#sorry about the colouring but i still have tears in my eyes so... yeah

[jkvjimin]

Lee Ji Eun & Kim Taehyung ↳ IU 'Love Wins All' MV

[stargirlinterludefr]

1 STEP FORWARD, 3 STEPS BACK: rafe cameron x fem!reader

Based off of the song 1 step forward, 3 steps back by Olivia Rodrigo

Synopsis: It’s always 1 step forward and 3 steps back with Rafe, until you’ve finally had enough.

TW: Toxic relationship, emotional & verbal abuse, drug usage, references to sexual relations but no smut, addiction, heavy angst, small amount of fluff, guilt tripping for not having sex (I do NOT condone any of this, you should never be made to feel guilty if you don’t want to sleep with someone!), Rafe being an arsehole

Word count: around 3,500

‘Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

You’re laid down on your front, hand mindlessly plucking at your lilac coloured blanket as your other hand holds your phone close to your ear, waiting for your boyfriend to answer your call.

“Hello?” Rafe’s deep voice rings through the other end, cutting out the ringing sound that you’d been listening to whilst waiting on an answer.

You smile softly, “Hey baby, just thought I’d ring, not heard off of you in a few hours.” You say, still plucking mindlessly at your blanket as Rafe sniffles down the phone before he answering.

“Uh yeah, been busy with Barry sorry, what’ve you been up to?” He asks, and while deep down you know he’s distracted and probably doesn’t even care about what you’ve been doing as long as you’re not out flirting with other boys or…out doing anything at all.

“Barry? I didn’t realise you were hanging with him today, is he doing okay?” You ask sweetly, kind nature shining through despite how much you disliked Barry for continuing to get Rafe involved with dealings.

“Why you sound so mad about me hanging with Barry, huh?” Rafe snaps back and your heart plummets to your stomach as you pause your mindless ministrations on your blanket.

“Wha- I’m not mad, baby, I was just asking-“ You start but you don’t have the opportunity to finish as Rafe is quick to cut you off.

“Well fucking don’t! I don’t wanna deal with your bitchy attitude, it’s like you- you’re judging me or something so just cut it out a’ight? Get enough of that from my fucking dad, didn’t know my girl would be all up in my business to.” He says, voice agitated and slurred making it clear to you he’d been snorting up lines like there was no tomorrow.

You stay still in your place, eyes laced with tears that were on the verge of falling if you didn’t swallow the lump in your throat.

“What, you gone mute or something?” Rafe snaps and you jolt slightly, clearing your throat as you answer.

“M’ sorry.” You mutter, voice strained and quiet as though he’d zapped every inch of energy and happiness from you in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” He scoffs, the sound of beeping ringing through your speaker signifying that he’d ended the call and as you slowly lower your phone from your ear, silent tears stream down your face and instead of picking mindlessly at your blanket you bury your face into it.

You got me fucked up in the head, boy

Never doubted myself so much

Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy?

I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

Parties had become something you dreaded immensely.

Rafe would usually leave you as soon as you arrived, seeking out people to sell his stuff to and snorting so many lines of it that you’d be left to deal with either his raging temper or his raging boner.

Despite that fact, you made sure you looked your prettiest each time. At the start of your relationship, Rafe showered you in compliments each time you’d get all dressed up but now he’d simply complain about how long you took and then he’d go flirt with some other look or touron making you seriously question whether you were even pretty enough anymore.

And at this particular party? You felt the burning pit of insecurity like it was etched onto your skin.

You were sat beside Rafe, two other kook girls across from you who were alongside Kelce and Barry.

Rafe was pouring out some coke from a small baggie, organising it into lines as he glanced toward you briefly.

“You want some?” He asks, pupils blown as wide as spaceships.

“No, I’m okay.” You say immediately, you’d never wanted to indulge in things like cocaine as you’d drawn the line at weed and alcohol.

“Oh my god, you’re like no fun are you? Live a little, girl.” One of the kook girls hanging off Kelce’s arms says, making the surrounding people laugh in response as their eyes dart to you.

And the worst part? Rafe laughs along with them.

“Alright then.” You mutter quietly, making the same girl holler in excitement as Rafe smiles, gesturing to the lines of cocaine he’d organised.

“All yours, baby.”

And as you sniff up the line of coke, you wonder when you’d let Rafe have so much power over the way you perceived yourself.

‘Cause it's always one step forward and three steps back

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

The next morning you woke up to a regretful Rafe, the boy showering you with a million apologies for essentially forcing you to do something you’d never been comfortable doing in the past.

You’d assured him it was okay but he still preached his guilt, continuing to spend the remainder of the day spoiling you with a shopping trip and ending it with a walk on the beach.

The day had you feeling hopeful, Rafe had promised earlier on that he’d atleast stop doing cocaine around you so you wouldn’t be forced to.

This was progress…wasn’t it?

The hope you felt quickly diminished when you caught sight of your old friends, JJ and John B.

And JJ would be damned if he didn’t say hello to you, while you never talked much to the Pogues anymore JJ’s loyalty was impossible to extinguish. If the Maybank boy cared about you, he wasn’t ever going to let those feelings diminish.

“Ain’t this a sight for sore eyes?” A voice calls from behind you, making yours and Rafe’s heads whip around as you come face to face with JJ who is lightly jogging toward you both. John B trailing slowly behind as he adjusts two surf boards under his arms.

“How you been, y/n/n?” He asks, head cocking to the side as his messy blonde hair moves softly with it.

You open your mouth to speak but Rafe quickly cuts you off, hand tightening on your own “She’s good.”

JJ’s face immediately drops as he narrows his eyes, “Don’t think I was asking you, bro.” He says dryly as Rafe clenches his jaw.

“You gonna answer then?” Rafe spits out, making you look at him with pleading eyes, knowing by the look on his face that he was going to end this in a fight with you.

He simply gives you a glare and you turn to JJ, eyes not daring to meet his.

“Uh yeah, I’ve been good, you?” At your words Rafe lets out a scoff and you bite your lip anxiously, praying to whatever god that whatever has him mad will be resolved quickly.

“You know me, I’m always a’ight, you should uh come by the Chateau soon so we can catch up with ya…we’ve missed you.” JJ says, eyes trained intently on you as he ignores Rafe’s looming presence.

“Yeah, that sounds real nice.” You say, smiling softly and before you can say anything else Rafe is tugging you away.

“Yeah, real good to see you JJ, always a fucking pleasure!” He shouts sarcastically, ignoring how the blonde boy calls out your name when John B finally makes it to his side. You send an apologetic smile over your shoulder as Rafe’s hand detaches from your own.

“That sounds real nice?” Rafe parrots your words, eyes wild with anger as he scoffs to himself continuing his rapid walk back to the truck.

“What else was I supposed to say?” You ask desperately, running slightly to keep up with Rafe’s fast paces as he refuses to slow down for you.

“Rafe!” You call out when he doesn’t respond, the two of you now all but five meters from his truck.

That’s when he spins back to face you, face scrunched in anger as he points at you.

“I’ll tell you what your fucking problem is, y-you can’t be happy with what I’m giving you so you put on the sad kicked puppy act when Maybank is around for what? Huh? You fucking him or something?” Rafe shouts in anger, now towering over you as you all but freeze in your place.

“What? No I’m not fucking Jay, Rafe. I haven’t seen him in months, ever since you told me to stop hanging round with my friends!” You say, voice trembling as you attempt to hold back tears of frustration not missing the way Rafe’s eyes flash with more anger.

“You might as well be fucking him, you got nicknames for him and shit?” He states mockingly, letting out a dry laugh when you go to correct your mistake as a force of habit from your childhood, he spins back toward his truck before you can even respond. “Go hang with Maybank for all I care, prove how much of an attention seeking whore you are.”

Your brows furrow as Rafe rounds his truck, clambering into it as you step forward.

“Rafe?” You call out, listening to him start his truck and rev the engine. You begin walking toward the truck but Rafe reverses so quickly that sand flicks up leaving you to shield your face when he spins the truck around,leaving you stood there.

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

You receive an abundant of text messages from Rafe later on in the same night as your pacing the small space of your room, nibbling anxiously on your nails.

Rafe 💜: am sory baby

Rafe 💜: Pogue get me soooooo pissed

Rafe 💜: I lobe u so moch ❤️❤️

You let out a groan of frustration at the words, your mind spinning as though you’d experienced whiplash. You didn’t know how to keep up anymore, you didn’t understand.

No, I don't understand

You: I love you too 🤍

And maybe in some masochistic way

I kinda find it all exciting

Like, which lover will I get today?

Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?

Your sat reading on the dock at the back of your house, one foot dangling into the water when your phone buzzes.

Rafe 💜: coming over.

Your stomach churns with an excited sort of nervousness, mind reeling on how Rafe is going to be today.

His emotional imbalance had made such an impact upon your own that you didn’t know how to feel anymore, whatever you felt was never right in his eyes.

you: okay, on the dock <3

When you hear Rafe’s footsteps drawing closer you don’t dare look up, pretending to be engrossed in your book to see how he would react.

Whether he’d be his teasing normal self that you’d fallen in love with or the coked up angry Rafe that you’d grown to hate.

Rafe steps grow dangerously near and his voice comes along with them, “That book so interesting it mutes your hearing?” He asks, voice boarding on teasing as you look up at him a few meters from you.

You smile and shrug, “It’s a good book.”

Rafe cocks a brow, coming to a standstill in front of you as locks down upon you.

“That good book better than my presence?” He asks, and some part of you sighs in relief at his calm demeanour and undiluted pupils.

“Not a chance.” You say, holding your hands out for Rafe to pull you up and as he does he picks you up into a tight hug and spins the both of you around as you squeal in delight.

It's one step forward and three steps back

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

“Come on baby, please.” Rafe pleads with you, hands tugging at the waistband of your pants in the country club bathroom as you give him a pointed look.

“Not here Rafe.” You say softly as he groans, head on your shoulder.

“We’ve done it here before.” He says in response, lips suckling on your neck as you laugh, gently prying him away from you.

“Yeah, when we weren’t at a business party with your father here.” Rafe then stands to his full height, his jaw ticking and your stomach immediately drops at the quick shift in demeanour.

“My father’s never seemed to bother you before.” He says, referring to the abundant amount of times the two of you have fucked in the house while Ward was just downstairs.

You sigh softly, “We’re at a business party, baby, I promise when we get home-“

Rafe withdraws his hands from you and runs one through his bangs, “Whatever.” He mutters, moving swiftly toward the bathroom door as you reach out for him.

“Rafe, talk to me, what’s wrong?” The boy in question turn his head and rolls his eyes.

“What’s wrong is my girl is more interested in my father than me.” He says simply, shrugging as he goes “I didn’t even wanna fuck anyway, you make it to much work.”

And like a child who’d been refused his favourite toy, Rafe leaves you stood there swallowing the all too familiar lump in your throat.

No, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

It's back and forth, goin' over everything I said

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

Instead it's one step forward and three steps back

Rafe had been giving you the silent treatment since you’d gotten to Tanny hill, only exchanging a grunt in response to you when you placed a kiss to his head as you sat beside him.

Your mind was raking over whatever it is you’d done wrong as you sit on his bed, anxiously waiting for him to come off of the phone to see if he’d talk to you.

You’d be a fool to yourself if you said this wasn’t a regular occurrence, Rafe constantly gave you the silent treatment in response to something.

And then he’d act like you were stupid for thinking such things.

You’re mind couldn’t pin point a thing you’d done wrong nor could it pin point anything you’d said wrong.

You should know by now that this is Rafe’s way, when he’s annoyed at everyone else he takes it out on you. When he doesn’t want to face his own emotions he pushed them onto you so you can face them. Like his own personal punching bag, you should know it’s not your fault yet you feel like it is every time.

When Rafe re emerges from the balcony, he lies down on the bed beside you as you remain sat up trying to find the courage to ask him the question that often leads to him essentially biting your head off.

“Are you mad at me?” You blurt out, turning to look at Rafe who sighs loudly in annoyance.

“Not this shit again.” He groans, rubbing a hand over his face as you fiddle with your fingers.

“I- you just seem quiet today s’all.” You point out and you can predict Rafe’s response before he even says it.

“What? I can’t be quiet now? It’s all good when you wanna be quiet but when it’s me I’m suddenly mad at you?” He asks rhetorically as you shrug half heartedly, avoiding his gaze as he sighs again bringing himself to a sitting position as he places his chin on your shoulder.

“Stop asking me stupid shit, a’ight?” He says and all you can do is nod numbly.

And I'd leave you, but the roller coaster is all I've ever had

As youre walking out of Tanny Hill, face wet with tears due to another screaming match with Rafe, a voice calls out your name from behind you.

You’re quick to wipe your cheeks when you realise it isn’t Rafe, it’s Sarah.

You turn, forcing a smile onto your face as she approaches you, and by the look on her face you know she heard.

“Hey Sare, everything good?” You ask, voice hoarse due to the amount of shouting and crying you’d done.

“I should ask you that, are you okay?” She says softly, brown eyes so kind that your heart nearly breaks to think of how much anger her brother’s blue ones hold.

“You heard, huh?” You ask, watching as she nods, “Look, he- he’s just had a long day and-“

“Y/n, he’s always either had a long day or he’s had a fight with our dad, that doesn’t justify the way he treats you.” She states, deja vu hitting you remembering the similar conversation the two of you had but in that conversation she’d been cautious with what she’d said to you but it was obvious now that caution had gone out of the window.

You stand silently, biting your lip as you look at your former friend “But he loves me.” You whisper, as if that justifies anything.

Sarah’s face breaks out in so much empathy that you swear you can hear both of your hearts break, “Love isn’t supposed to be that hard.” She says and you suck in a harsh breath, “He does love you but…not in the way you deserve.”

Tears roll down your cheeks once more as you respond, “How am I supposed to know what I deserve? I’ve never known anyone else’s love apart from his.”

Sarah immediately brings you into her arms, hugging you so tightly that you have no choice but to let yourself fall into the embrace.

Yeah, it's one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy

I don't understand

You and Rafe sit silently together at one of Rose’s infamous parties, your eyes trained intently on both Sarah and John B as the Routledge boy spins her around whilst watching her with such a lovesick expression that it makes your stomach churn.

You don’t think Rafe has ever looked at you in such a way.

Not even Ward argued with the fact that Sarah was dating a Pogue, JB was so fiercely in love with his daughter that everyone with eyes could see it. He worshipped the ground she walked on making you come to realisation that Rafe had never been that way with you.

Your head turns to said boy as you speak up, “Do you love me?” You ask, making Rafe slowly turn his head toward you in return, the motion slow due to how high he is.

You don’t think he’s been sober properly since you got together, and you know he won’t be sober any time soon.

You’d helped him in every way you could, he threw it all back into your face.

He needed to figure his shit out for himself now.

“You really asking me stupid shit again?” He asks harshly, yet this time, you don’t waver in your response and you chose to ignore the lump in your throat.

“It’s a simple question, Rafe.” You state calmly, eyes twinkling with such a small amount of hope for whatever thread is hanging on in yours and Rafe’s relationship.

Rafe simply stares at you, as though he can’t bring himself to say the words he’s always eager to say when he wants to get you into bed.

You nod, hope dying out as the thread finally snaps and you unlatch the necklace he’d given you, signifying you breaking free of the prison he’d had you in for over a year.

“I hope you get better Rafe, but I don’t think you’re ever going to do that when you’re with me, I don’t want to be the thing that takes on all your shitty emotions…you need to face them for yourself.” You say, gently prying apart his clenched palm and placing the necklace there before you stand up.

Rafe is quick to follow, calling out for you as you walk away, ignoring the multiple gazes on you and the attention drawn toward you at Rafe’s desperate shouts.

Somewhere in the crowd, Sarah and John B watch with small smiles, happy you’d finally made the first step for yourself.

No, I don't understand

Two weeks later and you’re sat on the front porch at the Chateau, hair flowing softly in the morning breeze as you watch the sunrise.

Rafe had been non stop texting you during the duration of your split, words of love and hatred that you still couldn’t begin to understand no matter how hard you tried.

You did come to the realisation that he’d never even allowed you to understand him, despite how hard you’d tried.

He’d attempted to come to your house but you’d made the wise decision to crash at John B’s, rekindling your friendship with the Pogues as they welcomed you with open arms. Eyes filled with immense guilt for not realising how bad things had gotten with you and Rafe but also with so much love that you’d felt overwhelmed, you didn’t realise such love still existed.

You smile softly to yourself, eyes dancing over the colours coating the sky and you decided things would be okay.

You’d be okay.

[silverb0wties]

Lemonade - Part 5

leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah.  But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: the aftermath of your concussion

Warnings: pregnancy, self-harm, disordered eating, bullying

a/n: sorry if this chapter is a little bit dark in parts. if you're still reading the series, thanks so much for sticking with me. I appreciate it more than you know.

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 ||

PART 5

You woke up on a plastic bed in a room that smelled like the awful cream your Mummy would rub on her legs after Netball, surrounded by a million different kinds and colours of sellotape.

You could hear voices, and you looked over to the corner of the room to find your Aunty Leah consoling your Aunty Lessi as she cried.  She looked distraught, her eyes red and puffy with tears.

“I should have known it would overwhelm her.  I was just so excited to share this with her…”

“Babe, she’s going to be okay.  We’re still learning all this, yeah?”

“But we’re meant to protect her, and… and I- I…” Aunty Lessi choked on her words before Aunty Leah cut her off.

“And I should have had a tighter grip on her when I saw she was panicking.  Like I said, we’re both still learning how to do this.  The medics said she’s got a bit of a concussion, but she’ll be alright.  We know how concussions work, so we’ve just got to keep our eyes on her and make sure she gets lots and lots of rest.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, before an important looking lady with a clipboard came in.

