#sorry for the shitty cropping on the first one

[jujubamp4]

is it dandadover for me?

[lemongogo]

anyways . silly thing

[starrynightsforever]

I am Thinking

It’s All About ME, Not You -Greer Lankton (quoting Patti Smith), 1996// “Sun Bleached Flies” -Ethel Cain, 2022

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: dubcon-ish due to suggestiveness and alcohol, yandere, breakup, depression, schemes, manipulation, office au for some reason

part two in Gojo's pov

fem reader

It’s been two weeks since your breakup—since you got dumped on your sorry ass.

You wished you could say you were fine, wish you could say fuck that guy, anyway, good fucking riddance—that you’d make him regret it, that he didn’t know what he lost, that he’d come crawling back begging your forgiveness soon enough. You really wish you were that girl—the one who gets up and dusts off and gets back out there with her head still held high. You really do.

But no, you’re one of those girls who feel silly getting dressed—worried that you’re trying too hard. Fuck, it’s hopeless. You feel like shit, and you look like shit, and you don’t even want to go out anyway—it’s just some shitty office party at some shitty little bar where everyone’s going to make your breakup their business. It would be best not to go—leave them to talk shit about it behind your back. 

Sure, you could slap on your best tough act and tell them all to go fuck themselves, but why bother? You’re just going to drink too much and end up doing something you regret.

And oh, how right you were.

It’s not even been a good few hours before you’ve got the office slut’s tongue down your throat—all but clinging to him as you press your body up against his. Manicured hands tussled in his pretty white locks, pulling on him while sucking each other’s faces, leeching off the feeling of his hands grabbing your waist—oh god, it feels good to be wanted again.

Yes—yes, this is what you need. Fuck your ex-boyfriend, he’s probably out fucking some skank himself. Well, two can play that game. He’ll see. You’ll make him see. That fucking asshole—

Oh no.

“Wait—stop,” you break off the desperate kissing. 

Hanging your head while steadying your breath, you push both hands flat on his hard chest, keeping him distanced even as he leans after your lips. 

You swallow thickly, then wipe your mouth, taking a step back. “The fuck am I doing…”

You don’t dare look back up at him. Beyond embarrassed, you just want to get out of there as quickly as your feet can carry you—catch the first cab home and forget all about it. Pretend it never happened. 

“Sorry, ‘m gonna go,” you mumble as you start walking away, leaving your confused colleague behind, alone outside the bathroom stalls, still recovering.

You make your way down the hallway with dim neon lights flickering overhead, feeling swallowed up by the graffiti-littered walls.

What a sorry place for mistakes.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I was about to be one of those girls.” You shudder as you wrap yourself in your own hug, feeling silly for wearing a cropped jacket—and why the fuck is your dress so short? You’re not a fucking teenager anymore. “Fucking hell… I’m such a mess.”

“No, wait.” A tug of your jacket holds you in place. Oh, but you really don’t want to look at him. It’s humiliating enough already that you’d sought him out for validation—you don’t need his pity as well. It’s Gojo, for fuck’s sake. A different girl brings him lunch about every day—the whole office knows.

You might just die from the toll of it.

“Com’on. I’m perfect for this, aren’t I?” he asks under his breath while maneuvering you up against the wall again, his dewy breath brushing your scalp as he peers down at you in wait for your answer.

“What are you on about?” You veer away. You should be in a cab already. Better yet, you should have never gone out in the first place. What was your goal here anyway? To not wallow in your own worthlessness? And you really thought seeking Gojo’s seal of approval would make you feel any better about yourself? The office hottie and the century’s ultimate fuckboy?

Fuck, it’s so wrong on so many levels, you feel disgusted with yourself.

“We’re both drunk,” he states, but you don’t really want to hear it—head too filled with your own bullshit to heed any of his. You swear, if he tries any one of his sleazy pick-up lines on you, you’re gonna knee him right in the balls. It would be nice to get fired now anyway—you’d take it as a blessing.

What he says instead is unexpected—brutally and grossly honest, “You need a rebound, right? And I wanna fuck.”

Your thoughts stop shaming you as you look back at him, returning his gaze with an awaiting silence, allowing him to go on.

“So let’s use each other and blame it on the drink.”

It sounds like the lyrics of an angsty heartache song they might have played back inside the bar—the muted thuds seeping in through the walls makes it all but true. And still, there’s something oddly enticing about it, even as it makes you cringe.

“No hard feelings. No strings,” he continues, a small grin playing in the corner of his lips. “Just a good ol’ tit for tat.”

He almost sells it. But you’re just one too many bad nights too tired to buy.

“Don’t be dumb—” you dismiss and try nudging him away again—only, he doesn’t let up.

“C’mon—you’re angry, aren’t you?” he poses with a quirked brow. “What better way to stick it to him than fucking the hottest guy around?”

It stunts you. Suppose that had been exactly your objectives tonight, unknowingly and much to your shame. At least you can find some mediocre solace in your next confession, for as it turns out, “I’m not that kinda girl.”

It’s a depressing outcome. Made even shittier by how you sort of wish you were—that kind of girl. The type who doesn’t let anything get to her, who moves on and doesn’t think twice about it—who fucks the hot guy in front of her and wakes up feeling empowered the next morning. If only you weren’t such a tragic fucking loser…

“Be her for a night?” he suggests, still not having given up. He cups your chin and brushes a thumb over your lips. It’s really intimate, makes you feel pinned beneath that look in his eyes—as if the sky was coming down upon you. His words are low, brushing your face with heat as he says them, “I promise, I’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget all about him.”

Goddamn it—there it is, the fucking pick-up line. Now, it doesn’t really make your knees weak or anything, but you’re sorry to say you can’t deny it’s tempting, either. 

Besides, you really didn’t want to go home and spend the night crying yourself to sleep—again, now paired with regrets about this night on top of it all.

You look at him through the thicket of your mascara, into those big blue puppy-dog eyes looking at you in something so strange such as earnest. Oh God, he really wants to do this for you, doesn’t he? He could go find himself any other girl—everyone had been eyeing him earlier—it’s not too late for him to simply go pick any one of them up. 

Is this his way of being considerate—being a good colleague by offering you a fuck? Ugh… that makes you feel so fucking pathetic. But then again… why does it really matter? You couldn’t really stoop any lower at this point—might as well have some fun while at it, right?

You were out of ice cream anyway…

“C’mon,” he drawls, eyes growing heavier as he leans further in—once again, only a tiny inch separating you. So close you taste his breath and feel his voice on your lips. “Don’t make me beg.” 

You don’t. No, you end up saying not another word. Too busy drowning your sorrows, getting drunk while kissing him breathless.

And oh, you and your bittersweet heartbreak taste so good on his tongue—coercing your boyfriend into dumping you was the greatest ploy for your heart he could ever do.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[cute-sucker]

can we see pogue!rafe telling reader one day they're gonna make it and be much more comfortable and then she can have everything she wants IM SORRY pogue rafe makes me angsty

note: this is pup and pogue!rafe all the way. inspiration from pogue!rafe goes to @.princessbrunette

you're very low maintance overall, wearing dirty scuffed shorts, and a wife beater that you stole from rafe. sometimes rafe has to grab you to tell you how dirty you look, smelling of grass with marks of dirt on your jorts.

he gets more annoyed when you continue to wear his clothes. a white unbuttoned shirt with a cropped tee, and while rafe will raise an eyebrow then and then again telling you that you're gonna get cold, you can see the feigned annoyance that flickers in his eyes time and time again. but he doesn't get too annoyed with you, somehow kinder, and sweeter with you than anyone he knew.

sometimes people were surprised, the way that he would cower for you. one time you had come home with a bruised hip after ducking to get a softball for a bunch of ten-year-olds, and came home wobbling for him to soak you a bath, chastening you to be careful. if you told anyone how soft he was for you, they would laugh, swearing that you were lying.

sometimes you had to get rafe to stop doting on you in front of his friends, rugged workers who would raise an eyebrow every single time they saw rafe kneel to tie your shoelaces.

"every goddamn time pup," he muttered lowly, "you're going to trip and i'm gonna have to kiss your boo boos? huh? answer me." rafe whispered crudely, while licking his lips as you flushed trying to look anywhere but his co-workers.

(you hated it so much that later on you were shoving your tongue down his throat telling him how much you loved him)

life was good. life was sweet, even if you couldn't get the nicest thing that there was in town, or that sometimes you had to settle for those cheap restaurants, or even if you had to dig out the nastiest rench out of the toilet after it had dropped. (okay, the last one was just a fun adventure rafe had told you not to do)

but there's something about that dress in the window. that stares back at you, and you can't help but feel this aching in your heart. it's this feeling that you can't escape when you walk past it every single day. the little ruffles, and the sheer beauty of the dress. sometimes you bite your tongue before walking past it, willing yourself to stop yourself.

when people told you a dress was meant for you, you had laughed toying with your jeans, wistfully nodding your head. the worst thing about it was the price tag.

one time you had willed yourself to enter in there, cold hands in your pants, as you skimmed past the other clothing to cut to the dress. just turning it over, you felt as if someone punched you in the stomach. 200 dollars? goddamn it, and then you quickly walked out, forgetting to say goodbye.

when you reached home, you pushed the door open in your shitty apartment, quickly going to get a strawberry soda. you ignored the raised eyebrow that rafe gave you, and before you knew it you were sniffling and running into the bedroom.

"uh—shit, hey, what's wrong?" his muffled voice rings clear into your head, "pup. can't cut me out like that. i thought we worked on that. managing your emotions and n’shit." there's a tone of concern in his voice, and you know he's stopping himself from barging in into the small room.

that was the first thing the two of you worked on. due to how small the place was, and given how much space both of you needed, you had rules to knock if the other went into a room, angry. rafe had started it, sitting you down telling you that sometimes he needed to be alone.

you bite your lip, folding yourself into a ball, as you mewl a "you can come in."

rafe entered the room with a sigh, folding his hands seeing you scrawled on the wooden floor. you bat your eyes, wispy eyelashes wet from crying, and you can't help yourself but reach out for him. he sits next to you, nudging you to scoot closer. you do, pressing your face against the folds of his button-up, smelling in the scent of peppermint and dirt.  

"you wanna tell me what that was about?"

you sober up, as he sits down next to you. you push your face closer to his chest as you shake your head. you couldn't dare tell him why you were feeling so horrible. you couldn't tell him you felt horrible because you couldn't have some stupid dress. money issues were something that rafe was used to, and for you to use it against him would be inhuman. no, you had what was the most important—rafe.

"so you're—you're gonna sulk?" he drawls, voice cruelly sweet, "c'mon kid, you can't just leave me hanging here. my sweet girl can't be crying."

you hiccupped, rubbing your eyes as you detached yourself from him, "no, i really can't tell you."  

now he was on alert, eyes sharp as he looked you over. you were never the one to cry and not tell him what was going on. make matters worse you would mope for weeks over the smallest thing. be it an animal documentary, or a story of a baby dying before meeting their mother. last week you had sobbed over the death of a ladybug.

"hey? hey!" rafe shook his head as he leaned closer to you to wipe away your tear, "did someone say something to you? just give me a name. i'll take care of you, you know i will."

this made you cry even harder, and you watched rafe look completely confused, as he tries to console you, you watched him bite the inside of his cheek, rubbing his hands against his sides. he looks completely helpless, and out of his element.

"it's about a dress," you whisper out, unsure as you look up at him, watching his lips twitch into a jeering smile.

"shit kid. all this-" rafe waved his hands around, a condencing tone edging in his voice, "all of this is about a dress? what's it made out of of—and uh, what the hell happened?"

somehow you can't help but laugh at his increditious tone, and realise how stupid it was of you not to tell him in the first place. he's your boyfriend, practically your best friend and everything to you.

you sniffled, "theres this dress that i see on my way to work, and it's so pretty, and i wish it was mine. every single time i see it, i feel like i'm betraying you."

rafe looked confused, running a hand through his hair "how would you be betraying me? 'just a dress."  

now you feel like crying even more, snot running down your face as he grabs your face to wipe it away, "no, rafe! not the dress. it's—" you let out a heavy sigh, "it's not the dress. it's the concept."

he looked amused, rubbing your back, "and that concept is?"

"that i'm not happy with you, and that i'm so greedy because i want a stupid dress, and that you deserve better, and that i'm just in it for the money!" you burst out, wailing at this point crumbling into rafe's arms. "i'm a bad person, rafe! i'm a bad person-"

and he says nothing. instead he gathers you in his arms, gently rubbing your head, as you whimpered softly. he's whispering something softly to you, as you try to burrow yourself closer to him.

"kid?"

"yea?"

"you're not a bad person for wanting something nice and new. especially if it's something that matters to you, uh, you gotta let yourself feel like that sometimes," he whispered out awkwardly, but when you look up at him you see the way that his eyes crinkled earnestly. he really cares about you, really cares about you.

"hell," he let out a laugh, "sometimes i feel like that. sometimes i want what those kooks have. those private jets, and houses and golf, and that doesn't make me a bad person," and then he gives you a soft smile before sobering up.

"what it means is that we gotta work harder for it," rafe mutters, pulling you closer, "but you and me?"

you nod waiting for him to say something.

"you and me are in for it. big time. and if it's some fancy dress you want, shit, i'm going to get you that dress, but you gotta wait," he coughed.

"i know this looks bad," he said, nudging at the apartment around the two of you, "but it's going to get better."

then he rests your head on his shoulders, and you feel more grateful than you ever.  

[urhoneycombwitch]

breathe in the air

eddie x reader x steve. part i

foreword: this is part one/set up for a fic I’ve been chewin’ on. cw is for both parts and will get updated- no actual smut in this first one but please heed the tags anyway. +18 mdni as always. (@somnambulic-thing you inspired me to write from Eddie’s pov! 💖)

cw: smoking (weed and nicotine), R’s hair is mentioned but unspecified texture/length, also wears Eddie’s shirt, R has breasts + V,  Eddie and Reader are both varying degrees of stoned while performing sex acts (please be safe IRL and don’t read if that makes you uncomfy!!), pt. ii will have: voyeurism (Eddie and R fool around and Steve watches), blow jobs, masturbation, both the boys being Down Bad™️

wc: 2.5k (part i)

_____

The sun has sunk low over Forest Hills, Eddie’s room cast in deep blue where the golden path of his bedside lamp doesn’t touch.

He’s lighting up a post-sex cigarette, one of the best things this shitty world has to offer, in his opinion- second only to feeling your warm body against his; writhing and wriggling with pleasure, neck craned to let him lick the sloping sweat from your skin- or times like now, when you’re calm and satiated, nude under the comfort of sheets and the weight of your head on his chest.

