spot on the couch, and Robin outright cackled from her perch in the corner. Eddie’s eyes were wild like he was watching the most entertaining movie. The other two boys were trying not to laugh. 

Steve ignored them. “Anyway we go to the conference room to begin her new hire orientation. She sits down, doesn’t even bother with the whole ‘sorry I’m late’ excuse. Just looks right at me, raises an eyebrow, and says—” he turned to you now, his smirk softening into something almost fond. “‘Am I in your seat, boss?’”

Laughter rippled through the group, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I did not say it like that.”

“Oh, but you did,” Steve shot back, his grin widening. “Like you were challenging me. And you weren’t wrong—you were in my seat. But I let it slide because, well…” He glanced down at you, his tone dropping an octave. “I couldn’t stop staring.”

The air seemed to shift with his words, the playful banter dipping into something deeper, quieter. The teasing smile faded from his lips, and for a moment, the room around you seemed to fade too. It was just Steve, looking at you like he was still that guy in the conference room, seeing you for the first time all over again.

“I didn’t stand a chance,” he admitted softly, his fingers tracing small, absentminded circles on your stomach. “From that first day, I was done for. And then, for the next few weeks, she basically ran circles around me—fixing my mistakes, arguing with me over every little thing, making me feel like an idiot in the best possible way.”

“Well,” you said after a beat, your voice quieter. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought you were insufferably arrogant.”

Steve grinned, the warmth in his gaze only intensifying. “Insufferably arrogant, huh? And now?”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t find the words as the room seemed to blur around you. All you could focus on was the way Steve’s thumb had started tracing slow, idle circles against your stomach, his hold on you steady and unshakable.

Eddie groaned dramatically, breaking the spell. “Alright, lovebirds, we get it. You’re disgustingly into each other. Someone pass me a beer before I die from secondhand swooning.”

The room burst into laughter, and you shook your head, trying to ignore the way your cheeks burned. Steve just chuckled, pressing his lips to your temple in a way that felt too natural, too easy.

But as his hold on you tightened and his breath brushed your skin, you realized you weren’t sure you wanted him to let go.

Steve’s smile faltered slightly, though the warmth in his eyes didn’t waver. He hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the beer in his hand, as if weighing whether to continue. You tilted your head, sensing the shift, but he didn’t look at you. Instead, his thumb traced idle patterns along the glass bottle, his voice quieter when he spoke again.

“There’s… another reason I remember that day so clearly,” Steve said, his tone carrying an unexpected weight. The group quieted, their teasing falling away as they noticed his change in demeanor.

“It was…” He cleared his throat, finally meeting your gaze, his expression softer now. “It was the anniversary of when my dad passed.”

Your breath caught, the words settling heavily between you. Steve rarely talked about his dad—you’d picked up that much in the short time you’d spent with his family. And now, hearing it like this, you understood why.

Nancy’s face softened, her eyes flickering with something like recognition. Robin leaned forward slightly, her usual smirk replaced by concern.

“It was one of those days where everything felt… heavy,” Steve continued, his grip on the bottle tightening. “I didn’t even want to come into the office. But I knew if I stayed home, I’d just sit there, thinking about everything I couldn’t change. So I showed up. And then…” He smiled faintly, glancing down at you. “Then she walked in.”

You felt your heart twist, a strange mix of guilt and gratitude welling up inside you. Guilt for not knowing, for not realizing what that day had meant to him. And gratitude, because somehow, you’d been there—not knowing, but there all the same.

“She had this energy,” Steve said, his voice a little steadier now. “Like she didn’t care about anything or anyone, but not in a bad way. It was more like… she had her own gravity, and she didn’t need anyone else to pull her along. And for some reason, that made everything feel… lighter.”

Your cheeks flushed, the vulnerability in his words catching you off guard. You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, hoping he could feel the silent support in your presence.

“And yeah,” Steve added, his smile turning crooked again, “she spent most of that first week telling me I was wrong about everything.”

The tension in the room eased, laughter bubbling up around you. His gaze flickered back to you briefly. 

There was something unspoken in his eyes, something that made your stomach flip and your heart ache at the same time. 

And for the first time, you wondered if Steve’s words weren’t just about the past. If, maybe, he was talking about now—about how much you’d started to mean to him in ways neither of you were ready to say aloud.

***

Steve had to practically drag you out of Nancy and her husband’s (you learned his name was Jonathan after having to embarrassingly ask for his name. Along with his brother, Will, and their friend Dustin) house. You all talked and they all gave you embarrassing stories of Steve. 

You also learned he had dated Nancy at one point, but when the group told you, he held you a little softer. You tried to ask how they all became friends, but there was something in their tone of voices that let you know it wasn’t time for you to know. Maybe it had to do with the scar on Eddie’s cheek. 

Steve was silent, hands in his pocket as he walked with you to his car. He opened the door for you and you looked over your shoulder. You wanted to play the gesture off that he didn’t want it to be suspicious if they were looking out the window, but they weren’t. The only sound on the way back to his house was the hum of the radio. Steve’s arm rested at his side as his other hand was on the steering wheel. 

You kept looking at his free hand. Dangerous thoughts slipping into your mind as you wonder what it would be like to hold it. Or what it would feel like if he placed it on your thigh. Or if he touched you… good grief, get a hold of yourself. It was all pretend. Everything that you said and did was all fake. 

He pulled up to his house. His mother’s car was still gone. 

You barely had time to blink as he scrambled out of the car, shutting the door, coming to your side. He opened the door slowly, his body leaning against the car as you got out. Your breathing became slow as you felt the heat of his body when he reached to close the door. His eyes burned into you, only on you when he did so. 

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming in your ears as Steve stepped back just enough to let you move past him. The heat of his gaze didn’t waver, and for a fleeting second, you thought he might say something—something that would shatter the fragile boundary you’d been clinging to all night.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned toward the house, his hand brushing your lower back as he guided you toward the door. The touch was light—barely there—but it lingered, sparking warmth that crawled up your spine and settled somewhere deep in your chest.

“You okay?” Steve asked, his voice low, almost tentative.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your throat tightened. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Steve didn’t press further. He unlocked the door, holding it open for you as you stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, the faint scent of pine and cinnamon lingering from the holiday decorations.

“You want something to drink?” Steve asked, flipping on the light in the kitchen as you wandered toward the living room.

You shook your head, dropping onto the couch and slipping off your shoes. “I’m good, thanks.”

He lingered in the doorway for a moment, his hand braced against the frame as he looked at you. The soft glow from the kitchen light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

“You were great tonight,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “With my friends.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I… thanks. They’re great. And they clearly care about you a lot.”

Steve huffed a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. They’re like family. Dysfunctional as hell, but family.”

There was something unspoken in his words. You opened your mouth to ask, but he pushed off the doorway before you could, walking over to the couch and sinking down beside you.

“They like you,” Steve said, his hand resting on his knee as he leaned back slightly. “I could tell.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Even Dustin? He seemed pretty skeptical.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Dustin’s skeptical of everyone at first. He’ll come around. Trust me.” 

The way you both were talking… it put an ache in your chest. Why did it matter if they liked you? “I wish I could be real friends with them.”

He tilted his head. “I mean I don’t see why not.” He said it so innocently. 

“Because friends don’t lie,” you answered. 

He snorted, leaning his head back, whispering something about ‘If only you knew.’ His jaw ticked. If he wanted to say something else, he didn’t show it. Instead, he changed the subject. “Nancy said she invited you to get a dress for the auction.”

“Yes. Since someone forgot to mention it.” You elbowed him. 

His mouth twitched but didn’t fully give in to a smile. Silence settled between you, comfortable but charged, the unspoken things hanging in the air like static. Your gaze lingered on the slope of his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped absently against his knee.

“Steve,” you started, your voice hesitant, “about tonight…”

His eyes flicked to yours, something cautious but hopeful sparking in their depths.

“Thanks for bringing me,” you said, your words softer than you intended. 

The air between you felt heavy again, but not in a bad way. It was the kind of heaviness that came with possibilities—with things unsaid but understood.

For a moment, you thought about leaning closer, about closing the small space between you and finding out if his lips felt as warm as they looked.

However, it was like after spending so much time chiseling at the walls he had built, you watched his eyes harden in real time. “Don’t worry, it won’t be unpaid,” he said. 

You furrowed your brows. “That’s not���that’s not why I said it,” you finished, the words coming out quieter than you intended.

Steve didn’t respond immediately. His gaze flicked to the floor, his jaw tight, and you could see the way his fingers curled slightly against his knee, like he was trying to keep something in.

“I know,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “But it’s better if we keep things clear, right? No confusion.”

The words landed heavier than you expected, and the ache in your chest twisted into something sharper. “Clear,” you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue.

“Exactly,” he said, leaning back against the couch and letting out a breath like he’d settled something. 

The sudden shift in his tone felt like a slap, and you couldn’t stop the sting that settled in your chest. “Steve—”

“It’s late,” he interrupted, his voice clipped. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. The vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier—the warmth, the openness—was gone, replaced by a wall so impenetrable it was suffocating.

But you didn’t want to fight. Not when you were both exhausted and treading on thin ice. So you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stood up. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some point across the room. “Night.”

The word was distant, almost hollow, and it lingered in the air as you made your way upstairs.

When you reached his room—the room—you closed the door softly behind you, leaning against it for a moment. Your mind swirled with everything that had been said—and unsaid—and the ache in your chest only deepened.

Why did it bother you so much? You’d known from the beginning this was a transaction, a temporary arrangement to get through the holidays. But the way he’d shut down tonight, as if the moments you’d shared earlier didn’t matter, made you question everything.

Steve followed in shortly. You noticed the way he looked at the bed and even glanced at you briefly, sighing. 

You didn’t want to fight. You really didn’t. “This is bullshit.” 

He was grabbing his sleep clothes. He turned around to look at you. His face was stony and emotionless. 

“You cannot just shut me out like that, Steve Harrington. You said you liked it when I put you in your place, and unless that was all a lie, I’m going to do just that.” You crossed your arms across your chest. 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up at your outburst, the sharp edge of his posture shifting into something more defensive. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, his voice low but steady, like he was trying to keep himself from snapping.

You stepped forward, refusing to let the heat in your chest falter. “I’m talking about you shutting me out every time I try to get close to you. Every time I try to show you that this—this thing—isn’t just about pretending for your mom or your friends or whatever. You’re the one who’s making this harder than it needs to be.”

Steve scoffed, tossing his clothes onto the bed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Oh, I don’t?” you shot back, stepping even closer, your arms still crossed tightly. “Then enlighten me, Steve. Explain why you go from being… whatever we were earlier tonight to acting like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Because it’s not real!” Steve snapped, finally meeting your eyes. The frustration in his voice was palpable, and the tension in the room thickened. “This whole thing—it’s fake, remember? You said it yourself, it’s all built on a lie. And it’s better if we keep it that way. If we don’t confuse what’s real and what isn’t.”

His words stung, but you didn’t back down. “So what?” you asked, your voice rising. “Everything we did tonight, everything you said—none of it meant anything to you?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked away. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, Steve?” you demanded, your voice breaking just slightly. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re running away from whatever this is before it even has a chance to mean something.”

Steve let out a sharp breath, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “I’m not running,” he said, though the crack in his voice betrayed him. “I’m just trying to protect us from making a mistake, okay? From thinking this is something it’s not.”

“And what if it is something?” you countered, your voice softer now but no less firm. “What if this isn’t a mistake, Steve? What if you just stop shutting me out long enough to see that?”

The words hung in the air, a challenge, a plea. Steve stared at you, his hazel eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite read—anger, confusion, longing.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

“And you’re a coward,” you replied, your tone sharp despite the ache in your chest.

Something in him snapped. He closed the distance between you in two quick steps, his hands gripping your face as he kissed you, hard and desperate, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

Your breath hitched, and for a split second, your body froze in shock. But then your hands found his chest, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

It wasn’t soft or gentle—it was a collision of all the things left unsaid, all the tension and frustration and longing that had been building between you. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Your fingers slowly intertwined in his hair, tugging lightly, moaning when you heard a soft groan from the back of his throat. You hated to admit the amount of times you’ve wanted to play with his hair. 

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, making them part so he could slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands started to roam, squeezing your ass. 

You broke first, as if you were gasping for oxygen. But Steve didn’t stop. His mouth fell to your jaw, trailing kisses to your neck. It was like he already knew where the spot was on your throat that would make your knees weak. You grasped his hair tighter. 

“If you do that again, I might not make it to the bed.” He growled against your ear. 

“The bed? That’s presumptuous, Mr. Harrington.” 

If he wasn’t hard already, he was now. You whined as you felt his pants bulge against your stomach. You nearly choked out a laugh. “No shit. This whole time—”

He kissed you. “Shut up.”

You pushed him slightly away, his lips tried to chase after yours. You began to gently push him backward, leading him to his bed. “No wonder why you hate me calling you that. You’ve been getting turned on.” 

He sat at the edge of the bed, his hands grabbing the back of your thighs. “That’s presumptuous,” he mimicked you. His hands playing with the hem of your shirt, his eyes asking for permission. You lifted your arms, allowing him to take your sweater off. His mouth immediately fell on your chest. 

“I’ve been thinking about these two all day,” Steve admitted. His fingers threatened to unclasp your bra, but didn’t. Instead, he brought you down for another kiss. “Christ, I think about them all the time. But this morning, I couldn’t stop picturing you standing in the middle of my room with no shirt on. I felt like a fuckin’ teenager again.” 

You giggled against his mouth. “You did take an awfully long time showering.” 

He blushed. That was enough to tell you that your assumptions were correct. You crawled into his lap, bucking a little to feel him against your core. “Besides this morning, when was the last time you’ve thought about me?” 

You helped him strip off his shirt. 

He didn’t answer. His hands all over you again, soaking you up. “The other day when I kicked you out of my office.”

You put your hands on his shoulders, looking at him. You had imagined he had been on the other side of the door actually debating about firing you. You had even skimmed the “Help Wanted” section in the newspaper. You smiled at him, kissing him all over. On his mouth, cheek, and neck. Your hands splayed over his chest. 

“So, you do stare at me when I wear the skirt.” It wasn’t a question and he knew it. 

He rolled his eyes. “I told you. I do not stare.” His fingers finally unclasped the bra, letting the straps slide down your shoulders. “I look for an appropriate amount of time.” 

“I’m not sure it’s appropriate for the boss to be looking at all.” You batted your eyes at him innocently. 

His hands ran down your arms, sending a chill down your spine. “Oh, so now you’re concerned about professionalism? Convenient timing.” You would think that would make him upset but instead he continued to slip your bra all the way off.

He palmed your breasts gently before sliding a hand up to your throat, moving it to the back of your neck so he could gently tug your hair. You bit your lip as his mouth found that spot again, massaging your breast at the same time. 

Your nails dug into his shoulders. “There’s no telling how long you’ve been mentally undressing me. Your sweet and innocent intern.” 

“You’re kidding, right? Sweet and innocent my ass—“

“You talk too much,” you smirked mischievously. 

You yelped, giggling as he picked you up and tossed you on the bed. He parted your legs with his knee. And you nearly cried as it barely touched you. His fingers started to unbutton your pants. You never knew eyes could get so dark as he hovered above you. “You’ve been driving me crazy since I’ve met you,” he mumbled. “If you have any concerns, I can stop.”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin you living out your fantasy.” You arched so he could slip your pants off. 

He kissed your stomach, planting small kisses to the hem of your underwear. “I only said, I think about you. You’re making me sound like a freak.” 

You smirked, propping yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze. "Oh, I don’t know, Steve. Spending all that time in your office, staring at me, imagining this moment? Sounds a little freaky to me."

He rolled his eyes, trailing another kiss along your hip bone. “Again, I never said anything about imagining. All I said was I think about you. That’s different.” 

“Different how? Enlighten me, Mr. Harrington.” You teased, brushing his hair back. 

“Well, for one, I’m very respectful in my thinking.” Steve chuckled, low and rough, his hands skimming down your thighs as he tugged at your underwear. "If I’m the freak, what does that make you? You’re the one letting your ‘boss’ take you apart like this."

You laughed, taking a deep breath once he pulled the cotton off of you. You tried to squeeze your legs together, but Steve pushed your knees apart, leaning back, taking you all in. His eyes scanned you, like he was trying to memorize every square inch of you. He seemed to love touching you because his palm started at your shoulder, slowly caressing it down, rubbing circles on your stomach with a finger. “None of this seems respectful, Mr. Harrington.”

A breath was caught in the back of your throat. His thumb found your sensitive area between your legs. Your back arched as he slowly rubbed it. You were embarrassingly already coming unglued. “You sure are complaining a lot about how I think about you.” 

You closed your eyes, moaning as one of his fingers entered inside you. “I’m not… complaining… Jesus…” You grabbed a fistful of his hair as his tongue made contact with your sensitive spot, curling his finger at the same time. “M’only… stating facts.” 

He lifted his head, and oh my god, you could burst right then and there. His lips were wet and swollen. His eyes were hazy, like he was drunk off of you. “Facts? I have one for you. I think about the way you argue with me during meetings. The way you glare at me like you’re seconds away from strangling me.”

“Sounds sexy,” you replied sarcastically, frowning. You had no idea where he was going. 

He nodded. “It is. Especially when you get that little wrinkle between your brows. Drives me crazy.”

“Oh my god, you’re a dork.” 

“Maybe. But you’re the one under me, letting me do whatever I want,” he shot back, his voice low and teasing as his finger curled, making you gasp. “So what does that say about you?” 

You smirked, gripping hair again when his lips brushed your inner thigh. “It says I make terrible decisions.” 

“Terrible?” His head shot up, eyes narrowed. “I’ll remember that the next time you attempt to proposition me.” 

“Next time?” 

He snuck another finger in. You bit your lip out of protest. “Confident, are we,” you asked, voice tight. 

“Call it intuition,” he hummed. 

“I call it arrogance,” you quipped. He went back down, his mouth back on your swollen heat, fingers pumping in and out of you. His other hand gripped your waist, holding you steady as you arched your back, thighs pressing on the side of his face. You cried out short whimpers. 

Then he completely stopped. 

His fingers and mouth were gone. It was so sudden you believed you had imagined it all. You propped yourself with your elbows, your breath still erratic. He looked at you with his stupid smug smirk. “Still have energy to complain?” 

Steve Harrington had finally cracked how to make you speechless. You didn’t have any remark. Your mind spun, trying to grasp for a shred of your usual wit, but it was as if he’d stolen the words straight from your mouth. Steve Harrington had done what you thought was impossible—rendered you completely and utterly speechless.

The air between you felt electric, charged with the weight of what just happened, of what he had made you feel. Your heart raced, your body still buzzing from his touch, and all you could do was stare at him, at that insufferable, cocky grin plastered on his stupidly handsome face.

You hated how much you loved it.

He looked so infuriatingly pleased with himself, like he had won some unspoken game between you two—and maybe he had. For the first time, you weren’t the one in control, and the realization was both maddening and exhilarating.

What made it worse was that he knew it. He knew exactly what he’d done to you, and the way his hazel eyes gleamed with satisfaction only made your stomach twist in the most frustratingly delicious way.

“Now who is mentally undressing the other?” He began to unzip his jeans. Slowly and tauntingly. There was no hurry as he climbed out of them, tossing them to the side. You sat up, reaching out. Your fingers hooked the waistband of his boxer briefs, dragging it down. 

He sprung out, making you let out a large breath. He was going to kill you, you thought. Once his underwear was to the side, he pushed you back on the bed, climbing on top of you. “Do you not need me to…” you trailed off. 

He shook his head. “I think we’ve had a year long worth of foreplay. I need you. And I need you now.” Honestly, he was right. He could speak to you and you think you’d break. His expression softened, and his hand cradled your face. “This okay?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” you whispered. 

He kissed you softly. 

After adjusting, Steve slid into you. His face melted into a pool, his groan intertwining with your shaky exhale.

His hips rolled slowly, getting used to you and how you felt around him. He had to keep pushing your legs as they instinctively wanted to close around him. 