“Less, sorry but we need to know if you’re going to play the second half or not?” she asked.

As your Aunties turned toward the door, they realised that you were awake.

“Oh Bunny, sweetie, you’re awake.  How are you feeling?” your Aunty Lessi rushed over to you, her hands coming down to gently cradle the sides of your head.

You looked up at her a bit stunned, rather confused about why you were where you were and why everyone seemed so upset.

“Does your head hurt?  Do you feel sick or dizzy at all?” she asked, her hand softly brushing through your hair.

You tried to think about if you felt sick or dizzy, but all you could really feel was a powerful throbbing rattling through your head.  You also felt really, really tired.  But you had just woken up, so that could perhaps explain that.  You don’t remember going to sleep though, which was starting to concern you.

“I feel okay,” you replied, trying to brush away your Aunty’s concern.

“Alessia, sorry, we need t-” the lady at the door began to ask again.

“I won’t be playing, sorry.  My family is more important right now,” Aunty Lessi told her.

“Less, you should go play.  I’ll stay with Bunny and make sure she’s-”

Your Aunty Lessi whipped around to face Aunty Leah. “No, Leah.  I’m not leaving her.  She’s hurt.   We’ll get a car to take us back to the training centre so we can go home early,” she insisted firmly.

Aunty Leah replied with a sad smile and a nod.  “I’ll go get our stuff packed up then, yeah?”

“I’m okay Aunty Lessi, you should play!” you tried to insist.

“No Bunny, there would be no point in me playing anyways.  I would be so distracted out there and worrying about you I would probably kick the ball into the wrong goal by mistake.”

By the time you finally got back home that night, your head was still pounding and you were struggling to stay awake.  You were trying your hardest to be big and brave and pretend like you were okay, but as soon as you stepped into bath, your whole façade fell apart.  As the warm water lapped at your tense muscles, which you now realised you’d been clenching in an effort to distract from the pain in your head, your resolve melted and you began to weep.

You brought your knees up to your chest and dropped your head forward, your hands entwining at the back of your head as your little body shook with each sob.  The tears and jagged breaths only intensified the pain in your head though, which in turn caused more tears and jagged breaths.  You tried your hardest to stay as quiet as possible, but you were aware that your cries were becoming increasingly vocal.

There was soon a soft knock at the door, followed by your Aunty Lessi’s voice.  Whilst making sure you still got clean and dressed, your Aunties had always tried to give you your privacy while bathing and dressing, which you appreciated.  They were your Aunties, but it still felt weird being undressed around people who weren’t your parents.

“Bunny?  Are you okay?” she called through the closed door.

“It hurts” you cried in response.

“What hurts honey?”

“Everything.  My head hurts most.”

“How about we give you some medicine to make it hurt less, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“And then we can get you to bed, and you can try and get some rest, alright?”

“Okay.”

There was a short pause.  You’d assumed your Aunty had gone away to get the medicine, but then you heard her voice again.

“Bun, you don’t always have to try and be big and brave y’know?  If you’re hurting, you can tell us.  Always.  I promise you won’t be in trouble or we won’t make fun of you or anything.  We just want you to feel okay.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t fully believe her.  You wanted to, but a part of you still believed that there was only so much love and affection to go around and you needed to space that out at least until Lemonade arrived.  You didn’t want to use it all up on this incident.

So you tried your hardest to push the pain down and away as you quickly washed yourself.  You managed to get yourself up and out of the bath and wrapped in a towel before there was a knock at the door again.

“You can come in,” you mumbled, making sure the towel was secured tightly under your arms.

Your Aunty Lessi entered with a little cup filled with pink medicine and a cup of water.  She kneeled down to your height as she offered it to you.

“Now it says strawberry flavoured on the bottle, so hopefully it won’t taste too bad.”

You gingerly took the cup and gulped the medicine down, wincing at the distinctly fake strawberry taste.  You quickly grabbed the cup of water from your Aunty’s other hand and skulled that down to wash away the lingering flavour.

“Good job, Bun.  Now let’s get you into your PJ’s and into bed, yeah?”

By the time you were under the covers, arms tightly wrapped around your beloved Arthur, the pain in your head had dulled to only a mild ache.

“Goodnight sweet girl” your Aunty Lessi whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Night Aunty Lessi” you mumbled back.

It was the first time you slept through the night without waking up to a nightmare since the fire.

--

You woke up to the smell of Aunty Lessi’s lasagne wafting through the house.  However, as you opened your eyes and came to your senses, you immediately panicked. 

You were not in your own bed. 

You were in your Aunties bed.

You had no idea how you’d come to be in their bed.  The last thing you remembered you were lying on the floor in the loungeroom studying one of the books the Arsenal girls had given you about football.  You were trying to understand where all the different positions were on the pitch and what responsibilities each position had.  You had been figuring out the difference between a centre-back and a full-back when you had… fallen asleep.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Whilst it had been a few days now since your accident and you’d had a couple of days off school and your head no longer hurt, you were still feeling extra extra tired from your concussion.  You’d spent most of that day at school trying to hide your yawns from your teacher and classmates.  When you’d been given some free time after finishing one of your activities ahead of the rest of the class, the same group of students that always seemed to catch you at your weakest had caught you dozing off in the corner of the room where you’d been reading.  They’d tied your shoelaces together and were starting to draw on your arm when you woke up.  You hadn’t realised they’d also put rolled up pieces of paper in your hair braid until your Aunty Leah pointed them out when she picked you up.

You’d tried to brush it off and said it was just a game all the kids were playing with each other, but the concerned frown your Aunty gave you implied she didn’t quite believe your lie.

“You know you can tell us if there’s anything going wrong at school, yeah?  If anyone’s picking on you or calling you names or anything?”

You just nodded.  There was no way you would ever tell your Aunties what was really happening at school.  You would just deal with it like a big girl.  Push through.  Be brave.  They had bigger things to worry about than some kids putting paper in your hair and saying mean things.  Your Aunty Leah was growing a human AND mending her busted knee for heaven’s sake!  You could deal with some silly paper in your hair.

When you’d got back to the house, you went straight to your room to undo your braid and pluck all the little pieces of paper from your hair.  You’d counted them (23 in total) before scrunching them up and throwing them in the little wastepaper basket beside your desk. 

As the paper hit the basket, a tiny ball of raging heat began bubbling in your chest.  You didn’t know what to do with it or how to describe it, but it made you want to stomp your feet and hit a wall and scratch at your skin.  You’d never been the best at describing emotions, but you were pretty certain this wasn’t sadness.  Perhaps, this was anger? Frustration? Disappointment? 

The tiny ball continued to bubble and grow as you lunged for your bed where Arthur lay.  You attempted desperately to use your tried and tested method of rubbing his ear against your cheek to calm the feeling, and whilst it felt nice, it did nothing to soothe your need to stomp or hit or scratch.

You searched your room urgently for something else to ease the searing heat in your chest, even gulping down the remnants of a cup of water on your bedside table.  But nothing worked.  You needed to stomp or hit or scratch.  You knew couldn’t stomp your feet or hit a wall, because that would be loud, and your Aunty would hear and come ask what was wrong.  So, you decided to scratch. 

You had to pick somewhere not too visible so that if you left a mark, nobody would see and ask what happened.  So, you tugged up the hem of your school dress and pushed down your tights and began scratching at the skin at the top of your right thigh.

The relief was instant. 

The second your nails dug into your flesh, the little ball of heat in your chest began to cool.  You scratched and scratched, and scratched some more until it finally, finally disappeared.  By the time you eventually stopped, your skin was stinging, and your fingers were cramping.  But the little ball of heat was gone, and that was all that mattered.

There was a gentle knock on the door as you speedily pulled your tights back up, wincing as they brushed against your newly tender skin.

Your Aunty Leah popped her head in through the door, “Bun, do you want a snack? I got some blueberry muffins from the bakery…”

“Oh… um, yeah, I’ll be right down, just getting that paper out of my hair,” you mumbled, quickly running your fingers through the ends of your messy blonde mane.

“Alright, I’ll pop them in the microwave to warm them up,” she replied before heading back downstairs to do so.

As you heard her footsteps fade away, you turned around and pulled your tights down again, trying with all your might not to release a pained noise as the fabric ripped away from your newly raw skin.  The area you’d scratched was an angry red colour and the skin seemed wet, but there was no blood, which whilst a relief, made no sense to you.

Not wanting to keep your Aunty waiting, you hastily pulled your tights the rest of the way off and threw them in your laundry hamper.  The house was warm enough, but you decided to grab your soft little blanket that had purple and grey clouds, as well as the book on football you had been reading and the little notebook you’d been making notes in (and Arthur of course), and head downstairs.

“Perfect timing Bun, just took them out of the microwave.  Do you want a drink?”

“I’m okay.  Thank you, Aunty Leah, this looks lovely” you replied, climbing up onto a stool in front of the kitchen bench where a little plate with a yummy looking blueberry muffin sat.

“Well, we all know the kitchen is Aunty Lessi’s domain.  That woman can cook like a dream!  But I’m not too shabby at picking out a good pastry.  I guess you could say bread and bread-adjacent foods are my domain,” she teased.

You giggled as you tucked into your muffin, appreciating your Aunty Leah’s silly jokes about how bad at cooking she was and how limited the range of foods she ate was.  Your extended family often seemed to tease her a bit about being a picky eater and she would usually laugh it off or join in on the joke.  But you knew it was something she was actually a bit self-conscious about. 

A few days into your stay here you’d gone to the fridge to grab some milk for your cereal and had accidentally knocked a container off a shelf.  As you bent down to pick it up, you noticed a little letter stuck to the lid that read “Leah, my love, it’s okay if you can’t eat this.  I know you tried and I’m proud of you.  Please just make sure you eat something or at least have a protein smoothie.  For you and for ‘L’.  Love you – xx Less.”  You’d immediately felt guilty for reading it as you rushed to put it back on the shelf, knowing you’d intruded on a bit of your Auntie’s privacy.  You’d seen a few similar little notes stuck to containers since then.  At the time you’d been very confused about what “for you and for ‘L’” meant, but you had since figured out it meant ‘for you and for Lemonade’. 

When you finished your muffin, you wriggled off the stool and headed over to place your plate in the dishwasher.

“Are you done with your plate too, Aunty Leah?” you offered.

“Oh, thanks sweetie, you didn’t have to do that,” she replied as she passed you her plate with a smile.  “Feel free to watch something on the telly if you want.  I’ve got a bit of boring adult housework stuff to catch up on before Aunty Lessi gets home.”

“Is there anything you need help with?” you asked.

“No, no.  I’ve just got to do a couple of loads of laundry and there’s no way I would make you deal with Aunty Lessi’s gross smelly training socks!  It’s bad enough poor little Lemonade is stuck with me and can’t escape from it,” she laughed, jokingly shielding her belly from the smell.

“Is it okay if I just read in the loungeroom?” you asked.

“Of course it is!  Just remember if your head starts to hurt or you’re feeling too tired or anything, to have a rest, yeah?” she smiled at you, stroking her fingers affectionately through your hair.

“I will, thank you.”

So, you made yourself comfortable in a little spot on the loungeroom floor, surrounded by a couple of cushions, the blanket you’d brought down from your room and, of course, Arthur.  Soon you were laying on your belly, nose deep in the book and jotting down notes in your notebook all about what a penalty shootout was and what circumstances led to one.  You drew a little picture of the goal and the line markings and where the goalie had to stand and where the other players had to stand, before turning back to the book to read about in-game penalties when slowly but suddenly you… were… asleep.

The next thing you knew you were waking up in your Auntie’s bed to the smell of your Aunty Lessi’s lasagna.

The realisation hit you like a hundred bolts of lightning.

You’d slept in someone else bed.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Bad things happen when you sleep in someone else’s bed.

The last time you’d slept in someone else’s bed, your house burned down, and your Mummy and Daddy had died.

You jumped out of the bed as though it was burning you, panic rattling all through your little body.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your right hand began hitting at the side of your head before you even knew it was happening.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your other hand clawed at the skin of your neck, scratching determinedly at the tender skin there.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

You tried so hard to stop them, but your feet began to stomp loudly, your whole body seemingly moving with a mind of its own.  Everything around you seemed like it was spinning.  You thought you could smell smoke and when your eyes began to water you weren’t sure if it was because you were crying or if it was because there was actually smoke. 

You vaguely heard a commotion and saw the door swing open, but everything around you continued to spin making you feel like throwing up.  You couldn’t throw up in your Auntie’s bedroom!

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

“Bunny?  Sweetie, what’s going on?”

You could hear your Aunty Lessi’s voice and feel her presence, but the only word you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

The word kept falling from your lips and you continued to stomp and hit and scratch.

“Okay, Bun.  I’m going pick you up so you stop hurting yourself sweetie.  I need to make you nice and safe, alright?”

Again, you heard your Aunty but all you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

Carefully you felt your Aunty wrap her arms around you, trapping your arms and lifting you off the ground.  You struggled as your body fought to keep hitting and scratching and stomping, but she gently tugged your hands away from your neck and head, tucking them tightly against her chest.

“You’re okay, lovely.  You’re safe, I promise.  It’s just you, me and Aunty Leah here okay.  Nothing bad is going to happen alright?  We’re safe.  You’re safe.  Everything’s okay…”

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

“What do you mean by bad, Bun?” Aunty Lessi asked.

You shook your head, unable to explain yourself.  All you could say was “bad.”

“Oh sweetie, you haven’t done anything bad.  You’re not in any kind of trouble.  I promise.  And nothing bad is going to happen either, okay?” she whispered.

You began to slowly unclench in her arms, comforted by the soothing way she was swaying gently.  Eventually you opened your eyes to see your Aunty Leah standing in the doorway watching on, her face red and blotchy as though she’d been crying.

You immediately came back into your body, realising whatever you’d just done had upset your Aunty Leah.  You tried to wriggle slightly to free yourself from your Aunty Lessi’s grip, but she tightened her hold.

“Not yet sweetie.  I need to what’s going on?  What happened?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.  I didn’t mean to be bad and upset Aunty Leah.  I’m so sorry.  I promise I’ll be good.  I promise.”

“Darling, you didn’t upset me” your Aunty Leah assured you as she came over to sit next to Aunty Lessi on the bed.

“But your face is blotchy like you’ve been crying” you replied, your Aunty Lessi finally loosening her grip on her as your reached toward Aunty Leah.

“Well, it’s because I have been, but it’s not because you upset me.  I’m just worried about you is all.  Why were you hurting yourself?” she asked, taking your hand in hers.

“I just had to.  I don’t know.  I just did.  I was bad.”  You jumped off Aunty Lessi’s lap and started pacing on the floor in front of her and Aunty Leah.   “I woke up in this bed and I had no idea why I was in your bed and all I could think was ‘bad’ and I just did it without realising.”

“I washed your sheets and they’re in the dryer.  So, when you fell asleep on the loungeroom floor, I just put you in here for your nap.  I didn’t mean for it to upset you so much, sweetie,” Aunty Leah explained, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

“You didn’t upset me, I just I don’t want you and Aunty Lessi and Lemonade to die too!”

You heard your Aunties gasp at your explanation, but you just kept pacing, trying to figure out a way to stop the inevitable from happening.

“Bunny, oh my goodness, why would Aunty Leah and Lemonade and I die because you had a nap in our bed?”

“Because that’s what happened when I slept in Mummy and Daddy’s bed!”

You watched as your Aunties exchanged a series of looks.  The seemed confused and shocked, which was confusing and shocking to you, because it all seemed so obvious.

“Darling, your Mummy and Daddy didn’t die because you slept in their bed,” Aunty Leah tried to tell you.

“Yes, they did!  They did.  They DID!  I know they did!  It’s the only thing different I did that night from all the other nights.  I had done so so good all summer getting into my big girl routine and kept it up really well for the first couple of weeks of school.  But then… then I slipped up, and I was bad and I asked to sleep in bed with Mummy and Daddy that night.  And and th- the fire happened.  And if I had of been in my own room, I could have got myself out.  Because we’d practiced.  Daddy made sure we practiced.  And and and then… then Da-Daddy wouldn’t have needed to get me out and he could have helped Mummy because of her leg.  And they could have got out too.  But I was bad.  I slept in a bed that wasn’t mine.  When I should have just slept in my own bed, like a good girl.  Like a big girl.  And now they’re dead.  They’re both dead.  And it’s my fault.  And now what if you die too!?”

[mingis-orangejuice]

Love and Deepspace Boys with an MC that's good with children Part.2: Xavier

Summary: You and Xavier help a little boy find his mom. Xavier loves the thought of one day starting a family with you

a/n: this one was really cute, I almost made it way longer. i was gonna add so much more banter back and fourth with the cotton candy vendor but it would have made this fic super long

Genres/Warnings: just pure teeth rotting fluff

Word count: 831

Previous parts 1, 3, 4

You and Xavier were walking hand in hand down the streets of Linkon City. just enjoying each other’s company. You can hear faint crying coming from an alleyway. “Do you hear that?” you stop and hold onto Xavier’s arm for him to stop too.

“I don’t hear anything.” he pauses and cups his ear to try and hear better.

“It sounds like crying. I wonder where it’s coming from?” You start to follow the sound, Xavier close behind still trying to hear what you hear.

You turn down the nearest ally and see a little boy sitting on a box crying. You quickly move towards him. You bend down next to him “What's wrong buddy? Are you lost?”

Without saying a thing he grabs you into a hug and starts crying even more. Xavier standing behind you tries to ask again “Hey friend do you need us to help you find your way home, we’re Linkon City hunters and we’d love to help.” The boy stops crying for a moment and looks up at you two

“You’re hunters? That means you can help me find my mommy right? She’s lost and I don’t know where she is” His eyes start to well up with tears again

“Don’t worry hun” you say as you take a tissue out of your pocket to wipe his tears. We’ll definitely find your mommy, hunters are always here to help.” You say with a smile. You pick him up, stand and you all head out of the alley. 