Casting a hand out to shuffle blindly through the bedside table, Eddie wraps his other arm around the sleepy length of you, pulling you tighter to himself; your response a wordless, happy little noise. His hand deep in the drawer catches on a stray cigarette, then around the hard plastic of a spare lighter. With a sigh of contentment, he kisses the top of your head before bringing the filter to his lips.

Sparks catch under his thumb, cherry of the cig burning red- like some sort of sleeper agent responding to the click, you sit up with a jolt, stealing the mess of sheets upwards, exposing Eddie’s lower half to the cool air.

Eddie swears, startled- thinking you were almost asleep, he’d been nearly careless with the open flame- tossing the lighter aside, he reaches towards your back that now faces him. “Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning before you snap to attention like a damn general.”

Thumb pressed to the notches of your spine, palm wide around your lower back, Eddie can feel the quiet giggle that shakes through your ribs.

 “Sorry,” you whisper once you’re finished, still staring at the far wall like you're trying not to break a spell. Your arms are crossed, sheets bunching around your chest- “Had a thought.”

“Must’ve been a good one,” Eddie muses, thumb following the line of your spine down, like he’s petting an oversized cat.

In true feline fashion your back arches into his touch, encouraging his palm to sweep up again, to your shoulder blade this time as you murmur, “I wanna go swimming.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s immediately agreeable, taking a long drag from the cig, letting smoke fill out the hollows around his lungs. “We’ll go to Lover’s Lake tomorrow. Heard it’s gonna be a hot one.”

Hawkins is having a record heat wave for the second summer in a row- as if all the damn underground monster shit and horrific earthquakes of last year weren’t enough already: global warming to top it all off. The sun has been merciless these last few weeks, peaking midday, nothing for it but to lie in a heated daze on the kitchen tiles of whoever’s house is the least amount of bitch to get to.

Not that Eddie’s complaining about you being half-naked most of the time. He thinks this is the year you might actually kill him, now that he can touch you, call you his- every curve of upper calf in those short shorts, every soft slip of stomach peeking out from cropped tops- he’s got enough spank bank material to last until his deathbed. (Which he’s decidedly allowed to joke about, since, ya know, the whole almost-dying thing last spring.)

Eddie moves on haptic memory to set aside his cigarette, searching pinky-out for the lip of the ashtray (ceramic, with a poorly-drawn Snoopy, the ears far too big- you’d laughed until you cried over it at the thrift store; he was fifty cents poorer that day but rich and dizzy off your glee). 

“No, not the lake. And I wanna go swimming now.” There’s a hint of petulance in your voice, walking the thin line of childish whine that only appears these days after you’ve smoked, tongue and desires loosened and lax with the help of the finest hash stash in Hawkins. 

There’s a smile threatening to split Eddie’s face in two. He’s been working at that hard-won wall of your solitude for ages now, showing rather than telling you it’s okay to ask for things, that you’re safe to make requests and hell, even demands, from him. Eddie’s not sure what he wouldn’t do for you, at this point- hasn’t found that line yet. Probably doesn’t exist.

A monster of my own design, he thinks, fondly, sweeping the hair from your neck so he can see the outline of cheek and jawbone, reflective with lamplit glow. “Baby, there’s nowhere to swim right now- it’s dark and that’s not real safe. Tomorrow I’ll make us some sandwiches- we can drive out to the lake, you can get stoned and I’ll play lifeguard.”

It’s probably too much to hope you’ve swallowed this bitter pill of compromise in silence, but based on the lack of response, it’s certainly possible. Eddie presses his thumb into the muscle where your neck meets shoulder, massage a silent apology for saying no when you’d been so good to ask. 

Crickets chirp in chorus outside, sound dampened by the glass window- he needs to open it soon, get the hot air out and night breeze flowing (though he is loath to replace the heady smell of sex wrapped like a cozy blanket around his room).

He feels you shuffle under his hand, eyes popping open to watch- you’ve tucked your chin over the dip in your shoulder, looking down the slope of your own nose at him, an expression on your face that makes Eddie’s stomach flip (with nerves, fear, excitement, hard to pinpoint exactly).

Your voice is quiet but steady when you speak, Eddie’s massaging fingers freezing to a halt when you say, “I know a place, open right now, with a lit-up pool. And a lifeguard.”

A thin tendril of smoke from the ashtray floats into Eddie’s vision as he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then he sits up, crushing the cherry into Snoopy’s wavered outline (sorry, pal) before brushing arms with you, patient and stern with a headshake to match- “No way, sweetheart.”

“Why-y?” That petulance is back, Eddie’s heart kicking up in response; it’s your turn to give the physical affection, winding your arms in a closed loop around his neck, forehead bumping against his jaw as he works it back and forth. 

His stitched-tight resolve quickly unspools as the wet plush of your lips track a path across his throat; he clears it before squeezing at your side again, one last argument to try and stick like cooked spaghetti to a wall. “You’re high.”

You snort, puff of breath sending goosebumps across his skin, rapidly cooling from lack of your affection- “Yeah, and you’re not. So you can drive us there, and then smoke again with me before we go in, and Stevie boy will keep us safe in that nice, heated, well-lit pool of his.”

Even as you speak, Eddie’s shaking his head, but it’s more in disbelief of his own weakness (namely: you). He slips a hand to your cheek, pulling back to take you in- mischief shimmering like twin stars in your eyes as you lock onto his gaze, lips parting pliant when his thumb swipes at your bottom lip. 

“You gonna behave yourself?”

It’s less of a question and more of a check-in, the meaning behind the words an undulating variable, a riddle with a thousand different answers.

The one you do give is complimented by a wicked grin, punctuated with a quick kiss (awfully chaste, considering your bare front pressed against his), your mirthful delight at having won both unsettling and tantalizing.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

With a sudden push to his chest, Eddie goes down easy for you, hair spreading riotous across the pillow as you move with shocking fluidity to throw a leg over his hip. Your hands meet in the middle of his chest, just under the rippling ink of a crow in flight, settling your weight comfortably on his stomach. 

Eddie’s sure you can feel his pulse, jack-rabbit fast, as you dip to kiss beneath his jaw. His hands automatically settle on your hips, grip tightening with each loving kiss you scatter over his collarbones, his sternum.

He’s half-hard under the sheets by the time your lips find the hitch of his ribs, stuttering and expanding to meet your mouth- can’t be faulted, really, not when your bare chest gleams in the low light, the top of your head imploring for the warmth of his wide palm to rest. 

Just when Eddie thinks he’s in the clear, that the call of your needs (evident in the slickness pooling just under his navel where your naked cunt rests) will drive the call of your wants to distraction, you sit up again, using your planted hands as leverage to swing completely off and away.

The coldness of your absence is cruel and unusual punishment. Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, deciding right then that he won’t be above begging tonight- when you suddenly reappear with a clean beach towel in either arm, pulled from the bowels of his closet.

There’s youthful, honest enthusiasm to your movements- something that’s catching, apparently, ‘cuz Eddie’s tipping himself out of bed with a resigned sigh, pulling boxers over his flagging dick and answering your spree of questions about these new evening plans.

“Sure, bring a water bottle. No, babe, we don’t need sunscreen- it’s night. Yeah, I’ll bring more weed. How ‘bout you bring me that old shoulder bag and we can bring some stuff with us.”

As you work on digging through the mess of a combined closet to find something suitable for swimming, Eddie folds the two towels that you’d found along with a baggie of joints into the bag. You’re humming under your breath while getting dressed, and Eddie’s staring at all the leftover space- what does one pack for a nighttime high swim with one’s girlfriend and the guy you’ve both sort-of mentioned threesoming with?

He tosses in a well-loved edition of your favorite book of poems, figuring the Harrington abode will have plenty of snacks. Food for the mind, he thinks, then snorts at his own joke. 

“C’mon, snorty.” You beckon from the doorway, an old t-shirt of his just swishing past the dark strip of your bikini bottoms, van keys held aloft. 

At the front door, there’s a brief argument about coats (you think you’ll be fine without, Eddie disagrees vehemently) which Eddie wins, wrangling your arms into the sleeves of his oil-stained work jacket before locking the front door behind you both.

Eddie smiles, a secret, pure thrill watching you tiptoe gingerly across the gravel on bare feet (too stubborn to actually wear the sandals that hang from either hand). His coat is bunched up around your ears while your legs poke out like some sort of winterized bird with bare legs. 

There’s a bright pang of love that suddenly hits hits sideways, a dizzying urge to sink on denim knees to the ground, sharp rocks be damned, just to kiss the tender spot behind your knees, to feel the hill of your calf under his tongue…

Your giggle breaks his reverie, impatient and pointed jiggling of the locked passenger handle clunking out into the quiet park. “Quit staring, weirdo. You coming?”

Hope so, Eddie thinks, spinning the key ring in looping arcs around his pointer finger. He bypasses the porch steps completely, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Your cheery mood is sustained during the short car ride as you chatter animatedly about some coworker drama that you forgot to catch him up on, Eddie’s hand drawn like a magnet to your upper thigh while he drives. 

But by the time he’s pulling the van next to Harrington’s beemer, your eagerness has waned, speech drifting off into silence once he’s parked. 

“Hey.” His voice draws you back to him, a bit, your eyes too wide and roving for his liking, coat sleeves clenched around opposing fists as you hang onto his words. “Sweetheart. We don’t have to go inside. Can go anywhere- diner for some food, back home, the damn trash heap for all I care. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you counter, earnest but chest still punching a fast rhythm. “I feel safe. I just… you think he’s even awake?”

There’s a yellow glow coming from one of the second-floor windows. Your fingers twist harshly around fabric in the dark, breath loud. 

Eddie nods, then kills the engine and grabs behind his seat for the Ziploc of pre-rolls, an offering held to you between two ringed fingers. “Want a bit of Green Courage before going in?”

The van windows are soon fuzzily obscured with a haze of smoke, sprinklers for the pristine lawn nearby hissing to an automated start at the turn of 11 PM. The weed coaxes your earlier state of relax to the forefront, this time with an added layer of giggles, which Eddie finds desperately cute. 

He’s sure he’s high now, too, ‘cuz he’s unintentionally focusing really hard on your lips as you speak, and you’re letting him, corner of your mouth quirking when you ask, “Gonna take me inside, Munson?”

“Uh huh.” An automatic response, just so he can keep staring- when you pop the handle of your door open Eddie reaches, faltering before landing on your face, cupping the tilt of your cheek- “Meant it. Earlier. Just say the word. Take you anywhere.”

Weed fragments his speech but you melt with understanding, leaning into his hand, your lashes sweeping sweetly at the bridge of his thumb as you whisper, “Okay.”

You’re out the door and he’s left scrambling in the wake, hauling the strap of the packed bag over one shoulder and snapping up your forgotten shoes from the footwell. He locks the doors (nevermind that this is a nice neighborhood, can’t trust rich people farther than he can throw ‘em and Eddie has always been better at running over shotput on field days) and hikes it across the grass to where you stand, a beacon of beauty under the porch light.

“Ready?” he asks.

Your bare foot- flecked with wet grass- trails up the back of your opposing leg, veins at the whites of your eyes spidering pink with anticipation (and the fresh joint) as you turn to smile at him. “Yeah. Bring it on.”

“Your wish, my command,” Eddie says, winking, knuckles pulled into a fist to rap at the front door of one Steve Harrington. 

___

[END: PART ONE]

[calcium-chan]

DRAWMEGLE DUMP FROM LIKEFORVER AGO

drawmegle was this weird little website that was like omegle, except for drawing and nominally fewer nazis?? tho at launch that was a bit of an issue lol (idk the creator went on vacation right after advertising or something? oops). i got sucked into it for like a day or two and ended up drawing a bunch of stuff. ive lost some of it because there was this weird glitch that just deleted my drawings before i could save them or anything. OH WELL. thats also the reason some of these are slightly unfinished. im also going to be cropping most of these to just my side, exceptions where its funny, or the other persons art was nice or whatever. just know that these almost all had people on the other side who were also drawing their own thing. also of note, i wont be posting these in order of creation, its mostly arbitrary tbh

this first one is of haru from dorohedodo. i had just finished reading the manga about a month or so prior, and i really loved this character a lot. disregard the amogus or whatever. dorohedoro is really cool and its really special to me now. not a fan of the anime adaption but what the fuck else is new (im sorry if you like the anime, i just didnt like the style very much). Q hayashida is brilliant, and she clearly just really loves women like a lot, thank you miss Q!

next is this silly drawing of knives chau. scott pilgrim takes off had just aired, and i was slightly enamored with knives for a bit, i kin the scott pilgrim girl fucking sue me. i also drew kim, but the drawing deleted and this was the last save i had WAHOOOOOO its so fucking over. scott pilgrim takes off was obviously really really good in my opinion, and its like the perfect way to adapt an original work in my mind. uh shout outs knives or whatever.

oops shitty cowboy bebop drawing. i like this one well enough for how goofy it is. jets fucking face still kinda gets me. i love bebop a ton, but i dont think ive ever drawn the characters despite that. theyre actually a ton of fun to draw, like their shapes are all super varied and they have distinct style about them. very good cast of characters. i didnt even realize or mean to, but i kinda gave spike a fucking granny face, oops

uuuuhthese pissing dogs are really funny, they were fun to draw, and seeing peoples reactions to this one in particular was cool. having even a little bit of ability to draw on sites like this where randos are looking at your work as youre drawing it is always kind of an ego boost. like none of these drawings are really that great, but for the medium im happy with them, and having people show up and go "woah" was always really flattering and it was fun watching the other people draw and interacting with them in some limited capacity.

ggggundam bullshit. i left the other persons side this time because i thought it was kinda funny. i had been rewatching the early part of turn A gundam, and it really reminded me how fucking cool that series is? loran is like top 10 gender non conforming mech pilots (there are a surprising amount honestly). and it always kinda takes me off guard when i watch any gundam because they were just so forward thinking in a nominally "boy" coded genre. shoutouts the fucking gundam staff frfr.