It was warm and electric as the thrusts became more intense. Your nails dug into his shoulders, chests flush against one another. His hot wavering grunts stuck to your neck. He nipped and kissed your collarbone. 

It was like you were a different person the moment he entered you. “You feel so good,” you purred, dragging your teeth against his earlobe. 

It became more erratic. It was sexy as the sounds of flesh coming together blended with the dirty breaths of air escaping each other’s lips. “Everything about you is perfect,” Steve whispered. 

He pressed his palm just right at the bottom of your stomach. You felt a tear roll down your face as the electricity inside you pulsed. “Steve…” It was like a champagne bottle opened inside you, fizzing all over the place. 

“Christ, sweetheart…” he groaned, his thrusts getting sloppy. You could feel him twitch even as you came down from your high. He let out a sound that could only be made from the back of his throat and let go. 

He laid on top of you, placing soft kisses on your jaw. 

All of it felt unbelievable. Your mind was a haze. It was like a whirlpool of sensation and disbelief. Your body still trembled from the aftershocks of what had just happened. 

How had this happened? How had you gone from presumably hating each other to this

—his body on yours, his lips tracing soft, reverent kisses along your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world?

The way he had spoken to you, his voice rough with need and unfiltered affection, played on a loop in your head. Everything about you is perfect. You could still feel the heat in his words, the way they'd wrapped around your heart and squeezed it, as if he'd been holding them back for far too long.

You hadn't expected this-any of it.

Not the intensity of his touch, not the way he unraveled you so completely, not the way he made you feel seen. 

And yet, the tender weight of his body, the way his breath brushed your skin as he whispered your name like a prayer, made it impossible to deny. Maybe you weren't just pretending anymore.

Maybe you never had been.

[serqphites]

HEAR ME OUT….

Lee harker x single mom!reader 🤯🤯🤯🤭🤭🤭

STOP BC I COULDN’T IGNORE THIS UNTIL TOMORROW (yes it’s 2:40 while i’m writing this rn) you have given me such bad brain rot with this 😭

—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—

okay so let’s say you have a daughter around the age of 3. things had been rough before meeting lee, life pretty much being put on hold for you as you couldn’t go anywhere without your child.

you met lee in your local store, just minding your business when your daughter decides it’s time to play matchmaker!

despite calling for her as she runs and runs further away from you, she still doesn’t listen until she finds herself hiding behind a very stiff lee harker’s leg.

girly is stressed LMAOOO, like where the hell has this random child come from and oh my god why is her mother so beautiful??

“oh my god i am so sorry!” you’re trying your best to remove your daughter from lee’s leg, but apparently your child has super strength and forgot to tell you.

“no no-“ GULP, “you’re fine” you’d honestly think someone was holding her at gunpoint and forcing her to smile, why is she just showing off her teeth instead of smiling with them?

i can SMELL her gay panic.

once your daughter eventually lets go, you continue apologising profusely as you begin walking away.

“wait!” lee calls out, her voice shaky. she does an awkward little jog over to you, her arm extended towards you as she waves a small elephant teddy in the air.

oh yeah that’s when you decided to get her number. the baywatch jog to hand deliver the toy to you reallyyyy did it.

fast forward a few months and things are going great! lee comes over every friday after clocking out and doesn’t leave until she has to. your weekend sleepovers are consistently the highlight of her week.

she’s definitely… interesting when it comes to your daughter.

“sooo, this is your room.”

and your kids just sat in her bed like “ya.”

yeah you dragged her out of there. “lee you don’t need to talk to her like she’s a suspect, just be normal”

“that was me being normal” and she hits you with the :/

she defo sends you money for stuff like sitters and daycare to help with your part time job. it also frees you up for date nights!

(lee keeps tabs on the babysitter and every single person who works in the daycare your daughter attends, she came to stand on business)

when things start to get really serious between you two, lee decides to move you into her cabin! this cutie even changed her study into the cutest little forest themed nursery you’ve ever seen.

“lee it’s perfect! thank you” you’re literally on the verge of sobbing and she’s just stood in the doorway like 🧍‍♀️🙂

lee does become better around your kid, acting more loving towards her and not being as afraid of her LMAO

also she’s so fucking overprotective.

lee never asked why you were a single mother, she didn’t really think it was her place. it took you quite a while to open up to her about it, her holding you as you finally let out all of your emotions for the first time since falling pregnant. men fucking suck.

NSFW:

jumping straight into it, it turns her on so much that you’re a single mother.

i can picture her sat at her desk that’s now in the corner of your bedroom, her fingers hooked into the loop of your jeans as words of adoration spill from her lips.

“i think you’re so strong”, “it’s so hot that you did that all by yourself”, “you’re so amazing”.

before you know it she’s trailing kisses down your stomach, one hand coming up to rub the center of your chest as the other undoes your belt buckle…

[wayward-dreamer]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write a story where soilder boy is dating Y/n, and they start talking, and he asks her if she thinks he would be a good dad. Which leads to them talking about starting a family together. And then one of them says something along the lines of "Why don't we try now?" Then it turns into smut. If not it's okay, thanks!

Father Material

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Word count: 1,468

Summary: Curiosity from the public and media has Ben expressing his dream to be a father. Y/N wants to make his dream a reality.

Warnings: Swearing, some angst, mentions of SB's nefarious actions, smut: dirty talk, rough sex, breeding kink.

A/N: This request has been in my inbox forever, so I apologise for long it took! I hope you like it Layla! Happy reading! :) Thanks to my besties/betas @hintsofhoney and @makeadealwithdean for looking over this. Sorry not sorry for killing you hehe

also there's plenty more Soldier Boy content on the way because apparently I've become an SB smut dealer lmaooo

“Do you think I’d make a good father?”

That was the question that sparked the sex marathon they had been in for hours now. Given that he was a supe, Soldier Boy had the stamina for withstanding just about anything, and if he had it his way he could probably last well into the night. She on the other hand was flagging quickly, the downside of being 100% human, but she really couldn’t bring herself to tell him to stop. Not when he always knew just how to make her toes curl and her body quake with euphoric bliss. He may have known what buttons to push to get her going, but that didn’t mean their encounters were predictable. They were far from it, and that day was no exception.

The day started out like any other. He had meetings with hero management, followed by filming a commercial for Cracker Jack, which then led to interviews with different channels. She finally stepped out of their penthouse that night to join him on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, draped in an emerald green dress to match his suit, complete with gold accessories. Usually interviews weren’t really her favorite thing to do, but being America’s golden couple meant that they needed to be seen in public in order to keep that status. So they did what they always did. They laughed and joked with quick-witted Carson, charmed the audience and made the nation fall deeper for them with each caress of a hand or sweet kiss. Some may have thought it was just for the cameras, those cynical spectators that didn’t have any business commenting on what goes on behind closed doors, but they both knew the truth about their relationship.

They were in love. They had been since the moment he propositioned her in the elevator of the Vought American building, leading to one of the wildest nights she had ever had. Most would call it lust, but when you understood someone on a deeper level like they both did, it was most definitely love. A warped, messed up kind of love, but nonetheless, that’s what it was. She wasn’t stupid; she knew the kind of man he was, what he had to do during the war, and in Vought’s name since he joined their roster. She knew there were some off the books black ops missions he had gone on, even if she didn’t know the details. She heard the rumors about Dealey Plaza, too. She knew that he was fucked up despite his God fearing, all-American persona for the public, but she didn’t care.

In order to love someone like that, she had to be a little fucked up too. Well, more than a little.

Despite distracting everyone with their incredible charisma, questions of settling down and starting a family came up, and she knew she had to think of an answer fast when she saw Ben’s face go blank. With her biggest grin, she turned to Carson and said “Well, if anything happens Johnny, you’ll be the first to know!” They covered it up with hearty laughs as the audience joined in, along with the host, before he thanked them for their time to raucous applause.

The drive back to the Vought building was quiet, her concern growing for him until his words: “Do you think I’d make a good father?” broke the silence.

“Why do you ask?” she questioned in return, softly as to not scare him from broaching the subject.

“That fucking Carson,” he muttered, staring out the window at the bright lights. “I just… I guess he got me thinkin’, that’s all. Forget it.”

She wasn’t going to. She knew there was something he wanted to tell her, something he wanted of her, and she needed to know what it was.

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinkin’ about… about how I’d do it better than my father ever did,” he confessed. “We’d make some perfect fucking kids, that’s for damn sure.”

She smiled softly, her hand curling over his as she slid across the backseat and pressed herself against his side. She nuzzled her nose along his jaw, leaving small kisses along his stubble as she reached his ear, her breath fanning against the shell as she whispered her own desire to do the same.

“Then let’s start right now.”

And that was how they found themselves in their bedroom twenty minutes later, with her holding herself up on her quivering hands and knees as he pounded into her from behind, his fingers digging into her skin with a bruising hold as his pelvis smacked against the curve of her ass. He had contorted her into every position possible since then for the last couple of hours, with barely a few minutes to breathe between each romp in the sheets. She had lost track of how many positions, and she was about to lose count of how many times he had spilled inside her, both of them getting closer to that release once more.

“Oh god, oh god!” she moaned wantonly, her forehead pressed against the mattress as her hands fisted the sheets. She was completely unbothered about how loud she was and the fact that people had probably heard them by now.

“No need to bring him into this, doll,” he chuckled, the sound broken up by his groans of pleasure. “Just me and you here…”

“You’re so fucking cheesy,” she mumbled, a guttural whimper escaping her at a particularly angled thrust against her g-spot.

“You fucking love it,” he countered, smirking as he suddenly pulled out of her.

Ignoring her whine of protest, Soldier Boy flipped her over onto her back and grabbed her legs, bending her in half as her calves rested on his shoulders, sliding back into her tight heat with a quick, hard thrust. The sounds that left them were nothing short of pornographic, as he began to pick up the pace with each push of his hips against her. He squeezed his eyes shut as her walls clenched around his throbbing cock, both of them balancing on the edge of their blissful climax, ready to go over at any minute.

“So fucking good, so fucking perfect, Y/N,” he growled, their faces close as he leaned over her. “You love the way I fuck you, don’t ya?”

“Yes!” she cried out, nodding frantically as she stared up into his green orbs. “Love the way you fuck me… you fuck me so good, Ben. So deep, and hard, wanna feel it for days.”

“Oh you will, sugar,” he groaned, between rough kisses against her lips. “Gonna fill you up, make you feel so full, make you full and round with my babies. You want that?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“Fuck, yeah you do,” he husked. “Tell me, tell me you want it.”

“I want it, I want it so bad, Ben,” she whimpered, the sound practically a sob with how desperate she was to finally let go. “I want you to fill me up, give it to me.”

“Cum for me, doll, soak my cock,” he said, looking deep into her eyes.

Y/N finally felt the dam breaking as a loud, shrieking moan escaped her, her walls contracting around his shaft as her arousal spread over him. He grunted loudly, his hips snapping harder against her, as he tried to hold himself back. His eyes fluttered, about to close, but her hands on his face stopped him, making him pay attention to her as their gazes locked. As she had with each time he had reached his peak that night, she stroked her thumbs along his jaw, slowly nodding her encouragement and desire to feel his seed deep inside her.

“S-Say it,” he stuttered, his neck straining as he held on just a little longer. “Fuckkk, s-say it-”

She bit her lip, knowing how it drove him crazy, before she parted them and uttered the words that sent him over the edge at the end of round that night.

“You’re gonna be a great dad… better than your own.”

Soldier Boy threw his head back, the veins in his neck pressing against his skin as he let out a guttural moan, his cock pulsing deep inside her tight canal. She moaned softly as she felt the warm spurts of his cum coat her walls, filling her up as he had done several times that night already. They both breathed heavily, trying to calm their racing hearts, neither of them wanting to move away from the other. He buried his face in her neck, planting soft pecks along her pulse point, bringing a smile to her face as they basked in the afterglow.

Both of them hoped that it wouldn’t be too much longer before their dream became a reality.

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Shit at Feelings iv

Bodhi Durran x fem!reader

Synopsis: Bonding with dragons? No issue. Killing venin? Unfortunate, but doable. Confronting your feelings towards your childhood best friend? No thanks.

Word count: 6k 🫢

Warnings: swearing (ofc), drinking, angstttt, y/n lore, lmk if I missed anything, not proofread at the end lmaooo

A/n: the long awaited part 4!! Hope y’all aren’t disappointed, trying not to think so hardly on this part bc I scrapped and rewrote this so many times 😅

You're unsure of when it started during the night, but as you sat at the booth with Violet, Rihannon, and Nadine; something stirred in your chest. You desperately tried to look interested in the conversation, trying to meet the eyes of Rihannon trying to focus on the way she animatedly told a story. Laugh when the women poked fun at Violet for something cheeky she’d bring up. Adding input to Nadine’s questions despite having to ask her to repeat herself without having your eyes dragging themselves to look at the other side of the bar.

Who was she?

She wore a dressed down pale blue healer uniform, her skin flawless free of relics and tattoos, glossy perfect red hair that cascaded down her back in waves. She radiated bubbliness from what you observed as she laughed at whatever Bodhi said or did a little dance when her friend sunk a billiard into a pocket. She always seemed to go right back to chatting with him. You couldn’t bear watching her cling to him, but you couldn’t drag your eyes away.

You were well aware you had no right to be sitting there, stomach churning with a bitterness of cold ire…but here you were doing just that.

Rihannon clicked her teeth, making you snap your attention back to the group. You didn’t even try to offer a coy look—this was the second time one of them caught you. You had tried the last two hours to hide your irritation, but it just kept beckoning to the surface. Slowly ticking away within you as if you were going to burst at the seams.

“Okay, what is going on between you two?” She laid her palms flat on the table.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You took a sip of your drink, acting as nonchalant as you could.

She gave you an incredulous look. “The fact you shied away from him all first year, then the first night of break whatever that was.” She waved her hand. “The other day during breakfast, when Dain came to grab him for the leadership meeting, and it was clear as day he was practically undressing you with his eyes when we first arrived.” she rattled off.

“It’s like I’m watching a romance novel unfold in real time.” Nadine said dramatically, a hand moving to her forehead feigning fainting.

You cringed, “it’s-it’s definitely not like that.”

“Not like what?” Quinn interrupted walking up to your own group. Bodhi and Imogen still had been at the table.

The mystery girl touching his built bicep. He had discarded his jacket an hour ago, his rebellion mark on display underneath his tight short sleeve t-shirt. “Ohhh,” she followed your gaze to Bodhi. “Immy told me all about this.” She said in delight to your dismay, taking a seat next to Nadine.

You brought your attention over to the curly haired blond girl. “Does everyone know about this ‘something’ except the two people this ‘something’ is about?” You snapped.

Everyone seemed to have an exciting interest in the nonexistent relationship between you and your childhood best friend.

Quinn merely raised her hands defensively, Rihannon and Nadine awkwardly sipping their drinks looking at the table interested in the wood grain.

“We’re all in the same wing, same section, Y/n it’s hard to ignore the hot and cold between the two of you.” Violet had a softened look in her eyes, being the most sympathetic toward you.

You flushed realizing your outburst, not meaning to aim it at your new found friends. The gnawing bitter feeling was just eating at you, and you couldn’t stop it from being all consuming.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, a scowl on your lips, staring into the clear fizzy liquid in your glass. Despite the tension you created, you looked at the bubbly girl across from you. “Quinn, who is that girl?”

She had a hesitant look on her face, her brown eyes swirled with trepidation. “Ariante, a third year healer.” She offered a short response, seeming to know more than she let on.

You only nodded, turning back to the other side of the bar watching the billiards tables. Ariante, the beautiful young woman, was lining up to shoot the shot, and shot Bodhi a wink before shooting. A small snarl left your lip unknowingly at the sight, leaving all the group to cast worried glances your way.

You grimaced at your behavior, not entirely sure why you had visibly been so riled up at the sight. “I’m gonna get some water.” You stood up, and left the group without another word.

Ariante skimmed her dainty plain manicured hands over Bodhi’s biceps as she giggled over something he told the group he played with. Usually her advances didn’t bother him, last year he had given in to them as a distraction many times when Y/n avoided him like a disease. Tonight though, his chest hammered in annoyance—maybe not just with her in general, but everything tonight seemed to be so overstimulating.

The loud tavern, how he fought a flinch every time the que would knock against a billiard, the musty smell of alcohol and fried food permeating the space, and how fucking unbearably hot he was.

He knew it had nothing due to the summer weather, that the heat that festered deep within him was caused by something wholly different.

Usually he’d use churam to block Cuir out, but the effects of the few drinks he had made it harder to keep that mental shield up and his dragon’s emotions started to take over. Of course Cuir and Cleasaí chose tonight of all nights to fight.

He had spent a year being accustomed to this, but he worried about you.

You still had been clueless to everything, your dragon stubbornly kept you in the dark, which had frustrated both him and Cuir. You didn’t deserve any of that, and he couldn’t help the pang of guilt he felt when he thought about it. He watched how tense you were at the booth, the girl’s giggling at what seemed like your expense; a scowl on your pretty lips at the interaction.

Another wave of heat filled and irritation rippled through him, and he screwed his eyes shut trying to ground himself. He had ripped his jacket off an hour ago, but to no avail aided any relief to his skin. It seemed it only made the pretty third year healer cling to him more. And the only aid that was brought, was to the disdain that rose with the proximity of her.

“Damn it Henrick!” Quinn stomped her foot frustratedly, making him open his eyes again. “I thought I was playing with an amateur?”

Sawyer had a broad grin as he nabbed the gold coins on the corner of the parallel table across from the one him and Imogen played at. “Beginners luck?” He shrugged casually.

The curly haired blond furrowed her eyebrows at the redhead. “Mhm, sure. Beginner’s luck my ass.”

Imogen cackled at her friend. “You’re the one that suggests putting coins down.”

Quinn mimicked Imogen, before a playful glare settled on her features. “Shove it Cardulo, I’m gonna go wallow in pity now if you need me.” She handed the cue to Sawyer before flouncing off to the rest of the group they came with.

Bodhi’s brown eyes not paying any mind to the feisty third year rider as she joined the booth, he instead had been focused on you again. Watching how your tongue darted in between your soft looking lips licking them, the same scowl still lingering on your face.

He had longed to get a feeling of what your lips felt like since he was barely an adult. Doing anything at this point to have a taste of you, knowing he shouldn’t have felt that way. You had always been just barely out of his reach, but he would have risked anything to have that moment as selfish as it sounded.

You were his best friend.

It was more than the idea of blurring the lines of your friendship that stopped him in the past; you were never meant to be anyone else’s, but who was chosen for you. Your parents had made you a lady of the Aretian aristocracy. The intent to secure a cushy life to make sure you would never have to experience war and hardship like they had—even if it wasn’t a love match. You were forced to take the decision they made for you with poise and grace. Exposed to the corrupt society of the aristocracy that lurked behind the violence since a preteen, never supposed to know war and violence like he had. But by the time the peak of the rebellion happened, and Execution Day arrived—it had been too late for the first hand you had been dealt with. Another decision instead handed to you from a choice that hadn’t been yours to ever make.

It was self indulgent thought, but the moment he knew you safely crossed the parapet—there was a hope that ignited in Bodhi’s chest he hadn’t felt in a long while. Despite the blatant act of avoidance on your part, he quietly watched your every move the first year.

Made sure Imogen spent extra time training with you so you’d be ready for your next challenge, telling her what she needed to critique you on from sparring lessons. Insisting Garrick to convince you to eat more than what you usually did so you could bulk muscle to help ease through the gauntlet. Pleading with Xaden to rearrange squads in the flame section so he could keep a better eye on you. Every action in efforts to aid you from the help of your mutual found family was a coercion from him; so he would know you’d have a shot at surviving this hellscape.

For only a measly chance of you to finally acknowledge him.

It had only been a coincidence (or was it? Cleasaí was known to be petty) you had bonded with Cuir’s other half. The mated dragons hadn’t talked since the end of his first year. The first half of being bonded to the notorious green filled with tumultuous arguments that he didn’t know what started from. They had only been recently mated in the last decade from what Cuir told him.