“What does your mommy look like?” you ask the boy.

“She’s really pretty, just like you,” he said squeezing your cheeks together

You laugh “and what else? Is she tall, or short, what colour is her hair?

“Umm she’s tall and has long black curly hair, and umm…” he says trying to think of more descriptors.

“So when did you last see her?” Xavier interrupted

“I don’t know, we went to the market together and I said I wanted cotton candy from the cotton candy stall and I went to go get some but then Mommy disappeared.” the boy explained

“Hmm, so we’re looking for a tall curly-haired lady at a cotton candy stall.” at this point, you 3 are now just across the street from the open-air market and it's swarming with people “This is gonna be harder than we thought.” Xavier thought out loud.

“What?” the boy says tears starting to form again. “I thought you said you were hunters and you could find my mommy?” the little boy starts to cry again. 

You shoot Xavier a look. “Why would you say that?” you lightly slap Xavier’s arm “We’ll definitely find your mom, don’t worry. Even if we have to search all night we’ll find her. You have my word as a hunter” 

The boy seemed to brighten up after that. You crossed the street and into the marketplace. You searched for about an hour when you came across the cotton candy vendor. “Oh hello, son did you come back with your mom and dad for more cotton candy? The vendor asked referring to you and Xavier. 

“No this isn’t my mommy and daddy, they’re hunters and they’re gonna help me find them. The boy informed.

“Oops I’m sorry, but…” the vendor looks at both you and Xavier. “Though, you have to admit you 3 make a cute family.”

Xavier’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink picturing being with you and your own baby as a little happy family. “Haha yeah I guess we do” he rubs the back of his neck

You look at Xavier and smile, but quickly get back to business and give the vendor the description of the boy’s mother, but before he can answer…

“There you are!” a voice from behind you calls out. You all turn around to see a lady just as the boy described.

“Mommy!!! The boy quickly reached out to his mom to hug her almost falling out of your arms, but thankfully she caught him. “These cool hunters helped me find you!” he exclaimed

His mom looked at both of you with a smile. “Thanks so much for helping him, Linkon City should be proud to have hunters like you two.” she thanks you again by buying you each some cotton candy and leaves with her son.

You and Xavier are now walking out of the market together eating your cotton candy. “That was nice of her,” you say looking at Xavier.

“Yeah next time we should help a kid next to a meat skewer stall” he laughs and you playfully nudge him. “But the vendor was right about one thing”

“What's that?” you turn to look at Xavier as he reaches for your hand.

“We did look like a family back there, it was nice.” he looks lovingly into your eyes for a moment.  “And hey, maybe if we come back as a family he'll give us a discount” Xavier winks at you mischievously.

[maxillness]

╰┈➤Darling Hassu || KR7 x wife!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Angst, nipple play, oral (f), fingering

Wordcount: 1.3k

Kimi would say he was fine, if it wasn’t for the way he had noticed his wife was starting to drift away from him

She stood at the kitchen island, writing stuff down on a piece of paper

Kimi walked up to her, snaking his arms around her waist, putting his chin on her shoulder

“I was thinking, that we could get your sister take the kids, and we could go out” He said low, kissing the spot on her shoulder that were bare

“I have that meeting tomorrow” She said, not once putting her pen down, or showing any kind of hurt or guilt, or any kind of change in her voice

“Mh. Forgot about that. Okay. You coming to bed?” He asked, kissing her cheekbone

“Yeah. A minute. Just need to finish this up” She sighed, shifting slightly on her feet

30 minutes went by before she slid into bed, making sure not to wake her sleeping husband

She was fast asleep, but felt a big hand on her hip before she did, holding her body flushed against his

The next morning, Kimi woke up by his alarm. He turned it off before realising her side of the bed was empty

He turned on his phone, seeing a message from his missing wife

I went to work early

No ‘I love you’. No ‘see you later’. No heart emoji. No nothing

He sighed and put down his phone before he got out of bed

“Daddy, where’s mommy?” Their daughter asked as they sat to eat breakfast

“She went to work early, hassu” He said, smiling, knowing damn well he wondered if she actually were at work

“She’s gonna be out late, isn’t she?” Their son asked, sighing

He nodded “She’s got a meeting tonight” He sighed, putting his spoon down into his bowl

“But it’s Friday” The girl whined “It’s movie night” You could see the tears start to swell in her eyes

“I know, baby” He brushed her hair out of her face “But… We can go to your aunts and watch movies with her instead” The girl’s eyes shot up and she smiled while nodding quickly

“Good. Hurry up or you’re gonna be late for school”

Kimi had gotten home that night without the kids. They wanted to stay at their aunt’s for the weekend

He sat on the back porch with a glass of some liquor as he heard the front door open and close inside

He stood up and got inside. He discarded of his glass in the kitchen as he made his way into her study

He stood in the doorway, watching as she didn’t notice him there

“Are you still in love, my darling?” He asked, standing in his spot fiddling with his fingers. She didn’t look up, almost like she didn’t hear him

“Did you fall out of love, my darling” He said, this time making her look up. She saw the way his eyes turned glossy

“What?” She asked confused, not knowing what the fuck he was talking about

“Please don’t run away, don’t leave” Her facial expression turned into something with guilt as a tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek

“Are you still in love, my darling? Did you fall out of love, my darling?” She turned her whole body so that she was facing him

“N-no. It’s not like that, hassu” She stood up, making her way over to him “I love you so, so, so much” Her own eyes were swelling up as well “I could never imagine a life without you” She took his face into both of her hands

“Then what? I miss you” He said, putting his hands on her hips, squeezing her softly

“I-I’ve just been stressed. Work is killing me at the moment. I’m so sorry, baby” She stood slightly on her toes, pulling herself up to kiss him softly

He snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her further into the kiss, making her arms fall around his neck

“I know we haven’t been intimate for weeks, b-but, I’ve just been so tired lately” She said as she pulled back

“Then let me take care of you” He said low “Let me make you scream so loud the neighbours will hear you”

She was surprised by his comment “The kids-“

“At your sisters until Sunday” She looked up into his eyes, pupils blown wide, hiding the colour in the iris

She barely got to nod before she was dragged into the bedroom and thrown onto the bed

Kimi hovered over her, kissing her roughly as his hands made work of her shirt, pulling it over her head before attaching his lips to her neck

She whimpered as his thumb went over her clothed nipples. His hands went behind her, unhooking her bra and throwing it to the floor with her shirt

His lips immediately went around one of her nipples while his hand played with the other, drawing all kind out soft sounds out of her

“K-Kimi. Please. Hassu, please” Her eyes were closed as arched her back up into his touch

He caved in, trailing his lips and hands down her body. His lips settled on her lower abdomen above the waistband of her pants as his hands worked on getting them off of her

He pressed his tongue to her clit through her panties, drawing out a high-pitched moan out of her

She gripped the sheets tightly as he started pulling her panties down, his fingertips ghosting slightly over her skin

He started kissing the insides of her thighs, kissing all the way up to attach his lips around her clit, tongue flicking it, drawing out loud moan from her

“Yes. Fuck. Hassu, please” She moaned, bucking her hips up into his mouth, making him dig his nails into her thighs, pulling her down to the bed again

“Kimi, p-please” She pleaded, wanting his fingers so badly inside of her

He gave in on her plead, teasing her entrance with two of his fingers, his tongue still toying with her clit

She gripped the sheets so tight as he entered her fingers, that she was afraid she’d rip them

He started with slow motions as he kissed her thighs again, earning a whine from the loss of the contact

He started going faster, curling his fingers as well, hitting the spot inside her that made her see stars as her thighs shook

She was moaning so loud she was sure she’d have a throat burn tomorrow, and wouldn’t be able to speak for at least a couple of days

He had missed to hear her loud sounds. She would normally never hold back, but after they had gotten the kids, she’d had to keep her sounds at bay

“F-fuck. Kimi, ‘m so close. P-please- ah” Her body shook as she was nearing her orgasm, clenching down around his fingers as he sped up his curling of his fingers

She didn’t get another word out before she was coming around his fingers, body shaking rapidly as she clenched around him

He slowed down, riding her orgasm out. She whimpered as he pulled out of her

She looked down at him, watching as he wiped her juices off his lower part of his face

He gave the inside of her thigh a quick kiss before getting off of the bed

He got himself into a pair of sweats before going over to the bed with some clean clothes for her to sleep in

She sat up and pulled the fresh panties on and the oversized t-shirt over her torso

“I feel bad I can’t help you” She said, noticing the very obvious boner in his sweats

“Don’t fuss about it, hassu. Tonight was all about you” He said, pulling her body into his as they laid under the sheets

[maopll]

Could I request Kaeya, Diluc, Thoma and Ayato with an s/o who, when jealous, stays quiet and nuzzles her face into their chest.

SOLACE

# genshin impact !

⌗:, a/n: I would SQUISH my face into their tits your honour

⌗:, warning: might seem female inclined, mentions if petnames & endearments, lil angst in ayato

⌗:, pairings: kaeya, diluc, thoma, ayato & gn!reader (separately)

You two went out on a date after a long time because moments like these were sparse because of his hectic schedule, hoping to spend a romantic time together only for a random woman to turn your mood sour as they started flirting with your already taken lover....he got the random lady away but your reaction is....

KAEYA —

Less than a dozen words were shared between you two while returning home. Kaeya has never been this tensed about the current situation. He has handled many of these with ease only since they were work related, but with you,it's a different story. He closed the door behind, and when he tried to say sorry, you suddenly tackled him and hid your face in his chest.

He was quite surprised, but his gaze grew soft as he hugged you back, his one hand caressing your head and the other one wrapped tightly around your waist. "Were you jealous dear?" he asked teasingly. "just...stay close to me next time someone approaches..." you said sheepishly, words barely above a whisper, but he heard your words. Your ears and face were almost on fire because of how embarrassed you felt since you got jealous because of just a chance encounter between your lover and a random lady. He let out a hearty laughter and kissed you because of how adorable you were acting. He promises you that he would never abandon you nor be the reason of your tears.

DILUC —

He was tensed and anxious, thinking he might have ruined your once jolly mood with just the appearance of a random woman who you clearly did not like. But oh god...this situation is bad, you weren't even talking nor holding his hand. Once inside the house, he hung his coat and made a beeline towards the shower so that he could think of some words that might make you feel better.

As soon as he stepped foot outside the shower, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled your neck in his shoulder. He hugged your waist to give you support to lean on since your feet were clearly not touching the ground. His hair still wet, and the towel hung low on his waist. He was surprised by your sudden move. "Dear? you might get wet..." he further nuzzled your face into his neck, "y'know I did not like when you were around that woman...". His eyes grew wide, he was taken aback but he grinned softly. A soft chuckle reverberated from his chest and he softly kissed you on the lips. "why must I talk to another lady when I already have an angel beside me ?". You smiled seeing his lovesick face with a bright red blush akin to the colour of his hair.

THOMA —

He was already tired after all the housework he had to do and now he had to deal with a lady who suddenly started to claim him as hers. He knew your feelings like the back of his hand and he could very well understand that you didn't take the conversation between your lover and that lady very well.

It was already quite late into the night. While on your way he decided to confront you at the bridge in inazuma city. " [name]...did I offend you somehow ? please don't be angel I'm sorry.." Although you two share a lot with eachother and believed that none of you would cheat, he knew you felt jealous inside and being the good boyfriend he is he wanted to comfort his dearest the most. "so let me make it up to you plea—" before he could finish his sentence you kissed him, rather roughly, but that familiar love was eminent. "there...don't be sorry over everything...you couldn't have possibly guessed her trying to make a move on you yeah?". You held him close to you by his neck. "but! I still do deserve to be cuddled...I hope you are not going to take back your words babe?". He heartily laughed at your so adorable and sweet behaviour. How can he refuse the wishes of his beloved when you are acting so cute.

AYATO —

"dear? are you still mad at me?" he would quietly ask but your mind was still occupied with the idea of ayato with someone other that yourself. You loved him dearly and he reciprocated the same feelings to you. But you could never forget the difference in status and power between you two. Although he promised to not let the barrier of status in society hinder your relationship, you couldn't help but feel worried and sad more than jealous. However, you had to admit that you were, truly, jealous.

"Love?" he said a little loudly "I've been trying to call you..what happened?". Your mind has been so preoccupied the last few minutes that you didn't realise you were at Chinju forest. You abruptly hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "ayato, you'd never leave me right? you will always love me right?" you said softly but the pain evident in your voice. He knows you like the back of his hand. He caressed you back carefully and whispered in your ear with gentleness "I am forever yours darling" he turned his eyes to look at you "now dry those tears, you know how I would do anything for you". His words provided you faith. You cracked a smile on your lips "now my darling looks beautiful!" he kissed you on the lips and you once again resumed the journey towards your humble abode.

[discopaddock]

SORE LOSER - FARLEIGH START

PAIRING: farleigh start x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff

WORD COUNT: 592

WARNINGS: my english, farleigh is a bit sad

AUTHOR'S NOTE: based on this request

Sometimes Farleigh felt like an outsider in his own house. Well maybe Saltburn wasn't his own house, but he still spent the most of his life there and when the whole Oliver situation happened, he felt even more unloved by his own family.

When the whole plate thing happened he had no idea where to go.

But then he suddenly knew.

She was the only person he ever cared about. And he hoped she cared about him too.

So he stood at the door of her family house and hoped she was inside. When he saw her mother he almost felt the tears forming in his eyes.

He asked about her. If she was at home or wasn't. The woman said nothing but called for her daughter, adding that she had a guest. The girl quickly showed at the doorstep and smiled as she saw a friend of hers.

“Hi, Farleigh” she said and hugged him and then she felt how tense he was. She knew something happened, he wouldn't be at hers if not.

He hugged her back and walked into the house next. She asked what had happened, when they were finally in her room. This very pink coloured room, that used to get on his nerves, whenever he was there, now was like some sanctuary for him.

Or maybe she just was there for him.

“They hate me” Farleigh mumbled only and hugged the white teddy bear that he gave her at her last birthday as a present.

“I'm sorry, Far” she said, kissed his cheek and hugged him again.

This was the moment that he knew – she was the one.

He could hate everyone but her. She was always there for him and he was so happy to have her around every time. He loved her and it wasn't platonic love.

“I adore you” he whispered, sure of his words. He had never said it to anybody before.

“And I adore you, Farleigh,” she answered and looked up to his face. He was smiling again. “You're staying here, right?”

“Only if your parents say so” he replied and hugged her tighter.

“Gonna ask them,” she announced and stood up. “Oh, and Farleigh, don't smoke in this house” she said dead serious and he only chuckled.

For the next few days the two of them were inseparable. Every activity they were doing together.

Farleigh even went playing golf with her and her dad, even though he found it boring.

“I won!” she yelled, satisfied, jumping a little. Farleigh only shook his head, smiling. The girl's father wasn't with them, because he was golfing with his friends, so they were alone on the course.

“Oh, stop being so grasping” he scoffed and hit the ball with his wedge.

“You are such a sore loser, Farleigh,” she said and ran after him.

“Oh, you sure?” he stopped, so she ran at him and bounced off his chest, almost falling on the ground, but he caught her.

“Yeah, yeah I am” she answered and then he kissed her without saying anything.

The girl felt like in a fairytale. Farleigh, the boy she had a crush on for years, was kissing her.

“You're an excellent kisser, you know?” he chuckled at her question and kissed her again, lifting her up a little.

“Let's go, I have to win with you” Farleigh laughed and started to run to the place where the ball fell with her hand in his.

“You're such a sore loser” the girl laughed with red cheeks and ran with him.

masterlist

[kanmom51]

PJM2 is coming

MUSE

I literally cannot contain my excitiement.

Sitting her, at work may I say, putting these words on paper, so to speak, because f***ing hell, wtf JM?

Where to start?

The colour concepts? The choice of name? Choice of font (That JM popping to eye)? The flower? The links to TTU (notes sheet and flower)? The whole play with Closer than this? The dropped lyrics?

This man is a friggin genius (not that we didn't know this already)...

There is so much to talk about, and he hasn't even started with the promotions, and we haven't even seen the concept photos or the album and the songs. Name, colours, 2 lines of lyrics and we have our hands full already. They certainly know what they are doing.

Before I jump in, I want to, once again, state very loudly and clearly that everything written here are my opinions, which are based on what we've been handed so far, and could change the more we are shown.

So, let's get it...

JM fetching this from the purple locker (which we don't see are purple off the bat and only when the lights turn on). Notes for The Truth Untold.

His wittle thumb with his crescent moon.

The notes title : La lettra - The letter. Hmm... interesting.

And then this:

We have the flower:

and this that makes me believe that yes indeed, it is the silhouette of a Smeralso.

Some of this I am yet to see where is going. like the referencing of "the letter", The truth untold, the flower... (she says, all while thinking of the choice this Festa to stream LY Seoul final with said song and the changes that JM and JK chose to make to it)...

All that and more in one little short clip.

And then we have that little 'chat' opened up by BH, and those lyrics. Oh, those lyrics.

All references that indeed can be connected with army. I mean, that's what JM is king of.

All also a clear reference to a one Jeon Jungkook, if you are only willing to look and see.

Rain

Snow

Crying

We have this:

Which they have BOTH chose to bring up once again in 2023, JK happening to do so during JM's Face promos, not to mention the rain reference in SNTY (and of course, goes without saying Still with you, but that's back in 2020, while they have both managed to bring it up and reference it once again in 2023).

Remember this?

Oh, and what about this?

And then we have these:

Remember JM tearing up after winning MMA for BS&T ?