@oretal joined me for these next two!

a lot of the shit in the second drawing is probably totally incomprehensible to like anyone outside of a select group. were both have that like, 3ds era nintendo brain parasite, so a lot of these are just weird obscure game characters or memes, or just straight up OCs. most of these are actually oretals little characters which have kind of entered that inside joke canon of being so ubiquitous between the two of us (and honestly i assume oretals friend group at large) that i kinda forget "glasses girl" isnt a well known character. many such cases. thank you oretal for drawing silly shit with me! i really like your drawing of james and your madotsuki yapping about blunt rotations to uboa. very cool

uuuh quick fire round of stuff i dont like how i drew but want to post anyways. the first one is my irl husband, aki from chainsaw man. i love him a lot, kinda hate this drawing tho, i think it was the first one i did? the second one is basil from omori, im a big fan of little blorbos who peep the horror, and basil is no exception. my friend got me the little vinyl figure of him for my birthday so i end up thinking about him a lot and i doodle him every now and then. very good design. the last one is kiruko from heavenly delusion. i did not have much hype going into the show after my middling feelings on summertime rendering (they were both in the news for being on disney+ for absolutely no reason). i dont remember what got me to watch it, but by the time episode 2 ended i was stuck in big time. i ended up binging the whole series in like one night and it was such a good time. the prototypical calcium show is probably somewhere between heavenly delusion and made in abyss. its a rough watch at times, but if you have this specific brainrot, its probably one of the best in its league tbh.

second to last is this drawing of vriska homestuck. i kept the other side because it was really pretty. im genuinely quite pleased witht his drawing, its not perfect but for what it is i find it visually appealing enough to like it. vriskas design is probably the best in homestuck, at least to me. its been a long time since ive read through homestuck proper, but something about these little shits sticks with you pretty much forever. actual fucking deadly brain parasites you get from dunking your head underwater in an infested pool, dead within days.

OOPS ALL KUMI CHAN! it had to be alien nine, it could only be alien nine. i love alien nine more than i love any of my blood relatives. kumi is literally me, i love this stupid fucking series so much you have no idea.

[butwhatifidothis]

got long under the cut it goes

Claude does whatever he feels most benefits his goals at the moment regardless of morals. He teams up with Faerghus when he feels it benefits him most, he teams up with the Church when he feels it benefits him most, he teams up with the Empire when he feels it benefits him most and he throws his allies to the dogs when he feels it benefits him most. Like in Houses, Claude tells Dimi before leaving in Azure Moon that this is how he operates and that he only makes moves that he thinks benefit him. That's the story trying to communicate how Claude and Dimi are different. Do fans think he's just trying to be cute or that his words mean nothing?

This paragraph astounds me, because it's just... not true. At all. This is such a profoundly shitty reading of Claude's character.

He teams up with the Kingdom on AM... because Dimitri is immediately shown to be alive, meaning the Kingdom isn't nearly in ruins. Claude doesn't know that Dimitri is alive otherwise - he thinks the Kingdom doesn't even exist anymore, as shown in VW. And since a similar belief is held from Seteth in SS, we can assume Claude thinks the same in that route too.

In fact, on SS the ones who initiate the allyship between the Alliance and Church is Seteth, not Claude - likely because he didn't fuckin' know they were there otherwise! Because Claude just doesn't know much about the goings-on happening outside of the Alliance, and what he does know tells him that those of the Kingdom and Church literally can't help him. And considering how much work is put into putting up the Alliance's neutrality - and how much doing so did in fact keep the Alliance safe for most of the war - he can't afford to help unless a definitive event happens (ala news of Byleth returning) that's guaranteed to make doing so worth it.

Because oh my fucking god, if it was really and truly and honestly strictly and only about benefiting himself and only himself then he would have just fucking sided with Edelgard from the beginning and never would have bothered with the damn neutrality. What point is there in literally ever siding with the Church or the Kingdom, if siding with Edelgard was on the table? In 3H, the only way he """""""helps""""""" Edelgard is through him trying to placate her into not harming the Alliance and his friends, and only if he'd lost against her if he failed in winning. As opposed to the Kingdom and Church, who he goes so far as to fuck with Gloucester's forces to give them a path to the Great Bridge, and on AM gives them his family Relic with no prompt from Dimitri.

Because, wow! When Claude says he only works to benefit himself, it was like he was... lying! Because he has multiple moments on and off of his route where he shows that to be a flat out lie! His words don't mean nothing, they aren't cute, they're meant to show that he wants to put up the front of being a certain type of person so that enemies will think he'll do one thing before he does something else entirely - it's called misdirection. It is a deliberate tactic, and also a showcasing of his character that he would say something like this. We can see that he does not actually embody this sort of mindset through his actions - but, hey, he SAID one thing, so LITERALLY EVERYTHING HE EVER DOES THAT GO AGAINST THIS IDEA must not mean anything!

And, fuckin', when on earth does he ever throw his allies to the dogs in 3H?? Literally when?? Even with Gloucester, he only distracts his men, and he does so explicitly because he doesn't want things to end in blood between them. Can't be Acheron, because that guy betrayed Claude and the Alliance first - and in that vein, can't be Lorenz when he was the one to attack an SS/AM army for the Empire. This is just a fuckin' fib! He does this in Hopes, because Hopes was written by a group of meth-addled giraffes banging their heads against keyboards.

Because, like OP says, GW!Claude is just a braindead idiot, mindlessly accepting that Edelgard is totally okay to side with - even though she invaded his neutral lands and killed many of his people, without ever trying to negotiate with him, and all before lying to his face about doing so, and all after HE HIMSELF WILL EXPLAIN WHY DOING SO WILL FUCK HIM OVER AND NOT HELP HIM AT ALL. This stupid fucking insistence that he sided with Edelgard because he's an opportunist and that that reasoning makes sense for him to think in the narrative falls flat on its face when HE IS THE ONE to point out that HE DOES NOT GAIN from siding with Edelgard. And definitely not after HE IS THE ONE to say that Edelgard IS AFTER THE VANQUISHMENT OF THE KINGDOM AND ALLIANCE AND NOT JUST THE CHURCH earlier in the SAME DAMN ROUTE.

Do those words mean nothing? Were those words meant to just be cute? If GW!Claude really thought that, then sees Edelgard violently invade his neutral lands, THEN sees Edelgard lie about doing so directly to his face, then WHAT, in the GODDAMN EARTH, could have made his brain think "Yes, siding with THIS ONE will help me out, this person who has shown multiple acts of extreme hostility and who I think wants to VANQUISH. MY ENTIRE COUNTRY" ???

And like the reblogger above me says, he's written with writing that at least appears to have been done with... not the best intentions in mind. He goes from someone who only goes for violence as a last resort, to someone chomping at the bit to inflict as much violence as possible (because, hey, no, forcing Sreng into the war is very much not mitigating violence). He goes from someone who makes meticulous plans that strike at vital points in the enemy's defenses, to someone who will just galivant about the place invading the Kingdom as is his wanton inclinations. He goes from someone who has grand ambitions that are close to his heart and mind at all times and have been close to him since before he entered Garreg Mach, to being someone who can't even begin to think about what the fuck he's gonna do after the war's done. From someone who is open-minded about hearing from those around him even if he distrusts and dislikes them, to not even thinking about trying to learn anything after hearing one piece of information that feeds into his confirmation bias.

And hey, look at that, out of the four named Almyran characters in Hopes, three of them are violent, idiotic invaders, and two of them have to be steered by the righteous whities (after being transformed into idiotic violent invaders, mind - Nader might have liked to fight, but that by no means means he also likes to pillage). And the last one? Completely irrelevant to anything regarding the story. Not even a playable character. He dies, and the only one to give a shit at all is Rhea, not Claude.

But back to Claude specifically; he goes from being a smart, open-minded, kind leader, even around his trust issues, to a cruel violent idiot who can't be trusted to look after a cat, let alone an entire country. Like, hey, yeah, as a fan of Claude I do, in fact, have a problem with that. And I have a problem with people like you, nonnie, who will just go on and on about how anyone with an issue with GW's shitty (and racist) handling of Claude's character only have issues because wE JuSt WaNtEd ClAuDe To SiDe wItH dImItRi. All while you will just COMPLETELY FUCKING IGNORE how everything GW!Claude does after Part 2 strictly and only benefits the pretty white woman, even if it directly fucks GW!Claude over by his own damn admission.

Fucking NOTHING of Claude's ambitions are ever sought after in GW once Part 2 hits - border relations between Fodlan and foreign countries are fucked because of Sreng and Claude's handling of Almyra regarding it, the Kingdom will HATE HIM because of his violent and unjust actions towards it, the Alliance is going to become a vassal state of the now strengthened Empire who will now not have to worry about the Kingdom. Meanwhile, again; the Kingdom is weakened; the Alliance will have no chance at standing up against the Empire, by Claude (and Holst's!) admission; Rhea is dead, and thus the Church is fucked; all while the only thing the Empire has lost is one shitty general no one cared about anyway. Edelgard gets everything she wants. Everything. The end of GW is her getting Fodlan on a fuckin' golden platter, while GW!Claude eats shit in the corner. But no, please, tell me more about how this totally doesn't treat Claude like "a third party that validates their side." Eat my ass

is GW's direction really that crazy when you think about it? feels more like people are just salty that Claude didn't team up with their faves on his route because people look at Claude as a third party that validates their side. But what I saw in Hopes fit what I thought about Claude from Houses Claude does whatever he feels most benefits his goals at the moment regardless of morals. He teams up with Faerghus when he feels it benefits him most, he teams up with the Church when he feels it benefits him most, he teams up with the Empire when he feels it benefits him most and he throws his allies to the dogs when he feels it benefits him most. Like in Houses, Claude tells Dimi before leaving in Azure Moon that this is how he operates and that he only makes moves that he thinks benefit him. That's the story trying to communicate how Claude and Dimi are different. Do fans think he's just trying to be cute or that his words mean nothing? Claude's not a man of rigid principles, he's an opportunist. He, the other characters and supplementary material repeat that same message about him over and over again too. like Claude's not supposed to be a uniformly kind person, he's friendly and pleasant to talk to but someone that can be amoral or moral depending on the circumstances. And in GW, an alliance with Edelgard was more personally beneficial to him than trying to team up with Faerghus. They have the bigger force, they're paying Leicester significant reparations, they're getting stability at his southern border and they want to eliminate the same threat.

I mean.... It kinda is a crazy direction.

The issue isn't just the differences between Hopes!Claude and Houses!Claude. That could be a whole other explanation on its own, but since you have framed it as in-character, let's go over the other reason why it is a poor direction on its own.

The biggest issue, anon, is that Hopes!Claude... is an idiot.

Nothing he does or says makes much sense when you add up all the worldbuilding elements together into one big pile.

For example, he decides to side with Edelgard and wipe out the Church. He believes this will end the war quicker, and remove Edelgard's justification for war. And if that justification is gone, then Edelgard will have no choice but to cease her aggressions, or else the war is no longer justified.

However, this logic ignores sooooo many things. The first is that Edelgard publicly declares that the Kingdom and Alliance are false nations that only exist due to meddling forces. That should be a red flag right there and then. Not only that, but Edelgard invaded his nation and beelined for the capital. That should have been another red flag. If Edelgard didn't wish to take over the Alliance, she would have had no need to go for the throat.

Claude even admits that Edelgard might not stop her war. He should know that someone may not stop a war just because it is no longer "justified". And yet, he continues to side with her.

Here is another one. Claude puts a lot of blame on the Church for... basically everything wrong with Foldan. Forced marriages. Fierce border protections. The existence of nobility. The lack of freedom for nobles. I mean, just everything and anything you can think of, in his eyes it is the fault of Rhea and her Church.

But how can he come to that conclusion? Does he live under a rock? Is he not the leader of the Alliance? Does he not know that Edmund, within his own Alliance territory, makes trades with other nations outside of Foldan? When he went to school, did he not see how people of Duscur, Brigid, and Almyra got places in the classroom? How a woman from overseas got to be a Knight of Seiros? Even if he only spent two weeks there, surely he saw something, no?

He is also a prince of another nation. A nation with no Church, and no Crests. And they still have a King and nobility of their own. So why is he blaming the Church for such things? He literally is from another nation.

Hopes!Claude feels like he was written by a young author who is just starting out. There is no logic to his thinking. He just hates the Church because the writers needed him to.

And what makes it worse is that Claude is supposed to be the smart one. He is lauded as the brilliant tactician. The guy who thinks 5 steps ahead in every chess match. But he comes across as the most ignorant of the three lords, who cannot see past his own nose.

So yes, this is why is it a crazy direction. It's not just because of any misalignment of his character from Houses. It's because within Hopes itself, Claude is just a moron that it is hard to take him and his thought processes seriously.

[lokilaufeysonslove]

𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐟𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜!𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

// Summary // you are Tony Stark’s niece, which automatically makes you sassy and you meet Loki for the first time.

// Warnings // orphanage, mentions of death, body and outfit description, slightest mentions of pedophilia (jokingly).

// Author’s Note // I’m sorry if this outfit is not what you wear or this music is not what you listen to, but let’s pretend for the sake of the story. This is not the first time I write something like this, but I’m still sorry if it’s shitty / divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics / gif by @sakura-haruka

MASTERLIST

You entered the Stark Tower, headphones in your ears, dancing and lip syncing to ‘Sweet But Psycho’ by Ava Max, tiny amount of blood faintly visible on your knuckles. Why was blood there? Well, you punched someone. Again.

When you woke up, you were very bored, so you decided to take a walk, but apparently your walk never goes without a fight.

It was a hot summer day and you decided to wear short black jean shorts, a black crop top and black and white air forces. To be honest, most of your clothes were black and white, but you had some red and blue here and there, sometimes you would even wear colorful graffiti shirts. It depended on your mood.

You got into the elevator and went to the top floor. You still didn’t understand why Tony built this whole ass tower, I mean who needs it? You preferred living in a house rather than a tower. You finally got to the top floor and exited the elevator.

What were you doing in the Stark Tower in the first place? It’s because of the tragic accident. Your parents died a year ago. Your father, a famous rich inventor, was the older brother of billionaire Tony Stark. Your mother was a Chanel model. You were exact copy of your mother, tall girl with beautiful e/c eyes and shiny h/c hair. Everything was fine, but your father, like every rich inventor, had enemies. One night, while they were driving home, someone shot them with a gun and killed them both. That person was later arrested. He said he didn't mean to kill your mother, it just happened by accident, but it didn’t matter anymore.

Of course you were devastated and had to go to psychologists for a whole year.

Fortunately, you were given the opportunity to choose who would become your guardian. You were close to your mother, but not to your mother's family. Instead, you were very close to your father's relatives. Tony and Pepper were your second family, so you chose to live with them.

This accident caused your personality to change. You were completely different person before this incident, quiet, calm, shy, but now you were bold, sarcastic, sassy, a total trouble maker, and some would even say crazy.

You barged in the living room, still singing and swaying lazily.