Bodhi swore he did more supply runs for churam than weapons by the end of the year before they went no contact, and just coexisted in the Vale with one another.

He would have preferred that over feeling the wavering aggression through the bond at this very moment.

“Handsome boy,” Ariante cooed, snapping her fingers to get his attention from across the table. Realizing he had zoned out again staring at you, Ridoc clapped him on the back.

“Yeah handsome boy...” he purred mockingly. Bodhi shrugged his hand off quite hastily. He was not in the mood for the second year’s comedic relief…and the overly inebriated physical touch of the counterpart.

Imogen sensed his discomfort by how tense he had looked, his posture usually more lax, or a boyish grin that had been replaced with a grimace. “Gamlyn, go get us some water.” She barked, face set to a hard grimace.

Ridoc with wide eyes in the fear of the short woman, saluted the group before walking off to the bar.

Bodhi reminded himself to thank her later once he was in a better mood. Instead he twisted his face into something that barely showed interest, not like it mattered, the healer was two shits to the wind at this point. Just caring his eyes were on her. Smiling brightly once he turned back to her, even if it was a stoic look he had on.

“I need you to watch as you lose this round.” She giggled, grabbing the cue from her friend’s hand.

The tawny skinned man watched disinterestedly as she made a show of setting her shot up. She swayed her hips to the table, making sure to press her chest down into the polished wood edges so her low cut tank top showed her cleavage as she lined up her shot. She made eye contact with him, offering a seductive wink, before clumsily shooting and completely missing the pocket. If he wasn’t so aggravated, he could have laughed at the scene.

It was Imogen’s turn now, and he subconsciously let his attention wander back to the booth again, noting you were now absent from the table.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but his heart skipped a beat in panic. He scanned the tavern looking for a glimpse of where you could have gone. He could spot you out of a crowd anywhere—from the way you wore your hair to the way you carried yourself.

His brown eyes searched the makeshift dance floor in between tables, the line for the bathroom, the exits of the tavern. The sense of relief when he finally found you should have eased his heart, instead it pounded louder and louder as his vision tunneled. Bodhi’s stomach churned with a burning green feeling, watching you sit at an empty side of the bar with Ridoc, smiling at him as the pair of you talked.

“So yeah, then Imogen told me to grab some water for them, and now I’m here doing that.” Ridoc rambled on about his night. Unbeknownst to him, you had spent the majority of the night meticulously eyeing the group from the booth. But you nodded along, idling swirling your finger along the lip of your cup, letting his word vomit become a white noise in your brain. “Imogen has a scary way of demanding things.”

A smirk had crept onto your face, replacing the frown you wore. Ridoc was always honest, but it was amusing to hear him drunkenly bare his soul at the bar over the silliest details. It had almost been enough to forget the prying animosity that filled your veins.

“Who are you telling? I have known her my whole life.” You reminded him rather distractedly.

Despite talking to him, your attention was still flicking towards the quieter side of the tavern—still invested in the man you’ve been stubbornly hiding your feelings from poorly and the pretty girl that clung to him. The game of billiards was dying down, only her friend and Imogen still playing one another.

Bodhi sat backwards in a chair off to the side, his chest pressed against the back, arms casually draped across the wooden top rail, and head hung low as he sipped from the bottle of ale he had been nursing. Ariante perched in a chair beside him, leaning over into his ear to talk. Her lips mere centimeters from him had your heart thumping so hard that you could hear it in your ears.

“Yeah, but you’re not like her or them in fact.” He shrugged.

That made you turn back to Ridoc, who didn’t realize you were only half heartedly invested in the conversation. Or if he did, he didn’t make it known.

“Like they’re all scary broody motherfuckers, and you're just you. Intimidating sure, but not all broody and aggressive.”

You let out a dry chuckle, “language please, they are my friends.”

He raised his full hands defensively, ignoring the fact he sloshed water all over him. “Sorry. You know what I mean though.”

You leaned your head to the side, a quizzical expression on your features. “Elaborate Gamlyn.”

You might have been aware of what he meant, just for the sake of your entertainment you didn’t mind hearing the inebriated man’s ramble of what he thought. It was the only thing that was keeping the pent up emotions beneath the surface.

“Well, you’re kind of lady-like?” He tested the word then nodding. “Yeah, lady like. Not that they don’t have manners—they have better manners than me, but you’re like a refined woman.” His eyes got big and arms were flailing as he animatedly spoke, water sloshing on him.

“Would you be surprised if I said I had been a lady?” You interrupted his spiel.

“No shit, like tea and biscuits, go for a promenade around the garden kind of lady?” He slurred in disbelief with an attempt of an accent.

The way he had said it made it hard to stifle your laugh. “Dowry to my name and all.” You mocked using a posh accent as well.

He made a strangled noise, as he puffed his cheeks out to prevent laughing. “Shit that was the worst accent I’ve ever heard.”

You tilted your back, laughing loudly as he snorted, unable to contain himself. “Thanks for your honesty, yours was just as awful.” You tried to compose yourself.

“I’m not the one that comes from the Aretian aristocracy though.” He said through a fit of giggles. You scoffed, shoving him slightly, giggling more when you had to grab his arm to keep him from stumbling over.

Once the laughter died down, Ridoc had started to talk your ear off again, but of course your focus went elsewhere. Your breath caught in your throat, the amusement on your face slipping.

Bodhi was shamelessly staring at you when you looked over this time. His eyes dark, and stone faced watching the side you resided on. He tilted his head back, draining the remainder of his drink. You couldn’t help to watch the expanse of his throat as he drank the rest of his drink, watching how his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he did so.

You gulped quietly, suddenly imagining how it would be to nip at the column of his thick neck. If he would squirm under your touch or make any soft noises if you kissed up his jaw…you were just torturing yourself at this point.

He the. swung his leg over his seat, muttering something to the pretty redhead, not waiting for a response as he made his way towards you.

Shit.

You panicked drifting back to the drunk man in front of you.

“So did you have—like—a betrothed before this?” Ridoc asked, rubbing the back of his neck, still oblivious you hadn’t been listening. “Is that why we’ve never seen you hook up with someone?!” He gasped as if he solved the biggest mystery, connecting non existent dots.

You could throttle him, trying not to watch the towering figure approach you.

“No, no, no!” You covered your face in your hands, cheeks flushing. “It never got that far, well there were a few arrangements that never went through.”

“Damn, your parents were slacking.” He scoffed jokingly.

“Ridoc,” you glared at him. Any amusement or relief from Ridoc now gone, hitting a nerve within you. The thought of your late parents always causing an ache in your chest and a knot in your stomach.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” Bodhi finished for you, coming up right behind him. He jumped, obviously startled by the new presence, and that it was Bodhi nonetheless. But he quickly recovered, turning to the taller man.

“You always jump right in at the most convenient times, handsome boy?” He questioned in a teasing tone. Handsome boy?

Bodhi glowered, stepping closer to your squad mate. “Call me that again—”

“Bo!” A high pitched shrill voice cut him off. It resembled nails on a chalkboard causing you to wince. Ariante appeared from behind Bodhi, a bright bubbly smile as she stumbled around him, grabbing his arm for support. “You didn’t wait for me.” She pouted playfully.

You had to fight the noise of disgust that wanted to escape your lips, but your facial expression gladly showed what you couldn’t verbally. The rational side of you knew you shouldn’t be reacting this way to a girl you’ve never met. You were past the point of rational though.

She then acknowledged you, her eyes a bright teal that sparkled sticking out her manicured hand. “I’m Ariante.”

You subtly glanced at your hands that were unkempt, nails nearly to the nubs with hangnails.

Gods, she really was everything you weren’t even down to the fingers.

You politely stuck your hand out, limply clasping hers. You hoped she wouldn’t feel your calloused fingers or notice how unladylike your hands were compared to hers as you introduced yourself.

“You know Bo?” She mused. Her hold still on him, despite her being perfectly stable. And the way his nickname came out of her mouth, you think you could regurgitate everything you’ve consumed today.

You offered a strained smile. “We grew up together actually.”

“How sweet!” She practically squealed. “I think it’s great how close knit all of you are!”

The tone deaf statement snipped the final straw of your patience and self control. No, you couldn’t let the feelings lay idly underneath any longer.

“I would say we all are,” you nodded. “I guess that’s what happens when all your parents are murdered in front of you.” You said it as if it was the most casual thing to leave your lips. The smile she wore faltered, and you could see Ridoc shove his hands in his pockets, whistling.

“Y/n…” Bodhi warned.

It could be treason speaking so freely of this, you hadn’t cared at the moment.

“What?” You said innocently, brushing off the warning look you know so well. She had started to sputter an apology, but you cut her off. “But how does such a sweet thing like you know Bodhi?” You asked, a smile growing sinisterly.

In your peripheral vision, you see Bodhi’s face pale.

“We’re acquainted.” He quickly answered, getting out of her grip as he reached over and grabbed the water out of Ridoc hands that were nearly empty from him constantly spilling. He gulped the water like a fish needing water, clearly uncomfortable.

“Very acquainted.” She fluttered her lashes towards him, tone suggestive. Brushing off your awkward interaction.

You made a noise of understanding. Everything you thought was confirmed by two words. Your thoughts lingering and spiraling. The idea of Bodhi intertwined with someone else was nauseating…even infuriating. Everything had drowned out by your heartbeat in your ears, Ridocs words were now inaudible, but assuming he was making a joke. Ariante shrilled giggles didn’t even affect you.

Why were you so mad? You had no right, you’ve been so awful to him the last couple of years—there was never a chance for you. Every interaction you two have had was just rekindling your friendship the past week not meaning anything more. Every poke and prod from your group of friends was something they misinterpreted between the two of you. You knew you shouldn’t have thought too hard on their words and jests, but deep down you only felt crushed of the hope there could have been.

Crack. You looked down at your glass that had been in your hand, the glass in between your knuckles nearly crushed.

The group flitted to you and the cup, even some of the surrounding patrons looked towards you warily.

“Are you alright?” Bodhi was the first to speak up.

“Just absolutely peachy.” You murmured, sliding the object towards the other side of the bar.

“Wow, all you riders are so strong.” Ariante laughed nervously. If this could have been any worse, you weren’t sure if you wanted to punch something or cry now.

“Excuse me,” fighting the lump in your throat. Standing up quickly walking towards the nearest exit without a word.

You walked outside, not quite being able to comprehend what just happened in the matter of seconds. Clenching and unclenching your fists, your chest heaving as everything felt as if it was closing in, pacing on the cobblestone outside the tavern. The smell of incoming rain permeating the humid air that blanketed over the quaint town. Usually a smell that eased your mind, was an overbearing semblance to the internal storm inside you.

“Y/n!” Bodhi called out your name, walking out the door you walked out of moments prior. The bass in his voice stoked the fire that formed in the pit of your stomach, ready to burn you from the inside out. Turning on your heel you faced the 6’3 man, brows already furrowed in glaring daggers towards him, chest still heaving erratically unable to control your breaths.

“You need to breathe.” He didn’t let your behavior deter him. His tone smooth and even, several feet away, not meeting your gaze like if he did he would combust into flames from your glare.

You scoffed, “shouldn’t you be inside with Ariante?” Her name dripped off your tongue with venom.

He opened and closed his full lips, setting his hands on his hips; absolutely dumbfounded. “Y/n…” he said through staggered breath. “I came here with you tonight.” He took a few steps towards you cautiously. “I came up to talk to you at the bar, trying to leave her with her friend.” His focus seemed to be on the wall behind you, and not your own eyes as he still walked towards you. “I followed you out here, leaving her in there.” His words slow, as he stepped right in front of you. “Does it look like I give a fuck about her?” He didn’t let you answer.

“Has everything this past year made it look like I give fuck about anyone else, but you?”

Despite the tug in your heart you felt at his words, pulling you out of your blind rage and jealousy for a split second—it was frustrating how he refused to look you in the eyes.

“You were letting her hang all over you tonight, how can I believe that?!” You held your chest with one arm, the other outstretched to the door.

He gave an aggravated shout, lunging and grabbing your arms. You stiffened at his touch, his hands were just as hot as you felt. He seemed to notice as well, flinching at the realization, but his hold stayed secure on you. He leaned down, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“If you watched my every move, you would have noticed I wasn’t interested in her. I was only watching you the whole night.” That Gods forsaken deadly calm tone sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat you felt. “Now lift your arms up.” He ordered, the sentence barely above a whisper.

His usual honeyed brown eyes finally locked with yours, dangerously darkened. A silent gasp leaving your mouth agape, unable to pull away from his dark orbs submitting to his quiet demand, your arms rising up slowly.

His rough calloused skin brushing your arms ignited a solely different fire within you as he slid the sweater off your frame. “Fuck, you’re burning up.” He muttered, throwing the sweater on the cobblestone leaving you in the corseted tank top you had on underneath. Lightning flashed in the skyline, thunder following a moment later, and rain started to pour from the clouds moments later. The droplets are warm from the summertime, but still cooler than both your skin, creating a steam that ghosts around the both of you.

“So are you,” you said breathlessly. “Do you have any idea why?” You two were so close your chests brushed together, every time one of you breathed. You anticipated what he would say next, but Bodhi kept quiet, tugging on his lip, seeming to be fighting a battle with himself. He turned away from you, rubbing a hand over his face, looking up at the rain stricken sky.

“You do know don’t you?” You rasped.

“I just want to preface I wanted to tell you—”

‘Don’t. You. Dare. Tawny. One.’ Cleasaí dangerously seethed through your head.

It had been silent on the other side of the bond all night, you tugged the invisible string to her countless times, but no answer. Now she wanted her presence known? Known to someone that couldn’t hear her nonetheless.

‘She deserves to know what you’ve been hiding.’ Bodhi glowered. You were still watching him, and he hadn’t opened his mouth…and he heard your dragon?

A new deep sophisticated tone entered your mind, ‘Cleasaí the inevitable is going to happen—‘ Cuir?

‘That I’ll find out?’ You stood in that mental art studio you were taught to use as your source for grounding. The door wide open letting in the thoughts and voices that freely flew through your mental guards. That one invisible string that led to the door seemed to have an added two now.

“Shit,” Bodhi hissed.

“How long?” You gritted your teeth, focusing on the man in front of you. He stayed quiet. “How long did you know?” You repeated louder.

He looked at the ground, “since my threshing.”

You tensed, how come he knew, but you had been clueless this whole time?

‘It’s not ideal to have one rider running from the other while their supposed mated dragons aren’t even on speaking terms.’ Cuir explained.

You fought the tears that lined your eyes, ‘he gets to know, while I’m left in the dark?!’

‘That was for Cleasaí to tell you, my rider had no choice to listen to us dragonkind.’ Cuir explained with a steeliness.

‘And I told her I would tell her in due time.’ Cleasaí chuffed in the corners of your mind.

It felt crowded in your brain, two additional voices, on top of your grappling emotions. You inhaled deeply, blinking tears away furiously.

“Y/n,” Bodhi came towards you. “I wanted to tell you.”

“When was I going to be told?” You snapped. “When you graduate?!” A couple tears now silently slip down your cheeks.

You didn’t know where to point the frustration at. Cleasaí should have told you it was her responsibility, but if Bodhi wanted to talk to you so badly that would have been the topic to start with.

“Our luck would be they would stick you in Samara like Xaden!” You shouted.

“When was I supposed to tell you? When you were running the other direction?! Or would you have preferred a note during Battle Brief only for you to go into a volatile meltdown?” He argued.

You laughed harshly, “I would have not—”

“Oh yes you would have.” Bodhi rolled his eyes. “That’s why Xaden warned me not to.”

Your eyes widened, “Xaden knew?”

‘Why wouldn’t the Wingleader know?’ Cleasaí snorted humorlessly.

‘I don’t want to hear it from you.’ You growled shutting the mental shield up from her and hopefully Cuir. You didn’t know how this all worked.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He’s known since before you even crossed the parapet.”

“Does anyone else know?” You crossed your arms.

“Assumedly Violet, but no one else.”

Your eyes narrowed, she seemed to know everything didn’t she?

You grew quiet, mulling over everything as the rain was the only sound that filled the streets. You felt betrayed, not only by the creature that put their faith into you and vice versa, but by the man you had grown to love. Was that why you had felt like your irritation was an out of body experience earlier?

“Why do you think I have a churam dependency?” Bodhi bit the corner of his thumb, looking at you.

“Can you get out of my mind?” You frowned, picking the soggy sweater up off the cobblestone. You sniffled, wiping your face, before proceeding to walk towards Basgiath, wanting to get out of the vicinity of him. To think you could have died without even knowing… what would have happened to the dragons—yet worse—him? You didn’t even want to ponder over the details that entailed that yet.

“Trust me I’m not trying, but your thoughts are so fucking loud.” He muttered, following you.

“Then can you not follow me?” You turned, walking backwards wiping wet hair out of your face. The sting in your eyes is almost blinding from fighting the glaze of tears.

“It’s not safe to walk by yourself this time at night.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I’ll be fine,” you tried to reassure as you slipped the dagger out of your top, you tucked between your breasts when getting ready.

“You’ve been drinking, Y/n. That’s not going to do shit.” He tried to catch up to you, but you were a step ahead, even walking backwards.

“I feel stone cold sober at this moment.” You half lied, quickly turning back around, putting the dagger back where you kept it. You didn’t want him to see how your lip trembled, and you were ready to break. That was the last thing you needed was to have a ‘volatile meltdown’ in front of him. Though that’s what this whole night felt like, a tantrum of a fever dream.

You two came to a fork in the path that led to Basgiath from Chantara. You may have forgotten which path you took earlier in the night. So you hoped as you veered left, you would be going the right way, anything to just get away.

But his hand caught your arm, pulling you around to face him.

“I just got you back, I’m not letting you just be barely out of my reach again.” He seethed, his grip firm, but gentle. His touch was still blistering against your own skin.

“I’m not doing it, Y/n. I’ve already spent years running for you when you just kept running backwards for whatever reason!”

The tears had silently begun to fall again down your cheeks, this time unable to stop. “Do you want the reason, Bodhi?” You could feel yourself start to shake as the words left your mouth. “Because I love you!” You finally admitted, the confession a hushed whisper.

You watched with tears flowing freely as he staggered back a couple steps at what you said. He remained quiet as you continued. “I was never meant to love someone freely. And everyone I loved left—”

Your declaration is cut off by his lips smashing to yours. A primal fiery heat as your lips connected, his hands cupping your jaw, your lips melted with his realizing he was kissing you. The taste of the saltiness from your tears mixed with the essence of alcohol on both your lips was dizzying.

This was everything you could have imagined and more since you were a young woman. Everything you wanted the past five years. You felt his thumbs brush underneath your chin as you relished the feeling as you continued to kiss him with a fervor you never experienced. Your hands sliding up his chest around the back of his neck, gripping on his wet dark curls you’ve always admired. A soft sigh left his lips, and it was a noise you could listen to forever, but of course your thoughts spiraled.

A much more important secret was withheld from you, not only by him, but Cleasaí. A petty love confession that you withheld as a way to protect yourself and what you thought would protect him, when the secret of bonded dragons affected four beings outweighed it all. Whether it was his choice or not.

You pulled away abruptly. “I-I can’t.” You said, feeling your own heart break.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He sputtered, confused.

“Me professing my love doesn’t change any of the circumstances.” You shook your head, letting go of him reluctantly. “If anything it only adds to the risk of this whole situation.”

You needed to think about everything thoroughly, and away from him. If not, you might not think straight. You had to go.

“Y/n,” Bodhi pleaded desperately. He watched you turn and make your way back to the war college. You ignored him, even when your bones itched to turn and run back into his arms. “Do my feelings mean nothing to you?!” He shouted, standing where you left him.

Your steps faltered, and that break you felt in your chest worsened. You turned, with a strained smile on your face through your tears.

“They do, more than you could ever realize.”