JM getting emotional and crying only followed by JK tearing up.

*If you haven't seen this one yet, go watch the full live.

And who can forget JK during MOTS ONE as well, seeing JM crying, distress clearly showing on his face, just waiting for the moment he can go and comfort JM.

If these are actual lyrics for a song to come or lyrics that were dropped, one thing we know, and that these words, these lines, they were written by JM, and he made a clear choice to share them with us.

And in doing so, sorry, I'm still not believing this all while sitting here gushing and knowing this was coming (no, I didn't know this specifically was coming, but the feeling that they were going big or going home, that I've had ever since July 2023... took some time and many tribulations, but we are getting there folks). Sidetracked as I always am, lol.

Back on track.... in doing so, JM is basically standing on a rooftop screaming at the top of his lungs:

Not 1, not 2, but 3 JK references in that little shared piece of lyrics clearly written by JM, for an album we are yet to see and hear.

Anyone, and I mean anyone that is a BTS army, that has seen original content, that has followed their Twitter account or seen older tweets, that are open and willing to see it, will KNOW that these lyrics are JAYKAY!!!!!

And let me backtrack a second here...

Cause I did mention that these references could be understood as if they are made for army, right?

So yeah. Army references or JK references? I am going to say both, leaning very much to the JK side of it. Cause that's how they do it. Time after time after time.

Let's mention the colour choices as well.

We have the background colours.

We have the yellow.

And then we have the album concepts.

2 concepts.

Blooming

and Serenade.

Which happens to be Yellow, same colour threaded through Serendipity.

And we even have purple thrown in there too.

Notice how all the lockers are painted purple. The colour of army you may say, but also JK's colour (so again, army and JK?).

And he's pulling out the music sheet from this purple locker.

Those lockers representing his inspiration for his music perhaps?

Giving us these lyrics, then telling us the album is called Muse (or telling us the name of the album and it's meaning and then dropping those lyrics, take your pick regarding the timing, cause basically, same same), showing us the music being extracted from those purple lockers... ya think his muse is that entity he's talking about in those lyrics perhaps (even more so if we see the references as both for army and JK)?

Rhetorical question, btw.

And then we have the mint green.

Perhaps this is what JM was talking about when he told us in his birthday live, if memory serves me right, about going to the starting point, or more so starting from the beginning trying to figure out himself as an artist?

Also, cannot help but think of this image here:

I cannot wait to see his concept photos, and where this is all going.

We talked about JK being so loud during 2023 (well, he's had his super loud moments before that, but 2023 and his lives were smoking). And JM, well it felt (and I say felt, cause it's not really true, and I'll explain why) was quieter, more subdued, especially during JK's Golden promotions.

But here's the thing.

JM and JK have their own special oh so different ways of being loud and showing us themselves (and it shows even more so seeing that JK, for whatever reasons he had for it, did not write his songs for Golden - not saying he did not have influence on the lyrics or choice of songs with lyrics he wanted). JK did it through his choices in his photo shoots and styling for his songs and album. He did it with his lives and his total fanboying over JM. And JM, he does it through his art, which includes also but not only his lyrics.

Those two are both loud as fuck. And JM, well if these sneak lyrics are a promo of more to come (which, they probably are seeing that we have Face to fall back on as an example), then he's as loud as a frigging foghorn.

And last but not least, before I go:

Lookie here...

D-31

[thekissofaphrodite]

Hey can I request a Luke Castellan x Rodríguez reader she is Chris Rodriguez half sister from mom side and she is maybe a demigod too or half witch or whatever and she is innocent and completely different from him and not one have idea of her existence because him is very protect of her and fluffy and happy ending.

I SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING 🤭

Ms. Rodriguez

Luke Castellan x Rodriguez!reader

Summary: A visit from your halfbrother and his best friend 🤭

Warnings: Some kissing, angst

Author's note: I'm in the verge of having a breakdown, my hair isn't cooperating, I'm uncomfortable and i don't feel well. But I'm still here to serve

——

Chris and Luke stood infront of a cream and yellow coloured suburban house, it had a white picket fence and a small garden, birds were chirping, and the sun was setting within the horizon.

"Are you sure we're in the right address?" Luke asked, looking around the neighbourhood, there were kids playing near the streets, middle aged woman, leaned against their fence, gossiping and a man washing his car. It was surely different, he never left camp and seeing all that was new to him.

"Of course. She'll like you man, don't worry" Chris said, patting Luke at the back, He rang the doorbell, at first, no one answered, but then, there was a teenage girl who poked her head on a window, a beam appeared on her face.

"MOM! CHRIS IS HERE!" The girl yelled, her footsteps thudding while she ran downstairs.

There was an indistinct voice of a woman, and sure enough, the door opened.

It revealed a woman with curly medium dark brown hair, with black eyes and tan skin, she was wearing a floral dress and an apron, when she saw chris, she immediately engulfed her boy into a hug.

"Oh my baby!" The woman began smothering Chris' cheeks with kisses, totally forgetting about Luke who stood beside Chris awkwardly. But Chris decides to pull away from his mom.

"Ma! Stop it's embarrassing" Chris mumbled, his mom laughed, Then, in the corner of her eyes, she saw Luke.

"Oh! Where are my manners?! You must be Luke, I'm Chris' mom, Carmen" Luke acknowledge the woman, he offered his hand for a handshake but was engulfed into a hug.

"We don't do handshakes, Mi hijo" Said Carmen, Luke can smell the mix of spices and a hint of floral perfume on the woman's clothes, He inhailed it, and somehow, it gave him a sense of comfort.

Behind Carmen stood a girl, No older than sixteen.

"Ah, this is Y/n, You've met her, I suppose?" Asked Carmen, You ran and jumped into your brother's arms.

"I missed you chris!" You squealed, Chris smiled and hugged you back, Leaving Luke awkwardly again.

"This is—"

"—Luke, I know" you said, pulling away from Chris and facing his friend. You looked at him, He had curly hair, a tall and muscular figure, there was also this playful grin on his face that he and Chris shared.

"Before all the talking, Come inside!" Carmen ushered, "Y/n, call your father, supper is almost ready, tell him we have guests" You obediently obliged, running upstairs with your thigh length Nike shorts. It'd be weird if Luke admitted that he liked it.

"Sit down, The food is still cooking, would you like some cookies?"

Cookies

Luke froze, Memories of his mother flooded his head again, the noises around him became indistinct, His breathing became ragged and heavy, His eyes blurred with tears. indescribable rage filled inside him before Carmen's soothing voice brought him back.

"Mi querido, are you alright?" Asked Carmen, Luke immediately wiped a tear that rolled down his cheek.

"Yes Mrs. Rodriguez, I'm sorry.."

"What for? We're your family, sweetheart..and no need to call me Mrs. Rodriguez, it makes me sound so old...Carmen would do" She smiled, Her smile brought Luke comfort again..but he can't describe it.

"Of course"

There was a moment of silence as Carmen walked back to the kitchen.

"You okay man?" Chris rubbed Luke's back and recieved a nod from the boy.

"Yeah.."

When you came back down stairs, a middle aged man was walking right behind you, He looked decent with a neatly trimmed beard and a man bun.

"Dad's here ma!" You yelled before flopping on the couch beside Luke.

Chris stood up and went to greet his Stepdad.

"Hey there, bud" Your dad patted Chris' back and hugged him, Luke stood up and shook his hand.

"Dad, this is Luke, My halfbrother" Chris said. Luke assumed that the man would be weirded out, The fact that he was Chris' halfbrother, and the man probably didn't know about Demigods, But surprisingly, The man smiled and patted Luke.

"Nice to finally meet Chris' favourite brother" Your dad joked, Luke smiled.

"He said that?"

"Yeah, i mean, i can see why"

"Don't get fooled by Adrian, he's full of surprises" Said Carmen, She placed the caserole on the table and unwrapped her apron.

When they all sat down, Luke learned more about Chris' family. When Carmen married Adrian 17 years ago and they had you, Adrian being Chris' father figure.

Luke felt quite jealous, All his life, He felt alone, What happened to his mom was Hermes' fault, it was all Hermes, Luke hated him, seeing Chris with his family makes him want to drag Hermes and make him apologise to his mother.

The dinner was full of chatter, Carmen asked Chris what camp is like, and Adrian was preparing desert. You were across Luke, silently eating your mom's Paella.

Luke wanted to start a conversation with you, It was maddening, he wanted to hear your voice and your laughs again.

"What about you, Y/n? I saw you talking to the Adler boy down the street" Said your father, Your head immediately snapped up.

"I was asking him about our homework, we were in the same algebra class" There was a hint of annoyance in your voice, You met Luke's eyes across the dining table.

"And i have a crush on someone else, Okay?" Your dad whistled teasingly, Chris laughed and Your mom suddenly found you interesting.

"Who is it?" Your mom asked, Your dad and Chris looked at you, waiting for an answer.

"Secret" They all groaned, but Luke stayed silent.

——

After dinner, Chris went to his room to get something, leaving you and Luke alone in the living room.

The movie 'Troy' was playing, and you were quietly watching, Luke right beside you.

"I hate that movie"

You turned your head towards him, eyes glinting with fascenation.

"It's not gay enough for you?"

Luke laughed, he threw his head bob giving you a view of his Adam's apple.

"Not quite, i hate the way they represent Heroes" He sat right beside you, watching the scene where Achilles wiped Briseis' face.

"About what you said in the dinner table, is it true you like someone?"

Your heart started beating faster.

"Yes"

"Who is it?"

You turned to him, a blush appeared on your cheeks.

"I think it's pretty obvious"

His hands found your cheeks and before you know it, you were kissing him in the living room, the movie still playing, but the only thing that you feel is Luke's lips and the way it move against yours.

You two pulled away when you heard a car pulling up in the driveway.

The blush on your cheeks won't fade away, but you'll definitely remind your mom to invite Luke on Holidays.

An extra bc ily guys

——

"This is such a nice movie, don't you think?" Chris munched on a whole bucket of popcorn, He was sat in between you and Luke.

"Yeah..."

"I'll remind mom and dad to get another set of couch"

[hansslut]

smoking weed with nat for the first time 🍃҂𑁯࣭࣭

summary ❚ you go to your best friend's trailer to ask for the notes she took for you in class, but you get carried away and soon, she offers you to take a drag from her blunt.

warnings ❚ aged up!nat, gn!goody 2 shoes!reader, weed use, use of nicknames, reader is inexperienced, mentions of lottie, nat is flirty as hell, not proofread

sighing as you walked towards your best friend's trailer, you picked the skin off your nails while looking at the ground. you were mad at yourself for skipping school for a week straight because you were sick, and it was safe to say you were beyond stressed, dissapointed at yourself as you had never missed school before or any assignments.

as you reached nat's trailer, you went to knock at the door but you were greeted immediately by her lanky figure scrambling to open the door with a big, almost boyish grin playing on her lips.

“notes?” she asked while opening the door wider, and you nodded right after, stepping foot into her trailer and closing the door behind you as you sat down on her couch, your hands on your knees as you waited for her to return with your notes.

5 minutes had passed and she still hadn't come back yet, you raised an eyebrow and went to go look for her before she came in running and accidentally bumping on you. “woah— sorry” she chuckled before biting her lip and avoiding to meet your gaze, making you rub your temple with your fingers as you sighed again.

“forgot to take notes?” you asked and crossed your arms under your chest while tapping your foor impatiently. “listen— i may have forgotten, but heyhey! listen it's the thought that counts!” she said quickly as she saw you walking towards the door to leave, her hand grasping the door handle to prevent you from leaving.

“nat i don't have time for your games now, we have an exam tomorrow” you whined, on the verge of tears as you bit your lip anxiously, making nat frown, a comforting hand pulling you into a hug. “okay so listen, how about you relax a bit here and then we can call lottie so you can get the notes and ace the test?” she spoke softly in your ear while rubbing your back.

nodding to her question, a smile found it's way on her face again as she dragged you by the hand towards her room that you knew all too well, yet always fascinated you.

as you were busy looking at all the colourful posters of david bowie, nirvana, guns and roses, you felt her moving her hand in front of your face to wake you up from your thoughts. “yeah sorry” you sat down and looked at blunt between her plump lips while rolling her eyes.

“told you it's bad for you” you said while trying to snatch the blunt away from her and throw it out, but instead she just laughed, placing a hand on your hip and leaning her head back with the blunt still between her lips so you don't get it from her. “yeah, but you're not my parent, are you?” she smirked while saying that, knowing that it'd make you mad, and when you went to open your mouth, she spoke again.

“besides, why don't you try some? you're really stressed, hm? might help you” she rubbed your hip with her thumb while looking at you through the smoke, the joint hanging from her lips.

thinking about it, you shifted a bit and looked down before just nodding. “fine, whatever” nat laughed at your response and leaned over towards you, putting the blunt between your lips, looking at your reaction carefully.

not long after, you started coughing and nat chuckled, rubbing your back again. “easy there buddy” she teased “just take a small drag of it and relax, i'm right here babe, you're okay” she gave you the joint this time, showing you how to hold it properly, and when you took a drag successfully without coughing, nat smirked and twirled a strand of your hair around her finger. “good job doll” she laughed when you leaned your head back on the wall, the weed finally kicking in.

all thoughts of the exam and taking the notes from lottie were soon slipped out of your mind as you were at your highest with nat, laughing at every word she said, both of your eyes were red and hazy.

the next day when you saw lottie waving at you, you ignored her, mad at her for not giving you the notes. you saw her approaching you but turned the other way. “hey, did i do something? why aren't you talking to me?"

as soon as she said that, you looked at her while scoffing and pouting angrily. “yeah, you did do something! you didn't give me the notes yesterday when i called you to ask for them!” you replied annoyed, and saw lottie raise an eyebrow in confusion. “but... you never called?” she said confused, looking between you and nat, you had a defeated face while nat was trying not to laugh, biting her lip to hold back a laugh as she looked at you, the memories of you and nat in her trailer all coming back.

“oh...” you bit your lip too awkwardly before looking around. “w-well, i gotta go! see you at lunch” you smiled at lottie before grabbing nat's hand and running away. “that was so embarrassing oh my god” you whisper yelled into nat's ear, shoving her softly, erupting into laughter later on.

[gildedkrone]

meine Sonne

“Why do you keep waiting for him?”

The sunsets are the colours of violet on the metropolis and the drink in your hand has long gone cold. Winters in London are brutal; rainy days and grey skies overcast with the doubts in the heart—forlornly watching the future become present.

“Schatz, I want to know.” The Austrian flag on his arm, with some of its thread loose from the physicality of his job, never once replaced as the man held your patchwork on his uniform as always. He always said, it’s from you—that’s what makes it special.

The patch had been with him through heaven and hell and now, it brings him to the Sky Garden dome in London. The poignant stares are nothing to him as he rests a palm on yours between plates of half finished meals.

His heart is twisting so painfully and pulling into dead knots when he spots the glisten near your eyes and the restraint it takes to hold back, knowing that he hasn’t yet earned the right to wipe away those tears of someone else’s making.  

“I don’t know.” He moves closer and you finish the drink in one go and gloved hands take the glass away from you before it could fall through your fingers and go smashing into the marble flooring.

“I guess I thought I had a chance with him. I—hic—I-He told me I was worth it, once. Back during the mission in Siberia, he came back for me. Even if everyone told him not to, he still came back and I—I just thought we had something.”

König listens.

“I keep waiting for him, because one day, I don’t fucking know, I wish he would just see me—see that I’m here. That I am here, waiting for him. All of his extra duties, I take them. I do everything to show him that I-I care about him and he—”

“He never acknowledges them. He knows I am the one doing all of this for him and yet …”

König grasp on your palm tightens and he offers a napkin.

“Y-you shouldn’t have to hear about this. I’m sorry, König.” The bellow in his throat is building to a fervour; all the words he wanted to say, locked away behind a wall he’s built with his own hands.

For once, König wishes to live without the social anxiety that’s come to shadow his existence.

“It’s not right”—he speaks with such conviction and the mask around his face shifts with the rippling flesh underneath—“it’s not right, what he’s doing to you.”

“I just … keep waiting for him and he never looks back. Not since his sergeant met his death two months ago.”

John MacTavish. König has heard of him before, in passing comment.

“I keep holding out for hope; hope that he would at the very least, tell me, if he isn’t interested at all. His glances make me stay, even if he shows it to others. A few months ago, he even made a toast during a Christmas party. He said my name, you know? I thought I was dreaming, but it was my name he spoke.”

I thought we had something, unspoken.

It’s the hope that destroys us all—König knows this, knows this all too well.

“He gives you just enough attention to keep you wanting him, but never enough to make a move.”

You grimace is sardonic and you agree with him.

“Yeah. I … Is it so much to ask for to be loved?”

No, it’s not, schatz.

“This relationship? It’s not healthy and you … you don’t deserve this. Not you, you deserve far better. Far better than a man who would lead you on, and never give you anything in return.”

“Who else could love me, König?”

Me.

“Don’t say that. I … you are worthy of someone better. You are.” He wishes for the strength to say he could.

The crackle and burst of tangerine and purple across the space draws your attention to the fireworks outside. Cold whips across your jacket and König settles beside you and the night sky lights up with fireworks showering London in splendour you once felt seeing Ghost.

Not anymore. Not ever since that day when he took everything away with him into the afterlife.

Fur tickles your face and a heavy weight settles on your shoulders and it’s warm. König pulls the jacket tighter around you and streaks of gold fireworks echo in his eyes in trails of comet dust of longing.

“You always did love the gold ones. Remember in university? In Norway on new year’s eve, how our friends made fun of us for our awful pronunciation and you said something like … ish leeber dick?”

“Ich liebe dich.”

“Yeah, that one. Could never understand what it meant.”

“It … it means I love you.”