“Oh, she’s sweet but a psycho, a little bit psycho, at night she’s screaming I’m-ma-ma-ma out my mind. Oh, she’s hot but a psycho, so left but she’s right though-“ you stopped singing and started humming to the song.

Tony was standing at the bar, drinking a whiskey, Nat was sat on the couch near the TV, Steve was sitting next to Nat, chatting with her about something, Peter was sitting at the table, doing his homework, honestly, how was that kid doing his homework all day? Clint was sitting at the other side of the table, checking his arrow for any damage, Wanda was sitting on an empty armchair, levitating a pencil with her powers, Thor was standing near the large window, staring daggers into- wait, into who?

There stood a tall man with long, black hair, dressed in a green and silver suit. He was looking out of the big windows, his hands were folded behind his back. He should be from Asgard too, you thought to yourself.

“Sweet but psycho? Are you singing about yourself, kid?” Nat asked with amused expression on her face.

“You could say that.” You said with a small smile. The man turned around and now you were able to see his face. You would be a liar if you said he wasn’t handsome, hell he looked like a god. He had beautiful blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. You pulled out your headphones from your ears and slung them around one shoulder, walking towards the fridge to pour yourself some cold water, “Who’s this?” You asked, nodding your head towards him.

“I am Loki of Asgard, the god of mischief.” The man said with a smug look on his face, “And who might you be?”

“I am Y/n of Midgard, a mere mortal, your Highness.” You said with your best British accent and bowed dramatically, clearly mocking him. You have heard how Thor calls Earth Midgard, so you decided that now was a good time to use that word. Some of the Avengers chuckled at that.

You looked at him. You could swear that you have heard of that Loki somewhere. Oh! He is the guy who carried out the attack on New York few years ago!

“Oh, so you are that brother that causes havoc! Cool.” You said and grabbed a bottle of cold water, but instead of pouring some into the glass, you downed it in a one go. Damn, you didn’t realize you were this thirsty.

All of the Avengers looked at you with expression that said ‘seriously?’, rather tired than surprised. However, Loki was surprised by hearing this. He thought you would scream out loud, saying ‘you are a monster’ or ‘you deserve to rot in hell’ or something along those lines.

Suddenly Wanda gasped, “Y/n, is that blood on your hand?”

Shit. You completely forgot about that. “Oh, that…yeah, don’t worry, it’s not mine.” You said, trying to remove the remaining blood from your hand.

Clint looked at you with wide eyes, “Is that supposed to reassure us?”

“Explain.” Steve said sternly. That grandpa seriously got on your nerves, quite often, really. Tony was looking amused by all of this even if he is your uncle, not Steve. But Steve was acting as if he were your father.

You leaned against the counter and started telling the story, “I was walking down the street, minding my own business, when this guy- no, a fifty year old grandpa commented on my outfit, saying that I was asking for ‘it’, so I punched him in the face, ‘cause he was asking for it. To be honest, I’m kinda disappointed that his nose is the only thing I broke.”

“That is cool! But for your information, fifty year old is not a grandpa.” Tony said with a small smirk.

“Seriously Tony?” Steve said, disappointment visible in his voice, but he couldn’t deny that he was proud of you.

“Was he a pedophile, or whatever it is that you, Midgardians call them.” Thor chimed in with his arms crossed, seeming protective.

You looked at him with one eyebrow raised, “Thor. Are you seriously the one to bring up pedophilia? Dude you are one thousand and something and Jane is only 27, come on!”

Tony bursted out laughing, not even bothering to cover it, Thor gave you a death glare. Everyone else tried to cover their laughter, though they were not doing good job. Loki wore a small smirk on his face.

“I like her.” He said with his head tilted to the side.

“Everyone does.” You told him with a wink and left the leaving room, heading towards your room to get changed.

[xhoneygirlxx]

Training Wheels

Eddie Munson x plus sized fem!reader

summary: two roommates in love never seem to work. or do they?

warnings: slight angst, mentions of insecurity and people being mean to reader. fluff. jealous eddie. possessive eddie. roommate au. modern au. idiots in love. friends to lovers. reader and eddie are 21+. y/n is not used (babe, baby, princess, sweetheart used). smut, 18+ only, minors DNI. slight dom/sub dynamic. unprotected p in v, reader is described to be on birth control. oral receiving (f). fingering. cream pie. sexual innuendos. swearing. mentions of alcohol consumption, reader is sober!! shitty writing and grammar mistakes.

*if I miss anything please let me know*

a/n: hey loves! I decided to make this post into a little series, this being the first of many to come. as you all know I’m not good at writing smut so please be kind to me! I hope you guys enjoy this little self indulgence piece!! I love you guys <3

I love everything you do,

When you call me fuckin' dumb for the stupid shit I do.

I wanna ride my bike with you,

Fully undressed, no trainin' wheels left for you,

I'll pull them off for you.

Walking out of the sanctuary of your room, you make your way over to the hallway mirror for one last makeup check. Running the tip of your tongue over your teeth, you check for any remnants of the red lipstick that sits on your lips. You check over the tips of your black eyeline to make sure they're still in place and not smudged.

With one last look you run your fingers through your hair, you head towards the door. Walking past the living room you see Eddie laying on the couch with his phone in his hand, more than likely scrolling on tik tok to pass the time.

"Hey Eds, I'm going out with the girls tonight. I'll probably be home late." You call over your shoulder as you collect your keys and purse from the kitchen island.

The sound of shuffling comes from behind you, the motions of your best friend pushing himself up from his slumped position. The nonresponse from the man behind you throws you off just a bit, quietly questioning why he hasn't said anything.

Turning around to face him, you have a hand back and forth to pull him out of his apparent stare. "Hellooo, earth to Eddie."

"S-sorry, what did you say?" Eddie stutters out as his eyes trace down the outline of your figure.

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head in faux annoyance. "I said, I'm going out for drinks with the girls. I'll be home a little late."

Big brown pools snap up to your gaze and for once the intensity of his stare holds something you can't understand.

"Whatever." He snaps at you pushing himself up from the couch, brushing past you to head to the kitchen where he grabs a beer.

The complete attitude change from your best friend rattles you completely, especially when he has never raised his voice at you over the many years of friendship.

Not wanting to let the little hiccup ruin the rest of your night, you grab your things and head towards the door.

From the moment the front door shuts, Eddie feels like his whole world has shattered. He wanted to smack himself for his icy demeanor towards you, for snapping at you for no reason at all. Actually he did have a reason but that wasn't the point. The point was you were his best friend and you didn't deserve the passive aggressiveness from him.

It's not like he could control his emotions when you were wearing that sexy outfit. Your breasts sat so nicely in that red corset crop top and the little pudge of your tummy peaking out at the bottom was something close to an early Christmas present.

The sinful fishnets that wrapped around your plush thighs were just mocking him, laughing at his hardening cock. Then that tight little skirt, God did he hate it. He hated the way that it called out to him, begging him to rip it right off of your body.

Those plump lips he wished to kiss for years, were masked in a red tint from your lipstick. It disgusted him how he imagined ruining it, smudging it on your chin with the tip of his cock.

Eddie was angry with himself for thinking these things about his best friend, the girl that's been there with him through think and thin, the girl that's owned his heart from the moment he met her, and how he so badly wanted to fuck the ever living shit out of her.

To make matters worse, you were going to a bar. A bar that was probably filled with gross pricks that would try to get in your panties. He had to sit with the thought of you letting them take you home, how you'd giggle at their dumb jokes and how you'd moan so pretty as they slipped the tip in.

The whole time you were gone that's all he could think about, jealousy rushing through his veins and the green eyed monster rearing it's ugly head out of him. He sat on the couch all night, staring at the wall as he let all the thoughts get to him.

He needed to tell you how he felt and he needed to tell you now. So he waited and waited until you'd eventually stumble through the front door.

Creeping into the front door as quietly as you can, you kick your shoes off by the front door and set your purse and keys down on the kitchen island. Walking over to the fridge you grab a water bottle, putting the plastic rim to your lips and swallowing the cold crisp liquid hit your dehydrated tongue.

"You're home early." Eddie says quietly. Jumping slightly, you turn your attention to the living room where he sits on the couch, not bothering to look at you.

Swallowing the last of the water that sits in your mouth, you release a small breath. "Yeah, we didn't really feel like getting blacked out." You laugh slightly and clear your throat when you realize he still seems to be in his mood.

"Plus all the guys at the bar were busted, so." You shrug closing the cap on your bottle.

Rounding the counter, you make your way to your room not wanting to piss Eddie off anymore. To your surprise Eddie follows you, heavy footsteps hot on your trail as you open the door to your room.

"So you didn't talk to anyone?" His voice holds a certain kind of heat, like he's waiting for you to say the wrong answer.

Walking over to your dresser, you bend over to open the pajama drawer and grab the first oversized shirt you could find. "What if I did? You gonna punish me, dad?"

When you turn to face Eddie you see that his jaw is clenching and nostrils flaring with anger. Although you should ask him what his issue is and match his energy for being rude to you, you simply play into it. If he was going to be pissy with you, why not have fun with it?

"I mean there was this one guy, said I had the nicest lips he's ever seen." Your voice holds so much seduction you could work for a sex hotline, you think.

Walking over to him your stare is alluring, pulling him right into your whirlpool just to spit him back out a dazed man.

"Wanna know what else he said, Eds?" You ask with a pout, "He said that he couldn't wait to see how good they'd feel wrapped around him." You dance your fingers up his tee shirt teasingly.

Of course this wasn't true but he didn't need to know that. The thing was you wouldn't touch anyone with a ten foot pole, not when your heart belonged to your best friend. With that being said, you often had to resort to your own hand to take care of yourself while picturing the beautiful man in front of you. It's not like you could do it often when he just happened to be your roommate but it happened enough that you felt guilty for thinking about your best friend that way.

You watch as Eddie balls his hands into fists, knuckles turning white with how much force he does so. You know for a fact that he isn't jealous, he's probably mad about your lack of stranger danger and wants to lecture you about how it could be dangerous to you. To postpone that boring ten minute ramble, you add more fuel to the fire just for the hell of it.

You bat your lashes up at him, biting your lip as a giggle seeps out. "Want to know what else he said?"

When he doesn't answer you, you giggle at his pissed off expression before continuing your little performance.

"That's okay, I'll tell you anyway," Lifting on your tip toes, you place your lips right by his ear, "he said he couldn't wait to see how tight my pussy felt."

You slowly let yourself fall back onto your feet, staring up at him with a wide smirk. Before you can enjoy your victory of pissing him off Eddie's ringed hands grip the fat of your cheeks.

"You're real funny, princess, but I'll let you on a little secret," Bending slightly to be eye level with you, he grins widely at you like a hungry wolf. "That won't be happening any time soon, wanna know why?"

He uses the same tone on you and it makes your legs clench together in need, the thin fabric of your panties soaking from the gush of arousal he's making you feel.

Nodding the best you can, you mumble a yes through your squished lips.

"It's not gonna happen because you and I know that cunt is mine."

The way he says it makes your heart stop. There's not one ounce of question, no hint of laughter or a joke, just pure seriousness. You furrow your eyebrows complete befuddlement.

Eddie chuckles loudly, chest vibrating from the volume all while you still try to understand what he's implying.

"See, this is why I was so upset earlier," One of his fingers finds the low neckline of your top, lightly tracing right where it sits over your breasts, "You put on this sexy little outfit. Made me s'hard, sweetheart, and then you left me all by myself. S'not nice, is it?"

You shake your head and his lips spread to show his pretty white teeth. "That's right, baby. S'not nice but you did it anyway." He pouts, feigning sadness.

"Then you come home and mock me. I should punish you for being such a bad girl, what do you think?"

The threat and the ache between your thighs makes you whimper and he laughs sadistically at you.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Releasing his fingers just a bit, he gives you just enough room to move your lips to answer.

"Don’t wanna be punished, m’sorry." Your eyes begin to mist over with tears, the overwhelming emotions running through you ready to spill out right.

Jutting his lip out, he runs his thumb over your bottom lip smearing the pretty red onto your chin.

"Hmm I don't know if I believe you." Cocking his head to the side, he trails his eyes over misery that comes from your own.

"I swear I won't be bad anymore, j-just please." You beg as tears start to fall from your eyes.

To prove your point, you rack your nails over the growing bulge in his jeans. When a small moan rattles in the back of his throat and his eyes shut in pleasure, you take that as a sign to lightly squeeze it. The moment you do he hisses through gritted teeth, snapping his eyes back open.

"Get on the bed, baby." Not wanting to make him ask twice, you all but run over to your bed laying down at the head of the bed and let your head fall back on the pillows.

As he stalks over to you, he palms himself through his pants. The sight itself makes you wetter, causing you to clench your legs together tightly to quell the pulsing of your sex.

"Be a good girl and take your top of."

Leaning up, you scramble to get the article over your head just as he asked. Your breasts bounce from their confines, sitting a tad bit lower due to their size.

Embarrassment burns through you, anxiety rising the longer he stares at your bare chest and tummy. Snapping out of the moment just for a second, you pull your arms over your chest.

"I um, I'm sorry about all the stretch marks and stuff. I know it's not so appealing to have to look at all this so if you want me to put a shirt back on we can."

Your too ashamed to look at him, finding solace in the design on your bed's comforter. Out of the peripheral of your eyes you can see him moving towards you. Hesitantly he taps your legs, a silent ask of permission to have a seat. Shuffling your legs back just a bit, you give him enough room to sit.

The bed dips with his weight and the beat of your heart begins to go faster. His hand reaches out to you, his thumb and forefinger lightly grasping at your chin. Turning your head to look at him, you slowly move your eyes to where your head has been pulled to.

Eddie looks at you with kind eyes, the same ones you're so used to seeing. Brown eyes sparkling brightly under the low light of your bedside lamp.

"Baby, I promise you I love every single part of you."

"Everyone says that until it's all over and then they act like they don't know me because they're repulsed by the thought of their friends finding out they fucked the fat girl."

His face turns into a serious one, like he wants to jump up and fight whoever has made you feel self conscious.

"Well guess what, I love the shape of your body. Baby, I think you're the sexiest woman to have walked the face of the earth. You do realize you left me here with blue balls for over three hours right? Like I couldn't get rid of them no matter what I did."

You snort loudly and quickly slap a hand over your lips to hide the laughter that continues to spill from your mouth. Eddie raises his eyebrows in shock, grasping at his chest in mock hurt.

"What, you don't believe me? Well I will have you know that I have been blue balled by you over one thousand times in our friendship."