Y/n is definitely Violet coded I’m sorry 😅 and the y/n lore will thicken in part 5 hehe

Thank you sm for the comments and support, it means a lot to have people that actually enjoy what I put out and try to have patience for my posting inconsistency!! I love talking with you all about it and hearing your conspiracies through out the whole series. I think there will be 2-3 more part before I finish and move on to my next ventures, but as always like, reblogs, and comments are appreciated 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[firemenenthusiast]

the tag is so cute but lmk if this works cs the post is still up 💔

https://x.com/SexualLoverz/status/1778850070810542313

basicalky tho shes riding his face while hes cuffed n all, i can go into more detail if it doesnt work js lmk x

shout out to stacie for the request ! (and for waiting for a damn long time for me to write, im sorry 😭)

—“influence”

sub!kai x reader

summary: based on the link above (account got suspended btw), kai is a dumbass who is easily influenced by zac who’s NOT a good person 🤯

warnings: 18+, smut, p link, sub!kai, no actual penetration, face sitting, face riding, cunnilingus, name calling (bitch & slut) 😢, cumming in pants, restraints (m! receiving)

a/n: guess who’s back LMAOOO guys uni is no joke im getting my ass beat

hate’s maybe too strong of a word to describe your dislike towards zac but everything he does pisses you off. it’s like theres physically a bad bone in his body navigating him in making stupid and evil decisions. like telling kai to stop others from taking the blue, resulting in chaos on the ship since richard’s no longer here to keep things in line. he was also the one who thought it was a good idea to have a party, celebrating god knows what, eating and wasting every resources you guys had on the ship.

he was also the reason the ship’s data room got destroyed and everyone had to clean up after him. the ship’s up and running again now, thanks to christopher. but the reason you hate zac is because he’s such a bad influence to kai. you couldn’t blame kai for the things he’d done, he wouldn’t have done them if it wasn’t because zac told him to.

maybe he just felt like that was his calling, like he had a purpose on that ship, leading him to do everything zac told him to eventho they’re stupid. in reality he’s more than that, he’s actually really smart, and good with electricals. he’s also really nice to you, it’s just that he tends to do the stupid things zac tells him to do because he thinks he’s not good enough. he needs to feel like he’s important, which is why he never wanna leave your side. you make him feel special, and needed. between that and the lack of blue in his system, he had grown to be really clingy with you. and his needs, his certain needs, now washing over him like a big perpetual confusing wave

you hear his stalking steps behind, following you through the ominous hall connecting the working quarters to your dorms. he’s been after your back all day, and now he’s even sniffing the trail of scent you left behind. “you smell good” he starts, throwing his head back while dragging his hands down his face. he is getting ridiculous. now he’s sniffing you around like an animal ? “did you shampoo ?” he continues, making you halt your steps for a moment to take his dumb words in before continuing to walk. shaking your head in disbelief that you’re responding to his question, “they sent me the new ones to sample so yeah, earlier” you explain, telling him about the new shampoo they’ve formulated, experimenting with improved ingredients from the lab. “can you stop for a moment ? where are you going anyways ?” he hasten his steps behind you, pondering on how are you walking so fast. before you know it he manages to quickly grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours. now that you’re forced to stop, you turn and raise your chin to look at him, who’s grinning.

“i need to report back to them, kai”

“what ? like now ?”

“yes, now”

“they can wait”

moving the strand of hair out of your face, you sigh at him. looking up at him through your lashes, your face clearly unamused. “no kai, unlike you who clearly has nothing better to do they’re actually working and contributing to the ship” you squint your eyes as you say that, making him take a step back to scoff at you. if only he could channel this newfound energy or hormones on something else, he would’ve actually made a difference. like maybe fixing and updating your database thats turning obsolete from how ancient it is, or come out with a new security system. that would’ve made you drool over him, even reward with after a hard day of doing men’s job. instead, he’s been chasing you around the ship all day since yesterday, snooping up your ass, waiting as you do chores hoping to get in your pants. like you said, it’s the lack of blue

you gesture your hand around signalling that you’re done here if he doesn’t have anything else to say, too tired of him to even roll your eyes. he’s frustrated to say the least, confused with his own neediness, struggling to navigate the feelings. he could’ve just gone to any other girls on the ship, they’ll gladly let him into their dorms but he doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want them. what the both of you have is something sacred to him that he refuses to jeopardise. even so, you’re starting to give him blue balls, he’s wondering how can you be so composed, as you’ve also stopped taking the blue while he’s sweating and fidgeting. “go find something useful to do kai, leave me alone”. it’s not like you’re mad at him, but it hasn’t been long since the last time you gave in because of his pleas.

“why are you being such a bitch ? zac’s right, girls are fucking difficult” kai’s towering over you, letting go of your hands. he almost gave up when you start walking away before he continues his petty tantrum. “you act like you’re sooo important, always doing this and that, acting like you don’t want me” you’ve turned your heels away from him long ago, ignoring his silly words that are far from insults. you were about to block his voice out of your hearing before you hear him, “walk away all you want but we both know you were begging for my cock like a slut” you’re lucky the hallways empty or else anyone could’ve heard him easily. his last words flicked a switch inside your head, making you turn around to quickly stomp towards him. he can’t be serious.

he could’ve accepted and just walk away like a man but decided to act like a bitch instead, whining around that you wouldn’t let him get his dick wet. you reach over for his shirt, pulling him by fisting the fabric on his chest, your bodies almost colliding. you can feel his warm breath fanning over you as he falls quiet and his face drops. “you’re so fucked, kai” you say as you start dragging him by his shirt, walking across the hallway before taking a turn towards his dorm. he struggles to follow your steps with you pulling him forward, forcing him to bend a little. he almost trips over multiple times on the ship’s floor. as you stop in front of his dorm, you push him forward, he almost stumble over his feet. “unlock it” you order him, to which he quietly obeys, pressing his code into the lock display.

you push him inside quickly before locking the door behind you to avoid anyone noticing. after making sure it’s just the both of you, you step forward, making him step back before his heels hit the side of his bed in the small compound. he’s forced to sit as you settle between his legs, his head tilted upwards to look at you, too scared to look away. “im so tired of you running your mouth,” you begin, lifting your hand to cup his cheek, smoothing your thumb over his clear skin. he’s starting to regret the things he said to you, nervous anticipating what’s going to happen now that he’s pissed you off. “do you think you’re better than me ?” you ask him softly, waiting for his answer patiently as you can clearly see him keeping in his answer, his eyes trailing somewhere else. moving your fingers over his lips, you play with them, gently pulling at the bottom one. you smile at him.

“so you do think you’re better ?” before he could give you any response, you thrust your index and middle finger pass his lips, pushing down on his tongue. “you’re pretty, kai,” you say, as you thrust your fingers further. “but sometimes you can be such a bitch” your fingers are now slotted snug against his tongue, he struggles to keep himself from gagging as his eyes are becoming glossy, small tears pooling at the corners. he shuts his eyes for a moment before shaking his head, he tries to make out something but they’re mumbled because of your fingers. you coo at him before retracting them and cupping his cheek. he’s short of breath yet wastes no time, “m’sorry” you shake your head, giving him a look before firmly tapping his cheeks with your saliva covered fingers. traces of spit sticks onto his face as you push him down by his head, his hand grabbing at your wrist.

you quickly push your pants down with your free hand before quickly getting on top of him on the bed. he’s starting to smirk from seeing you sitting pant-less on him, thinking that you still gave in after all. he raises his hands to place them on your waist, before even starting to rub at your exposed thighs. you smile at him as you take his hands, guiding and placing them on your covered tits, earning a soft small moan from him. he’s happily kneading at the soft flesh as you reach over beside the bed, where there are drawers. you pull out one of them to fish out something before placing it over his hands, zip tying them together swiftly.

he was too caught up in the feeling, eyes closed and all to notice what you’re doing. he looks as if he’s panicking, trying to break the zip tie off but the friction’s hurting his wrists. “fuck- i said i was sorry ?” he lets out, his bent knees moving around and hitting the wall. you let out a sigh looking at him, as he returns a wide eyed look at you, hoping for you to take the zip tie off. “please baby ?” he tries again, before you move over him, your knees settling on each side of his head, your pussy hovering right above his face. “don’t baby me”.

you couldn’t be bothered to look at him as you run your hands through his tight curls, tugging slightly at the roots before settling all of your weight on his face, his mouth open to take your pussy. just as he flattens his tongue to lap up your juices he lets out a hummed moan, the vibration sending chills down your spine. you tighten your grab on his roots, making him hum, his tied hands behind you flailing around, tortured that he doesn’t get to feel you. one thing kai is if he’s not anything else is he’s a pussy eater, and he can so it for hours. he gets off from eating pussy, and does it like nobody’s business. but you’ve never sat on his face, though he’s begged you to before. you weren’t comfortable with the thought but you know this will shut him up.

he continues his laps against your pussy as his tongue licks at the sensitive nub, before gently sucking on it, making you whine loudly. you quickly snap out of the feeling to control your loudness, with the compound walls being thin as ever and people outside that might hear. kai doesn’t have to worry about his sounds as they’re all muffled by your pussy, so he’s moaning and whining against your folds each time his tastebud indulges your taste. his cock’s hard in his pants, begging to be let out and touched. so kai settles for the next best thing he could get right now, his tied hands cupping over his hard on and rubbing across the bulging length.

the friction of the fabric of his pants against his cock makes him feel good, he’s moaning as his hand rubs over his sensitive tip yet nothing compares to sinking inside your warm pussy. if you give him a chance right now he’s willing to kneel before you and beg for you to let him fuck, he’ll promise to do all the work while you just lay down and be a pillow princess. unfortunately his mouth is covered and pressed down against your pussy. not that he’s complaining, he gets to suck and lap the juices off your folds.

you’ve had enough of him having fun so you start grinding down, moving your hips back and forth, your pussy rubbing against his mouth and his nose. all you can see now is his eyes, glossy with long lashes staring back at you, his eyelid heavy from the pleasure. he’s moaning uncontrollably underneath you now that you’re grinding against his face, your clit nudging at his nose making you moan, your fingers tugging down at his roots. his hands are cupping his hard on, obvious bulge poking through his pants. his bent knees are flailing around from the pleasure, his hips bucking up into thin air, not quite enough to turn the restraint on his cock into pain. his waist hovers over the bed, as he speeds up his lapping against your folds. all while he’s tortured by the blood rushing to the tip of his cock, he’s overwhelmed by the sweet taste of your pussy and scent pushing down against his face. you let out a whine as you feel his lips sucking at your hole, slurping up the wetness leaking out with his tongue before fucking your hole with it.

he’s now fucking you with his tongue, sending you waves after waves of pleasure that’ll eventually come down sooner or later. “mnmgh, fu- so good kai” your praise fills him with more excitement to please you, as his slurping on your sex makes loud noises in the compound. “fuck, kai- you-you’re gonna be good after this ?” your question comes out staggered and whiny, the pleasure invading your words. he nods against your pussy, his nose nudging against your sensitive nub. “mmnhgh- oh my god, f- you’re gonna stop calling girls with that word ?” he nods rapidly, the repeated nudges of his nose making you twitch. the knot in your lower belly tightening as you pin his head down by his hair, before grinding harder against his face. you could feel his plump lips sucking on your clit. arching your back from the pleasure before looking down, you see his brown eyes already set on you, looking away just to watch your body move and writhe on top of him.

“oh my god- kai, fuck- gonna cum” you’re now borderline bouncing on his face, your hips twitching as you chase your high. he knows that you’re about to cum as he speeds up his tongue fucking into your hole. “gonna give you my cum” you hear him let out a muffled sound, as you’re busy chasing your orgasm. his hands are rubbing and squeezing down on his covered length, trying to calm the blood rushing that’s making him rock hard. you let out your final whine before moaning hard, your hips halting its movements against his face as your orgasm washes down, and you’re cumming on his mouth.

you begin to raise your hips to hover over his mouth as you immediately hear him moan, his tied hands tugging at the back of your shirt. “fuck!” curses flow out of his lips as soon as he gets to speak. his hips are bucking hard because of his twitching thighs. your breasts are heaving, trying to catch your breath and settle down. you turn your upper body to look behind you to notice the small beads of white seeping through his pants, and the bulge poking through it twitching around. your eyes go wide at the view of him cumming untouched in his pants before turning back to look at him who’s smiling at you, his eyelids droopy from being pussy drunk.

his smile is crooked and he’s seconds away from passing out. you cup your hands over your mouth for a moment before leaning down to gently kiss him, your fingers running slowly through his curls to massage his scalp. you reach again into the drawers to find a scissor, before turning behind to release his hands. he immediately reach up to wrap his arms around your waist, before you pull them away to slowly rub at his wrists. “mmhm” your gentle touch offers him some relief, making him hum in contentment. the traces of the zip tie leaving red marks as your fingers smooth over the skin.

you tsk at the obvious imprint of the restraint on his wrists, which are probably hurting like hell yet he’s too awestruck to complain. you’re still on top of him, sitting on his steady chest as he just lets you inspect his hands, too worn out to even do anything. “i love you” he mumbles out. you take his hands and place them together against your chest before leaning down again to kiss his lips. he gently returns the kiss before letting you kiss all up his cheeks, nose, eyes and forehead. “promise to be good, kai” his glossy eyes search into yours as his hands roam across your waist.

“maybe”

taglist: @radioloom @r4vn @themoonchildwhofell @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @love-me-pls @szapizzapanda @luckystrikerealness @fuckshitslover @khxna @juniperhasfallen

[metallicaislife]

Save a Horse, Ride a Bassist

A/N: Enjoy!! Sorry for the cheesy title lmaooo

Requested by: Anon

Genre: 18+ Smut

Word Count: 669

Warnings: Unprotected sex, p in v sex, m x f pairing.

It was a gloomy day out, not a lick of sunshine and the rain came down in sheets. 

“I don’t think you’ll be able to leave anytime soon unless you want to brave the rain.” I said to my boyfriend, Cliff, as I looked out the window.

“I don’t mind. More time with you.” He said as he came to stand behind me wrapping an arm around my waist. I leaned up as he leaned down to place a sweet kiss on my lips. 

We were a pretty easy going couple, we didn’t go out much, and some of the best times we had were spent together listening to music and talking about life. 

I found a cassette we both liked and put it in the player. Cliff had grabbed a couple beers and we met each other on the couch. He sat with an ankle resting on his knee, I sat down facing him with my legs tucked beneath me. We began chatting a bit. Both of our eyes would occasionally dart down glancing at the others lips. We eventually ditched our conversation and he leaned in pressing his lips to mine. 

The cassette had stopped ages ago, neither Cliff or I had the mind to put another in or even restart this one. We were too busy sloppily making out and exploring each other's bodies with our hands. Cliff pulled me over onto his lap and I immediately grinded down on his already hardening cock. He groaned into the kiss, then pulled away. 

“Do that again.” He said breathlessly. I did as he said and he groaned louder letting his head fall back on the couch. I took the opportunity to kiss his neck. I kissed around and found his sweet spot before sucking softly to leave a mark. His hands found my hips and lifted them up and down. It was hot, but I wanted more. I stopped and climbed off. 

“What are you doing, baby?” Cliff asked, a little confused. 

I didn’t answer, I removed my underwear leaving my skirt on. 

“Take your dick out.” I told him. 

“I love the way you think.” He smirked and did as I said. He pulled his cock out of his jeans. Just from our heavy make out I could feel my slick dripping down my thighs. I moved back to Cliff climbing back onto his lap. He helped me sink onto his cock. 

“God you’re so sexy. Taking me so well. Squeezing me so tight.” Cliff said as he gripped my hips tightly. Our lips met again in a feverish kiss as I allowed my body to stretch around him. 

We continued to kiss, then I slowly started moving my hips. 

Cliff groaned into our kiss. I pulled back and our eyes locked as I started to pick up the pace. Cliff started to thrust up into me. 

“Fuck. Cliff, that feels so good.” I moaned loudly. 

One of his hands snaked its way under my skirt and began rubbing my clit. My thighs were burning but I knew we were both close. I didn’t last long and came, moaning loudly. I couldn’t move my hips anymore and slunk into Cliff’s chest. He held me up and continued thrusting up into me, it dragged out my orgasm as he found his own. I could feel his cock twitch as he released into me. His hips came to a stop and he continued to hold me and kissed my head. 

“You did so well baby.” He praised me. 

“Fuck, that was hot.” I said once I felt like I had my breath back. Cliff chuckled and rubbed my back. I played with his hair that cascaded over his shoulder.

“Hell yeah it was.” He replied. 

We basked in one another’s company for a while, just being together. I squealed in surprise as he shifted me off his cock, laying me on the couch. 

“Round 2?” He asked as he loomed over me. I smiled up at him. 

“Absolutely.” 

Thank you for requesting! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

[dr3amlab]

2. wicked games, dm.

SUMMARY — Y/N Gorgon and Draco Malfoy have a long history of mutual hatred. You see, the two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since their 1st year at Hogwarts, to the dismay of their close friends and supervisors. However, after a prank left Y/N completely out of her mind, she decides that she'll pull her cruelest prank yet on Draco by pretending to be his secret admirer.

PAIRING — Draco Malfoy x reader

GENRE — series, enemies to lovers, rival, comedy (?)

WORD COUNT — 2045 words.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I'm not too proud of this chapter not gonna lie :(( I hope that it’s good enough, and any criticism is welcome as long as its not harsh lmaooo

PARTS. 1 2 3 4 5 6 finale

TAGLIST — @hopefulfuturenovelauthor​ @charlenasaxen​ @johnmurphys-sass​  @alittlebitofinsanitea​

couldn’t tag  @louieblue2 and @born2222die

II. VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY 

We all have memories we'll never forget. Those memories bear an impact on us, an impact so big that they are engraved in the back of our brains forever. For instance, you remember the first time you ate a chocolate frog, the first time you watched the snow fall from your bedroom’s window and you'll never forget your first encounter with Draco Malfoy. In opposition to the first memories, the latter was not a pleasant recollection.