His eyes widen and hope—hope is a firecracker in his hands lit and burning with a fuse to no return; time to detonation is nigh.

“What?”

“Verdammt … I—I … fuck …”

He looks anywhere but at you and when he makes a move, his hands are with yours and his eyes are overwhelmed with emotion in depths of blue seas.

“I … schatz, I … I know it’s not my place to comment on your relationship with Ghost but he isn’t a good partner. You deserve more, more than what he gives you and with the sincerity of someone who wants, loves you.”

He presses on, afraid if he stopped he would never start again.

“Your love is not second rate, second class or anything.” He drops your hands to grasp your arms. “I … I can’t stand watching your throw your love away like that. Not when I’m here.”

His jacket is warm with more than just the heat of the man.

“It’s not fair to make you compete with a dead man for love. It’s not right and Stärke, I—I am here. And … I want to show you what love can be.”

“What love can be?”

“If you let me, liebling.”

Impossibly soft and brimming with yearning, the fuse burns through and the world explodes into colour. Of tears and light overpowering the shadows following him since youth into oblivion, König’s scarred lips are pressed against yours in repressed longing and you are pulled in close by his arm around your back.

Finally, he wipes away the tears and love tastes like the chap stick König uses and more. It’s indescribable, with it depth and intangible strings and he holds on tightly with all of his being.

“Your patch is fraying, König.”

“I’ve got you to fix it up for me.”

Ich liebe dich so sehr, meine Liebe. Du strahlst mit den Farben der Sonne. Ich bin so glücklich, dich in meinem Leben zu haben.

Sei mein und nur mein, Liebling.

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist

[luveline]

love you so much. your writing has been a light in my life for the last months. it's cute and lovely and just everything i need in my life. <3 i have chronic back pain and it's been bad the last couple of weeks. this keeps me inside and secluded most of the time and it eats me alive sometimes, moreso mentally than physically. the thought of having to deal with this the rest of my life is very overwhelming at times. could you maybe write something about aaron taking care of reader with chronic pain, maybe she's mad or sad or even pushes him away but he won't go and he loves her anyway. i feel like a guy like that would be all in no matter what. don't we all look for that kind of love? anyway, lovely to meet you and i hope you have a wonderful day/week/month/year/life. you deserve it *kiss* *flies away embarrassed* *love ya still and always*

thank you for requesting, I hope you get some relief soon my love ♡ —aaron draws you out of your bed and your bad mood. fem!reader

"Honey, let's get up." 

It irritates you to hear Aaron phrasing it that way. Let's, like he's wasted the morning in bed with you. In reality, he's spent the last few hours working through a thousand and one chores in the kitchen while you rammed your head under a pillow. He's been up.

You try very hard to keep your annoyance to yourself. He's encouraging, not cruel. "I don't want to," you say. 

Aaron's footsteps have the floorboards creaking softly. The pillow is lifted from your head gently, and an even nicer expression waits for you when you turn your sweaty head. You've been sleeping on your stomach in an unsuccessful attempt to stave the pain away. 

"Hello, beautiful." 

He says it to get you smiling. It's not unlike him to compliment you, but he usually does it in subtler ways. You look great tonight, or, That's an amazing colour on you, honey. This saccharine greeting makes you huff a laugh, but the huff hurts you worse, a slice of pain from somewhere in your shoulder down to the small of your back. 

"Oh, fuck," you sigh. Quiet, dragging, your voice shudders with pain.

Aaron's brows pinch together. "I'm gonna help you up, yes?" 

"I can't get up." 

"I don't want to patronise you, but you know staying in bed too long only makes it worse. I'm going to help you up and we'll take a short walk. A lap around the house, that's all." 

You shake your head, emotion burning behind your eyes. "No, I really don't want to." 

Aaron sits down carefully by your hip, a big hand needling between the bed and your stomach. It feels nice to be held like that. The other perches on your hip, close to the epicentre of your pain. That's not so nice. 

"Can I turn you over?" 

You sigh unhappily. "Yeah. Okay." 

All his care, Aaron turns you on your back. He doesn't give you time to think before he helps you into a sitting position, humming empathetically at your pained hissing, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, I just don't want it to get worse."

"It's worse now," you panic, hot tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them tightly closed. 

"I know… You're doing well." 

"I'm not doing well! It really hurts, Aaron, it– it's really hurting, it won't stop," you say, trying not to move too much as you talk. You're breathless with pain, that shattering of discomfort glowing like glass shards somewhere under the skin. 

"You're doing well, honey, I don't know what else to tell you. This is doing well, considering. I don't wanna force you up but I won't watch you get worse." 

"Then don't watch," you mutter, bringing a hand up to your eyes.

"Do you think I have a choice?" he asks, no cruelty or derision as he rubs your thigh. "I couldn't walk away from you if I wanted to, and I don't want to. So don't let's argue, honey." His voice drops to a crooning murmur. "Don't be mean to me. I love you." 

"Aaron…" You put the back of your hand to your forehead. You love him, you don't mean to be grumpy, and you know for a fact that he doesn't hold it against you —if there's one man who could say 'I won't walk away' and have you believe it, no question, it's him. "I'm not being mean." 

"No? You don't think so?" he asks, leaning in a touch.

You offer him a kiss. Mean women don't give affection to their boyfriends. Pleased, Aaron kisses you softly with his hand creeping up toward your hip, cautious with his hands. He hasn't ever been rough with you. 

"'Don't let's argue,'" you quote as his kiss moves to the corner of your mouth. "That's so old-fashioned." 

Eyes closed, heads craned together, the air between you is warm. You almost forget the twinging pain wrapping around your coccyx. Almost. 

"I am old-fashioned," he says simply. Having noticed that you're in pain, Aaron pulls back from you and stands up, offering his hands. "Come on, let's take a lap and I'll forget all about your being mean to me. I'll even make you lunch." 

His sentence might incite enthusiasm, but you still struggle to stand, and while you're reassured he'll stay with you, he can't erase the pain with nice words. "Will you hold an ice pack on me?" you ask. 

"Of course I will." 

"Thank you… I love you, sorry I didn't say it back. I was in a mood, I think." 

Aaron smiles at your on-the-nose joking. "I love you, too. Let's ask Jack to come and walk with you." 

"I thought you were walking with me?" you ask, knowing from his smile alone that he's about to make a joke bordering on pert.  

"Jack's more your speed, honey." 

[betweenstorms]

Chapter 3/1 of Skin Of Thunder To Be Known (previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist) Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader

"I’ve longed for you to tear me apart, not in cruelty, but in yearning. Sink your teeth into my truths, let the taste of me linger. If knowing means pain, then I’ll bear the bleeding for you."

The early morning air hung crisp and quiet, pressing against Ghost’s skin as he leaned against the cold metal railing by the designated smoking area—a modest patch of concrete, barely more than a slab, with ashtrays and rusting benches scattered like afterthoughts.

The sun just barely breached the horizon, casting long shadows on the concrete. Hardly a retreat, but here, away from the maddening sterility of his office, it felt like a reprieve. He rolled his balaclava up, just enough to free his mouth, taking a long, welcome drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke crawl through his lungs and chase the tension from his jaw. The stillness of dawn hung heavy, blanketing his restless thoughts, urging them into submission.

Just then, the sharp creak of the door jolted him back, a small irritation prickling through him.

Likely just some officer, off to grab a smoke or call it a morning. But when he looked over, his eyes snagged on a familiar, almost absurd splash of colour amid the grey.

You.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, too low for you to hear as he clocked the delicate pearls on the collar of your oversized navy blue shirt.

He turned away, taking another drag, hoping to hide the way his shoulders tensed under your approach.

Fuck.

He’d been craving a smoke, not company.

He couldn’t quite grasp the pull you had on him, the strange and soft ache that made him long to be in your presence, though he refused to bend to such foolish desires. So he kept his gaze fixed elsewhere, resisting the urge to let his eyes find your face, lovely and haunting, a temptation he was determined to deny.

But God, how he wanted to look at you—more than anything, he wanted to drink the light of your eyes, to study every soft curve of your face and carry it with him in the dark corners of his mind. There was nothing he craved more than that simple indulgence, yet it was the very thing he denied himself. So he exhaled another plume of smoke, letting it rise like a prayer, an offering to the distance he had forced between you.

Discipline, he reminded himself.

A soldier’s creed built for sacrifice.

You waved, a shy, endearing gesture, and though he didn’t return it, the sight lingered, casting a magnetic warmth he couldn’t quite shake.

The thrilling sweetness of your perfume drifted over, a delicate contrast to the smoke curling around him, and he found himself absorbing it in through skin and flesh, letting it settle over him like a gentle rain easing his frayed edges.

He glanced back, catching you falling into step right beside him—a respectful distance, careful yet inviting, close enough to let him feel your presence but far enough that he could imagine, if he chose, that he was still alone.

Ghost felt grateful for it, for the silent understanding woven between you, the way you stayed without imposing.

It was a kindness he hadn’t realised he craved.

“Good morning, sir,” you offered quietly, voice bright but tentative. “Captain Price said you requested some help with the paperwork, and, well… here I am.”

An irritated grunt was all he gave at first, still focused on the end of his cigarette, the cherry glinting as he took another drag.

“That was an hour ago,” he said, voice rough and steady. He didn’t look at you, but he could sense the nervous shift in your posture.

“Yeah, well, about that—” you faltered, an embarrassed little smile flickering across your lips as a soft blush crept over your cheeks, delicate as the first light of dawn. “I’m so sorry, Lieutenant, I might have accidentally slept in, but I’m here now. Ready to help with whatever you need. Really.”

With whatever you needed, the words echoed bitterly in his mind.

Bold words. Quietly spoken, but not without weight. 

He scoffed, letting out a slow breath, watching the smoke coil lazily into the space between you—a ghostly wall, thin and unyielding, that whispered the distance he couldn't close. It was a tension he both cherished and despised, a bittersweet ache that twisted in his chest. A cruel kind of ambivalence that he wasn’t accustomed to, a raging storm of contradictions swirling where his pragmatism used to reign. He was a man of precision, of order. There was no room for chaos, no tolerance for hesitation. His life was a series of clean lines and clear directives, a moral code etched in iron.

And then there was you.

He hated it—this loss of control.

But God help him, he loved it too.

“Lieutenant Riley?” you asked gently, breaking the silence. There was something hesitant in your tone, as if you were unsure whether he’d answer or simply walk away.

“Gimme a minute.”

The cigarette burned low, the ash crumbling like the remnants of his resolve as Ghost tipped it into the rusted tray beside him.

The morning air lingered cool against his exposed skin, the stillness between you both stretching thin, delicate as spider silk in the rain. Your hesitant words hung unanswered, their soft cadence brushing against him like the flutter of wings. For a short moment, the only sounds were the distant screech of tyres, the rhythmic cadence of soldiers on duty, and the faint hum of the wind curling through the base.

He let the silence stand, pretending not to notice the way your gaze lingered too long, tracing the curve of his jaw, the faint scar carved near his lips, the line of his neck disappearing beneath his raised collar. He knew you were staring.

Of course, he did.

And yet, there was something disarming about being seen, not the fleeting glances of soldiers or the wary stares of strangers, but this. Your gaze wasn’t too heavy with judgement or fear. It was shy, but it was also unassuming, almost tender, and it did something to him he couldn’t quite explain, like a warm hand pressed to his bare skin. Vulnerability wasn’t a feeling he entertained often, but here, under your watchful eyes, it didn’t make him want to pull away.

Ghost shifted as he exhaled a final curl of smoke, watching it spiral into the crisp morning air before dissipating. His thoughts had grown as hazy as the cloud he’d just released, and the stillness between you hung heavy, each second stretching taut with unsaid words. He should leave it there—should stub out the ember of whatever this was before it grew into something unmanageable, something dangerous.

But then, the words tumbled from his mouth, unbidden and unpolished.

“I like your perfume.”

The second they left him, he felt a rush of something that burned hot and fast, searing through his chest. Fucking sod. What the hell had possessed him to say that? Compliments weren’t in his arsenal, not ones like this, not here, not anywhere and definitely not for you—not when he was supposed to be keeping you at bloody arm’s length. And yet, there they were, laid bare between you, vulnerable and exposed like an open wound.

Your reaction was immediate.

A soft, startled inhale as your cheeks flushed, the colour rising high and fierce, blooming like dawn breaking over the horizon in front of them. But then, there it was. The sweetest fucking smile he’d ever seen. A simple smile that made something stir in him—something warm and reckless, something that shouldn’t belong to a man like him. Somehow the regret he expected never came, only the faint satisfaction of seeing that smile, of knowing his words had drawn it out. He felt like he’d stepped over an invisible line, into territory he didn’t belong in, but for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Not when you were looking at him like that.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice carrying an edge of disbelief, as though the admission had caught you as off guard as it had him. “Thank you. It’s, uhm—” You faltered, biting your lip for a moment before murmuring the name of the brand.

He didn’t catch it. Couldn’t, really.

He was way too focused on the way your lips moved, the way your beautiful eyes flicked up to meet his, shy and luminous beneath your lashes. That look—it undid him. Made his heart pick up its pace, a steady thrum that he felt low and deep in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him like that. He felt it deep within, an ache older than reason, a pulse in his marrow where instincts drowned out logic. 

Ghost knew the effect he had on women but he wasn’t a womaniser, not by disposition nor by choice.

Relationships, fleeting or deep, were uncharted waters he’d chosen to avoid. Hostile territories he refused to traverse, landscapes where desire turned men into ruins. It was a trap of his own making. He had learned, long ago, the cost of being known, the unbearable weight of letting someone too close. Most women recoiled from him, as they should. His profession, his mannerisms, his unflinching detachment—they cast a shadow too long and too sharp for most to cross. The sharp edges of him were designed to cut.

But then there was that look—it was undeniable, a silent confession offered in the flicker of a woman’s eyes, something soft and terrifying in equal measure. It wasn’t the look itself that unnerved him, it was the way it came from you. Because that look meant the promise of trust. That look meant potential desire. Moreover, that look meant the possibility of being known, of being understood, and in his world, that was the gravest vulnerability of all.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His hands flexed at his sides, itching for the cigarette he’d already put out. “Shouldn’t’ve said that,” he huffed, the words rough and self-directed. He didn’t mean to be cruel, but his voice held an edge that might have been mistaken for anger. “Not my fuckin’ place.”

“No, it’s—” You trailed off, your fingers fidgeting nervously with your tablet. “It’s nice. I mean, it’s nice that you said something. I don’t get compliments like that often.”

He wasn’t prepared for that.

His head turned, almost reflexively, just enough to catch the flicker of your expression in the dim light.

You weren’t searching for validation, there was no grasping plea in your eyes, no desperate bid for comfort. Instead, you looked a bit startled, as though your own words had betrayed you. Just like his betrayed him a moment ago.

“Shame. You should.”

Simple, direct, and raw words that left him exposed.

Your lips parted, surprise flickering across your lovely face like a flame caught in the wind.

For a seemingly endless moment, neither of you spoke. The cold autumn air between you felt fragile, precarious, as if the wrong word could shatter whatever tentative bridge had formed. The blush on your cheeks deepened, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you held his gaze, steady despite the uncertainty, as though searching for something unspoken in the depths of his hazel eyes. And in that moment, Ghost knew—

—you were the braver one.

While he stood tethered to the weight of his scars, his silence, his bloody self-inflicted exile, you had leapt. You had chosen to meet him halfway, to reach out despite the walls he’d spent years fortifying. And God, how he wanted to catch you. To let himself fall with you into the unknown, into the warmth of whatever this was.

But Simon Riley wasn’t a man who fell.

He was a man who endured.

His gaze flickered away, his sharp jaw tightening beneath the fabric of his mask as he turned his head toward the door.

“C’mon,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, laced with a detached finality. “Still got a shit ton of paperwork to get through.”

"Strip me bare, wound me if you must, so long as you reach the marrow of my soul. If it takes bloodshed for you to understand me, then let it flow. I’d rather be your scar than your mystery." Skin of Thunder Chapters

[tkaulitzlvr]

Hi! :3

I had an idea for a request

I thought of a tom x reader loosely based on "Hungover you"

like him and reader being best friends and somewhere along the line they spend a night together, but decide to forget it for the sake of their friendship (maybe they were a little drunk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows)

then many years later they're still friends but they realise that they really love each other

even if you don't write this i wanted to tell you i think your writing is amazing! don't feel pressured to make content, I'm sure all of your followers don't mind waiting for your fics because they are really amazing!

aa sorry for the long text! <3

IT’S YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: they say feelings change with time, but yours couldn’t have stayed closer to the same. it has been three years since you hooked up with tom, and despite your promise to forget about it for the sake of your friendship, you can’t ignore the way you feel anymore.

content: smut (kinda) & fluff

a/n: thankyou soo much!! i put a christmas twist on this because i realised i haven’t made an xmas fic yet i hope that’s okay! pls be patient w me bc apparently i should spend every hour of every day writing fics according to some people… just to be clear this is a hobby and nothing more. i don’t get paid for this LMAOO sometimes i don’t want to write and that’s okay - most people are really understanding so thank you for that, but on a more positive note merry christmas i hope u all have a happy holidays!!!💗

the faint smell of gingerbread teases my senses, mind beyond overstimulated with the incomprehensible blur of conversations around me - the amount of alcohol in my system clearly not helping. every inch of the living room is pasted with the not so subtle reminder of the festive season: warm lights casting their glow across the walls, garlands decorated with small red and green baubles, though the most obvious sign sits in the corner of the room. adorned with baubles in every colour possible, with tinsel (quite messily) stretched across its dark green branches, multi-coloured lights twinkling dimly around it, reminding me why i love this time of year so much.

the chaos of the annual christmas party that had become tradition over the years never became something that i had gotten used to, the dull buzz in my stomach (admittedly from the alcohol too) never going away as i watch my surroundings, friends laughing obnoxiously loudly whilst their hands tear away the intricately decorated paper, revealing their presents.