He promptly crosses his arms over his chest with a harrumph. You let the hand covering your mouth fall, now using it to swat at his chest with a bright smile.

"Shut the hell up, no I haven't" You laugh and he gapes at you.

"Um excuse you, yes you have," He swats back at you, "Why do you think Steve's mom's expensive hand towel went, huh?"

"That was you? Steve had a whole pity party over that thing, took him like sixth months to get over it." You gasp and he only shrugs.

"Not my fault I had to jerk off because you decided to wear that bathing suit. Besides I was doin' them a favor, imagine the horror on that woman's face when she found it dry from my cu-"

His sentence is cut off by your palm. You grimace lightly at the image he's painted for you in his words and it makes him chuckle under the weight of your hand. Then he starts licking all over your palm making you flinch back with a disgusted noise.

A belly laugh comes from him when he sees you wipe your hand on the clean comforter that covers your bed. When you look up at him with an unamused look, he only beams brightly at you with the hint of his dimples.

"As I was saying, I'd love nothing more than making the woman that own's my heart feel good. Will you let me?" He looks at you adoringly and you can't help but slip right into the comforting warmth of his eyes.

When you say yes, Eddie jumps from his sitting position with a fist in the sky. He pulls childish laugher from you as he continues to victory dance over your answer. After a moment he collects himself, clearing his throat before making a "very serious" face that only makes you laugh even harder.

Pulling his shirt over his head and letting his pants fall down to his ankles, he's only left in blue checkered boxers. Laying back down on your bed, you let your hands fall to the wayside so he can see all of you.

Tapping your knee once more, he doesn't have to ask you to part them for him since you're quick to do so. Settling himself between your thighs, he lets his eyes wander over the expanse of your body, the same one he'd dreamed of for years.

You do the same, using your eyes to trace over the ink that covers his chest, the same ones you prayed for all these years to touch. Your hand finds it's way to his face, cupping his cheek softly.

"You're so beautiful, Eddie." You want to tell him that he's so pretty you could cry but instead to decide to keep it to yourself, just for now.

He wraps his fingers around your wrist, bringing it to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on the same palm he'd licked only moments before.

"Thank you baby, but I think you're prettier." The sincerity in his voice makes butterflies appear in your tummy, all of them flapping about in joy.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment, letting all the words you never got to say come out with just your eyes. The unwavering love that the two of you have for one another spills into this moment and fills both of your heats with the love they yearned for.

You're not sure who makes the first move but it doesn't matter, not when his lips fit so perfectly with yours. It's soft and loving at first, the two of you trying to memorize the way your lips feel together. Then you let your tongue sneak out just a little, asking for permission to enter his mouth and he quickly obliges.

With all the love and unspoken feelings out, the two of you go at it like hungry wolves. The desire, lust, and want mixing itself into the moment after years of waiting. Tongues dance in sync with each other, mapping out the one place it's always wanted to.

Then he grinds into you and you push your hips up to meet his motions, whining into his mouth loudly. Using your teeth you bite down on his lower lip, lightly pulling it back making him groan.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He pants using one of his hands to snake up to the harden bud of your nipple, pinching it roughly before groping the doughy flesh in his big palm.

You mewl at his touch, pushing your hips up once more to find any sort of friction to help with ache of your untouched clit. Eddie pulls away suddenly causing you to whine and pout. Chuckling and shaking his head, he uses his hands to shimmy your skirt over your hips.

"Relax, princess, I just wanna get a taste of this pretty cunt. I promise I'll give you what you want."

You try to close your legs but his hips stop you from doing so. Leaning up on your elbow quickly, you look at him with wide eyes.

"You don't um-, you can skip this part." It's frantic and it makes Eddie pull his hands off of you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something-" He can't finish his sentence before your cutting him off.

"No you didn't do anything wrong, it's just guys usually skip this part." You chew on the inside of your cheek.

Eddie's eyes also go wide, comically so. "You're telling me, all those pricks you've been with never ate you out?"

You shake your head instead of answering knowing your voice would ultimately fail you. He kisses his teeth and blows out a loud breath. "What a shame, those assholes didn't know what they had."

You roll your eyes even though a shy smile begins to show on your face. Still hesitant in his actions, Eddie looks at you for reassurance that you're comfortable.

"Listen, I don't have to do this if you don't want to, but just know if you think you're doing me a favor by saying I don't need to go down on you is nothing but a crime. You'd seriously be depriving me of the one thing on my bucket list."

The apples of your cheeks round even more with how hard your cheesing. Leaning up, you pull him into a soft kiss before laying back. Letting your thighs back open, you look up at him challenging.

"Show me what you got, big boy."

Smiling ecstatically, he shimmies himself down onto his stomach right between your legs. Using both hands he grabs at your fishnets, right where they sit over your center, and rips them making a large hole for himself.

Before you can chastise him for ruining your favorite tights, he peaks up over the hill of your belly, "I'll buy you another pair."

Going back down to his place, he runs his finger tip over your thong covered slit. You jolt from the small amount of pressure of his finger making him stifle a laugh.

"Jesus, you're soaking." He says quietly while still running back and forth over your dampened panties.

Pulling them to the side, he pulls the fat of your lips apart to get a good look at your glistening sex. When he runs the tip of his tongue from your hole to your clit, you lift your hips once more.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he keeps you in your place against the best. He does the same thing again but this time he uses his whole tongue.

"You taste s'good, s'my new favorite meal." It's muffled due to the cushion of your thighs but you still hear it.

Sobbing in need, you try to shimmy yourself into his touch. Getting the message, he dives back in shoving the warm muscle right into your tight hole.

Flicking his tongue in and out of you, he removes one of his hands from your thighs and pulls it back down to your cunt, using his thumb to swirl around your aching clit.

"S-shit, just like that." You encourage him, moaning even louder when he switches his tongue and fingers.

With two of his fingers now filling you up, crooked just right and his tongue circling around your clit, you feel the burn in your belly. When he hits the sponge spot you can't reach yourself, you all but scream out in euphoria.

Pulling off your bundle of nerves with a pop, he looks up at you with a Cheshire Cat grin.

"Is that the spot, baby? S'it feel good when I hit right there?"

You can't answer him, too lost in the feeling of his fingers. You toss your head back and forth, babbling and moaning from the feeling.

"Awe, I haven't even fucked you yet and I got you all dumb. Isn't that right, honey? I got you stupid just from my two fingers?" His voice is cocky and it makes you clench around him harder than before.

"Y-yes, don't s-stop. Please don't stop." Your voice trembles and cracks but you don't care.

Doing as you asked, Eddie pulls your clit back into his mouth and pumps his fingers even faster into you. Your getting closer and closer to the edge, toeing right at the finish line of your orgasm.

Your hand finds it's way to the back of Eddie's head, pulling the curly hair at the roots. A loud moan comes rips right out of his chest, vibrating your clit that's he sucks on.

That's all it takes for your toes to curl and your back arch off the bed. Eddie's name falls off your lips like a sacred prayer until you can't speak anymore. You're completely catapulted into cloud nine, floating high up above in pure bliss.

Eddie's voice pulls you back into reality, helping you come back into your body where your bones have completely melted into your bed.

Now leaning over you, Eddie pushes your sweat soaked hair out of your face and places delicate kisses on your wet skin.

"You did so good for me, honey. Such a good girl for me." He's gentle when he speaks and it calms the erratic beat of your heart.

"Kiss?" You rasp out and he gives in with a small snort at the mess you've become.

Pulling away quicker than you'd like, he looks down at you with a dopey smile.

"You feelin alright?" Nodding you push your hips back up to meet his covered shaft, and he laughs breathlessly. "Alright, alright, I'm gettin' there."

You giggle up at him and he's quick to peck your lips once more.

"You're so fuckin' pretty when you laugh." It's so soft, like he's letting you in on a secret no one else knows and in that moment you melt completely.

When he leans back on his haunches, he begins to look around your room and you realize what he must be searching for.

"I'm clean and I have the iud, so if you're comfortable you don't have to use a condom." The moment you finish your statement Eddie closes his eyes tightly, scrunching his face up like he's pained.

"Sweetheart, you can't say things like that unless you want me to blow my load right now." Opening his eyes, he looks at you with a straightest face.

You clap your hands over your cheeks as you burst with laughter. "I didn't even say anything!" You exclaim.

Rolling his eyes with a scoff, he begins to shimmy his boxers down his legs. "I didn't even say anything, shut up." He mocks throwing his boxers to the floor.

Leaning over you once again, he uses on arm that's he's bracing himself with to line himself up to your hole. Guiding the tip of his cock through your folds, he swirls your wetness around before nudging the entrance.

"Once we do this, we can't go back to being just friends." He gazes at you trying to catch any hint of hesitation from you.

Instead you smile fondly at him, "I don't want to go back to being just friends."

His lips stretch into a smile and his eyes sparkle with warmth. "Good because I don't think I'd be able to after this."

Going ever so slowly, he pushes himself into you causing you to gasp at the intrusion. You've had sex before but Eddie is bigger than anyone you've ever had, the stretch from him is unlike anything you've ever felt.

Using his free hand, he swirls your clit to help with any uncomforting feelings you feel. "I know, baby, you can take it." The reassurance causes a spark to run through your veins.

Pushing himself all the way in, he waits to start moving so you can get accustom to him. When you give him a nod, he begins to pump into you at a faster pace than before. Looking down at you, he watches as your mouth falls open into the perfect O shape.

"Fuck, you feel so good. Better than I could have imagined." His words make you clench around him and he whimpers loudly from the feeling.

Eddie pushes your thighs up to your tummy causing him to go even deeper, hitting that sweet spot only he can find.

"Oh my God." You cry out loudly and Eddie lets a breathless laugh fall from his lips.

"M'not God, baby, but I'll shit-, I'll take it as a compliment."

"F-faster Eds, please. Wanna cum, wanna cum s'bad." Your eyes begin to prick with tears with how good you feel.

Eddie obliges, thrusting faster than before. The slapping of skin and the squelch of your wet cunt fill your room. The pretty moans and whimpers that fall from the man on top of you ring out in your ears and in this moment you wish you could record them.

"You take me so well, s'like you're made for me."

You can't say anything, too wrapped up in the live wire that you've become. The rubber band in the pit of your stomach is pulling tighter and tighter with every pump of his cock, pushing you closer and closer to your release.

"This pretty cunt is mine. Say it sweetheart, say it's- fuck, say it's mine." Eddie demands.

"S'yours, it's yours, Eds." You cry.

Removing one of his arms that sit next to your head, he goes back to thumbing at your clit causing you to grip onto him harder.

"This body, those lips, your heart, they're mine. Say you're mine, baby. I'm all yours, have been from the beginning, now say I'm yours." It's not a demand but more of a plea.

Your mind is reeling, the feeling of Eddie is everywhere and your heart has finally found it's rightful place with it's rightful owner.

"It's all yours, s'all yours. Always has been." You shout as tears begin to roll down your face. "I'm gonna cum, m'gonna cum. Want you to cum too, Eds, want it inside me."

"Yeah, want me to fill you up? Want my cum to drip out of you so everyone knows who you belong to?" He grits out and that's all it takes for you to wail.

You release around him, gripping his cock tightly as you gush around him. Eddie isn't too far behind you, spilling his warm seed inside of you.

With one final grunt and thrust, Eddie collapses on top of you. The two of you sit for a moment, allowing yourselves to catch your breathing. Pushing himself up on his knees, he slowly pulls out of you causing the two of you to hiss out at the same time.

He sits for a moment watching his spend fall from your still clenching hole before pushing it back in with his fingers. When he's done with that, he leans over the side of your bed and picks of his shirt and wipes off the mess between your legs.

"Please do not tell me you're using your shirt to clean cum off of me." You deadpan as you stare at the ceiling.

Eddie snorts using the now soiled shirt to wipe himself off. "I mean I could use Mrs. Harrington's-"

"Absolutely not." You shout, pushing yourself up balancing on the palms of your hands.

The two of you fall into a fit of giggles, the fuzziness of your afterglows clearly in effect. After they die down, the two of you sit in silence unsure of what comes next.

Moving your legs to the side of your bed, you push yourself up from the bed. "I'm going to go shower but if you'd like, you're more than welcome to join, lover boy." You announce over your shoulder, picking up the discarded sleep shirt from before.

"Oh no, it's- I'll just stay." He stutters nervously and a part of you wants to tease about where his confident side went.

"Suit yourself," You shrug, "but just know you'll be missing this." Picking up the back part of your skirt, you show him your fishnet and thong covered ass.

When you look back over your shoulder you see him with a fresh coat of pink colored flush coating his cheeks, staring unbashful wide eyed at your behind.

Feeling like you haven't teased him enough, you shimmy your backside causing it to ripple in movement. "Well, I guess I'll be on my way." You say as you walk towards the door.

Springing from the bed, Eddie wraps you in a bearlike hug from behind. "Nuh uh, I have to come with you now."

Pushing back on him with your rear, you continue to shake your ass against his hardening length. His hand cracks down hard on the doughy flesh making you squeal in shock.

"Fuck I love this ass. Can't wait to see you do that under the water." He teases biting his tongue.

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you place a kiss to his lips. "Whatever my baby wants, my baby gets."

Turning back on your heel, you pull him by the arm guiding you to the bathroom with you.

"Hell yeah I'm your baby," He pumps his fist in the air then clears his throat quickly to play off his dorky celebration. "I mean you might have to let everyone know cause if I do it, it won’t be pretty.”

"Alright Rocky Balboa, lets get in this shower so I can so you what it looks like from the back."

Thank you all for reading! love you all <3

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[babybatss-blog]

Hii, I'm Brazilian, so I'm sorry for this shitty writing

can you write something with SDV Sam? I rarely see fanfics with him and I wanted a creative boost to imagine what his married life with the farmer would be like (with all the scenes, even some spicy ones ���)

WITH YOU

(Stardew) sam x reader, 1400 words

a/n: since you left it pretty vague I tried to make this not too plot heavy, instead it’s a simple drabble on marriage with out fav bachelor! I hope this is what you were wanted lovely x

cw: proposal with a ring instead of mermaid pendant, marriage, slight out of characterness (which makes sense trust me), mentions of adult activities but nothing explicit, slight swearing, kissing and making out. Talk of babies at the end.

How he managed it, you’ll never know. For a man so often oblivious and clumsy, he pulled of the proposal of your dreams.