It was on your first ever day at Hogwarts and you remember smiling from ear to ear as you entered the mesmerizing facility. The building was, and still is, magnificent beyond words could ever describe. You were taking it all in, staring at every object or construction you could as if they might disappear the moment you'd tear your eyes from them: the grand doors, the walls, the ceiling— oh, how the ceiling was beautiful; it was bewitched to seem as if it was a starry night. Even though you'd had the opportunity to stargaze thousands of times in your life, you were mesmerized because this was a sight you never had the chance to see. "It’s so pretty y/n!" your childhood friend, Athena, exclaimed equally as impressed as you. "I know right!" you beamed as you continued to watch the false stars twinkle, "it’s impre—" Before you were able to end your sentence, you had collided with another student, making you both fall on the ground. "Watch it you idiot." you stared up to meet a pair of grey eyes. "I’m sorry, I was just— " You were cut off."Staring at the ceiling? Is it the first time you ever saw a ceiling?"The boy spat with a condescending tone, making you scowl at his unnecessary spitefulness. He got up and readjusted his robes while bearing an angry expression on his face. Following his motions, you also stood up and started to dust off your clothes. "Merlin, I think you made me scratch my brand-new shoes." He scowled while staring at his shoes for a few seconds. Then he looked back at you, ready to reprimand you as if he was your teacher or your father. "Do you know how mu—"You cut him off, "Merlin, you are so shallow!" You frowned. "I didn’t do it on purpose, and I apologized," you emphasized on the last word. "So can we please put this behind us," you smiled, trying to suppress your anger. Noticing that he was about to open his mouth to fight back, Athena spoke quickly to stop the nonsense that was probably going to come out of his lips. "Come on y/n, let’s not get in trouble on our first day." She grabbed your arm making you turn around to face her "besides he’s overreacting," she said softly. "He’s an immature boy." You nodded at your best friend’s words: She’s right, you should not give a bad impression to the teachers before you even got sorted into your house. "Yeah you’re right, he’s just a little prick." You smiled smugly. "How dare you?!" the irritating person spoke again and to be honest, you almost forgot about his presence. You thought that he’d be gone by now to follow the rest of the first-year students to the dining hall but, to your dismay, he didn’t do you this favor. "Have you got no shame to say that I’m a prick right in front of my face?" He scoffed. "I can’t believe I have to deal with such peasants on my first day." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Peasants?" Just like that, a frown made back its way to your face. "Are you out of your mind for saying stuff like this?" He smirked, clearly satisfied that he got to you easily. "Why? Are you saying that you’re not a peasant?"you clenched your jaw."Because you sure do look like one!" You looked at him in disbelief before turning your head to the right to speak to Athena. "How can a twelve-year-old have this much arrogance in their body?" You then turned your head back to him and narrowed your eyes, "look," you spoke menacingly, "You should apologize for what you just said because you really don’t want to get on my bad side," you continued. "Get on your bad side?" He laughed, "please, do you even know who I am? Do you know who my father is?"He spoke as if you were supposed to shiver timbers at the mention of his father. "I don’t care who your father is." You crossed your arms, "as a matter of fact, you can tell your daddy," you took a step closer to him, "to shove whatever empty threat he thinks is going to scare me up his bum!"The blond boy became as red as a tomato and if steam could come out of his ears, you would have been able to see lots of it, like a chimney on a cold winter day."You fucking mud-blood,"he spoke through his teeth, "you just dug your own grave" you watched him intentively, waiting for his next words. "You’re not ready for what’s coming for you," he continued. "Mom, I’m scared!" You ducked your head and brought your crossed arms to your shoulders to pretend like you were shielding yourself from danger. You and athena laughed heartily at your actions while the blond boy was looking at the both of you with a discontent look on his face. After you had calmed down from laughing, you switched back to crossing your arms, but this time, you were staring at him challengingly. « Bring it on» you smirked. You were in for a hell of a ride. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ And so, you and Draco started to get back at each other to make each other’s life as bad as possible. There wasn’t a day during the school year when one of you wasn’t yelling profanities at the other. Hogwarts had not known a single peaceful day since the two of you first stepped foot in its castle. At first, the pranks were innocent, to say the least: They ranged from you stealing a school book to Draco hiding a tarantula in your bedsheets. Plus, the fact that you both were sorted in the same house made it easier to access each other’s dorms and thus made you even more creative with the pranks like replacing shampoo with green hair dye for example (Draco remembers this one all too well.) There was an unspoken rule between you and Draco: Each time a prank is pulled, the counterattack has to be crueler. There were clearly no limits to the extent to which you guys would go to make sure the other's day is ruined. Currently, you were hiding behind a wall that led to the hallway where Draco was located. You were prying on Draco and his clique who were currently having a boring conversation. You looked at the pink envelope you held in your hand knowing damn well that it was going to make their day a tad exciting. The thing is, you didn’t know how to give it to him without revealing your identity. You sighed out of frustration: You could’ve put it on his bed as you could access his dormitory easily or even put it on the table of the Slytherin common room but then, it’ll be too obvious that the letter was from you. Your mind was hurting from thinking of possible ways to give Draco the letter without potentially being framed as its writer. Suddenly, a boy that looked like he could be a first-year had the misfortune to cross your path. You smiled in victory as you waited for him to come closer to you so you could speak to him without being heard. "Hey, you!" you whispered as loud as you could to the first-year Hufflepuff that was coming your way. The young boy looked scared and pointed to himself, making sure that you actually wanted to catch his attention. "Yes, you!" He gulped not knowing what you could want from him. "Come quick, I’m not gonna bite you!" He walked towards you hurriedly. You handed him the pink envelope containing the love letter, "give this to Draco Malfoy" You pointed to the platinum-haired boy and his eyes widened at the sight of the boy, "to M-malfoy?" Of course, no first-year would ever want to be in a 100-meters radius of Draco unless they wanted to be humiliated in the worst way possible. "Just give it to him!" You said annoyed. You didn’t quite understand why the entire school was scared shitless of Malfoy, he’s just all bark and no bite. "Look, don’t worry," you reassured him, "if he says anything to you I’ll step in," you smiled. Though, you knew that he was not going to do anything because the letter will distract him. "Now go and don’t tell him who gave it to you," you warned "under any circumstances," you added, "and when you’re done come back to me," he gulped not looking too sure about running this errand for you but, then, he nodded before turning on his heels and walking towards Draco. "This is about to get interesting," you thought as you watched the boy’s figure walk towards Malfoy. Your breath itched when the first-year arrived next to Draco and you watched the scene unfold. "Well, well, well," Draco smirked, "what gave you the courage to come this close to me?' The boy looked stressed, fearing what will happen in the next few minutes. "S-someone asked me to give this to you," he presented to him the pink envelope with both of his hands while shutting his eyes closed scared of Draco’s next move "what’s this?" The blond boy said curiously while snatching the letter from the boy’s hands. He opened the letter hurriedly wanting to know what was in the envelope contained. Then, the moment you were waiting for the most came: He took out the piece of paper and started to read. You felt nervous, to say the least, and you hoped that your prank would work. You continued to watch Draco as his eyes were fixated on the words written before him. And then, to your pleasure, the ghost of a smile appeared on Malfoy's lips. "He smiled," you grinned. It was a small smile, almost unnoticeable, yes but he still smiled. Draco must’ve felt the grin that wanted to display on his lips badly and so, he bit his bottom lip to suppress it as much as he could. Malfoy cleared his throat, "You can go now," he said to the first year who nodded eagerly to be out of Draco’s sight as fast as he could. "Before, you go," Draco said making the Hufflepuff boy stop in his tracks, "who gave you this letter?" you could feel the first-year panic, "I-i’m afraid that I can’t tell you." Malfoy looked at him attentively before speaking up again, "Merlin, just go what are you still doing here!" This time, the younger boy ran away from Draco to meet you behind the wall you were hiding behind. You watched as the boy came back to meet you "Was I dreaming or did I see a smile on his lips?" You asked the boy, "I-I think I saw him smile too" you clasped your hands happily while looking at the ceiling, "thank you merlin," you said with a huge smile on your face. The boy looked at you curiously, "what was in the letter?" You tore your eyes from the ceiling to look back at him, "That is none of business," you said, "However, I have a feeling that you’ll be my partner in crime," you smiled. "So, what’s your name?" the boy spoke up, "My name is Sasha." You put a hand on his shoulder, « Sasha, I have a feeling that you and I will get along very well,» you said before turning around to leave the hallway. "Malfoy, you are so dumb," you chuckled as you skipped to your next class happily. Sasha looked very confused as he watched your strange demeanor. "What did I get myself into?" He said tiredly.

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty six - you bring me home

frank castle x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content minors dni! (car sex lmaooo, mxf nothing you haven’t seen before, its pretty sweet <3) swearing, canon typical violence, mention of scars, injuries, blood, literally packed everything into this chapter its a big one

a/n: wow. this was so rough oh my god. the entire first draft deleted itself and i had to re write the whole thing from memory, so i lost my planned chapter. i really hope i got everything in here, and im sorry for the wait AND how long it is lmao but i just. can’t believe i really finished it. ill rant at the end, but if you only read this part, i love you. thank you for letting me share the absolute vomit that is my brain. you are the best.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How was the drive?” Franks voice sends a shiver down your spine, even hundreds of miles away through a crappy phone line.

“Boring.” You sigh, pacing around the tiny motel room.

“You were meant to call an hour ago. Got me waitin’ up for you.” He sounds tired, and it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s stupid, but the image makes you a little giddy. Waiting up for you. 

“There was… traffic.”

“You get lost?”

“Fuck you.” You bite automatically and he groans.

“So yeah?” 

“Yes, Frank. I got lost.” He laughs, the sound managing to take your mind off the dark room you’d managed to secure for the night, the bedside light doing nothing to brighten the small space.

“I gave you a map. It’s a straight shot from where you started.” Rolling your eyes, you look at the map you’d now bundled into a ball and thrown into the trash.

“Who uses a printed map? Seriously, how fucking old are you?” It’s playful and familiar, and all the frustration of driving for 10 hours melts into the bed.

Being a key witness in a now ongoing case apparently didn’t come with any frequent flyer miles, because both Matt and Frank had said you couldn’t risk going through airport security and being flagged in a system, so it meant you had to drive nearly 18 hours to Florida. You thought you didn’t mind road trips, but after today you think it’s only road trips with Frank you don’t mind.

“Maps don’t change, baby. Besides, you’d drive yourself into a god damn tree the second that voice in the car told you you’d missed a turn.” You hate that he’s right— even the thought of that monotone voice droning in your ear for ten hours makes you cringe.

“Whatever. Tell me about something. You said you were going to speak to Madani today?” He’s the one sighing now, and clearly the talk was about as fun as your drive.

“She’s all over the place. Some mishandled evidence fucked their entire case, and Bobby’s lawyers were too well paid to let it go. Murdock said they’ll be able to find more— the appeal’s already been approved cause of how high profile it is, but he’s got no new evidence. He said he doesn’t know if they can get him.”

“That’s… what I expected, I guess.” Frank agrees, and your sudden silence only serves to bring the real issue to hand. “You know where he is?”

“Yeah. I got it covered.” The line goes quiet, and you don’t really know what to say.

On one hand, you want Bobby dead. You know can’t do it- it wasn’t smart, and the last thing you were going to do is drag everything Matt and Madani had worked for through the mud for someone like him, let alone put Sam in danger. Some fucked up part of you is a little mad that it won’t be you, but Frank has every reason to hate him as much as you. You know Frank wants this, and that telling him to stop is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Your hesitation would only spur him to do it faster, be more impulsive. You don’t want to say anything to put him off.

On the other, you just want him with you. You worry like some love sick child, scared he’s walked out the door and isn’t coming back. You worry he’ll get caught, and end up in the exact spot he was trying to get you out of. You’re scared he’ll get hurt, or worse. Every time you close your eyes you can see him bleeding out, dark red staining your hands until you can scream yourself awake. There’s so many things that could go wrong, and ten hours staring over the hood of your car gives you way too much time to think about hypotheticals.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Frank says softly, and you flop yourself back on the single bed.

“Are you?” He huffs like the question is irrelevant.

“Madani asked about your dad today.” He ignores the question, and you’re too interested to poke him on it.

“Oh?”

“Asked what he knew about your time there. If he ever worked with the Gnucci’s.” A lump forms in your throat.

“You think she knows about the weird... blood stuff?”

“Don’t see why she would. Either way, it’s not gonna matter once he’s dead.” The bluntness of it almost makes you laugh. “He’ll be gone, and no one will come for it. Or you.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, Frank.”

“I’m not.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Alright, I am, but not just that. The shit he said to me in there— the things he said about you. The way he looked at you in there… I watched that shit, and there’s no way in hell that asshole does what he did and lives.”

“What if he was found guilty? Would you of left it alone?” Maybe if you’d been more helpful to Matt and Madani, it would of gone better, and Frank would be here.

“You want me to answer that?” A part of you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. That wasn’t who he was. It shouldn’t make you feel the way it does to know that Frank would kill for you— just to make you safe. It does anyway, and heat flushes over your face.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He agrees, a low sound rumbling from his end of the phone. “I spent most of the day wishing you were with me, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Turns out I fucking hate driving.” He laughs again, and if you could listen to the sound all night you think you’d sleep peacefully.

“You remember how mad you were that first time I didn’t let you drive?” Shaking your head, you flick off the lights slide under the covers.

“I was mad because you had a concussion and tried to fucking kill us.”

“Least I was gonna go the right way.”

“You tried switching drivers on the freeway, Castle.”

“Alright, I was a a bit out of it.” He says plainly and you smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “Wished you were here, too.”

“I bet you did.” He groans, and you hear him shift on the bed. Your bed.

“Too much space in here. Didn’t even know we had this much blanket.” He makes a real noisy show of it, tossing around the blankets you usually roll yourself up in. It’s meant to be a light hearted thing, but for some reason the idea of Frank spread out on your shared bed, one that you’ve both used extensively— it makes your heart race.

“Dickhead.” He groans again, shuffling around some more. “This one’s too small. Probably have to sleep on top of each other if you were here.”

“M’alright with that.”

“Not a lot of room to move, though.” You look around at the room, hardly enough space to stand in the corner.

“We’d figure something out.” You let your eyes flutter closed, humming high pitched at the idea. “What are you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“You.” You admit, and he seems to like it.

“Me too. Haven’t gone a night in this apartment without fuckin’ you in this bed. Drivin’ me crazy.” You hum again, pressing your thighs together to try and dissipate the heat that’s suddenly overtaken your whole body. “You thinkin’ about it now too, aren’t you baby?”

“Yeah, Frank.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” He growls, and you bite your lip to hide your laugh.

“Why not, Frank?” You practically purr the word, drawing it out and saying it all breathy like you do when he’s teasing you.

“Cause you’re gonna make me drive ten hours just to fuck you in whatever dirty motel you pulled off into.” You’re still smiling, but you think if you keep messing with him, he’d do it. He’d drive ten hours, a hundred of them if it meant teaching you a lesson. Or just being with you. “I’ll see you soon. Real soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, knowing if you keep talking to him your entire plan will crumble in front of you, because you’re half considering driving home just to sleep next to him. “Soon. Be safe, okay?”

The words tumble out, and you try to hide the guilt you feel when you say them. He was only not safe because of you— because you couldn’t finish the job yourself. You’re glad he can’t see your face, because you hear him mumble on the other end and your eyes close listening to him.

“Always. Tell the kid I said hi.” With that, Frank hangs up the phone, and you slide it onto the table right next to the pistol you keep loaded and ready to fire.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank pulls the saturated beanie over his head, and it’s probably doing more harm than good at this point, but he doesn’t have a second to really give a shit. His eye-line is perfect— directed straight into the penthouse apartment Bobby Gnucci was driven to three hours ago. He’s been tucked away in the corner of the rooftop for just as long, watching the man pace and yell on the phone.

It had taken him a few goes to get the right frequency to listen in on the calls he was making, but once he had he took as much information done as he could. He’d had enough of watching, and now he was satisfied with the phones calls he’d listened to that the man was alone for the night; not counting his extensive security team layered through the apartment block. Frank felt the familiar hum in his veins, shoving his loaded pistol in his jeans and swinging the strap of a rifle over his shoulder, he headed down the stairs, across the street and slipped into the back of the building.

There’d be witnesses if he didn’t take the right route, and to make this work he needed every chance at an alibi he could get. He was so used to not caring— every time he’d gone into something like this, he didn’t have something to get back to. He had no preservation, no concern for what came after. Hell, if he was honest, he didn’t care if he went out doing something like this. He would of preferred it, maybe even hoped he’d die somewhere in the cross fire.

Even just talking to you on the phone had him itching to get back to you now. He wanted to be careful— something he never really thought of before. A heavy ache in his stomach that twisted something violent when he thought about not getting home, not making good on his promise from a few hours ago, it made him sick. He planned as much as he could, as much as he was capable of, and hoped to God it was enough.

Frank hid his body behind the corner of the wall. He hid his face, too, even though he’d already had Micro’s help shutting out the cameras. He knew it would set off alarms for the security team, but he planned for that. They’d spread out, follow orders that he’d listened to over the radio, three men on all the entries and exits, and then ten through the penthouse. If he timed it right, he could clear the first few levels before the guards arrived.

He didn’t care about making noise now— slamming his way up the fire access while Gnucci’s men no doubt got into position. He’d just past a number 6, and Bobby was on the top floor. 23. He kept going, not hearing any doors open. When he passed 9, the door on the level below him cracked open and he jammed through the next exit he reached, getting into position.

He could hear voices coming from his right, and steadied himself as he turned the safety off his gun. He had a small army of men to get through, but he knew if he could make it, landing the hit on Bobby would be easy.

He wasn’t nervous. Pure adrenaline flooded him, like it always did, and he didn’t think twice before standing out of cover and pulling the trigger.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How have you grown so much?!” You nearly shout, hugging Sam tighter as he all but latches onto your leg. “God, you’re gonna be my height soon.”

“I missed you!” He says, words muffled in your jacket. You don’t even have to bend really, he’s that tall. It is even possible for him to grow that much in just a month? “Come! I want to show you my stuff. Me and Niko share a room, and it’s the coolest thing…”

You let him drag you around the house, showing you the bunk beds that are set up for him and Nikolai. He shows you books he’s brought home from school, and it makes you smile how chaotic his room is. There’s piles of books and papers everywhere, stuffed under the bed and nearly toppling on the tables. It looks like it’s lived in… like a home, and your heart warms and breaks all at once.

When he finally finishes his impromptu tour, he pulls you outside where the rest of the family has set themselves up, and runs out into the giant back yard to chase after Nikolai. You hardly had a chance to say hello to them, but if you were honest you hadn’t thought of anything but Sam since you saw him.

“Did he show you the bunk beds?” The doctor— Zaed, you remind yourself, comes up behind you on the deck. “He hasn’t stopped talking about showing you.”

“I thought he was gonna explode.” Zaed laughs, and you turn to look at him. He’s still sporting a scar across his forehead, and it somehow makes his older features look slightly hardened. His face was still soft, something about him gesturing kindness, an observation you never made in the months you were locked away. “He told me you made them.”

“It took me weeks. I am not very… handy.” Smiling, you turn back to watch Sam and Nikolai screaming and laughing as they chase each other with Nerf guns. “I am sorry for what happened with the case.”

“So am I. If he’d gone away, you wouldn’t have to stay in Witness Protection.” He nods, turning away for a second only to return and offer you a can of something. “What is it?”

“It’s Russian. You’ll like it— it’s strong.” You crack it open and take a long drink, hoping to drown the rising anxiety that kneads the back of your mind at the thought of what Frank was doing right now. “We don’t mind it so much here.”

“Florida?” He nods.

“We want to stay. Corinne thinks the children— with what they’ve been through, shouldn’t move too much. They seem happy here.” You hum in agreement, listening  to the light squeals of the youngest girl, who’s name you haven’t learnt yet, who’s got the biggest Nerf gun of all and is shooting the shit out of both boys. “It was my idea. To offer to take him in. If you are upset, please lay the blame with me—“

“Upset? God, why would I ever be upset?” He blinks in surprise, looking to you.

“You are here with him, and yet you still seem far away. I figured the suggestion was weighing on you. We only offer because… well, we have all grown quite fond of him, and for you— to you we owe our lives. I thought if we could make any of this easier…” You shake your head, finishing the bitter liquid in the can.

“You looking after Sam is about one of two good things I have going right now.” Zaed seems to relax, leaning forward onto the railing as you both stare out to watch the kids. “I think he’s happy here.”

“He is. He misses you, but he is happy.”

“And safe.”

“Of course. I pity anyone who would try to get past Corinne now.” You laugh at the tinge of genuine anxiety in his voice, as if he imagines it, but his eyes are full of admiration.

“I want to talk to him about it… make sure he’s okay, but if he wants to, I think him staying here would be the best thing for him.” Zaed doesn’t answer right away, just lets the echoed laughter of the kids fill both of your ears before he nods simply.

“He will be safe. And I am sure you will learn to love Florida, too, with how much you will visit?”

“What?” Again, a look of surprise crosses his face.

“Sam did not show you the spare room? We have cleared a space for you— whenever you need it. You… it is the least I could do. You saved my life—“

“Hardly.”

“I owe you it. My families life. My own. Whatever you should need here, the door would be open to you.” You have to look away, because it’s too much, and you don’t know when you became so soft that shit like this made you tear up.

“You don’t owe me anything. You keeping Sam safe is everything I ever wanted. I think we’re even now.” You laugh, your throat suddenly feeling a little tight.

“I couldn’t help but notice you arrived alone.” He questions, and you hide your face, unsure if the way you chew on your bottom lip gives too much away.

“Yeah.” No amount of alcohol could drown out the thought of Frank. You hadn’t heard from him in a day. Zaed looks at you, his eyes crinkling as he assess you.

“I thought he was going to drown with you that night. When he saw you go into the water… I recognise that look in a man’s eyes.” It seems so long ago now, and your hand instinctively goes to your stomach, where Frank sewed you up the first time. “He is coming soon, I assume? I doubt he would let you get too far from him right now.”