“and this one is for you.” tom says, snapping me out of my daze as he reaches underneath the tree from where he sits beside me, returning with a small box in his hands. he passes it over to me, a proud smile on his face as i study the wrapping. a red bow placed messily on top, the wrapping paper creased at the sides, the tape used to hold it in place hanging off.

“did you wrap this?” i stifle a laugh, remembering how terrible my best friend is at anything remotely technical, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“yeah, why?” he seems genuinely proud, and i decide to give him that sense of fulfilment, ignoring that a child probably could have done a better job.

“nothing, nothing. it’s great.” i return my eyes to the present, hands moving to tear away the paper. tom’s eyes remain glued onto me, excitedly awaiting my reaction. i open the box inside, revealing a gold necklace, a small locket in its centre. my mouth falls open, fingers carefully lifting the jewellery from its box, eyes studying it in awe before i turn my attention to tom.

“are you kidding me? it’s beautiful, oh my god!”

an even wider smile rests on his face at my reaction, his leg bobbing up and down nervously. he gestures to the locket as i turn my attention back to it, thumb clicking it open. tom and i. the picture in the centre shows tom and i, far younger, far more innocent than we are now. cheesy grins plastered on our faces, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders as we look into the camera, wrapped up in our huge winter coats - standard for the weather in germany.

“i don’t even know what to say i- thank you.” i smile, reaching over and wrapping my arms around his frame. he seems taken aback, though soon returns the gesture, his arms resting on my upper back, hand patting it slowly.

“you’re welcome. i hope you like it.” he offers me a warm smile as we pull away, soon turning his eyes toward the rest of the room, watching as bill unwraps his present from georg.

hours have passed, and even if i tried, i don’t think i could come close to counting the amount of drinks i’ve had. i am beyond tipsy, swaying my head to the cheesy christmas songs that play from the tv whilst attempting to sing the lyrics - failing miserably as my voice comes out slurred and inaudible.

“you sound terrible.” tom’s voice, just as slurred as my own, causes me to stop my singing, turning to face him as he sits beside me, finishing off the remainder of whatever drink he has in his glass.

“thanks.” i mumble, grabbing the glass from his hands and shoving the last few drops down my throat, no longer flinching at its bitter taste. the room seems to become emptier, friends either leaving or finding a bedroom upstairs to sleep in, the darkness from outside reminding me that it is probably the early hours of the morning.

“they’re no fun.” i roll my eyes, pointing to the final few people walking out of the room tiredly, leaving tom and i alone. he hums in agreement as i reach forward, grabbing the half-empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table and pouring it into my mouth, taking a few large swigs. the faint burning in the back of my throat quickly subsides, prompting me to drink some more.

“lets play a game.” tom says from beside me, a loud giggle leaving my mouth at his sudden request.

“a game? what are we twelve?” i laugh, shaking my head and taking another drink, swirling the liquid that is still in the bottle around. “what game?”

“i don’t know, truth or dare?” he shrugs his shoulders, clearly not thinking straight. though i am in no position to judge him, the two of us too intoxicated to be able to think rationally.

“there’s only two of us though. that’s gonna be pretty fucking boring, don’t you think?”

he doesn’t respond, only shrugging his shoulders once again, prompting me to give in. i sit cross legged opposite him, signalling for him to go first.

“truth or dare?”

“hmmm….truth.” i mumble drunkenly, laughing to myself as my body sways to the side a little, almost falling completely off of the couch and onto the hard wood floor. he pauses, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as he appears to think as deeply as his intoxicated state allows him to, his eyebrows raising as he finally thinks of an idea.

“have you ever had a crush on anyone at this party?” he asks, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands, chuckling quietly to himself.

“bill, like four years ago.” i shrug nonchalantly, taking another swig from the bottle. if i were even remotely sober, i would have come up with some completely unbelievable lie, though the alcohol gives me the sudden confidence to confess, this a secret which i had silently vowed to take to the grave - until now.

“my brother? are you kidding?” his laughter is much louder this time, the room filled with it as he clutches his chest, eyes squeezing shut. at one point, i swear i see tears fall down his cheeks, my hand reaching to swat his chest, the effort pathetic as the alcohol appears to take away every ounce of physical strength.

we continue the game for another thirty minutes, the questions becoming more senseless as time passes, the dares even more abnormal as i sit with my small mini skirt off of my body and on the ground somewhere, tom now shirtless. the sober versions of ourselves would be watching in pure shame, though in the moment, this is the funniest thing we have ever done, drunken laughter pouring from our lips at every word that we say.

“your turn.” tom begins. “truth or dare?”

“dare.”

i expect him to think deeply about what to do, about ways to humiliate me in the worst way possible, taking advantage of the fact that he is in control, possessing the ability to make me do whatever his heart desires. but not only is he much quicker this time, his mind seemingly made up the second i had uttered the four letter word, his reply is one that i could never had been prepared for. though my drunken state brushes it off, unable to question, let alone refuse his demand.

“i dare you…to kiss me.”

i giggle quietly at his statement, widening my eyes in forged surprise and tucking my hair behind my ears, tom’s lips curved into a soft smirk as i slowly shuffle toward him. my legs wrap around his waist, arms wrapping loosely around his neck as his own rest around my waist. our faces are inches apart, small chuckles still leaving our lips as i situate myself comfortably, losing my balance and falling forward, my body collapsing onto his chest.

“whoops.” i mumble, bursting into laughter as tom does the same, trying to pick me back up as his hands place themselves onto my shoulders, pushing me upward so that i sit on his lap once again. though once i regain my balance, the small smile that rests on tom’s lips soon disappears, the laughter replaced by a heavy silence, thick with unexpected tension. his hands rest more firmly on my waist now, face seeming to get closer and closer to my own, so close that his breath fans onto my face, lips ghosting just below my nose.

his eyes look into mine, darkened and filled with lust, almost questioning whether he should make the move. the alcohol is still in charge, still the thing that fuels both tom’s and my own decision making, but behind the drunkenness, i see the real tom, and somewhere amidst the blur of alcohol and lust, i can tell that he is fighting with himself. though after a few seconds, the decision is made, seemingly with little debate as he pushes his lips onto mine harshly, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. the kiss is sloppy, messy, irrational, everything that it should be, fuelled by alcohol and unforeseen desire. but whether it is the bottle of vodka i had just drank talking, or the genuine need that only grows as each second passes, it feels right.

and tom’s actions show that he feels the same way. from our clothes being impatiently pulled off of our bodies, lips tangled in a heated mess, to his dick being inside me, something within me tells me that this should be happening, even if our drunken state is the cause.

“fuck…you feel so good.” he groans from above me, maintaining a steady pace, his words still slurred. sweat lines his body, starting at his forehead, his dreads resting on his shoulders, trailing down to his torso. and as i watch him move in and out of me, i take a second to admire his body - his skin, biceps, the way each muscle flexes slightly when he thrusts into me, my mind wondering how it had taken me this long to realise how hot he is. sure, i had known that he was attractive, his overly obsessive fans made that clear enough, but it had taken him being totally naked on top of me to realise that they have been right this entire time, and god, i want nothing more than this moment to last forever.

“i’m getting close.” he mumbles from above me, his head moving to rest in the crook of my neck, placing rough kisses there as his tongue moves across the skin in place of his mouth. when his dick begins to twitch inside of me, i soon realise that it can’t last forever, that in a few minutes, or when the alcohol wares off, we will have to go back to normal, to act like he didn’t just fuck me - his best friend of over ten years.

his head returns from my shoulder, a loud groan escaping his lips as i feel him shoot his cum inside of me, his eyes squeezing shut, lips slightly parted as he curses under his breath. and it doesn’t take long for my own release to follow, the loud moan that sounds from the back of my throat muffled by tom’s lips as he presses them onto my own, mumbling a quick ‘shhh’ against me. he rides out our highs, pulling out after a minute and collapsing on top of me, tired and breathless. we lay in silence, tom occasionally pressing quick kisses onto my shoulder, our bodies completely spent.

despite how little we speak about it, that night stays clear in my memory, able to remember it like it was yesterday, even though today marks three years since we did something that should have changed our friendship forever. sure, it was awkward for a little while after, but after the mutual decision to put it behind us ‘for the sake of our friendship’, blaming it purely on the alcohol, we had moved on, maintaining our close bond that had existed since we were kids. it seemed to special to ruin, too important to destroy for the sake of the possibility of falling in love, knowing that it would be too risky to pursue something, the small yet very real chance that it wouldn’t work out holding the ability to ruin our friendship forever.

but god, i would be stupid to deny the way my heart tugs at its strings whenever i see him, whenever i hug him in a way that is strictly platonic, wondering if somewhere he feels the same way as i do.

“you okay?” a voice snaps me out of my train of thought, my head turning to its source as tom’s brown eyes look into my own, a small smile on his face. i quickly nod my head, turning away and focusing on gustav as he takes a present from under the tree, flashing me a smile once he realises that it is from me.

tom doesn’t give in though, his voice interrupting my own from beside me as i am in the process of listening to gustav, a smile on his face whilst he thanks me for his gift.

“you sure?” tom asks, his voice low and uncertain, expression bordering confused when i forge a smile, reassuring him that i am fine, knowing that i am far from it, the reminder that three years ago things were so different still acting as a raw wound, despite how easily tom had seemed to get over it.

“no you’re not. come on.” he takes my hand, guiding me out of the room as i turn around, hoping that nobody had noticed, sighing in relief when i realise that they are all immersed in their own conversations. tom guides me into the kitchen, moving me so that my body is against the counter, his own in front of me, stopping me from leaving.

“what are you doing? the party is out there, bill was about to open the gift i got for him.” i furrow my eyebrows, attempting to leave the kitchen, though tom’s hand is quick to place itself on my wrist gently, pulling me back to rest against the counter.

“i can tell when you’re not okay. something is bothering you. what’s wrong?” his voice is much more serious this time, no longer holding that playful tone that it had before.

i sigh, breaking eye contact and staring at the ground, fingers reaching to play with the material of my christmas sweater, trying anything to distract myself from the tears that begin to pool at my waterline. i know that i can’t escape from this now, becoming aware that even if i attempt to lie, tom will see right through it.

“come on, you can talk to me you know? i’m your best friend-”

“that’s the fucking problem.” i mumble, silently cursing myself the second the words leave my mouth, praying that they were quiet enough for tom to not understand them. though when his eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side, i quickly realise that he got every word. his mouth opens to speak, only for a few seconds as he closes it again, mind working faster than it ever has before, working to think of a response.

“what do you mean?” he asks eventually, my eyes meeting his own. his gaze softens when he registers the tears that fall down my cheeks. he reaches forward, his arms trying to wrap around my frame and pull me into a hug, though i refuse his embrace, not able to handle the emotional torture of another hug, knowing that it will never mean anything more than means of comfort, rather than an act of affection out of love. his eyebrows furrow in confusion when i push him away gently, his tongue moving outward to swipe against his lip ring, fingers adjusting the bandana that adorns his jet black braids - the one thing that is different about him since that day.

“why do you act like nothing happened?” i ask, my voice low and weak, eyes finally finding the courage to meet his own. he stays silent, knowing exactly what i am talking about without even mentioning it directly. because no matter how much we act like it never happened, i know that both of us will never be able to forget it, even if he acts like he has. i take his silence as i sign to continue, taking the opportunity to get this off of my chest. “you act like that night never happened, and it fucking infuriates me. you speak to me, you look at me, you hug me, but it’s not the same anymore. you can try and act like you don’t remember it, but i fucking can’t. i can’t sit back anymore and act normal around you knowing that we did it. and then you stand here and call me your fucking friend. it kills me that you don’t even care, that it means nothing at all to you-”

he cuts me off, though not with his voice. not with a quick remark, not with a reminder that we are just friends, that we can never be anything more; but with his lips, pressing them to my own. they are soft, just as i had remembered them, the coldness of his lip ring just as addictive as it had been the first time. and though it only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away, it still ignites that spark within me that had been lifeless since we had promised to forget about what had happened. his forehead rests against mine, hands pulling my body against his own as he wraps his arms around my waist.

“who said that i don’t care about what happened, hm?” his face remains inches away from mine, his hands reaching upward to wipe the tears that rest on my cheeks. he doesn’t pull back, instead pressing my body against his once again. “i think about it, all the time. and every single time, i think about what could have happened if we didn’t push it aside, if we actually acted on it. but then i remind myself that you didn’t want that, and i can’t lose you. so i just decided to not speak about it. but don’t think for a second that i forgot.”

i stay silent, unsure of what to say, trying to fathom what his confession truly means. is he saying that he feels the same way, or was the kiss out of pity, one to stop the tears that continue to fall?

“what are you saying?” i whisper, pursing my lips and looking at the floor, breaking eye contact once again. though it is only short lived, my eyes soon returning to look at his own as he lifts my face up, his hands now resting on either side of it.

“i’m saying that i don’t want to be just your best friend anymore. i don’t think my heart can handle that.”

my eyes widen, mouth opening to speak, finding myself at a loss for words as no sound escapes. once again, tom’s actions seem to speak louder than any words would have been able to, his arms scooping me up as he kisses me once again. it is gentler this time, lacking the lust behind that it had the first time we had kissed. it holds much more meaning behind it than just drunken desire. this time, it carries the silent promise of every single thing that i have ever wanted since that night - love.

“you know…i wasn’t totally shitfaced when i asked you to kiss me that night.” he says once he pulls away, a playful smile now tugging on his lips. i shake my head, pulling him by his shirt and kissing him once again. he smiles into the kiss, quickly reciprocating as he moves his lips against my own.

“oh my god.”

i quickly push tom away, his lips pink and swollen as he turns around, my eyes widening once i see bill standing in the doorway of the kitchen with some empty plates in either hand. his mouth is wide open, body standing completely still in shock.

“i’ll just…leave these here.” he quickly says, rushing toward the sink and practically throwing the plates in there, shooting me a quick glance before leaving.

i look upward at tom, who seems to be unfazed by the situation, his thumb reaching upward to swipe at the lipgloss that had stained his lips. he meets my gaze, shrugging his shoulders and wrapping his arm around me, pulling my body to rest against his own, our chests together.

“at least we don’t have to figure out a way to tell everybody else. bill would have told them all by now.”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: Sorry this took so long. I moved city and pretty much have a new life. Still obsessed with Rust, though, so some shit sticks

Warnings: 18+, talk of war, alcohol, drugs, sex work, talks of past domestic violence, smut, just genuine misery between the two of them

America venerates suffering, that's what Travis had always told Rust. Sacrifice isn't pure if it isn't coated in a blood so red and so hot that your family can smear over their words, for centuries to come, excusing their comfort, their indulgence, their ignorance. They are afforded that comfort off of slaughter beyond their imagining. At least, that's what had happened after 'nam. A hero for his fucking country was the propaganda they had fed Travis; squash the bug of communism and, along with it, massacre millions of innocents, because what is America without its sons who are willing to fight for it.? Yeah, a fucking hero for a father, who's night terrors kept both of them up at night and who kept his engraved lighter saying High Speed Low Drag in his hunting jacket, always. That same lighter that Rust had used to light his first cigarette: rolled up flimsily in newspaper with the leftover tobacco and tufts of filter that he'd scraped from Travis' cigarette butts. The same lighter that Cassandra is now using to light her Marlboro Gold, hands shaking,

'Rust. That's all I get, huh? Not even a fucking surname?!' she spits, through a shaky exhale.

'I ain't gonna give you my surname. The less you know about me, the better,' Rust says back, his stoic demeanour attempting to mask that churning in his stomach. One that he has realised isn't for him but for Cassandra.

'Is Rust even your actual name?'

'You want a fuckin' social security number, too?' Rust drawls dryly.

'Don't you-Don't,' Cassandra's head shoots up from where it's been in her hands, her shaking tone now gaining a momentum of uncontrollable anger, 'Jesus-fuck. You men are all the fucking same. I-I ain't staying in this fucking place, anymore. Fuck it, fuck you, fuck every goddamn person in this wasteland of a place!'

Rust regards her with an even look,

'You ain't going anywhere. Not tonight. You ain't in the right state.'

'You ain't my daddy, motherfucker.'

'Goddamn right, I ain't but I'm also the only person you have who doesn't want to take advantage of you. So, hedge your bets tomorrow, baby, but tonight you're stayin' here,' Rust's voice is lapidary, stopping Cassandra in her tracks as she starts to shove clothes and books into her duffel bag.

'I said: you ain't my daddy and you sure as hell ain't keeping me in a place where I don't want to be,' Cassandra says in a tone equally as gelid, throwing her duffel bag over her shoulder. That elegant, fine-boned shoulder tinged with its bronzed hue; some of the love bites that Rust had left a few nights ago decorating Cassandra's collarbone. Rust fears that the sentiment festering under his skin is nostalgia. A nostalgia that scares him and, then, makes him cruel,

'No, Cassandra. I ain't your daddy cause all he did for you was get heavy handed with you and cut you up with his empty liquor bottles when he really wanted to teach you about mouthin' off at him.'

The colour drains from Cassandra's face,

'How the fuck do you know about that?' a sudden spark of spite reaches her as she sneers, 'Pull my file in your spare time, huh?'