It was 11pm on a Friday, and after Sam randomly disappeared from the bar under the guise of a full bladder you thought something was off. Abigail and Sebastian were oddly giggly, the other patrons far too watchful of you and Sam was taking way too much time than he should be. Eventually you got up, walking to the bathroom to only find Alex. “Oh, he left.” He simply stated, a matter of fact tone that lazily disguised a strange excitement. “He went to the beach.”

You walk down to the beach, muttering to yourself about what he could possibly be doing. He didn’t have much to drink so this wasn’t some dumb wandering, and he seemed relatively happy earlier so it couldn’t be that something upset him. Come to think of it though, he did appear overly fidgety, like a man with something stressful on his mind.

As you near the beach, shimmering lights start to appear. At first they remind you of Zuzu city, but once you see the man standing in the middle of them, you know that you are actually home. Your home stands within the candles, a grin on his face as you realise: this is it. The day you have dreamed for since you were a child, wishing you could have. It doesn’t take a very long nervous speech from Sam to bring you both to tears, choking out repeated agreements between lovesick kisses and hugs. The next couple of months are spent in a bliss, no matter how stressful. It turns out that Sam was contemplating the day of your marriage just as much as you were, so the collaboration of the wedding went by as a breeze.

What colour is the aisle? Blue. What type of bouquet do you have? Wild grass and Dandelions. What is served at the reception? A mix of pizza pockets and joja cola (despite how unprofessional it may be, this had to be done.)

And the honeymoon phase never ended. It may be because you never actually got to go on a honeymoon, but the two of you spent everyday in a comfortable paradise, going about your daily tasks and enjoying each other’s comfortable company. “Do you think you could teach me how to plant crops?” He asks out of the blue, when the two of you were cuddled up on the couch watching another horrible sitcom. Surprisingly, Sam has managed to mellow out in his locked down lifestyle, swapping his late-night escapades for meaningless conversations and the sound of heavy metal to the rain on a drowsy afternoon. You snort, shocked by his change in attitude. The Sam you knew, so boisterous and uncontrollable has been replaced with a lovesick old pup, preferring spending time with his partner over risking his life.

“You? Mr hay fever? No way!”

But less than a week later it happened, and he was collapsed in the grass, sweaty and pouty. “Who knew gardening would be so hard?!” He whined, throwing his head back like a toddler who was told they couldn’t have ice cream. You laugh, walking over and holding his chin in your hand, towering over his weak frame. Your gloves get dirt on his face, but neither of you care because his jeans have been ripped up, hair frizzy, and he even managed to cut himself with a shovel, however impossible that may seem.

“I warned you. But you insisted that you would be fine, dumbass.” “You should have forced me not too.” “I know beautiful boy. I’m sorry.” You croon, crouching down to his level. But all prior anger dissolves within him at the look in your eyes, leaning forward for a deep kiss. Despite his grown-up demeanour, the two of you still love like teenagers, hungry for each other’s touch and fragile after every little look. His tongue lurches into your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny like it’s the first time as you groan in pleasure at his unadulterated lust. You would never admit what happened next.

It's not even three months into the marriage now, and Sam wakes up to find you already up, as per usual. You stand at the window with a cup of tea in your hand, and he can smell the mouthwatering pancakes you made on the table. How he got lucky enough to have you, he’ll never know. “Good morning sexy” he teases, slinging his arms around your shoulder and looking out the window with you towards your hard work. That’s one thing he’s always admired from you… Your insane amount of dedication and resilience. When you inherited the farm, it was a battered mess, and after school he would go there with Abigail and Sebastian, always returning home with blackberry cuts and twigs in their hair. But now it is a utopia, alight with all types of plants, animals, and decorations. Plus, you managed to make an insane profit out of the whole ordeal, turning your struggle to pay the bills into shouting everyone at the saloon on someone’s birthday to a drink and a hot meal. “Have a good sleep?” You ask, looking up at him with an adoring smile. “Course, you know me.” Scoffing, you reply with a shaking head “like a baby.”

And honestly, it’s true. If Sam has one talent, it’s his ability to fall asleep in a split second. The moment the lights are off he’s obnoxiously snoring, often crushing you with his dead weight. If he was to be asked why, he would say it’s because of you. Just as much as you view him as your home, he also sees you as his. A safe haven, someone he knows will take care of him and always be there for him, no matter what.

“Like a baby.” He repeats, looking out the window with a strange, squinting expression. It confuses you, but you don’t push. After all, he just woke up. It’s not uncommon for him to struggle with opening his eyes or being a functioning human being in the morning, he’s like a bear out of hibernation. But eventually he lets you into his thoughts anyways. “Actually, I’ve been thinking… How would you feel about trying for baby. I know we are still pretty early into this whole marriage thing, but it just feels right. I don’t know. Maybe it’s dumb.”

For the first time in a long while Sam seems properly nervous, rambling his words and shuffling about. It’s nice to see that side of him, and truthfully you feel like you were at the start of the relationship too. Happy. Giddy. Excited. “Seriously?! Sam, I thought you said you wanted to take your time with that part of our life??” You place the mug down and turn to him, furrowing your brow. This unintentionally makes him panic, backing up on his words regretfully. “No, no I’m still happy for that. Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I know I wanted to take my time. Sorry.” Your heart melts, looking at your husbands worried face. Shouldn’t he know you would never judge? You peck his cheek, holding both his hands with a tender smile. “Don’t be sorry. I’d love that.” In a split second he lifts you up into his arms, kissing your face in a variety of places as you laugh.

“Baby baby baby!” he chants, jumping up and down. Soon he practically launches you onto the bed, lying on top of you and further peppering you with kisses, that uncomfortable stitch in your side forming from your pure laughter and ecstasy. It’s safe to say the next couple of weeks are spent tirelessly trying, in between sessions of rants about how great your little family is going to be.

[delusionally-loveless-by-choice]

Lost in a Cornfield..?

Scarecrow!Phillip Graves x Lost!Reader

Summary: You're lost in a cornfield.. and is that a talking scarecrow here to help??

warnings: brief animal death..

word count: 1826

Part 2, Part 3

Author's note: UHM SO THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THIS C.AI CHAT I HAD... (creds to maskedmenenthusiast on c.ai for the actual like idea, it was their bot I just got absorbed in the bot!!) uhm so if this is shitty pls lemme know, its just a fun au so he's likely ooc. I have more written I just have to comb through and edit, so if ifs wanna read more pls lmk and I'll post them!!

The crackling noises of the corn is all that’s heard as you walk through this seemingly endless cornfield. It’s hard to even remember how or when you got lost here. The stalks loom above your head. Corn husks dance slightly in the breeze and they bounce as you walk and make a path through them.

It’s not a question but a statement when you say it; I’m lost in a fucking cornfield with no exit insight. 

This entire stupid situation, I can’t even remember how I even got here in the first place.. As you try and recall, you get distracted with the corn. Staring at it you get a good look at it instead of just the glance and not thought you had previously given it. The corn looks different.

 It looks almost like its.. alive. 

And the more you look, the more you realize the corn is abnormally tall..

How didn’t I notice that.. You think to yourself.

But before you can dwell too much on it you are taken aback by the sound of something. Something suddenly rustling through the cornfield headed in your direction.

The sound starts to get closer and closer, you don’t know from which exact direction it is coming from.

Then you see what is making the noise.

Between the crops you start to make out colors and soon a figure, then a voice makes you feel a slight relief. You aren’t alone here, it must be the farmer! Right?

“A pest in the crops?” asks a man in a Southern accent, it’s not exactly a prominent one that obscures his words but it’s definitely a Southern accent. “Now, how’d such a thing as yourself make it in here anyway?” He asks closing slightly in so that there are no parts of the field obscuring either of you. 

And as he does, it seems as if the previous crops that were in the way moved. Both of you stood in a small patch of open space in between this cornfield.

The crops seem to move almost at his will.. No that's not possible. You brush it off and come out from your thoughts.

“Sorry, I sort of got lost..” you admit to the man.

“That so?” he asks with a grin. It's slightly lopsided but charming, he has somewhat sharp canine teeth that make his grin more boyish. “Well come on now, follow me, little lost wanderer.” He starts to make his way into the cornfield. 

Occasionally he would glance behind himself to make sure you were following. He’d wave with his hand or snap his fingers to keep your attention on him.

"Y'see, these cornfields ain't what they look like. Ya might be lost now, but if you ain't careful, they'll swallow ya whole." He explains, and almost perfectly timed his attention is snapping at something nearby.

You see something unnatural move in the corn. You nervously inch closer to the man. 

“What was that?” You ask worriedly, this sinking feeling fills the pit of your stomach as the voice in the back of your head screams about how there is something incredibly wrong here. But you brush it off, again, to just being nervous.

He stares into the corn with a hard look on his features. "C'mon, we needa get outta here." The man replies, leading you deeper into the corn.

The unnatural movements in the corn made you nervous. 

What was that thing? 

As he leads you away from near whatever that was, you end up at a wide patch where the corn parts. 

How odd that it isn’t until he showed up that these patches in the field started to show up.. He likely knows this field. You brush off your thoughts and try to think logically, again.

Stopping at the patch, he started to speak. “Listen, I can’t really explain it or tell ya much ‘bout what happens ‘round here in these fields, but what I can tell ya is it ain’t pretty.” he sounded serious but not in a grave tone. More so like he was just breaking it to you the reality of field life and work. 

Your mind wanted to think logically, it reasoned that he was simply warning of the dangers in farm life, of wild animals in fields. But your intuition was screaming at you since you got lost in this cornfield. It's been this feeling telling you that this cornfield wasn’t normal. There was something deeply wrong with it and it was likely far from any logical understanding. But you silenced that part of your mind, there wasn’t any evidence, just a feeling.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts and come back, looking at him you started to ask him questions as you both stood in this patch between the corn. “So who are you? To be honest, when I first saw you coming toward me I mistook you for a scarecrow!” 

He scoffed amused. “That so? I don’t like to share my name with strangers, so you can just call me Scarecrow.” His tone is displaying obvious amusement. “Just so ya know, that is what I am. But, I ain’t just any ol’ scarecrow.” The man explains. 

His words pique your interest and you start to get a better look at him. 

His clothing is torn and tattered, and he adorns an old straw-ish hat that is worn and filled with holes. It covered his face so that the upper half of his face is obscured. His clothes are just a little too thin for someone to reasonably wear in the current weather, but he doesn’t seem to even be affected by it much. 

Something about him starts to seem.. Inhuman.

That would start to resonate with him saying he was a scarecrow. However, you start to think this man was just teasing you since you had confessed that you had thought he had looked like one when you first saw him coming up through the corn.

But he spoke again, “Y’see, ‘round these parts, I’m more than just an inanimate object. I’m a guardian of these fields.” 

You gave him a look, questioning. Was he actually serious about being a.. scarecrow?? 

You decide to risk and ask. “You.. aren’t human, are you?” 

You finally give into the suspicion. Part of you hoped that you were wrong and this was just a normal situation, he’d be a normal person, and that he’d tease you about actually believing he was a scarecrow. 

But you were trying to convince yourself of something that was simply not true.

He gives you a grin, one that makes you feel like he’s about to tease, but his tone and demeanor gave the energy that it was anything but teasing. “Not in the slightest.” 

He shrugged as if it was nothing. “Now are you just going to stand there and gawp at me, or do you want my help?” He asked as he moved to start walking back into the field.

Quickly, you moved to follow him. He spares you no time to even think or process that he is indeed a living fucking scarecrow. As you start to walk, you turn your head behind to glance at the patch both of you had previously just stood in. 

It was gone. As if it was never there, the crops stood there. 

They couldn’t have grown that quickly.. Right?

It wasn’t too long after both of you started to walk that there was a loud rustling in the distance. It makes both of you stop in your tracks.

Your eyes narrow at the sound.

What was that?

You squint into the distance and notice two red eyes glowing through the stalks of corn.

The rustling drew closer, and the eyes became clearer.

Freaked out, you jumped closer to the Scarecrow clinging onto his clothing and his body.

“What the fuck is that…” you ask worriedly with a tinge, well more than a tinge, of fear is lanced into my words.

“Keep it down!” The Scarecrow whispers quickly. He gestures his finger to his mouth for you to be quiet.

You can’t help but take note of part of his hands and arms that are slightly exposed at a closer distance. They look strong, lean, and muscular with a few scars along with veins.

Broken from your thoughts, you hear a large snapping noise, and then suddenly, something jumps out from the cornfield toward the two of you. 

You don’t get an immediate first look at it. It happened so fast. But you know damn well it was an animal

In the split second that the thing jumped out right toward the two of you, the scarecrow grabbed the animal by its neck. 

Finally, you managed to get a closer look as the Scarecrow had the thing by its neck in his hands.

It looked like an opossum but bigger and more like a weird dog. Its fur was slightly matted and full of dirt. The eyes glowed at the right shine of the light. It bared sharp teeth in multiple rows. Its ears were large and pointy. It made a loud screech as it was caught in the Scarecrows hands.

You had never seen anything like it before. 

“I’m not having any of your pest nonsense!” he exclaimed and without hesitation or much effort he snapped its neck.

It went limp and the crying stopped. 

You stare wide eyed. 

You just saw him kill an unknown creature with his bare hands. He did it with such ease too. Part of you was disturbed and the other was relieved because that thing was technically trying to jump at the two of you!

You just stare not knowing exactly what to say after witnessing that.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? If you're worried that I just murdered a poor, defenseless animal, you can rest your little heart.” he chuckled at your reaction, likely because he does this sort of thing on a regular basis, he’s used to doing such things; taking care of the field and all.

"I ain't seen the likes of this thing before, but it sure ain't what it seems." The scarecrow shrugs again. "Looks like a hybrid. But a pest is a pest, I'm just doing my job," he adds, turning and heading further into the cornfield again.

You rush to follow after him and reach out to lightly grasp his tattered clothing to keep him close. After seeing whatever that animal was, you don’t want to risk straying far from him.

“Uhm, so you just like to protect these..cornfields from ‘pests’?” you ask him warily. “This isn’t a normal crop field, is it..” I say, it's less of a question and more of a realization for you.

Your mind fogs again. Much like it has been doing since you got lost here. It's hard to even think, you feel almost suffocated. 

What the hell is this place...