“Yeah, he’s…” You trust Zaed— but there’s only one person who takes precedent over the people taking care of your brother. “He’s just finishing up some stuff with the case in New York. He should be on his way now.”

“Ah.” He says, his eyes lingering on you in question. You say nothing, just sink a little more of the can. “Well, when he kills the ублюдок, I hope he makes it last.”

Before you can recover and wipe the shock off your face long enough to ask him how the hell he guessed what Frank is doing, Sam and Nikolai are in front of you, and Zaed disappears back into the house.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank grunts, a loud nearly animalistic sound vibrating off the walls as he clears the 23rd floor. Every time he breathes out, blood sprays out of his mouth. He can’t tell if it’s his own or he’s just covered in so much that it’s dripping off him. Either way he can’t help it, chest burning for oxygen after he laid the lower floors to absolute waste.

He’d ditched the assault rifle somewhere between the 18th and 19th floors, not even bothering to pull out his pistol. No— he’d fought every single one of them with his bare hands, and anything he could find scattered between dead bodies.

His right hand was fucked, and he’s pretty sure he got shot. Somewhere on the right side of his body, there’s a shooting pain between his thigh and his ribs, but it’s not enough to slow him down. He shoves his body weight into the penthouse door, throwing himself into guards he knows are ready and waiting for him. He reaches for his pistol, shooting three guys in the head before his eyes adjust to the dimmer lights in the room.

He hears them shouting orders, and he kills three more as he crosses the living room. One of them he puts through the TV screen, glass shattering under his hand as he crushes the man’s skull between the hard surface. The other two he shoots, and then moves towards the last four. All of them shield the door to the bedroom— putting their lives on the line for a man who doesn’t deserve the air he’s wasting.

Frank doesn’t have a moral compass when it comes to revenge. Not when it has to do with the people he loves. It’s why he clears the round of bullets in his gun on all four of them in less than thirty seconds, watching the lifeless bodies pile up in the doorway, there isn’t a single moment that he hesitates.

“Bobby!” Frank shouts, his voice horse and so loud he’s got no doubt the dead hear it.

He hears shuffling, and drops the pistol before stomping his way through into the bedroom. He sees Bobby, crawling across the floor in an attempt to reach for a gun dropped by one of the guards, but just as he goes to reach for it, Frank slams a bloody boot down on top of his hand, feeling the crush of bone under his weight.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and Frank smiles sickly, blood dripping from his teeth. “Get the fuck off me, you animal!”

Frank kicks him in the face, two of his teeth flying out and scattering across the carpet. As he rolls over, Frank grabs him by the collar and sits him up, watching his head lull to the side.

“Wake up.” Frank slams his fist into his skull. There was no way he was passing out this fast. Not after what he’s done. “Wake the fuck up.”

His hands shake with how hard he’s holding Bobby upright. So hard he feels the bone of his collar begin to give, and Frank chases the idea. Bobby thrashes, screaming as his eyes shoot open, the sound kicking Frank back into gear. He lets go of his shoulder long enough to pull back, only to drive his fist and crack the rest of his shoulder.

“Help m—“ Bobby tries to shout, but Frank shuts him off with another well placed shove of his weight into Bobby’s stomach, winding him. He wheezes, the pathetic sound something like music to Franks ears.

He punches him again— over and over. Not enough to kill him, though. No, Frank wasn’t done, he was just feeding the thrill. He’d been waiting too fucking long for this, and there was something satisfying about seeing this man— this weak excuse for a man being blinded by his own blood as he cries for someone to help him.

“Ain’t no one comin’ for you.” He growls, and grabs Bobby’s face so it hangs straight. His jaw is slack, but his eyes go wide when he feels the blade at his ribs. “You know that? That there ain’t a single person out there comin’ for you. No one gives a shit about you. You’re alone in here— your life in my hands.”

“Haaa—“ Bobby tries but whatever it is fades out into a scream when Frank slides the blade between his third and fourth rib. Slowly— real fucking slow. “They… they’ll come. Th-They’ll come f-for me.”

“No one’s comin’. Dead. All of ‘em. You’re alone.” He slides it a little deeper, watching the realisation wash over his face.

In truth, Frank wasn’t doing this for him. Sure, it felt fucking good, and Frank was enjoying the sight of the life draining out of his eyes, but he wants him to know why. Why he’s here, why he took out every last man in this building so he knew there was no hope. No one for him to go to.

He knew that’s what it was like for you. Frank couldn’t give you back those years, and he couldn’t take that much time with this— he’d thought about it, but he wanted this to end here and now. He could do this here, for you. Could make him know just how it feels to have all that power beat out of you, and know that there’s no one out there coming to save you.

“Stop…stop!” He wails, and Frank hits him harder. Every crack of his fist sends Bobby further into unconsciousness, and when he manages to stop himself, he shakes him awake again.

He gurgles on his own blood, dark red pools choking out of his mouth. His face is unrecognisable, already starting to blow up as he strangles in a few short breaths.

“I can… I have money. I can p—“ The effort of the words sprays another load of blood out of his mouth, and even though he’s exhausted, Frank laughs.

“You think I want money?” He leans down, yanking the knife out of his ribs and shoving it in again.

“Fuck! What do you—what do you want?!” Bobby wails again. Frank smiles.

“I want you to know that she’s the reason you’re dead. The last thing you’ll know is me— my face, and you’ll know it’s because you ended up just like you made her. Except she got out, and you never will.” Frank loses sense of time, his injuries starting to catch up with him as he yanks the knife out one more time, before slamming it home into Bobby’s skull.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m watching!” You shout as Sam lines up again, taking a few steps back before rushing forward and kicking the ball towards their make shift goal in the yard. You have to admit, for only been playing a few weeks, he’s got a hell of a kick on him.

“See! I’m getting better— my coach says next year I can try out for the first grade team if I keep training!” He’s smiling so big, and then he’s gone again, picking up the ball to take another shot at Nikolai who’s got goalkeeper gloves on, ready to catch it.

You’d be happy to watch this all day, but then Corinne calls out to you, telling you your phone is ringing, and you all but leap over the railing of the deck. When you race inside, you expect to see Franks name, and your heart sinks when you don’t. You knew he wouldn’t be able to call until it was over, but it’s been nearly two days since you’d heard anything. Then, you see it’s an unknown number calling, and your hands are shaking when you disappear into what is meant to be ‘your’ room to answer.

“Hello?” You recognise the voice instantly when she says your name. “Fucking hell, Karen. You scared me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but are you?!” She nearly shouts, and you are still coming back to your mind with relief it wasn’t someone telling you Frank was dead. “I don’t even know how you did it, but I don’t want to. The way they found him… Jesus.”

“Wait. What? Karen, I’m in Florida.”

“What?”

“I’m with my brother in Florida. I came up here two days ago after the trial.” She goes quiet, and you can hear the commotion in the background. Remembering it’s a Tuesday, and that she must be at work, it only furthers your suspicions. “Who’s dead?”

“Bobby is. They found him. They found his body— but…”

“Karen, tell me.” All you need to hear is Frank wasn’t found. That he got out of there before anyone saw him. It would be your fault— all of it would be your fault if he was found. You needed to get back, you needed—

“Sorry. Sorry, I just thought… with everything that happened before, I thought it might of been you. Bobby’s dead, but… there’s nearly 50 men in the building with him. They’re all dead. And Bobby; he was hardly recognisable. It took them nearly 24 hours to identify him.”

“24 hours?” Frank needed to get out of New York as soon as he killed Bobby. If the police had been crawling around there for nearly a day… “Karen, I gotta go. Thank you for calling.”

You cut it off before she responds, and call the only number saved in your phone. It only rings twice before he answers, and you could nearly cry when you hear his voice.

“Stop fuckin’ ringin’ me, Murdock. I don’t know shit and I’m busy.” He grumbles through the phone, and you choke out something between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, fuck. Sorry— hey, sweetheart. Was just about to call you.”

“It’s… did the— job go okay?” You try to calm your voice as best you can, knowing that if anyone traces the call he’s done for.

“It took me longer than I thought. Had to get stitched up, then Curtis drove me halfway— passed out for most of it.” Before you can ask, he answers. “I’m fine, don’t do that.”

“You’re okay?” Relief floods your body, phone nearly slipping out of your hand with how hard you were gripping it. “Everything’s… everything’s okay?”

“Come see for yourself. I’m pulling up.” Like a kid on Christmas, you toss the phone and basically sprint to the front door, hearing an unfamiliar truck rumble down the isolated street.

He’s driving, clearly having ditched Curtis, but when he gets out he’s got a limp, and his hand is bandaged. You don’t run, instead you stand in the driveway and soak up the image— Frank; leaning against the door of the truck, sunglasses covering up what you have no doubt are black eyes. Alive. Favouring his left side and still with dried blood on his head, but fucking here.  

“You’re hurt.” You say it when you finally reach him, but it sounds pathetic, closer to the tone you’d whimper his name in.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says huskily and reaches out, yanking you forward and slamming his mouth to yours.

The soft touch of his bandaged hand is opposite to the greedy grasp of his free one, the one wrapping around your back and fisting the material of your shirt, pressing so you were flush against him. Both of your hands cup his face, feeling the rough surface of his skin. You lose yourself in the taste of him as your fingers trace the patterns of scars peppering around his head— a constellation you’ve memorised a million times over, and yet it still feels as illuminating as the first.

He groans your name, sliding his hand up to grip your jaw, thumb tugging on your bottom lip. You lean back slightly, staying at close to him as possible. His eyes look you up and down, and there’s a glint in his eye; a hunger that never seems to be satiated when he looks at you. He’s still feverish for it, and it makes your toes curl in your shoes.

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He mumbles against your lips, and it makes you smile against his.

“I can tell.” His other hand forgets it’s injury as he searches your body, gripping your hips and pressing you closer.

“Get Sam. Let’s go home.” He tucks his head lower, mouth kissing under your jaw, and as much as you do want to get the fuck out of here with him, you pull away.

“He’s… he’s staying here.” Frank pushes the sunglasses off his face, looking at you through what is actually only one bruised eye.

“Staying?” You nod. “You sure?”

“I talked to him about it. He fucking loves it here, Frank. He didn’t want me to go again, but you should of seen him with them. They treat him like their own, and he adores them. It’s so much better than anything I could of thought.” Frank wraps his arms around your back and hugs you right, and your eyes flutter closed. “And you can’t just leave. They’re expecting you to come in and say hi.”

“Why?” The way he says it makes you laugh, as if you’d just asked him to drink gasoline.

“Come on.” You tug him by the wrists, and even though he groans and leans on you up the driveway, you both stagger inside and follow the sounds of Sam’s laughter, leaving everything else behind.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“They were being nice.” You haven’t wiped the smile off your face since you slid into the passenger seat this morning. “Well, I slept great. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“Mhmm.” Frank grumbles, clearing having a much worse sleep than you did.

It was sweet, and truely, you wanted to take them up on it. When Frank dragged himself through the front door of  where Sam had been staying, everyone had nearly jumped on him. Sam couldn’t contain himself, clearly trying to play it cool but simultaneously thinking Frank was the coolest person he’d ever met. It was sweet, the way Frank was with the kids, the sight making you both smile and want to cry.

Either way, when Corinne and Zaed had offered for you both to stay the night, Frank agreed and all but dragged you down the hallway after dinner. The spare room was nice— set up clearly for two people, and you were only human.

It would have been perfect— had the room not been sharing a wall with your brother and his new best friend. A very fucking thin wall. One that was nearly vibrating with how loud they screamed every five minutes playing some game on the TV. The louder they were, the more it became apparent that neither of you would be getting a lot of sleep, and not in the good way.

Having Frank that close all night but not being able to do anything about it reminded you of the start of this whole thing. How you shared a bed with him but had to force yourself to keep your hands to yourself. It was borderline painful, but eventually you managed to drift off to sleep, not missing how hard Franks hands were gripping your hips like he had to physically cement himself to stop from fucking you through the bed.

When you woke up, Frank had all your shit shoved in the car, and was outside cooking pancakes with Sam. You took your time saying goodbye— making sure to thank both Corinne and Zaed properly, and then promising you’ll be back. Soon. ‘So soon you won’t even have time to miss me’ you’d promised Sam, and he grinned and hugged you before disappearing to get ready for school.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Frank looked to you before shifting in his seat, one of his hands resting on your thigh and squeezing.

“Got a stop to make before getting back to New York.”  You’d been driving for a while now— about half way between New York and where you’d left Sam. You turned in your seat, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be cryptic.” You try to sound assertive, but you can’t seem to hold any resentment when you could feel the warmth of him palm on your thigh.

“It’s close, alright? Promise.” The words eased something in your chest, the same way his smile did when he looked at you.

A small silence drifted between you as a Billy Joel song hummed softly on the radio, and your head dropped, eyes tracing over the bruises left on his knuckles. Your fingers dance around them, careful to keep your touches light. You follow the lines of black and blue up over his wrist, watching them disappear under the arm of his jumper. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and when you push up the sleeve just slightly, you swear loudly.

“Fucking hell! Is this broken?” You pull the sleeve up higher, and you tighten your grip on his wrist when he goes to pull away. If you hadn’t watched him so closely, you would of missed the way he winced, and you let go immediately. “Sorry. Sorry— fuck, Frank. Is this all from—“

“I’m fine. Just a couple scratches.” He says, keeping his blackened eyes trained on the road. It would of been easy to miss— not seeing him without clothes since he’d come back. Bile rises in your throat at the thought he was hurt because of you— because he was doing this for you. Suffering for you. Like he has the entire time.

“Are you lying?” He shakes his head, and you lightly poke him in the side. He hissed loudly, flinching away from you and swerving the car. “Pull over.”

“I’m not pulling over.” Frank groans.

“You’ve been driving for hours, just—“

“It’s fine. We only got a few more miles till—“

“Please.” There must have been something in your voice, some kind of soft vulnerability that even he isn’t used to hearing, and then the car is pulling off the side of an empty highway, dusk rolling over the hood of the truck.

You reach out, pulling the sunglasses off his face to reveal him slowly. This part you’ve seen, but it still knocks the wind out of you. The cut along his cheekbone, not deep enough to need stitches but you know it will scar over. His right eye is a deep purple, the left nearly green. You go to draw your fingers over his face, but hesitate, worried you’ll hurt him. He sees you pulling back and catches your wrist, placing your palm between his cheek and his own hand.

“Don’t do that.” You choke out a laugh, smoothing your hand over and back into his slightly longer hair, pulling him closer over the console of the car.

“I’m not doing anything.” You say softly, something guilty in your voice. When he hears it, he shakes his head at you.

“Can read you like a book. You got nothin’ to do with this, alright?”

“I have nothing to do with it?” You want to laugh. “I’m the reason you were there. The reason all this happened.”

“I would of been in the same place with or without you. This part?” He gestures to himself, his torso that you know all too well is littered with scars. “This isn’t a part you blame yourself for.”

“But it is. My fault.” He opens his mouth but you talk first. “All of this… watching those kids today, watching Sam— all I ever did was put him in danger. And you. It’s better for him to be there, away from all this. Away from me. Maybe now all this is over, it would be better…safer, if you—“

“Stop. I don’t wanna hear that shit. You know how selfish you sound?” You blink a few times, eyes meeting his. At some point he’s leaned even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body thawing you out. “You’re right— I wouldn’t of gone back to New York the past two days if it wasn’t for you. You know why?”

“Listen—“

“No. I wouldn’t of gone back because I would of killed that asshole six months ago and been home in time for dinner. I’ve been doin’ this a long time, and there’s nothin’ you could of done that would of changed how this ended.” He holds your face up to his, rough hands holding you as gently as they could, and his thumb traces the scar just above your eyebrow. “Sam is safe with them, but don’t think for one fuckin’ second he’s better off without you. God knows I’m not. You’ve done nothin’ but good for that kid, and I’d… fucking hell. I’d be dead without you, you know that?”

“No you wouldn’t.” Your voice was so soft it hardly broke the silence, but he leaned in, his forehead pressing to yours. “You could probably jump out of a building and walk it off.”

“Maybe. But now I gotta be careful nd’ come home to you, don’t I?” He smiles, and then kisses you and you forget where you are. Words die on your tongue and are replaced by the taste of him, mind freezing over when he touches you. He does it every time. Every time he manages to take your breath away with one whisper of your name, one swipe of his thumb over your mouth. It’s intoxicating and dependant, something you never thought you’d want, but it feels so good with him. His hands drop to your waist, their pull demanding and needy as he yanks you up and over the centre console and onto his lap.

“I’d do it again. All of it. Kill every single—“ You kiss him again, squeezing your eyes shut, and he groans as you shift on his lap. “Fuck, baby we should wait till…”

“Till when?” You say breathlessly, and despite his words his hands are already sneaking underneath your shirt, his cool hands meeting your feverish skin. You can hardly keep your eyes open, and your hips roll forward again, seeking him out. “I want you now, Frank.”

“Fuck it. Doesn’t matter.” He says and then crashes into you, your back nearly pressing against the dash with how quick he moves. Your gasp of surprise is lost in his mouth, and you can feel the sparks he makes in your chest crackling their way through you, toes curling in your shoes.

Your half bent backwards, legs in either side of his as he keeps your chest pressed to him, both arms wrapping around you to hold you steady. You tug at his shirt helplessly, getting it stuck around his arm and he smiles against your mouth, leaning back to look at you before whipping it over his head.

In the dark of the room last night you wouldn’t of seen it, but now the lights streaming in from the car window, and Franks torso is nearly a rainbow in it— blue, purple and green bruises all up his side, with a short but deep cut on the low right side of his abdomen. He’s taken the bandage off it too early, the stitches still healing, but you can tell it’s expert work. Much better than the botched job you did a month or so back, something he still bares the reminders for.

“Just… just a couple scratches, huh?” He grunts something illegible and hauls you back to him.

“Shut up.” He keeps you pressed close, not giving you a chance to say something back, but then his hands dip lower and you’re a goner.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeah. Fuck waiting.

He’s got you here— now, on top of him, and he can’t even fucking think of anything else. Your hands are being so gentle and cautious when he really couldn’t care less about the pain, but you do. You always do.

He wasn’t gonna waste another second, and seeing your eyes close the second he got your pants off and dipped his hands between your legs… it’s pretty much as close to heaven as he was going to get.

You fall forward, Frank catching you with one arm and pulling you close while the other continues slow, teasing circles just how he knows gets you all worked up. Your head tucks away into his neck, and he lets you hide for now, but when he’s got you home— real home, then he’ll be able to look at you as much as he god damn wants.

Your hips move against him, chasing his slow rhythm, and he feels your teeth scrape agains this neck, wordlessly rushing him along. 

“You need me that bad?” He says lowly, and watches in awe the way his words wash over you and yank you closer to the edge. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t of left you so needy—“

“Fuckkk… right there—please.” Your voice was so high it cracks a little, and it fucking sets him on fire.

“Get my belt for me, baby.” He whispers, feigning a bit of self control as he watches you quickly fumble with the buckle. The slight brush of your hands could finish him then and there, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to try and remember why he wanted to wait. He had just one more card to play— one that you’d seen him play a few times before, but he doesn’t think you expect it this time, and he needed some semblance of composure to remember it.

A real house, white picket fence and all, smack bang on halfway between New York and Florida. He couldn’t leave New York, not ever, but he had a new anchor now, one that deserved to have it all.

Frank planned to take you straight home. Make a ten hour drive and keep his hands to himself, but how the fuck could he when you were like this? Looking like you do, touching him so fucking sweet and soft and saying how much you missed every part of him— it was a dream come to life, and one of the few moments he’d let himself go in.

You shuffle as close as the seat allows, your now naked chest pressing against his. He dips his head, kissing your jaw, and he’s suddenly surrounded by you. Arms around his neck, warm and soft as your fingers thread in his hair, both of you moan at the feeling of him sliding into you. It’s white hot and nearly painful, how even with the way you’re dripping down your thighs, it still takes you a second to take him all the way. You wriggle your hips, trying to settle yourself and Frank nips at your neck, slowing your pace just slightly. He can hear you sigh, but you listen. You always fucking do.