Rust grabs her arm and yanks up her tank top, ignoring her yelp. He nods to the fine, white line along her ribcage,

'I ain't a fuckin' idiot, Cassandra. Skateboardin' fall, my ass,' Rust snarls, holding her ribcage with a calloused hand. Cassandra viciously claws at his hand, tears threatening to spill from her eyes,

'Get off! Get the fuck off!' and Rusts lets her go cause in that moment, the smooth, sultry cadence made slightly husky from after-sex cigarettes reverts back to the pleading of a little girl. Cassandra's words are devoid of any real bite, Rust notes. All that rage has been stripped away and all that she is left with is the panic of a little girl's voice turning into burning sobs in her throat; the stale cookies in her stomach turning sour from terror. There's that wide eyed looked, too. He can see it as Cassandra hastily covers herself back up and rearranges the duffel bag back onto her shoulder.

'Fuck you, Rust,' she says his name like it's a poison that she needs to spit from her mouth before it corrodes the flesh into a pulpy mess. Corrosion. Rust. That's what he is, it's what he does because sometimes corrosion is needed to get to the bone of things; to see what everyone else in too caught up in their delusions or affectations about fucking Natural Law to truly comprehend.

'Don't you fu-Cassandra!' Rust's voice boils up from his chest in a rough bark, watching Cassandra explode out of the trailer door, almost stumble down the rusted metal steps and collapse into the red dirt. He thinks he can't get any angrier until he realises that she's pocketed the keys to his Harley, on her way out, and sees her bolt over to where it's parked, behind the trailer. A cloud of dust rises up as the bike rumbles out of neutral and Cassandra desperately revs on the accelerator; her legs hardly off of the ground before the Harley tears away. In other circumstances, the dramatics of the exit would have made Rust scoff and chalk it up to youth's thirst for impact: the flurry of a scene. Not now. Not when this kid is tearing down a highway in a bike that doesn't have enough gas to make it to Liberty, let alone wherever the fuck Cassandra thinks she's headed. A kid, Rust thinks, A fuckin' kid that I've pulled into the abyss with me. Rust calls her a kid now but knows that when he finds her, he'll treat her like she's grown. A sentiment that propels him into his truck, cursing to himself as the engine splutters.

It doesn't take long to track Cassandra down; there's only one road from the trailer park that lead to the freeway. No doubt, where Cassandra is headed to. Ride fast and hard, and get the fuck out when the heat starts to sting: the classic cocktail of self-preservation cooked up by kids who've already been burned. There are too many of them down here, below that Mason-Dixie line. Rust would know. Fuck, if he hasn't spent his entire career on the force witnessing the aftermath. Drugs, abuses, assaults, homicides: you name it. The abuser becomes the abused; Nietzsche's infinite return has those poor kids falling flat on their faces into the nice shit storm of generational maladjustments that their parents left for them. Shattered dreams, skin sucked dry from mosquitos, teeth black and rotting from sweet tea, underneath that sticky southern sun. Rust wants to believe that it's an innate sense of duty towards these kids is why he's currently violating every Highway Code there is. And for part of him, it is. The other part, however, won't allow himself the comfort of what he knows is a lie. What started as pure sex appeal has started to morph into something deeper, messier.

The bike has even less gas than he thought as, the first Texaco that he sees, has Cassandra next to the pumps trying to wrench open the bike's gas lock. She wants to be caught, Rust knows, Wants me to chase after her, show her I give a shit. If she didn't, she would've gotten a hell of a lot more reckless. He watches her, almost with pity, as her pulls into the gas station and slows the truck to a halt, the breaks groaning with their lack of galvanisation. Rust shoves the car door open, his leather boots landing heavily on tepid asphalt,

'Get your ass over here,' his voice rough, as he strides over to Cassandra.

'I told you to get the fuck away from me,' she whips around, her fury making her abandon her previous task.

'Get in the fuckin' truck, Cassandra. I ain't doing the whole scorned boyfriend act for these nosey fuckers,' Rust deadpans, his ice blue gaze conveying to her just how fucking pissed he is.

'Did you hear me, motherfucker? I said to go back to your junkie biker brothers, find some hooker so that you can fuck out your half-baked emotional needs and leave me the hell alone,' Cassandra says with such venom dripping from her mouth that she almost fully means it; warm milk out of hand, she resorts to spite. Not fully, though: Rust can see the tears glazing her eyes and that's enough for him. A firm hand comes to grasp Cassandra's arm and put her in what is practically a headlock as Rust drags her to the truck. Cassandra's duffel bag slips off of her shoulder as Rust holds her firmly against his chest, bicep right up against the column of her throat. Some old man up from his pump, spit collecting at the corners of his mouth as he calls over,

'Everything alright over there?' Not from the area, Rust notes. Not solely due to the licence plate and milky arms but the slight wariness of his expression. A man unacquainted with the imperatives that the arrid terrain commands. The violence. Cassandra takes it upon herself to drop the unwanted attention as she chokes out,

'They don't teach you to mind your own fucking business in Iowa?!' the rage in her voice stemming from a deep humiliation in how she must look, Rust's arm tight against her neck. Rust takes in the man's mortification and grits into her ear,

'Shut the fuck up.'

He opens the truck door and shoves her in, slamming the door and heading over to the driver's side to catch her as she climbs out. Rust concedes her a heavy slap to the face before getting in, essentially crowding her back to the passenger's side. As he starts the ignition and pulls out of the gas station, Cassandra is eerily quiet, tears leaving hot tracks of salt and mascara on her cheeks. Rust debates on whether it's shame at getting caught or just pure desolation at, once again, finding herself completely fucked over, until he feels his jeans' waistband go slack. He feels the air hit that sweaty patch of back where the barrel of his .38 S&W was pressed and licks the inside of his cheek in an almost smirk. There she is, Rust thinks, knowing full well Cassandra's loathing of acquiescence as she points the gun at his temple, sweat curling his caramel hairs.

'Pull over or, I swear to God, I'll put your brains all over your goddamn car windows,' Cassandra's voice is firm but Rust sees her fingers trembling. Red. Her nails are lacquered the same colour as a Shirley Temple, poised on cool gun metal of the safety.

'You don't want to shoot me, Cass,' Rust says, his tone flat.

'Oh, I don't?' Cassandra scoffs.

'Nah, you wanna make a fuckin' scene so that I'll burst into tears and beg for your fuckin' forgiveness or some shit. That ain't gonna work on me, baby. I'm around too many pussies who ain't man enough to pull a fuckin' trigger, as it is. I can tell when someone's bluffin'. And you, Cass, I can sure as hell tell when you're bluffin'.'

'How are you so sure?'

Rust looks at a small trail leading off of the main road before sparing a sideways glance,

'That gun ain't even cocked.'

Cassandra narrows her eyes and pulls the hammer back,

'Happy?'

Rust steers the truck off of the road, onto the rocky country road, before stopping and turning to her,

'You wanna go? Go.'

Cassandra's gaze falters before she contrives it into that practiced indifference,

'You're kicking me out?' she says, her voice so fragile that Rust almost feels bad for putting her in this situation but tough shit: wisdom comes hard.

'Nah, just callin' your bluff. You got 30 seconds to go, if you want to,' Rust says, not even facing her but staring straight out ahead.

Cassandra stares at him, lowering the gun, and looks around helplessly. The tears come back, not when she looks at Rust's stony expression or the destitute surroundings, but when she looks at her duffel bag. All her life fitting into some beat up gym bag and, now, she's about to throw away the one thing that can protect her. A gun isn't shit compared to his hand on her ass and his fingerprints bruising her thighs; not to these fucking animals. Rust gives her the mercy of two minutes of silence before speaking,

'You ain't movin',' he says more as a statement than a question.

'Don't mock me,' Cassandra murmurs out.

'I ain't mockin' you.'

'You know that I ain't gonna go. I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to.'

'You can and you will, eventually.'

'I ain't sure, Cra-Rust. You ain't either.'

'Use Crash. I don't need you gettin' confused and fuckin' this up,' Rust says, gruffly.

'You sure that's it?'

'Am I sure 'what's' it?' irritation starting to creep into his tone.

'That the reason you don't want me using your real name is cause I'll jeopardise your cover.'

'I thought you were smarter than that, Cass.'

'What the fuck's that supposed to mean?' Cassandra suddenly straightens, her voice hard but still slightly tremulous.

'I thought you were smarter than to get your emotions mixed up with what is gonna keep your ass outta the crossfire.'

It's a low blow but it hits home. Cassandra looks down at her scraped knees, gravel and raw skin, before looking up again; her voice now a whisper,

'Do you feel sorry for me?'

Rust clenches his jaw, the simple juvenility of the question making him feel sick. He knows neither of them will be able to bear whatever tidal wave of sentiment is about to breach their carefully instated distance. The partial revelation of his true identity has already been more of an unmasking than he can stomach; especially to someone he cares so deeply for as Cassandra. Her knowledge of 'Rust' throws whatever the fuck they are doing with each other into something that goes beyond sex and protection, and Rust can begin to feel everything veering off track. He won't allow her to expose herself to him like this, not when he's already emotionally fucked her over so much, today. So, Rust finally turns to her and says,

'Take off your top.'

Cassandra falters, her voice still that hoarse whisper as she ask,

'What?'

Rust wills himself to turn his pity into scorn,

'Did I fuckin' stutter? Take off your top. Those shorts, too,' he says, his tone unnervingly even and made rough from his Camels. Cassandra stares at him for a moment before indulging him: shirt discarded first before she lifts her hips and awkwardly shimmies out of them. Rust notices her holding her side, her hand cradling the scar; something she's never really done until now. Not until Rust had forced her shame into the searing white light of recognition. He knows what Cassandra must be thinking, grouping him into that homogenous, male blob of ill-intent: her next job, her next dance, her next humiliation. He tries to pretend that it doesn't slightly tear him the fuck up when she looks at him with those eyes, now cold.

'What now?' Cassandra asks, sitting up with her spine long and upright, shoulders terse.

Rust pats his lap,

'Come here.'

'Rust, I-'

'I ain't ever remember sayin' you could call me Rust, Cass,' he says harshly, completely disregarding whatever appeal Cassandra's about to make over how to treat her. Pretty words that don't mean shit to Rust nor to this godforsaken part of the country. A place where women bring guns in their purses to hookups and there are wards for the babies born hooked onto opioids, has no use for floral, storybook sex. Here, it's fast and it's hard and it's painful and it's often paid for. Cassandra knows this type of sex, or rather its corruption. So, she shuts up and sits in Rust's lap; swallowing the bitter pill of docility.

'Move 'em to the side,' Rust taps the waistband of her panties with his knuckles. For a moment, a light tinge comes across Cassandra's collarbones at the crassness of the act. She hooks her fingers into the waistband, moving to pull them down, before Rust grabs her wrist,

'I say to take 'em off, Cass?'

'No,' Cassandra murmurs, trying to asses if Rust is pissed beyond belief or on some pretty loopy downers.

'So, you can hear me. I was thinkin' otherwise, given some of the shit you've managed to pull,' that dangerous mix of anger and worry begins to seep into Rust's tone. He can feel her wet heat through the lace of her panties; almost disappointed that she can get turned on by this shit. Old habits die hard, Rust thinks, lighting a cigarette and leaning back into his seat,

'Undo my belt.'

Cassandra stares at him, holding unflinching eye contact as she unbuckles him and unzips his fly. It's like a game of fucking chicken: which of them is willing to degrade the other more, for the sake of self-preservation. Rust exhales a slow stream of smoke watching Cassandra's thighs tremble from the exertion of holding her position. He quirks an eyebrow,

'You gonna tap out on me, baby?'

'No.'

'You wanted this shit that bad, didn't you, Cass?' Rust says, the forcefulness in his tone coming out of the pit in his stomach when he thinks what he's done to her.

'I did. I wanted this shit. Don't paint me out to be some dumbass little girl who opened her legs to the first man who reminded her of her daddy. That ain't what this is. I'm tougher than that, you know I am,' her voice starting to tremble again. Her hands absentmindedly wrapped around her midsection., as if to protect herself from the next laceration.

'You want it? Then move those fuckin' panties to the side.'

Cassandra stares at Rust with that fucking stupid bravado of rapacity, before gripping the crotch of them to the side; the tepid truck air mixing with the heady scent of her arousal and Rust's cigarette smoke,

'Go on. Fuck me like a man.'

Rust looks up at her while he pulls down his boxers, before grabbing her bruised hips and slamming her onto him. Not giving a fuck about the sharp, shuddering inhale. The lamb must learn to run with the wolves and Cassandra is far from a lamb. Especially as she is now, gulping down her whimpers of pain, desperately rocking her hips against his coarse hair to stimulate her little nub. She buries her head into the crook of his neck, nose rubbing against his jugular as Rust lands a firm slap on her ass,

'Don't get sentimental on me now, Cass,' he manages to grit out, feeling her arousal literally drip down him, 'Fuck am I gonna do with a weak lil' thing, huh?'

Cassandra tries to nod, her eyes squeezed shut and her groans muffled into the leather of Rust's jacket. Rust wraps his arms around her, holding her in a vice grip for the third time today, all of which have been some form of degradation or excavation of the dirty, nasty shit that Cassandra keeps hidden under sultry, bedroom eyes and that cutthroat tongue. At least this time, the aggression of the act is more tangible; neither of them are allowed any delusions. Not with how Cassandra's spit smears against Rust's stubble when he fucks into her especially hard or the cutting of taught lace on her hipbone or Rust's still lit cigarette burning dangerously close to Cassandra's dark waves. Apt symbolism, Rust thinks, as she angles her head to inhale from the tip; eyes starting to roll slightly at the mixture of in adverted friction of her bundle of nerves, and Rust's angry, frantic pace. She turns to look him right, as she leans her head in him, exhaling the smoke right into his mouth. Rust catches some powdery grey wisps, shoving Cassandra down once more onto him. As she groans, her hands never loosening, Rust leans in to mutter into her ear,

'You never fuckin' learn. Do you, baby?'

[bangaveragewhitewine]

maybe it ain't so bad

Bouncer!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader (established relationship) - Part of Happy Hours

Your boyfriend doesn’t like Christmas much. Inside his huge soft heart, he carries the memories of Christmases good and bad. After this year, the first Christmas you will actually get to spend together, he might feel a little warmer towards the Holidays…

Word Count 4.4k

Contents / Warnings | 18+ | Eddie & Reader are in their mid/late twenties | Loss of a parent, mention of child neglect and abuse | No explicit sex, nonetheless this is an 18+ fic - making out on the sofa, brief choking mention, Eddie’s love of hickies, being horny and in love, mentions of sex and post-sex softness, ‘slut’ as a term of endearment | No physical descriptions of reader; the image used in the header is not indicative of Bartender Reader in this series

Note I missed our metalhead bouncer boyfriend. I tried and tried not to make this sad or angsty. A quick moment to say thank you for all the love over the last sixish months while I have been writing and sharing my work. It’s a joy, truly! Have a cosy holiday season, sweet angels!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Christmas, 1992 

Eddie Munson didn’t care for Christmas.

A long time had passed since the last Christmas with his Mom, but each year the scabbed-over wound inside him tore and stung and bled just a little more around the Holidays. 

It might be more accurate to say then that Eddie Munson did not let himself care for Christmas. It hurt him to care about it, to remember the good ones and the bad ones with his mother, so he tried to just not care. 

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the coloured string lights wound around the shitty plastic tree, glinting against baubles that had seen better days. He could feel her hands holding his much smaller ones as they danced together to Christmas records, the way she held him safe and steady to place the star on top of the tree. The shininess of it all had pulled his attention from her pilled and threadbare sweaters and the bruise-like bags beneath her eyes. The festive earworms drowned out her tearful phone calls to her parents for some extra cash to make sure Eddie would have a present from Santa beneath the tree this year, and her promises that her no-good-husband would see a penny of it.

As he watches you hanging shiny-and-new decorations on the branches of the small fir in the corner of your shared living room, humming to music only you could hear, he could not help but think of her. It hurt, but the smile that spread across your face when you caught him watching soothed his soul just a little bit.

“Hi, handsome.” 

Your voice and that cosy greeting, the eye-sparkling smile you wear when he comes home to you, feels like stepping into a warm bath every single time. It’s a hug before you even open your arms to him.

You watch him unwind his scarf and shake out his frosted curls once his jacket has been hung on its peg. His boots are slipped off and left to pick up later. 

“How’d it go?”

Eddie stares at the shiny ornament hanging between your fingers on gold thread, lost somewhere in his head or hypnotised by the way it caught the light until you call his name again. 

“Sorry, yeah. Went good. You’ve been busy…”

While Eddie was teaching his last guitar lesson before the Holidays, you had draped the tree with shiny bright lights and made a start on the baubles, hanging them extra-slowly in the hope that your boyfriend might want to help when he got home. Neither of you had work tonight, scheduled off synchronously as a little reward for working Christmas Eve.

“You wanna help?” you ask, a glimmer of hope in your eyes, even as you readied yourself for rejection.

You knew his feelings about Christmas - not just his capitalist hellscape rant that came out whenever someone asked if he was looking forward to the holidays, but you knew the deep emotional pain he carried as another year passed without her. Every year the taste of her cinnamon-spiced sugar cookies and the scent of her perfume, that special Mom Smell, faded more in his memories.

For the first Christmas you would actually spend together as a couple, you wanted it to be special and cosy. You wanted Eddie to feel comfortable and safe, not like a prisoner bound in tinsel as you forced him to watch Miracle on 34th Street or How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (though he did have a soft spot for the green guy). A lazy few days cocooned in your apartment, a nice no-fuss dinner and quality time together. It helped too that you could pick up the Christmas Eve shift in the bar instead of travelling out of the state to sit at home with your families and miss each other, count the days until you hopped back on the plane to O’Hare, and pray that Eddie would drive safe on the icy roads around Hawkins. 

The decorations had been a compromise; Eddie never usually bothered and you liked to spend at least half a day making your home look like a festive explosion. A deal had been made on a small tree with a few lights.