[deathzgf]

( almost ) all of my sketches & wips from ~ 5 november 12023 - now

vaguely oldest - newest but i am lowk just fuck it we balling it

ogay let ' s go

shitty hamlet hamilton thing to start us off yay based off of that one line in the musical

thomas jefferson

i cannae remember if this was meant to be sj or cami but Pony

GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD

me versus drawing sj with a Fuck Ton of piercings ( the demons )

kill

This Fucking THING

holy fucking shit my first napolexander art

yeah

i drew this whilst rewatching 2023 napoleon in cinema Based upon a 2002 napoleon scene

james fitzjames

shkroeder please i have a wife and kids

ekkochoso

i hate his stupid fucking hair so i drew a cat with him

i love my wife i forgive her for almost killing me

thomas jefferson getting high with the french except rousseau keels over and dies whilst robespierre just Oh Dear

idk why i drew the social contract that thick brah

based upon a twitter interaction i had with the owners of these ocs

what the fuck is going on in the upper right corner

different jules times ( 1789 , 1793 ( ? ) , 1794 )

calijules i drew on the plane to japan

i also watched succession on the plane . catboys & catgirls You ' re welcome

turn washington ' s spies hewlett sorry i am the # 1 annalett yuri truther

jules ref sketch i forgot to fucking crop

sleepy calijules

violent calijules

freak

+

[lover-of-mine]

I keep thinking about the Tommy leaving post and the Buddie being ready for each other post and I feel like there's a comparison I want to make here but I'm not sure exactly what it is but something about Tommy leaving because he was not down with that whole mess of date, understandably, but also Buck's boatload of issues still even tho Tommy came back & they're in this "maybe this could be the something I'm ready for" & potential issues that might crop up going forward like will Buck be hesitant still or dive headfirst or some combination, will Tommy feel like it's too much or just not working, will it be the thing that finally makes something click in Buck's head that he needs to go to therapy bc hey Tommy is different from his exes but the issues are still the same idk or he decides it's not working bc it's not the thing he wants but he's ready to figure that out so again therapy! but also when he realizes he's in love with Eddie & they could be it for each other he knows he doesn't want to make those same mistakes and the way to do that is to be honest with himself and Eddie and it's not perfect but they're both in it and self enough aware they know they can make it work together (therapy would be so good but also Maddie or Bobby have some wisdom here too) like a desperation almost of I love him and I want him and this is it for me but I'm so scared of losing it all and it's like well. What are you gonna do about it? Are you gonna let yourself have this? I read a fic today where when they were discussing starting something but Buck was scared Eddie was like "we deserve to be happy too and being with you makes me happy" and that's all I want now okay sorry this is so long and probably makes no sense but I didn't know who to send it to I can stop rolling it all in my head over and over again send help or a sedative my god they make me feral and all these new ttpd edits are making it 10000x more

Okay, I see what you mean, and I am team Buck/Therapy first and foremost, but let's discuss Tommy outside the perfect queer Yoda people seem to have put him in. First of all, Tommy didn't come back, the energy that exists there is that there would be no second date if Buck didn't ask him for coffee (and Buck only called because Eddie told him to). I don't blame Tommy for walking away, the situation Buck put him in is shitty, but he did not come back, he indulged Buck in a coffee for whatever reason I don't understand. I don't understand why someone would agree to go to someone's sister's wedding after one kiss and half a date they walked out of. But what I'm getting from Tommy is that he's not gonna put up with Buck's bullshit just because he's cute. And Buck is diving in head first, asking someone to be your date to your sister's wedding after half a date where they left you on the curb when he's out to exactly 2 people is somehow crazier than buying furniture with Natalia, because at least there he had what? 3 successful dates under his belt? Buck is in the hamster wheel, this time with a guy. Dating a guy is bringing him clarity in some aspects of his life, but he is still showing the same patterns when it comes to dating. Will he break out of his pattern this time? Who the fuck knows. Realizing he's repeating these patterns and letting go before he gets in too deep, realizing he needs to work on himself, would be a major sign of growth from him, but Tommy pointing something out and making him take action works too, but I don't know what or how that could be approached. I was talking about this with someone last week, I'm pretty sure i sent them a voice note of like, 12 minutes on this, but do we trust Buck to separate the way he's infatuated from what he actually needs? That his bisexuality is his no matter what? Because I don't. If he's still that insecure about Eddie when Eddie has been stable in his life the whole time they've known each other, then I don't trust him with anything emotional, really. Could he wake up one day and realize maybe it was about Eddie, see what's in front of him and proceed to work through his insecurities? Sure, they could go there, especially with how intertwined Eddie is to bucktommy, make Buck realize his feelings, work through his insecurities somehow and realize he needs to talk to Eddie and that they will be okay no matter what. But the thing is, Eddie loves Buck too much. Like the post said, he loves Buck at his own detriment, so if Buck goes all weird on him for whatever reason again (which he probably would if he realizes he might be in love with Eddie, he would panic, 705 Buck would freak out if realized he's in love with Eddie) he's gonna internalize that, and that's something they need to address before there is any movement into making them romantic.

Because now that there's a real chance buddie is gonna go canon, they need to address some problems that were created between them, mainly the way they assume things about each other a lot instead of having an open conversation. All they need is an open conversation, I will accept if the show magically decides they can talk to each other now, that the issue was the denial, but Buck needs to ask for shit, he needs to talk when he's insecure, he needs to not let Eddie get away with assuming he's right, and Eddie needs to stop assuming he can read Buck's mind, he needs to call Buck out when he's getting in his head, and he needs to stop trying to fix past mistakes with someone else, they need to actually be able to address things that hurt them, because they will hurt each other, the question is how they work through the problems. Dating your best friend, even more after being best friends for this long comes with issues, the adjustment would be intense because they have an intense relationship already. And they both need to let go of the idealized version of what a relationship should look like they have. Can Tommy help Buck there? Yeah, absolutely, but he also shouldn't be expected to hold a grown man's hand through his own feelings, yk? Buck doesn't know what he wants and he's working through it, allegedly, so, like, there's potential there but I have no idea how this can unfold tbh. They need to get to the point where they're like "I deserve happiness" but also realizing that happiness doesn't look the way they think it does, that it's never gonna be perfect, but that it is worth fighting for, you don't find it, you make, works here too, but the thing is, you need to keep making it as long as you're together, love is not all it takes, the fight never stops. I've been thinking about this a lot too.

[probably-writing-x]

Summer Heat - Chapter One

Summary: Rafe had met his match when he met you. Both completely opposite and all too similar - the Kook and the Pogue who worked for his father; the hot headed boy and the girl who never backed down. And as summer rolls around on the island, tensions run high amongst the hottest enemies that OBX has ever seen.

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Cursing, some (ish) sexual references, mentions of losing a parent

Author's Note: Omgggg I’m so excited to start this series !! I already have sooo many ideas for it. Please let me know what you think of the first chapter I want to hear alll of your opinions !! Much much much love to all of you, angels x

Rafe had grown up getting everything he wanted. As much as he was reluctant to admit it at times, he knew he had always been fed from the silver spoon. He could have half of the island wrapped around his little finger if he really wanted to. Everybody knew it. From his friends that were more like followers, to his girls that were more like groupies, to his family that were more like business partners. All of it was more and more a part of the personality that made the infamous Rafe Cameron.

You, having grown up in The Cut, were one of the many people that worked for him and his family. You'd taken the job working on the boat, you and John B both working together. It was mundane but it covered your share of the bills and kept your older sister off of your back. Since your father had passed away a few years ago, it was really just you and her left. That's how you'd become such good friends with John B - you'd been through the same shitty few years on the shitty side of the island you called home. And there was something comforting about going through it with someone that knew how it all felt. Working together was just another part of that - a way to make a crap life a little less bad.

Though, it was safe to say dealing with Rafe's input was one of the worst parts of your job - he was always on your case about every part of the work. He would pick you up on the slightest things, tell his father if you were even a few minutes late, made sure to give you enough jobs to last the day. It hadn't taken you long to start arguing back with him, defending yourself when he expected you to stay silent. And, though people might think he was the most hot headed a person could get, it seemed he had met his match in you.

"Oi!" John B shouts from the other side of the deck, "Are you going to help or what?"

You roll your eyes at him and stand up from where you'd been enjoying the sun from the deck. It was a scorching day on the island, the sun beating down relentlessly - even worse on the dock of the yacht that seemed to be allergic to any type of shade;

"Ward's not meant to be home for another hour, which means we have at least half an hour before we even need to start."

"Right, but if you grow up and do it now, we can slack off later," He points out, wiping the sweat from his brow.

The two of you were like siblings to each other - him the mature and logical one that liked to keep the peace, and you the unhinged argumentative one that seemed set on disturbing the peace.

"Touché," You walk over to where he's stood over the pile of used scuba gear, a hose in one hand to start cleaning it all with freshwater.

You pick up the other hose and spray it a couple of times to test it out. Watching it splash down the deck and trail towards the drainage, not paying attention to it bounce off in the other direction to spray over John B.

"Do you mind?" He raises his eyebrows at you, shaking off the water from his arm.

"I'm sorry I almost drowned you," You roll your eyes at him, spraying the hose another time in his direction.

"Really? You want to start that?" John B laughs, dropping the buoyancy jacket from his hands to turn his attention to you.

He sprays in your direction and it splashes down the front of your crop top, forcing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh you are dead!" You return, splashing him back so that it soaks his hair down to his head.

He goes at you again and soaks your outfit completely, water dripping down your shoulders and down your arms.

John B laughs and shakes his hair out, raising his hands in defeat, "Okay okay stop, I'm done."

He pulls a hand over his face and your hands down either side of your hair to slick it away from your face, welcoming the cool it brings you against the blazing heat.

"Good to see we pay you for some quality work here!" An all too infamous voice calls out from the other end of the boat.

You look up to see Rafe coming towards you, his skin sun-kissed in the heat. He crosses over the ramp from the wooden dock and onto the deck, long strides drawing him closer to you. There's a white linen shirt hanging on either side of his torso, exposing the dips of his abs and the way they seem more prominent with his tan. No. Ignore it. This is Rafe, it didn't matter what body came with that.

"We?" You scoff, "I'm not so sure you're responsible in the slightest for paying us. But go ahead, run along and tell Daddy if you need to."

He clenches his jaw but doesn't say anything for just a second, "I could get you fired with a click of my fingers, so watch your tone."

John B looks at you with warning in his eyes when he can tell you're on the verge of snapping back at Rafe. You struggled to hide your feelings at the best of times, but it seemed all the more impossible when it came to this boy.

You'd known of him when you were little, the two of you meeting when your father used to work the restaurant at the club. As a little boy, Rafe was a lot more tolerable than he was now - though you were sure that he didn't remember you. Your first memory of him was when you were sat waiting for your Dad's shift to end, you no older than six. You'd fallen and cut your knee and Rafe had found you, much taller than you even when he was a kid, and he'd stolen an ice cream from the buffet bar to give to you. He'd told you to stop crying because his Dad had told him that big kids didn't cry, but he knew from his sister Sarah that ice cream could cure a lot of things. He looked at your knee, the blood spilling down your leg, and he held a napkin over it whilst you ate the ice-cream he'd given you. When your Dad came to find you, he'd pulled you away and told you to not hang around with those 'Kook Kids' again. You'd looked over your shoulder as you left and watched as Rafe was getting told off by his own father, likely for disappearing, or perhaps for thieving from the buffet. He'd looked at you with a sadness in his eyes that didn't seem to dispel.

That same sadness, though mixed with a few other things, still seemed to remain all these years later.

"You can both leave, I've got some business to take care of," Rafe states simply, "Finish this up tomorrow."

John B grabs his hat and his bag from the side and nods, "You got it," He disappears around the side of the deck, glancing back at you with that sort of look in his eyes that tells you get the fuck out of there while you've got the chance.

"You know you shouldn't leave this stuff without cleaning it," You point out, "The salt can damage your gear. That's why we have to clean it."

"Then we can buy new stuff," His words are a cold contrast against the blistering summer heat.

You roll your eyes, certain in that moment that you and Rafe could not be any more different if you tried, "Easy life isn't it, Rafe Cameron?"

"Easier if you weren't here."

You're silent, a strange tension between the two of you that never seemed to disperse.

"Your top is dripping over the deck," He comments matter-of-factly.

He seems to look at you with a darkness in his eyes, though different from the way he seemed when he was angry. It wasn't an anger when he was with you - it was more like fury, a burning inside of him that seemed to echo in the tension in his muscles.

You cock a brow at him and lift one of your arms to pull your crop top over your head, quickly and in one motion, exposing the thin cover of the bikini top you wore underneath, "Yeah, you're right, wouldn't want water on the boat would we?"

"Was that necessary?" He cocks a brow at you, his eyes drifting south towards your chest, the way the droplets of water curled around the curves of your breasts.

"Keep your dick in your pants, Cameron."

~~~

"You know your life would be a hell of a lot easier if you didn't argue with him all the time," John B points out, sat on the dock next to the Chalet, his legs dangling over the edge, a beer can in his hands

"And what's the fun in that?" You tilt your head up from where you lay sprawled out over the wooden surface, one hand coming up to your face to block your eyes from the sun.

"The woman raises a good point," JJ comments, matching your pose as he was sprawled out over the small space of their boat.

"Plus," You lean up onto your elbows, "He thinks he can walk all over us just because his father's got money, I'm sick of it."

"His father having money is the reason that we can get a bit too," John B points out, standing up and going over to the cooler of beers that was already dwindling in supplies, "So please keep your mouth shut so that I can keep my job."

You push yourself up to stand and step through the barrier of the dock to stand on the side of the water, your hands reaching behind your back to hold the fence and steady yourself, "I can't make any promises."

You stretch your arms above your head and dive into the water, kicking below the surface to submerge yourself in the relief of the cold water. When you break the surface, you turn around to see the boys watching you from the deck.

JJ smirks at you, nudging John B knowingly before he says, "Damn, that was hot."

~~~

You're back at the Cameron's house the following day, pulling up in front of the mansion in your beat up car that seemed a stark contrast to the world around you. The car had belonged to your father, and had been passed down to you when your sister refused to drive it. It was littered with scratches and had a dent on one side, and the passenger side window didn't ever close, and it only took cassette tapes despite this being the 21st Century.

As you pull up today, Rafe is parked in front of your spot. The hood of his car is open and he's bent over, studying the inner workings like it were a foreign language. When he hears your door slam, a little too abruptly, he is quick to comment.

"You're late."

"Did you miss me that much?" You cock a brow, walking around the side of his car so you can see under the hood too, "What's wrong with this?"

He looks up at you for a second, his eyes squinting a little against the smoke that was just starting to bellow up from the vehicle, "I don't-" He stops himself, "It's fine, just go to the boat."

You look over, walking around to the front of the car so that you stood next to him, your shoulder bumping his arm as you tap at the source of his problem, "Your fuel cap is busted, radiator cap should solve it."