“Shit— so fucking good. You can take it.” He hums and runs his hands over your skin. You lean into the touch, and when you sigh again he sinks your hips lower, a short punch of your name bursting from his chest when you slam yourself down. “Fuck. There you go.”

He’s a wreck underneath you, and your hands slither away from his hair to his face when you pull him up to kiss you. As much as he loves the feeling of your hips grinding down ever so slightly right now, it’s this part he loves the most. The slow intimacy of it— how he knows he can stay right here for the rest of the day and nothing will change. He can feel how much you love it, how much care you handle him with, and it cracks something old and hard in his gut.

You shudder as he lifts his hips, keeping your mouths together and kissing hungrily. He’d think you’d both been starved for a year the way you two act, but he’d admit it to anyone that asked that he was gone for you. He knows it well and true, in his chest and in the way you bounce in his lap, moaning into his mouth like he’s breathing air into your burning lungs.

“Fuck— fuck, I love you. I fucking… Jesus Christ, you’re so good. I love you.” He can’t shut himself up, and your breath gets faster. He knows you love it when he talks. “C’mon, baby. Let me see you— wanna feel you. I know you want to.”

“Slow… Frank, you’re gonna hurt yourself—“ You suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut. His hands stay tight on your hips, and he feels the pleasure buzz under his palms, your skin nearly alight with it on top of him. “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

He wraps his forearm around you and fucks you harder, any pain and injury burnt out by how tight you are around him, and how perfect you fit him. He’s close, so close that he’s hardly able to kiss you now. You both collide in a mess of tongues and sighs, and when he hears you croak out his name into his mouth, he knows you’re cumming for him.

He can’t hold himself back, chasing you into that high with blinding abandon. It hits him like a freight train, bowing him over you like he’s taken a hit, but it feels so good he can’t register that he isn’t breathing like this. He keeps kissing you until he’s sure he’s going to pass out, and only stops when you pull away, eyes darting to the highway where headlights slowly flicker on the horizon.

“Shit.” You say breathless, and you laugh. He can feel it, the sound shuddering through him from where he was still deep inside you, and your giggles soon turned to something less innocent when you heard Frank groan into your chest. “C’mon. Someone’ll see us.”

“Don’t move yet.” He puts his hands on your waist, fanning them out to reach as much of you as possible.

“Mhmm.” It’s like your body gives out at his request, slumping forward and moulding into him like you were made to fit this way. This was what he was talking about. The way you fit together— something that should be out of the question for him fits so right. “I love you, too.”

“Mhmm.” He copies and feels you smile against his skin. His hands trail up your spine, tracing the line of bones lightly to leave goosebumps in his wake. “What time is it?”

“Who gives a fuck?” You mumble, the words half muffled into his neck.

“I want you to see the house in the light, but you wanna go at it blind, be my guest.” It takes you a second, a scoff coming out of you before you sit up abruptly, making him groan again.

“House? What house? Another safe house.” Frank couldn’t keep a secret to save his life when it came to you.

“It’s a house. Twenty minute drive from here.”

“But New Yorks not—“

“I know. Good thing we got cars, yeah?” Your eyebrows are crossed together, and Franks thumb slips over the small scar he left on your face. The movement shifts your gaze to something softer, and he feels the brush of your eyelashes on his finger as you blink up at him.

“You did it on purpose. It’s right in the middle.” You say softly. “Jesus, Frank. You didn’t have to… I mean you—“

“Take a breath. I didn’t buy it. Was a gift from the US Goverment. One thing those guys are good for is their money. I just picked the spot.” He could nearly hear the rave of your heart, and you crushed yourself into him, words hushed and mumbled into his ear, but they melt him to the core all the same.

He’ll never get over hearing you say things like this to him. That you’re grateful for him, that he’s doing a good thing. It’s like nothing he did before you was ever good enough. There was always the next job, always the next group to track, but nothing would be enough. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him. But here you were, telling him that he was the reason you were gonna be alright, and if he squints he can see it. The flicker of something hopeful, and if he holds onto you as tight as he can, he might just live to see it light him on fire.

“Did you say… you said twenty minutes from here. Why didn’t we just wait until—“

“Would’ve ruined the surprise.” You laugh again, and the feeling has him gripping you tighter. He leans closer to whisper in your ear, his voice low. “And I wanted to fuck you here and now. Don’t want there to be a single fuckin’ surface where I ain’t had you.”

“Better get driving then, Castle. Sounds like you got a job to do.” The glint in your eye nearly makes him drag you outside and bend you over the hood, but the kiss you give him after is sickeningly sweet, so much so that he lets you slide off him and back into the passenger seat without so much as a nip of his teeth. “Tha–”

“Wait. Wait til you see it.” Frank said, and something about the way he looked at you had you nodding simply, and watching the trees race by as he sped you home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were asleep on the balcony again, and Frank moved as slow as he could to let you stay that way.

In the two weeks you’d been here, he could count on one hand how many times you’d actually slept in the bed. There were no neighbours for miles, nothing interrupting the stretch of sky all the way to the hills. Even Frank had to admit it was a killer view.

He came inside, pouring himself a drink, and a strange pit in his stomach settled after the burning liquid soothed his throat. He can’t seem to kick that feeling when you’re asleep. When you were awake, next to him, there wasn’t anything else he could think about. But alone, walking around a house he owned, a life he might try and live staring him in the face, he felt guilty. There were parts of him he wouldn’t ever get back, but this wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have. Peace and quiet, time to himself. A woman he loved within eyesight, buried under blankets cause she was too stubborn to come inside when it got freezing. He couldn’t figure out why now, of all times, was the time to be thinking of Maria. The weight of the ring around his neck was like an anchor. He knew it was stuck on the bottom of the ocean, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He would sit there, hand cut up and bleeding, holding on for dear fucking life if no one moved him, waiting until he drowned.

Your footsteps were soft, in a way that he knows you can’t help. You tread through the open double doors, and Frank would roll his eyes at the way he could hear your teeth chattering if he wasn’t so distracted.

“You should of woke me.” You say, voice muffled from the mess your head was buried under. He took a step toward you, pushing it back so he could see your eyes.

“It’s late.”

“Couldn’t tell.” He can hear the smirk in your voice.

“You finally frozen to death, smart-ass?” You grumble something in reply, and he catches a few curse words before you look at him again. It’s nearly scary, the way you can read him with one sweep of your eyes. You clock his tone, the way he isn’t leaning into you with his full weight, and squint your eyes.

“What is it?” Frank sucks in a long breath, and kisses you.

He’s a complete idiot. That’s what it is. He can feel the buzzing pulse you wake in him, every movement of your lips on his rooting you deeper in his soul, chipping off ice until theres only warmth. How’s he supposed to tell you, after you’ve just kissed him like that, that he was thinking about his–

“You can talk to me about her, Frank.” You say with your head against his. Not it, her. Before he can ask, you smile a little. Even just a hint of that smile and he’s forgetting how to breathe. “You play with the ring when you’re nervous. It’s actually a bit of a tell.”

“Yeah?” He manages, hands trying to search their way through the blankets for you.

“Yeah. You have a lot of tells. For someone in your line of work, it’s actually a bit worrying.”

“You got me all figured out.” He says and means it, but you just roll your eyes.

“And you lean to the left when you think you can’t make a shot. You think it helps your angle.”

“Who woulda thought you were so observant.”

“You know, I actually did watch you when you were teaching me how to shoot.” Frank smiles, your skin finally under his palms. His hands splay on your back, and you lean closer.

“You were trying to fuck me the whole time. Don’t blame me for being surprised.” You try to whack him but your arms are pinned under the layers. Your laughter carries through him, skittering into his chest until he can’t help but laugh too.

“You came onto me.” He laughs harder. “It was very unprofessional. I was there to learn.”

“Damn fucking right I did.” His voice is low, and you shuffle around under his hold until your hands snake up behind his neck. His hair is too long, but he hasn’t cut it just yet. He tells himself that he hasn’t had time, but truthfully he likes the way it feels when you sift your fingers through the ends of it. Like now.

“You can tell me.” You say again, softer. He’s softer too– more malleable now you were here.

“I can’t help it.” He looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to where the sun is now just starting to rise. “She woulda… woulda liked it here. The kids, too.”

“You think so?” He nods, still staring into the orange sky.

“Probably would of had a lot to say about the inside, though.” You wrap around him tighter, head on his chest. “She was so good with those things. She loved when we painted our house. She had all these colors painted next to each other on the wall. All these different kinds of green. Everyone kept sayin’ it all looked the same but she... she could tell the difference. I could see what she meant when she put the couch next to it and shit, you know? She was real good with that stuff.”

“We could use her help around here. This place is sort of… ugly, on the inside.” He laughed again, his throat feeling tighter as he looked around. There was those same colour swatches, but none of them were coordinated like he was remembering. Pinks, blues, oranges and grays were all mixed together in big, sweeping strikes along the wall, stopping right above where your arm would be able to reach. “What would she have gone with?”

He looks down at you, your face washed in the light of the sunrise.

“The light orange. It looks good with the brown.” He nods over to the couch, an old leather one you’d made him pick up off the side of the road.

“We’ll do that one, then.” You tuck yourself under his chin, sighing.

“I think about ‘em everyday. What the kids would have looked like now. What they’d be doing. How Maria and I would of… raised ‘em. I was away all the time, but I just-”

“I think you would have been just fine.” You say into his chest, and Frank takes a shuddering breath.

“Why’s that?“

“Cause she was in love with you.” His chest tightens, and the grip he’s got on your waist gets a little tighter. “I’m… I’ll never be able to fix…that. It’ll always be with you, and nothing will change what happened, but I want you to know that they will always have a place here. You don’t have to apologize for talking about them– the kids, or Maria. I will never, ever not listen, and it will never be something I don’t want to hear. If they’re always with you, they’ll be with me, too.”

Frank takes two steps forward, and your feet pick up just in time to catch yourself before he throws you back on the couch. He’s never been good with words for things like this. He doesn’t think he should try to shove it all in a sentence, either. Not when theres so much he wants to say, but even more he wants to do.

You lay back, and he moves slowly. He wants you to know every move, every brush of his hand and his mouth is by design. He wants to know every square inch of you inside and out like you know him. He wants his hands to pull the strings, letting you hear all the things his mouth could never possibly form.

“Perfect.” Frank sighs against your mouth, over and over again. It was. You were. Are. The pit in his stomach disappears, pushed out and engulfed by the flames in his chest. There was no room for anything, not a single other feeling or word could possibly fit the way you two fit together. Your fingers tug at his shirt, and he takes it over his head. Your hands run and smooth gentle lines over his chest, over the healing wound on his side. It's jagged and wonky, and it nearly spelt your name. Frank thinks it’s the first time he’s looked down at himself and not hated to see the scars.

He unravels you like a gift to himself, savouring every moment even when you try to shrug off the blanket. You hadn’t dressed since last night, and Frank liked it even more this way. You sighed his name, and Frank shuddered, sealing his mouth over yours again. When his eyes opened for a split second, he could see your face, washed in orange light, and your hair swept to the side. He shut his eyes and kissed you again, the image seared into his mind forever.

Frank had faced a lot of bad things in his life. He had been shot, stabbed, pulled apart and put back together more times than he could remember. He thought he’d seen it all, felt it all before, but there was nothing like this. Nothing made him as weak as your fingers in his hair, and nothing made him as strong as the way you moaned his name. Nothing felt as good as sliding inside you, and nothing felt as empty as when you were gone. It made him lightheaded and brought him to the brink of consciousness, but he knew that this was right.

It could of been minutes or hours that had passed when he let himself go, but no amount of time with you under him would stop him from wanting more. The sun was up now, and Frank had you tucked to his side on the small space of the couch, legs tangled together in the blankets and each other. He felt you shiver against him, and the blankets wrapped around you had come loose. He bent to fix them, and when he moved you did it again.

He looked down, seeing the cold line of metal pressed against your bare back. The ring at the end was hanging over your ribs, and when Frank touched it, it was freezing. Holding it in his palm, it didn’t feel as heavy as it used to, and when he read the engraving on the back, he still felt cold.

Looking down at you, how you rolled over and sought him out even with your eyes closed, he leaned down to kiss the scar on your forehead. Then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he slipped the necklace off over his head, and placed it in a neat circle on the coffee table next to his head.

They would always have a place here. But it wasn’t them who gave him warmth anymore.

When he tucked himself back under the covers, he knew it was you. It was always you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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okay theres going to be an epilogue at some point, but it will probably be small and have very little plot, so this is the end of the main story. so, heres a little rant for you. if you read it, thank you, and if you dont, thank you anyways. knowing anyone is reading my words is a gift enough.

i think i have been writing this series for like 5/6 months ish?? thats fucking wild. i dont have an exact word count, but all i know is its fucking long. i cannot believe i wrote this much about a fictional character, but damn. that is a lot.

basically all i want to say here is thank you. to anyone who has read, interacted, or will read in the future, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it might be a lil dramatic but having people read stuff i write, let alone actually enjoy it makes me so incredibly happy. starting to write on here, and for frank especially, is probably one of the best decisions ive ever made. this series was a struggle to finish for so many reasons, mainly my incredible lack of planning and overall dumb writing schedule, but i have met so many incredible people along the way, and i am just so grateful to have a lil space to share my work.

frank castle will probably always own a giant spot in my heart, so thank you for letting me share my version of him. and letting me add as much smut as i want to this with no complaints bc i fuckin needed it okay!!!!!! i love you all. rant over. series over. damn!

p.s. i am never not going to write frank. dont worry. i already have an idea for my next series lmao!!!!!!!! luv ya!

[luckyqueenreign]

Final thoughts….

Yep it’s official LITG fully gave up on us being the main character. Because how the hell do we walk back into the bedroom, everyone gets to talk about our night but us??? Not even a dumb ass “sister chat” to debrief?!

Then the final date outfits… fb really couldn’t be bothered to add in another outfit or two??? Look I hate how much they cost as much as the next person.. and I definitely have been swapping between like three dresses all season but this is final dates!!

So we knew from the texts adventure date = yacht and romantic date = beach date. I’m sorry but what’s adventurous about a yacht?? Lol. I love how ozzy keeps saying he doesn’t care about how the other dates are going and ours is better but then asks how we think the other dates are going. I thought we didn’t care about them?!?! Also reading through this date and spending TWENTY NINE gems for that cringe fest when playing THTH the dates and everything is FREE and you actually have good convos with ur dates. And he’s really just gonna keep repeating that he has a “special question” to ask us… bruh 🙄 YOU SHOULDVE ASKED LAST NIGHT

All MC could say about her date was we got on a yacht and Ozzy popped open a bottle of bubbly. It was a proper adventurous. LOL I mean if you say so! WHATS WITH ALL THE PRANKS THIS SEASON??? Pranks are the new feet!!! Pls stop hyperfixating on one thing and making it the entire seasons personality. Why was lewie in a suit?? You mean to tell me he’s rather workout in a suit rather than change into something more comfortable, in the middle of summer… in mallorca??

Grace babe!! It’s time to move on!! Picking a dress to make Ozzy regret his decision?! GIRL! Maybe that’s why he wants to ask us to be his gf in front of everyone at declarations..ok I already knew this was coming but Amelia saying it now in dress shopping makes it real he’s def gonna ask her to be his gf and Ozzy is gonna ask us… UGHHHHHHHH

The Ozzy dance and the bits scene after was cute but it seems like they’re trying to cram in as much bits as possible. I’m not complaining but wish we had more opportunities throughout the season with Ozzy.

At this point Ozzy better propose. I’m not here for the LITG proposals AT ALL but we need to one up Amelia. I will not stand for us being the same!!! Grace and Marshall’s speeches were weird that they mentioned Ozzy in them at all. Same with Bella and Lewie. Like everyone just needs to move on! Dying at the lack of spell check “your amazing good lucks” I stared at that for at least a minute, flabbergasted they really spelled looks like that. I’m sorry EXCLUSIVE?!?! That’s it??? He could’ve added in he wanted us to move in together… an i love you… something!!

Ok idk if this has bothered anyone else this season but MC has gotten like 95% of the texts all season. And now at the finale you’re making her read out the entire final?? At least make other islanders read too!

As much as obviously I loved winning. If Amelia had won but Toby stole the money I actually would’ve been just as happy. I wish there was a scenario where this could happen, so if you wanted the happy ending u could have it but if you wanted absolute chaos then that was an option too.

HAMISH LMAOOO. Best. Choice. Ever. I know my Hamish girlies are gonna be so happy with the choice to leave the villa with him 🤣

And another season coming already… ugh lol

[hyperfixationstati0n]

Hiii I saw your post about ideas and I’ve got one. What about a spencer hurt/comfort with him supporting female or gn reader who is going through a rough time with anxiety and existence. Just an idea 🫶🏻

an: yes i love this!! i think it’s more just comfort but i tried lmaooo (also thank you this is my first request so i’m very excited ilysm)

Pairing: Spencer x gn!reader

Content warnings: Anxiety/panic attack, this is also kind of unedited so please forgive spelling or grammar errors

word count: 718

You were driving home from work to yours and Spencer’s shared apartment. Surprisingly, both you and Spencer would be able to spend some time together, a rare thing for a Wednesday evening. You had never had a partner with such a serious job as being a profiler, and especially not one that took him away from you most nights. Leaving work, you were excited to see him, but now your breathing was labored and your hands were shaking ever so slightly on the wheel.

You didn’t know where this fit of anxiety had came from, but that was usually the case. It was most likely a mix of having a stressful day at work, and having not seen the man you loved for almost five days. You try to soothe yourself as you pull your car to a stop in front of your apartment building. You didn’t want Spencer to worry-he had just gotten home from a case, and you were both so excited to spend time together. You almost felt as though you didn’t want to ruin it-you didn’t know when you’d have a night like this again.

You continue taking deep breaths and attempting to steady your shaking hands, but it was no use. You slowly opened the door, where you saw Spencer immediately jumping up from the couch to meet you. Obviously you were glad to see him, but in the moment you were so overwhelmed you couldn’t match his energy.

He walked over to you as you silently put your bag and keys down, and slipped off your shoes, tucking them away. This confused Spencer, usually when you were reunited after days of being away, you were all over him. His thoughts immediately went to the worst.

“Hey, sweetheart, are you alright?” He says in the same comforting tone you often found solitude in.

But you just looked at him, the anxiety you were trying to hide now clearly displayed on your face. His expression was one of concern, which only made you feel worse. He reaches a hand out for you, and before you can even protest or say anything, he pulls you into a hug. You hesitantly wrap your arms around him too, letting your guard down and finally releasing the panicked emotions you had been holding in since you left work.

He held you for a long time, rubbing slow circles on your back and kissing the top of your head. Every once in awhile he would whisper something along the lines of “Shhh, it’s ok, i’m right here.”

Your head was pressed against his chest, and you tried to use the rhythm of his breathing to call your own. When you’re calmed down enough to form words again you look up at him.

“Hi.” You whisper with a weak smile.

“Hi.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Are you alright, love?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah, i’m sorry. I just…my anxiety built up too much.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He brushed a piece of hair out of your eyes as he says this. “How about we go watch a movie together, I have this really interesting old Russian film pulled up. I can translate it for you as we watch if you’d like?”

You laugh softly. Even though it didn’t sound like the most interesting thing in the world, just being curled up next to him was everything you wanted in that moment.

“I’d love that a lot. i’ll get changed and be right out.” You say, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Moments later, you’re cuddled up close to each other, your legs thrown over Spencer’s lap. As you watched this film, which actually turned out to be quite interesting for you, Spencer would whisper the english translation in your ear. You laid your head on his shoulder, feeling your worries and anxiety of the day melt away now that you were in the arms of the person you loved.

“I’m really glad that you’re home.” You whisper. His head turns to you, his thoughts broken out of the movie and translating for you. He smiles and kisses your forehead again-one of his many habits you loved.

“Me too.” He whispers back, before holding you even closer and diving back into the movie.