You looked at that tree now, its small and slightly wonky stature had charmed you. Eddie’s staring at it too and you can see a glimpse of the broken boy Eddie once was; it makes your heart hurt. 

“Is it too much? I can stop…” Your voice is quiet.

Eddie shakes his head and plasters on a smile for you that makes your chest ache, before rounding the sofa on socked feet to press a kiss to your head and squeeze you around the middle.

His nose is cold from being outside. That fresh scent of bright winter air clings to him and slowly melts away inside the warm flat you share. 

“Looks great.” Eddie picks up a random red bauble. “Where does this one go?”

“Wherever you want it to go. Just look for the bare spots.” 

You tamp down any fizzing excitement that he’s taking an interest, then feel guilty that you are thinking of him like he’s a wild animal who is easily spooked. 

Eddie brings you back to reality, just like always.

“You gonna move it later when I’m not looking?” he asks, brows raising beneath his bangs as you loop your ornament on a branch. 

That ‘I know you too well for your cute lies, babe’ look he gave you made your cheeks feel warm. It was close to his ‘you’re pushin’ it and you’re being a brat on purpose’ look. That one was fun.

“Only if it’s too close to another red.”

He had seen you and Michelle in full-festive-flight when you decorated the bar every year; every year he braved the cold of the beer cellar or the back alley to stay well out of your way lest he be roped into a squabble on the placement of some stupid garland. 

Not fully convinced, Eddie zeroes in a bare spot (not too near to another red ball) and slips it over the branch with less practiced precision. It’s perfect.

You lean over to smack a kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek. “You’re a natural, Teddy.” 

His arm slips and winds around your waist, squeezing the squish of your hips before he presses his lips to your head. “Do I get a reward?” 

Eddie’s touch and the low timbre of his voice stoke the cosy glow in your body into something more fiery and exciting. His fingers skate along the waistband of your sweatpants, tracing up beneath your (his) hoodie. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

Two can play that game.

“For one little bauble? I’m not that easy, Munson.” 

It pains you to pull yourself away but the warmth and hunger in his gaze feeds your ego and the flame in your gut. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I need you to show me.” His fingers reach out to grab the empty space between you. 

Your eyes roll as you crouch to pick up two more baubles.

“Gimme a kiss for every decoration I put on then?” Eddie suggested, “I’ll keep tally.”

A slow smile makes its way onto your face and you nod. “That could be arranged. Don’t half-ass it though, they’ll fall off if they’re not on properly.” Your eyes narrow in warning, “I’ll bite you instead of kiss you if you half-ass it.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, honey,” Eddie smirks and takes both baubles from you - one gold, one pink - and hangs them on his fingers, strategically dangling them right over his nipples. He gets the exact reaction he was hoping for - an eye-roll and that smile you do when you try not to laugh at his silliness. That smile that had made him fall for you.

“And you know my motto - full ass or no ass at all. No half-assin’ around here.” 

Before you can make a smart comment about his flat ass, Eddie takes his time to thoughtfully hang the ornaments in two bare spots and surveys his work with a quietly-pleased hum. You could imagine what he was like as a kid, bargaining for an extra cookie once the tree was decorated, or an extra bedtime story. You didn’t hang any more decorations in favour of watching him work for a few moments, the colourful glow of the lights on his pale skin. 

He catches you staring and softens, winks at you as he picks two more baubles up. One for you, one for him. 

After passing the gold string between your fingers, you press a bonus-kiss to Eddie’s lips before finishing off your first tree together. Neither of you acknowledges with words how special it is, but it’s there. You squabble playfully when you get in each other’s way or when Eddie slaps your ass while he’s reaching for the snowman ornament you have had since you were a kid. 

You had accumulated a little collection of retro Christmas decorations in thrift shops over the years - pretty vintage baubles and kitschy ornaments, a few random or weird tchotchkes. A purchase from last year - a glittery skull wearing a Santa hat - earned instant approval from Eddie and pride of place on the tree. That one had caught your eye a few months after you two had started dating.

When the box of ornaments runs out, you take a step back and pull Eddie’s arm to join you. 

“You like it?” Your voice is quiet and careful as your cheek rests against the softness his sweater.

“Pretty,” Eddie says, just as quiet. His arms wind around you and hold you against his chest, starting a slow rock from foot to foot.

“Can I give you something?” you ask, voice muffled against his chest.

Eddie’s brows shoot up, a flirty look in his eyes. “Oh? You can give me whatever you want, babydoll.”

That wolfish grin of his still made you feel tingly all over, even as you rolled your eyes at him.

“It’s for the tree. Cool it, Romeo.” 

You pay this kiss-tax to be freed from the cosiness of his arms and slip into the bedroom for just a second. It is enough time for Eddie to edit a few baubles like it’s second nature to him, swapping out colours that are too close to each other and filling gaps until you arrive with a box. He has forgotten that he used to watch his mother do the same thing while he was content with his oven-warm cookies and cold milk on the couch.

You pass the box to Eddie. “It’s not really a gift. It’s for both of us.”

“Is it lingerie?” His brows raise, hopefully suggestive, as he smooths a finger over the lovingly slapped-on bow. Lingerie has certainly proven itself to be quite the mutual gift over the last year. His mind wanders to that last deep purple set you bought, and he can feel himself starting to drool.

“Eddie, just open it. You’re going to be so disappointed, it’s lame…”

At the talk of lingerie, you are acutely aware that you are currently dressed in sweats and one of his hoodies. In a funny sort of way, you know that the cosy combo does it for Eddie as much as lace and satin. The every-horny-for-your-boyfriend part of your brain considers wrapping yourself up in a big red bow for him. He would like that far too much.

He feigns coolness as he pulls the lid off and you push your unhinged thoughts away.

Inside, wrapped in crinkly red tissue paper, are two things - a matte black bauble with your initials curling together in shiny red calligraphy. Beside it, a small silver frame ornament with a candid snap of Eddie and you from Thanksgiving just passed, the one you spent in Hawkins with Wayne and his girlfriend. You’re perched on his lap, arms looped around his neck, smiling and very clearly obsessed with each other.

“I just thought we could... We could start our own traditions. Little things.” You speak into the quietness of the room as Eddie stares into the box. You murmur to yourself when he doesn’t answer, “You didn’t even want a tree, it’s so stupid.”

“Stop that.” Eddie’s frown is serious. “My girlfriend isn’t stupid. How dare you.” 

“But you don’t even like Christmas… It’s kinda stu-”

“Don’t. It’s fuckin’ thoughtful as fuck.” Eddie smiles softly at the ornaments, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. “You’re too cute, baby.” 

Pressing a smiling kiss to your lips, Eddie could feel himself beginning to soften. Maybe this Christmas thing would not be so bad this year…

Christmas with Wayne was always low-key - some years his Uncle took a shift at the plant and they exchanged thoughtfully practical presents like new guitar strings or picks, a book or an album, novelty mugs and new baseball caps or shirts. 

Wayne was not so fond of Christmas either. It reminded him of his heavy-handed drunk of a father, and the anxiety-inducing unanswered phone calls to his idiot brother’s house after Elizabeth died. It reminded him of finding his nephew alone in a cold house on Christmas Day, without a tree or dinner when Al forgot to come home. The kid didn’t have a single present to open from Santa. 

When Eddie moved to the trailer with him, too wise to the big bad world to be so easily distracted by shiny things, Wayne made sure there was a present for Eddie every single year, a meal and some company - even if the kid didn’t want it, even if Eddie screamed and threw a fit until he sobbed himself silent because he was just a little boy who missed his Mama…

Now, in the cocoon of your home together, Eddie's smile brims with child-like innocence, touched by the weight of wanting to start your own traditions together. You knew you were it for each other, but the little reminder of how much you meant it makes him glow.

He puts the box down and cups your face, pressing kisses everywhere he can reach. “God, I’m so in love with you,” he growls like a happy demon, making you laugh. 

Contently trapped against his body, soft and lean in all the right places, you release the breath you had been holding as Eddie studies the contents of the gift box again. 

“Look at these! I need this picture for my wallet. I need like, six copies,” he murmurs, “Have you ever seen a hotter couple?” Eddie brushes his thumb over the velvety loop of ribbon to hang it on the tree. “We need this for our grandkids, baby.” 

“Laurel took it. I’ll get you another copy.” Your face hurts from smiling as he kisses your cheek again. Wayne’s girlfriend was fond of you both, particularly Eddie.

“And this? Fuckin’ gothic as hell, I love it.” He strokes the intertwined initials before putting the box down to hug you just a shade off too tight. Nuzzling your noses together, he asks, “Where are we going to hang ‘em?”

“Front and centre?” you suggested, shrugging a little. “We could move that one…”

“Creepy Santa?”

“Banish him to the back of the tree. Begone, creep.”

Eddie chokes a laugh and muttered, “I love when you say nerdy shit, baby,” before unwinding his arms from around you to banish Creepy Santa.

“My boyfriend is a huge nerd, I can’t help it,” you tease.

After some careful re-arranging, the two new additions take pride of place on your tree. Eddie’s tongue had stuck out in concentration as he balanced them both so carefully; you wished you had your camera to capture the moment, not that you would ever forget it. 

You are wrapped up in his arms again once you agree on the placement, nose to nose as Eddie tells you how much he loves you again. The little noise he makes when you slip your hands into his back pockets hits low in your gut.

“You saving those kisses you earned or cashing them in, hot stuff?” you ask, tracing his jaw with the tip of your nose.

Eddie’s teeth flash in the low light; the room is shadowy and warm in the glow of string lights and a dim lamp in the corner. 

“Oh, I’m saving them up, princess. Might claim one or two right now, but the rest are staying with me. Got a pocketful of IOUs for kisses.”

You press your face against his shoulder, smiling. “That’s so ominous, Teddy.” 

“Next time you’re mad at me? Kiss token. When you’re too busy with stupid chores to take my human right to be kissed seriously? Pucker the fuck up, pretty girl.” 

You love him all ways, but especially like this; playful and fun, flirting hard with you. Eddie’s using his voice in a way you know comes from years of playing DnD, and a stint in the drama club at school. He’s in-your-face-flirty, never subtle. This is the man who punched someone for you before you were even dating; there’s nothing subtle about Eddie Munson. 

No, there’s absolutely nothing subtle about Eddie as his hips press forward against yours and he directs your mouth to his, cashing in the first of those kisses. He smiles when you chase him for more. You pull him closer, your hands on that flat ass of his, and sigh when his tongue licks across your bottom lip. 

“That’s one,” he whispers. 

He cups your warm cheek, his pinky stroking your pulse point. He can feel your blood pump quicker when his breath breezes over your mouth, like the hard beating of butterfly wings that he feels too. Eddie likes how they have not gone away yet for either of you; over a year together and no sign of migration. He hopes they never leave.

“M’not counting. Just kiss me,” you whisper, a little whiney and needier than you had realised now that you are pressed up against him with nowhere else to be. 

Never one to leave you hanging (unless that was part of the game you were playing), Eddie kisses you like a man starved. He craves that gasping whimper only he can pull from your throat, the flutter of your lashes when your tongues slide together. 

You shiver when his chilly fingers slip up beneath your sweatshirt, palm flat to the small of your back - the part he likes to see arched when he takes you from behind. 

Your lips buzz where they press against Eddie’s; the electricity passing between you makes you glow like Christmas lights. 

Eddie can tell your brain is still working too hard and brings his hand to your throat; not squeezing but his touch just enough to bring you back to him. It makes you keen for him. A reminder of something you both want to try, but not before you work up to it and do a little more research.

“Okay?” he checks, kissing the corner of your mouth. He watches your eyes go dark, swallowed up by your pupils in the dim light. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, tilting your chin just enough to graze your lips against Eddie’s.

He blesses you with an all-too-brief kiss, knowing you need and want more. He backs up a few steps, taking you with him to sit on the couch. Sitting there, thighs spread and waiting, the way he looks up at you makes you clench. You take your place in his lap and spend a moment slowing it all down again, forehead to forehead with Eddie’s hands stroking your hips. 

“I love you,” he whispers, the words tickling your lips. 

“I know. Love you,” you murmur back, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. You thumb the tired crescent beneath it, skating along his smiling cheek. 

When he looks at you, it makes your heart beat double time; it’s not just the lust darkening his eyes, but pure adoration. 

You cross your arms to wriggle out of the hoodie, stripped down to a cotton cami and a bra that had been relegated to comfy-wear-only. Eddie thinks you are a goddess, and he is completely and utterly down-bad for you. The glow of the Christmas tree behind you makes you look like some sort of angel.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs. His hands run up your sides and down again, pulling you in closer onto his lap. You can feel him beneath the layers of sweatpants and denim. 

You lean into him again for another kiss, melting against Eddie’s warm chest when his hands begin to wander. He kisses you, his tongue twisted with yours as he takes his time. There is no rush this evening, no need to get off quick before your shift. 

Without the deadline, you draw it out - kissing slow, hands wandering to squeeze and tease, hips rolling and grinding together hot and hard beneath the layers. You give extra attention to that spot on Eddie’s neck that makes him go cross-eyed, dragging your teeth over the little bruise he can hide beneath his hair (but he won’t because he’s a menace and a bit of a slut). 

You pull off his black sweater - the one that hugs his arms and makes his waist look biteable - and kiss along the neckline of his tank top. Your fingers push at it and his silver chain when they get in the way of another bruise-making kiss that makes Eddie swear under his breath. 

“Baby, fuck.” 

He grunts quietly when you push your hips together again, attempting to relieve some of the building ache between your thighs. 

“Mm, that’s the plan,” you whisper, smiling against his collarbone when he chokes on his own throaty laugh. 

When you look up at him there is a dusty pink flush across his cheeks. You watch his jaw drop just a fraction when your breath casts over the damp kisses you left on his neck. When your thumb catches purposefully on his nipple there’s a quiet ‘fuck’ that tumbles from his tongue. 

As his ability to be patient wanes, Eddie catches your lips again and slowly guides you to lie back against the sofa cushions.

“You drive my crazy,” he whispers, brushing back the hair that had fallen around your face. He kisses you again, a whisper of teeth against your lip before your tongues meet in a filthy kiss.

You make space for him between your legs, lying chest to chest as close as possible without opening up your chest and letting him crawl inside, without physically melting together to become one. You lose yourself in each other, bathed in the warm light of the tree.

“You didn’t do a star. Or an angel, angel. Do you have one?” Eddie’s jeans and belt are undone around his hips as he sits with your feet in his lap, pulled back on to smoke out the window.

“I got distracted before I could put it up.” You wiggle your toes against his thigh, yelping when he runs his fingertips over the sole. You shove it beneath his leg, safe and warm away from his tickling fingers. “I have one. It’s in that bag.” 

Back in your (Eddie’s) hoodie and your underwear, you point him toward the busted-around-the-edges gift bag left forgotten by the stereo. “You wanna put it up?”

Eddie smells warm and smokey when he leans in for a kiss, a tinge of sweat lingering after making love to you. He still has his warm pink-cheeked glow and proudly wears the bruises from your sweet mouth, the red marks left by your fingernails on his back. 

Three pecks later, he stands with a groan more befitting a man of his uncle’s age and picks up the bag. You watch him stare at the contents, an unreadable look on his face as he lifts it out.

Your star is kitschy as hell, gold with little tinsel pom-poms on the pointy edges and definitely older than both of you. It’s not to everyone’s taste, a little tacky perhaps, but that was part of its charm. When it caught your magpie-eye in a junk shop a few weeks ago you couldn’t leave it behind. The had-seen-better-days tree-topper that had cost one whole dollar and seventy-five cents. It had glittered at you from the shelf and whispered ‘take me with you’. 

“If you hate it, we don’t have to put it up. We could put Creepy Santa up there instead,” you mused, “Our creepy angel…” 

“I don’t hate it. It’s so… wrong in the best way.” Eddie turns the star-shape in his hands. It reminds him of the chintzy and bright Christmas trees and flashy lights in Forest Hills. “Where the hell did you even get this thing?” 

“In the little thrift store near the camera shop. The one where you got me those earrings…?” 

“Mm, I know it. Maybe we can un-banish the Creep too. I guess it’s Christmas after all…” he reaches for the previously hidden Santa Claus figure with shifty eyes and rosy cheeks and replaces him near the top of the tree. “Yeesh, you’re a weird little man.” He flicks Santa before lifting the star up. “You wanna do the honours?”

From your cosy place on the couch, still pleasantly jelly-legged and tingly all over, you shake your head. “You do it. I’m comfy.” 

Eddie shrugs and reaches to balance the topper on the highest point of your perfectly wonky little tree, standing back with his hands on his hips before looking to you for approval. 

You give Eddie two thumbs up before opening your arms for him. You barely brace for impact when he pounces on you, head thrown back laughing. “Ed!” You squeak when he presses growling kisses to your neck. 

Resting on your chest, Eddie looks up at you with those shiny baby-cow eyes you adore. He is so soft beneath it all. He makes your heart beat double time. You brush back his hair and kiss his forehead as he gets comfortable. You wrap your legs around him so he cannot go anywhere, even if he wanted to. 

“Can we make this part of our tradition too?” he asks.

“Mm, I like how you think, pretty boy.”

Your fingers comb through his curls as he rests his weight on you. There is nowhere you would rather be.

Eddie cannot keep himself from staring at the tree in the quiet bliss of it all. He soaks it in; the thud of your heart beneath his ear, the way the tree-lights blur his eyes when he stares at them for too long. 

A small slow smile spreads onto his face. He decides then that maybe, just maybe, Christmas might not be so bad this year.

An easter egg for the babes who made it to the end - here's the picture from the header image (I love making photos like this for fics tbh). I like to think this is one of the pictures Eddie's Mom sent to Wayne and he still has it 🥲🥲🥲

Thank you for reading ❤️ reblogs, likes and comments are cherished and adored!