[lookismaddict]

hi again 🤪 so far, we have knowledge that gun, goo, johan, samuel, & jake can drive a car. we got ryuhei and jay for motorcycles. eli for... bicycle lmaooo

MY QUESTION IS!! who would make the best & worst uber drivers? 🤔 who gets the ★★★★★

OK, THIS TIME. I SWEAR, I MANAGED TO HIT THE “Save as draft” BUTTON. 💀 IF THIS GETS DELETED AGAIN, I WILL LITERALLY SMACK MYSELF. 😤🥲 (Also I’m sorry Jann, this is such a late reply. I hope you’ve been doing well. And ty for the ask!! 😭💕)

Gun Park: ★★☆☆☆

Gun would successfully drive people to their destinations sometimes. But if he gets a text from Crystal or Chairman Choi while he’s out, he has no choice but to literally pull over to the side of the road and tell that customer to immediately get out.

Anon. Review: This driver made me get off on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, when I’m basically tired and just got out from a party that my co-workers held! When I told him, “Why do I have to get off from here?! I don’t even know where we are!” All he said to me was, “Pity. Not my problem. Step out now, or I’ll drag you out.” He was OUTRAGEOUS!!! 🤬

Goo Kim: ★☆☆☆☆ (Worst)

Goo is a fun driver to be with, until… he accidentally crashes into a car in front of him. He usually talks a lot while driving his customers, but gets distracted most of the time while driving. However, he’ll dismiss the damages as if it’s nothing.

Anon. Review: This guy… Whew, let me tell you. One time, this driver picked me up from my house since I called an Uber to drop me off at a karaoke place to meet up with a friend. When I left my house, I saw that he was parked in between two cars on the side of my street. One in front, and one behind him. When I got inside his car, he greeted himself and he asked me to confirm my destination to the karaoke place. He then started talking about his experiences in karaoke. It was quite an… interesting topic. I wasn’t sure if I heard him right, but I think he mentioned something about having to beat up people…? Couldn’t entirely remember. But while he was trying to get out from in between the two cars, he looked behind me to talk. I noticed that the car was still moving forward since he forgot to hit the brakes, and I did say, “SIR, THE CAR IS STILL MOVING!!!” Next thing you know it, he accidentally hit the back of my neighbor’s car. All he said after that was, “It’s fine! It’s not a big deal!” Well it is for me, you b******. I had to pay for the repercussions because you wouldn’t. AND WHO OVERCHARGES THEIR OWN CUSTOMERS WHEN IT’S THEIR FAULT WHO SMASHED INTO ANOTHER CAR’S REAR??? 😭

Johan Seong: ★★★☆☆

Johan is a nice driver. He makes sure passengers are all buckled up and ready to go, but his driving can be scary at times since he usually drives really fast while on the road.

Anon. Review: Johan is so considerate towards his passengers right when you enter his car. Even though he’s a young driver, he made sure safety is key before hitting the road. But when he started driving… the kid was a menace. While he was driving me to work, HE BEAT THREE STOP LIGHTS IN ONE GO!!! I THOUGHT WE WERE GOING TO DIE!!! Despite the speeding, I made it right on the dot thanks to him. That’s why, in my opinion, he deserves 3 stars. (If you see this kid, thanks for getting me to work on time. But please drive more safely next time.)

Samuel Seo: ★★★★☆

Samuel is a gentleman when it comes to being an Uber driver. He is a responsible man who gets the job done. His service is excellent, down to the last objective. But when it comes to driving, he has a flaw with patience.

Anon. Review: Oh my, this handsome man was such a good driver! Samuel picked me up from the airport and he managed to drive me to the right hotel. While driving out of the airport, however, he can be a little impatient. We were stuck in a line full of cars, just to leave the pick-up/drop-off area in about 45 minutes. Every few minutes, he would roll down the window and yell at other drivers to move whenever he saw that there’s room. The road-rage was a bit scary, but he was kinda hot while doing it ngl… 😳 But he was still very polite, since he apologized for his pushy behavior. Once we got out of the airport’s vicinity, he was very careful. He followed the rules of the road and he was very helpful when we arrived at the hotel. This man assisted me by unloading my luggage bags from the trunk too! He’s so nice. AHHHHH I wish I get this hunk again to drive me to other places!!!

Jake Kim: ★★★★★ (Best)

Jake as a driver is like the life of a party. Not only is he a polite and charming driver, but he also offers good additional service. This includes giving out free water to his customers and asking what type of music they’d be interested in listening to while he drives.

Anon. Review: Oh my god, I love this guy! He’s the coolest driver who I’ve ever encountered. Right when I hopped into his car, he was so sweet! He asked how was my day, and made sure I was comfortable in his car. Afterwards, he asked if it was too hot or too cold in the backseat, and what type of music do I want to listen to. I had a VERY interesting chat with him, that is mainly focused on the topic of his butt. That was…fun. He’s even good at driving! I’ve never felt so relaxed while speaking to an Uber driver AND while riding in an Uber car before. When he dropped me off at the right destination, he gave me a refreshment before I left. Even if it’s just a bottle of water, he really made my day. His kindness towards me amazed me, and that’s why Jake deserves 5 stars from me!

Again, I’m sorry this was really late! I decided to create these reviews because I just imagined different kinds of people who’d meet these guys if they’d ordered an Uber. I can’t help but write these silly reviews. LMAAOOO And thank you for resending the question because of my dumbass mistake. 😅 I hope you have a good rest of your day!! 😊💗

[roseofcards90]

Rose rose how far are you in Steven Universe? 👀 I must know your thoughts once you get to the movie.

OMGGGG MINTY HIIII!!! I HOPE YOU’VE BEEN DOING WELL I’M SORRY I HAVEN’T BEEN AROUND 😭 I’LL COME BACK EVENTUALLY

Haha, you see…I already finished everything actually! I have gotten through the whole show including the movie and Future (just finished it yesterday!). I was planning on making posts giving my overall thoughts for each season, but I’ve only done that for season 1A so far 😭 I gotta get back on that rip

My general thoughts though are that I love and enjoy the show so much!!! I kept hearing about it while it was still airing, but I never got the chance to properly watch it until now. I knew the show had a bad rep (for very dumb and inaccurate reasons), but that didn’t stop me from wanting to check it out! And I was pleasantly surprised. Everything was just great quality all around (character writing and designs, backgrounds, soundtrack ESPECIALLY SOUNDTRACK)

It was fun going through each episode while theorizing about certain things (such as Rose Quartz being Pink Diamond), where I was trying to connect the pieces and predict what’ll happen, but some stuff still threw me for a loop lmao aka all the Pearl stuff. My reaction to A Single Pale Rose was just me losing my mind tbh LMAOOO and there are so many episodes that will stay in my mind for a while fr

My favorite characters are Pearl, Garnet, and Lapis! Absolutely love how they were written, Pearl especially (my friend sold me on her since the beginning lmao), and despite the ending being clearly rushed, I don’t blame them for that because of what was happening at the time. Also, even if it did feel rushed, they still executed it pretty well imo? With the episodes that they had to work with. My only real complaint is how they handled White Diamond and her character, but it’s not like they could’ve done much with that tbh. Blue, Yellow, and Pink are already a delight so that complaint doesn’t bother me too much lol. Also shout out to Pink/Rose for being so well written that people couldn’t handle her being complex/morally grey lmao, she’s great. It’s so cool to her character be explored in reverse, with learning how she ended up and then going back and seeing how she was before in the beginning THE SHOW DID SO GOOD WITH SHOWING THAT OMG

I loved the movie a lot! Spinel is very fun as a character (also damn did that scene/song where Pink leaves her is heart wrenching), and also just the general musical format of the movie itself was very enjoyable (coming from someone who loves musicals and singing lol). I have to go back and listen to the whole soundtrack again from this, all the songs were just so fucking good omg

And I loved Future a lot too! I think they could’ve done more with the series, but they tied up things pretty well, especially with the second half focusing solely on Steven. It was what his character very much needed after the original series ended. Overall, I loved watching all of it! It was an amazing experience fr 🙏

[cynosfunnyjokes]

drift away

characters: cyno, tighnari, reader

relationship: cyno + tighnari

genre: angst. hurt with no comfort

warnings: nothing i can think of

summary: tighnari had been neglecting his best friend ever since he started dating cyno

word count: 947

notes: i’m going through this situation irl so i decided to write it out to cope with it. there will be no part two nor will there be a happy ending- i’m not getting a happy ending so neither will this fic lmaooo.

“i’m really tired today, i’m sorry, dewdrop. we’ll hang out some other time, promise!”

tighnari’s voice echoed in your head as you remembered how he had spontaneously canceled your plans. needless to say, you were upset, but you couldn’t blame him.

having been best friends with him for a while, you just didn’t have it in you to harbor any negative feelings for him.

being the lead forest watcher had its ups and downs, after all.

so you decided to go to sumeru city anyway without him, determined to not feel upset.

stopping at random street vendors, you eventually came across one of tighnari’s favorite flowers- a nilotpala lotus.

the flower was pretty- freshly bloomed and giving off its amazing scent. no wonder tighnari favored them so much.

paying for the flower, you left, excited to give it to him later. maybe it would help him with his stress-

stopping dead in your tracks, your eyes widened as they focused on two familiar figures in the distance- the fennec fox himself stood in front of cyno-

your heart thundered in your chest as you watched tighnari wrap his arms around his boyfriend, both of them smiling happily.

oh.

he ditched you for his boyfriend.

the flower tumbled to the ground as you stood there, the world fading into nothing but static around you.

tighnari and cyno continued to converse happily with one another- the fennec fox’s tail wagging happily. tighnari happy was one of the only things you ever wanted- as his best friend, you wanted nothing more then for him to have everything he wanted.

tears welled in your eyes, vision going blurry as the crystal like liquid cascaded down your flushed cheeks.

he said he was tired.

letting out a muffled sob, your turned on your heels before running in the opposite direction, the flower laying forgotten on the ground.

the next few weeks were nothing but hell.

tighnari barely visited- barely even talked to you.

what even happened?

you couldn’t help but blame yourself, drowning in self hatred and pity. where did it even go wrong?

“does he hate me…?”

a question that was constantly voiced to nothing but the wind, never getting an answer.

when he continued to barely talk to you and would flake on plans, you’d had enough.

shoving the rest of your things into a bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you left what you once called home.

now to find tighnari.

finding him wasn’t hard- he was at his own home in gandharva ville, talking happily with cyno. he seemed so happy.. way happier. it hurt.

giving an awkward cough to earn both of the males’ attention, you gave an awkward smiled. “mind if i talk to tighnari alone?”

a simple question.

cyno nodded, pecking the fox’s cheek before stepping outside to give privacy. he knew about your friendship and respected you.

silence filled the room as soon as he left, your gaze landing on everything but the male in front of you.

a soft call of your name caught your attention, your head snapping up, “is everything okay?” he looked worried- his ears slightly pressed to his head as his eyebrows furrowed. “did something happen?”

yes.

but you didn’t know how to say it.

after a few moments of doing nothing but grit your teeth together, your hands clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palm hard enough to draw blood- but you didn’t have it in you to care.

“do you even care about me anymore..?” your voice was soft, defeated- but it sounded so sad.

the question took tighnari off guard, his eyes widening. “dewdrop-“ the nickname rolled off his tongue- he had called you that for the longest time, but now it made your mouth turn sour, “what’s this about? of course i-“

he didn’t get to finish his sentence because you cut him off, “you ignored me.” your voice was sharp and defeated, “you ditched me for your boyfriend- you- you lied to me.”

his tail poofed up, ears twitching, “what?-“

“you said you had to cancel because you were tired.” you mumbled, remembering the day you dropped the flower on the ground after finding him and cyno.

“i was tired-“ he protested, but it went in vane when you glared up at him, eyes brimming with tears.

“you were too tired for your best friend but not for your boyfriend?”

he stayed quiet.

“you didn’t talk to me for months. no letters, no hangouts. nothing. don’t you get how that makes me feel?”

“you’re choosing to take it that way?” he asked, voice full of disbelief.

“how else am i supposed to take it, tighnari?” you shook your head, giving a bitter laugh. “we’re supposed to be best friends. this isn’t what best friends do to each other.”

he gave an upset look, gritting his teeth, “look- i fully admit that i forgot and i shouldn’t have done that to you-“

“then maybe you should’ve thought about that before.” you cut him off again, turning toward the door of his house. grasping onto the bag that was slung over your shoulder, you turned the doorknob.

“‘best friends’ my ass.” you hissed before leaving the house, passing cyno and ignoring every noise as you walked away.

heart shattering with every step and tears flowing down your cheeks, you continued on the path alone.

why hold onto a friendship when one party started to pull away?

when did he even start to drift away?

you laughed bitterly to yourself, brain swarming with old memories- memories from sumeru and gandharva ville- from the academia. it all hurt.

so you left sumeru, not looking back.

[mariaofdoranelle]

"Ah yes, betrayal. I'm familiar with that." but it is a mermaid AU

The Cheating Client

Written for my Drabblefest

I had so much fun with this!! I have almost zero experience with anything mermaid-related but I love doing fic research, so I thought, what do mermaids do in their free time? Do they work? Do they have an economic system? What’s the social function of every marine being?

So I asked my cousin (who does marine life research) for help. Yes, he did call me crazy, but he also told me about crabs and cleaner shrimps. 🤣 And only DAYS later I realized you were probably asking for a mermaid x human fic which would’ve been a lot easier to write lmaooo but here it is!!

650 words, no warnings

⨯ ⁺ ✦ ･ ｡ﾟ⨯ ﾟ♡ ✧* ･｡* ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Watching the dolphins play with water bubbles was one of Aelin's favorite weekend activities. Too bad the amount of merfolk it lured was so big it made her bump into some unwanted merpeople.

Rowan Whitethorn was close enough to fit a blue whale between them, trying to catch her eye. Aelin looked away. Just to look back at him again, watching him scan the crowd with his deep green tail and his electric eels, one at each side. His eyes found hers again, so she had to look away once more.

He chose this.

And when Rowan first came to her, wearing that cute grumpy look in his pine-green eyes as he complained his rock home was filled with seaweed, she should’ve known this is how their relationship would end.

The hotter the client, the bigger is the betrayal.

She totally forgot Rowan worked as a security merman in those kinds of events making sure the dolphins won’t be disturbed, looking very hot intimidating between his electric eels.

The crowd dispersed after the dolphins stopped this week’s show, and Aelin swam away from there to avoid awkward interactions. However, Rowan didn’t try to mask his intentions like she did, so he swam faster and gently grabbed her arm.

“Aelin, hi.” He gave her a shy, close-lipped smile. “I sent you a flounder, but you didn’t answer my message asking for the crabs.”

“I didn’t feel like I needed to.” She squinted her eyes at him. “I passed by your house recently. It looked awfully clean.”

Rowan’s face fell, his lips parting as he sensed the ugly truth being revealed between them.

Aelin worked organizing crabs’ schedules. Homes made of rocks tended to get dirty and filled with seaweed, so merpeople came to her to request some crabs to eat it off.

So imagine her surprise when Rowan, one of her regulars, disappeared for a while, and when she passed by his house, it was as clean as a cleaner shrimp’s anemone.

Rowan’s mouth opened and closed before he blurted, “I can explain.”

She crossed her arms, silently nudging him in.

He continued, “My friend told me about this hermit crab service—“

"Ah yes, betrayal. I'm familiar with that." Aelin’s voice was bitter, her stomach hardening with the knowledge that her favorite client was nothing more than a traitor.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his eyes seeming truly apologetic at least. “If I knew Remelle—“

“Remelle?” Aelin shrieked. Her biggest rival of all people?

The end of her tail flailed, but Rowan stopped her from swimming away.

“It was a one-time thing, and I really regret it because she mistreats her crabs and…” he trailed, grimacing. “Her work ethic is a little fishy.” The ends of Rowan’s mouth twitched, but he was too smart to smile now. “Please don’t fire me from being your client.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Truth was, she couldn’t dismiss Rowan just because he looked for another crab service. He didn’t look happy about it either, but this doesn’t mean she wouldn’t give him a hard time.

“What if I make it up to you over dinner tomorrow?”

That piqued her interest. Aelin stood a little taller, eyeing him carefully. “Seaweed doesn’t fix shark bites, Whitethorn.”

Rowan crossed his arms, a playful gleam in his eyes as his posture stayed firm and strong, looking too confident for his own good. “What about Pirarucu?”

The air rushed out of Aelin’s lungs. Dear Mala, that fish was bigger than some whales. She snapped her parted lips shut, but still took a swift glance at his toned body. “That’s a hard one to hunt.”

Rowan sent her a poorly concealed smug look. “Anything for your forgiveness.”

“Good.” Aelin bit her lip in an attempt to hide her smile. “But you’re not forgiven yet.”

“Don’t worry, princess.” He cocked his head, an indecipherable look in his eyes. “I’ll work for it.”

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[doll-elvis]

sorry but am i the only one that thinks elvis wasn't that good with karate? 😳

I think he would definitely karate kick both of our asses for questioning his skills 😩 but I totally get what you mean- the first time I watched his Gladiator tape I was flabbergasted lmaooo

apparently in Kenpo karate, the kind of karate that Elvis practiced, when giving an award to someone you kick them in the stomach as a sign of respect and when Elvis gave an award to the guy in the gif on the right he accidentally kicked him in the balls 😭

“At one point during that demo, Elvis promoted Bill Wallace and gave him a trophy. In Kenpo, when you get promoted, you get kicked in the stomach by the person who promoted you. Elvis kicked a little low and accidentally hit Bill in the balls. Bill took it well”

honestly I don’t know anything about karate outside of Elvis so I personally can’t speak to his skills but based on what Dave Hebler, a 10th degree black belt in kenpo, and Ed Parker, who invented kenpo karate, have said it seems like Elvis definitely had the basics down and had a great passion for it, he just couldn’t practice it as much as he’d like too ⬇️

“Although Elvis was the greatest entertainer ever, he wasn't the greatest martial artist ever. To my knowledge, he never trained on a regular basis in any style or with one single instructor in his entire adult life. He did have sporadic lessons here and there and even some semi-regular lessons with different instructors over the years, but nothing on a longterm basis. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. His fame got in the way” (excerpt from “The Elvis Experience”)

It was Ed Parker who signed off on all of Elvis’ promotions, all the way up to his 10th degree black belt, and Dave Hebler talked about how in his book it was more of a gesture of kindness towards Elvis than something that he had actually earned, much like the police badges he got and the narcotics officer badge he got ⬇️

so yeah he may have not had the skills of an actual 10th degree black belt but his love for the sport was so genuine and unlike some of his other interests like horse back riding, it was something that he loved up until the end of his life. In fact he was still showing Ginger Alden karate moves in 1977

“Having always been interested in karate, I asked Elvis to teach me some beginning steps and stances. He was happy to oblige me one night. I pestered him a little as he was teaching me. I wanted to learn fancier, more advanced moves, but Elvis kept telling me to start at the beginning. We finally stopped to rest at one point. He sat on the bed and I put my feet up against the bottoms of his.The next thing I knew, I was on the floor. I think his strength actually shocked him, because Elvis burst out laughing” (excerpt from Elvis and Ginger)

I never knew this before but Elvis actually helped Dave Hebler start a program to teach women self defense: Lisa was probably too little at the time but I definitely think Elvis would have made sure she could have kicked ass in karate 😩 ⬇️

“Part of Elvis's overall mission with the martial arts organization he was forming, that I was going to be a part of, was a self-defense program for women. He and I discussed what kind of material we would put into the curriculum. Elvis knew how important a specific self-defense program for women was to me. I wanted to get more training specifically for women. Back in those days, women in the martial arts were rare. There wasn't many of them and the material didn't suit them well. The material didn't work and didn't relate to women because they have unique needs when it comes to self-defense. I wanted to have an emphasis on training specifically for women that would address their needs” (excerpt from “The Elvis Experience”)

(Elvis pictured with one Dave’s female students alongside Kang Rhee, a world renowned karate master who often worked with Elvis)