Rafe pulls away from the car to stand up straight, like a reminder of just how much he towered over you, "Are you kidding?"

"I probably have a spare in my trunk," You comment, standing up too so that you can face him, the tips of your shoes almost brushing with his.

"I don't need your help, (Y/N)."

You smirk and make sure your eyes are in direct contact with his as you state, "Oh, don't worry, I wasn't offering."

With that, you turn on your heel and make your way towards the house, diverting towards the gate that would lead you down towards the dock. You couldn't quite make out the feeling in your chest - a little bit of pride at your tiny victory, and a little bit of the typical quickening of your heart beat that only Rafe seemed to be able to cause.

~~~

Rafe gives up on his car not long after, storming back into the house as if the anger was practically radiating off of him.

“I need Dad’s keys, have you seen them?” He calls over to Sarah, who’s laying across one of the couches with a book in one hand, the other arm tucked under her head.

“Why would I know where they are?” She retorts, setting her book down and stretching her arms back above her head.

“Can you help me look for them?” Rafe snaps, “I’ve got somewhere to be and my car’s busted.”

“Find them yourself,” She scoffs, “Or get John B or (Y/N) to help you with your car.”

Rafe stops his search for the keys and looks at her flatly, “Are you kidding?”

“Why do you hate them so much?” His sister shakes her head, “They’re not that bad and you act like (Y/N) is the worst person on the planet.”

“She’s not-“

As if on cue, you walk through from the garden, sliding open one of the large glass panel doors. There were beads of sweat around your neck from being in the sun, the material of your halter neck top rising a little over your torso. Rafe finds himself trailing his eyes over you before he has a chance to stop himself.

“Perfect!” Sarah smiles at you, “(Y/N), if you’re not too busy can you help my pain-in-the-ass brother to fix his car so he can stop stressing out?”

You look from her and onto her brother, the way his chest is rising and falling like even the sight of you irritated him beyond normal, “I don’t think he wants my help. I’m just here to get the key to the locker, we’ve got stuff to put away.”

Rafe looks at you directly, as if he hopes his gaze will eventually pierce through your confidence and give him the upper hand, “I’ll get you the key, if you get me that cap.”

It’s impossible to hide the smirk over your lips, “Hard bargain, Rafe Cameron.”

“Just do it,” He rolls his eyes, storming out of the room just as quickly as he’s entered.

Sarah glances up at you and shakes her head, “I’m sure you make him worse than normal.”

You laugh and nod your head a little, “Yeah, probably, but someone’s got to do it.”

You leave then and go out to your car, where Rafe is already waiting. He’s leant back against the side of it, his elbows leaning back on either side of the roof and his ankles crossed as if you had kept him waiting for a short version of forever.

”Do you mind? You’ll ruin the paint,” You bat his arm away and it evokes a deep laugh from him, one of mocking more so than amusement.

“On this thing? I think the paint is the least of your concerns,” He comments, glancing down at the scratches that wound around the side of the doors.

“Do you want to fix your car or not?”

He’s quiet then.

“This was my Dad’s car,” You mention, grabbing what you needed from the trunk before closing it, “And until it stops driving, I see no reason to get rid of it.”

“Your Dad,” Rafe studies your face, “Yeah, I remember him, he used to work at the club, right?”

As you walk past him, you find yourself having to swallow the lump in your throat before you can think of responding properly, “Yeah.”

“How did he-“

“Can you stop?” You snap at him, twisting off the old cap and fixing the new one in place over the fuel pump.

“Can I stop what?”

You stand up from the hood of his car and slam it shut, “Pretending like you give a shit. I don’t need your pity.”

It’s like something switches off in Rafe then, a light going out before your eyes had even adjusted to it being there, he straightens up his shoulders, lets out a cold blooded laugh through his lips, “Oh I don’t pity you, you Pogues are all just as bad as each other. Criminals, nothing more.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, this criminal has to get back to working on your boat,” You step forward and swipe the locker key from his hand, “I’ll try my best to not steal anything whilst I’m there.”

He watches you walk away, tastes the sarcastic air left in the wake of your words, breathes in the lingering scent of your unwavering confidence. And he can’t bring himself to look away from you. But, for just a brief moment, Rafe realises that he doesn’t want to.

[theclairvoyage]

Centrifugation: Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Frazzled after your rough day at the center, you head out to your regular bar with the work crew, and see a familiar face there.

Warnings: brief mentions of violence, alcohol consumption, fluff, allusions to smut, kissing, groping, talks of divorce

WC: 4.3k

Friday, October 15th | 1730

After Joel left, the cops showed up shortly after and you gave your statement.  They assured you if Cedric returned, he would be arrested.  Trina permanently deferred him in the system, preventing him from checking in.  You felt some relief at that but were concerned about him waiting for you in the parking lot after your shift.  Keri offers to walk you to your car after you both clock out.

“Love, today was rough… so fucking glad it’s Friday.  Want to grab a drink?”  she asks.  You nod fervently, the idea of a cold beer immediately resurrecting you from the depths of this terrible day.

“McKinney’s?” you offer. 

She smiles brightly and nods in agreement. “I’ll come get you.  Just text me when you’re ready.”

McKinney’s is a local Irish dive bar, and the plasma center staff are regulars.  The bartenders are awesome, drinks are dirt cheap, and horrific karaoke is every Friday.

Once you get to your apartment, you take a hot, hot shower, rubbing off the stress and sweat from the day.  You think about Joel’s soft touch and how comforting he was.  You also think about the way he looked at you, causing arousal to pool in your lower belly.  No time to feen over a stranger, you think, washing the premature fantasy out of your mind.

You do a quick towel dry and style your hair, throw on some low-rise jeans that hug your ass, and a skintight black shirt that’s not quite cropped, not quite full-length.  You put on bare-minimum makeup, spray on some of your favorite musky perfume, step into some sandals, and give yourself a quick mirror check.  Your hipbones are peeking out between the bottom of your shirt and the top of your jeans.  The black shirt dips down low enough to show your collarbones and part of your shoulders.  You’re glowing, which is surprising, given the shitty day you had.  You’re not dressed overtly sexy, but you know how the men at the dive bar will react to a little skin and curves.  Fuck it.  Nothing wrong with a little attention.  You grab your phone and text Keri that you’re ready.

Keri: Sounds good.  I’ll be there in 10.

You open the fridge and grab some small Fireball shooters for the drive.  Not long thereafter, you hear Keri’s honk outside the building.  Keri prefers to drive when you two have outings, which you don’t mind at all.  She’s got a nice house in the Benson area, not too far from work or from your apartment.  She’s divorced and about 10 years your senior.  The two of you have always clicked, and you enjoy spending time with her in and outside of work.

You: Bet. Shooters engaged.

You trot to her car, holding up the shooters and grinning once she’s in view.  She grimaces.  You hop in and crack the shooters open, clink yours against hers and take the shot, the spicy cinnamon liquor trickling down your throat, burning as it travels down the ridges. 

“Ready to get your drank on, bitch?” Keri coughs, and you both cackle.

Shortly thereafter, you arrive at McKinney’s.  The parking lot is jam-packed, meaning you’ll probably have a smorgasbord of awful karaoke singers lining up.  You walk in and take your usual spots at the bar, facing the karaoke stage.  One of your favorite bartenders, Jessica, greets you and Keri.  “Hey, ladies.  Heard there was a ruckus at the plasma center today,” she says, motioning over at Blake and some other employees at one of the tables by the stage, who wave at you both.  You both laugh and wave back.  “Jess, it was fucking nuts.  This one here about got hep C.  Cops got called and everything,” Keri says.

“Jesus… well, the first round’s on me.  Sorry you had to deal with that,” Jess says, bringing over a pitcher of Busch Light.  Not your favorite, but when pitchers are $5, it’s hard to pass up.  Keri pours you both a glass and you clink them together before taking a big swig.

You both join the table with the rest of the employees, putting some tables together and chatting.  You get up to go to the bathroom.  On your way back, you stop by the bar and ask Jess for a couple more pitchers.  She obliges, and you wait at the bar while she fills them up.

“Hey, darlin’.  Can’t imagine why you’d be here on a night like this,” a deep Southern drawl croons in your ear, coating your name in velvet.  You freeze and look behind you to see Joel.  He’s swapped his red flannel for a blue one that hugs his biceps and traps, along with some black jeans and boots.  His hair is slicked back, showing off gray stripes that wrap the front and sides of his face.  What enraptures you most, however, is his scent that you somehow failed to notice earlier today.  He smells of sandalwood and bourbon, spicy and musky at the same time.  You figure it’s probably time to respond to him when you see him smirk and raise his eyebrows at you.

“Hi, Joel!  What are you doing here?”  You say, attempting to stop drooling over him.  Luckily for you, though, he’s making no attempt to stop staring at you.  He takes you in, looking at you from head to toe with that strange look in his eyes you’ve seen for the third time today.  Your stomach does a few back handsprings.  Those low riders that hug your ass were a great idea.

“Keri told me today this is where the cool people in Omaha hang out at, so it’s only natural that I stop by,” he says, grinning at you.  You giggle and lightly smack his arm, the liquid courage giving you balls you thought you never had.  Now it makes sense why Keri suggested you go here this evening.

“Are you doin’ better, sweetheart?  Know today was rough for ya,” he asks, his gaze on you now tender.  Warmth washes over you and you smile at him, putting a hand on his chest.  Joel feels a soft burn where your hand lies and worries you can feel his heart palpitate underneath your fingertips.

“Yes, much better.  I wanted to say thank you for being there for me.  It meant a lot to me,” you say, watching his cheeks curl into a soft smile and a blush creeping up his neck.  Still feeling ballsy, you ask if he wants to sit at the bar or join the group.

“Doesn’t matter to me, darlin’.  You lead the way,” he hums.  You decide you want to spend some alone time with Joel for a bit before returning to the group.  “Sit here,” you say, gesturing to two stools at the bar.  “I’ll drop these pitchers off and come back.”  He nods and half-sits on one of the stools.  You hoist the pitchers and walk over to the table, making sure to swing your hips just in case he’s watching.

Keri grins at you.  You give her a smirk.  “I see what you did there, Ker,” you giggle.  She shrugs, taking a sip of beer.  “Not sure what you’re talking about, girl!”  Uh huh.  You roll your eyes as you drop the pitchers off and return to the bar.

Joel watches you walk back, that half-smile plastered on his face and his eyes flashing black as they travel up and down your body.  You hop up on the bar stool and give him a quizzical look.  “What are you staring at, cowboy?”

“The prettiest woman I’ve seen since I’ve been in Omaha… maybe even ever,” he says in a low voice, getting closer to your ear.  The small hairs on your ear prick up, like his voice is their magnet.  You feel tingles travel down your neck and spine, landing at your core, and clamp your legs together.  Fuuuuck.  He continues, “I feel like I’ve known you a long time… I feel crazy sayin’ that knowin’ damn well we just met today.”

“I feel the same way,” you say, “It really hit me today when we were at the picnic table.”  He nods in agreement.  You stare at each other, and time stops for a moment.  The bar is buzzing, but all you can see and hear is Joel, and he you.  Hopefully this isn’t just the booze and a bad day.

The karaoke host gets on the mic and taps it a few times to let the patrons know karaoke is starting soon.  People travel up to him to put their names in the queue, including some people from your work group.

Joel puts an arm around your shoulders, lightly rubbing the skin on your arm.  “You want somethin’ else to drink?” You turn to him and nod, noticing he’s got a glass of what appears to be whiskey.  He calls Jess over and you order a Dos Equis Ambar.

“Beer girl, huh?” he chuckles.

“Love my beer.  I’ll drink just about anything, though… except whiskey,” you scrunch your nose at his drink, and he laughs.

“It’s not that bad.  Tough thing like you could down it, easily,” he jokes, squeezing your shoulder playfully.  “Here, take a sip and see what ya think.”  You pick up the glass and look down at it, grimacing from the smell.

“So… how do I do this? The expert way of course,” You ask.  One side of his mouth curls up in a smirk.

“Take a smaller sip and swish it ‘round your mouth to get the flavors.  I warn ya, it’s gonna burn a lil’ bit,” he cautions.  You do as he says, trying not to make a face at the sting on your tongue and cheeks.  You taste nothing but pure, smoky alcohol.  He guffaws.

“That’s gotta be straight ethanol with some food dye,” you grimace, smacking your lips a few times and wash the whiskey down with a sip of your beer.  “My tongue is on fire!”

“Told ya.  Just gotta get used t’it,” he says, taking a sip and swishing it around like a champ.

As karaoke starts, you both fall in a comfortable rhythm of conversing and getting to know each other.  You talk about growing up here in Omaha, going to Lincoln, Nebraska for college, and coming back to be close to your family.  Joel talks about growing up in Austin, Texas, and his successful contracting business he runs with his brother, Tommy.  He tells you about his 18-year-old daughter, Sarah, who’s in college in Lincoln, Nebraska at your alma mater, hence the move to Omaha.  He divorced shortly after she was born and has been virtually single since.

“What about you?  Smart, beautiful girl like you gotta be single because she wants to be, not ‘cause she’s short on options,” Joel says, the arm that was around your shoulders earlier traversing across your back, now resting on your opposite thigh.  You look at him wistfully.

“Something like that.  It’s kinda hard for me to connect with people in that way.  I’m… exclusive with my time and energy, I guess.  I just value my alone time and time with my friends,” You say honestly, hoping that doesn’t throw him off.  You really haven’t had a lot of serious relationships and have always preferred being by yourself.  Sure, you had a lot of flings in college, but nobody you wanted to take the next step with.

“I understand.  Seems like a good way to live, if ya ask me.  Can’t be givin’ everybody your time.  I learned that the hard way,” he says, looking away from you, his big, brown eyes shaded in amber melancholy.

“What happened?  If you don’t mind me asking,” you ask, putting your hand on his leg and squeezing lightly.  He reciprocates.

“We had Sarah so young, marriage just seemed like the right thing to do next.  Turns out neither of us was ready nor mature enough for that.  She wanted to go out and be with other men, and I just wanted to raise my daughter and try and make a livin’,” he says, a sad smile playing on his lips.  “Everythin’ happened for a reason, though, can’t say I regret any of it.”  You look him in the eyes and give him a sympathetic smile.  The way he looks at you is so soft, so tender.  Your heart jumps up and down.

“I bet you’re a great dad, I’m sure Sarah appreciates everything you do,” you say, giving him another squeeze.  He turns to look at you, eyes blazing with fondness.

“If you’re interested, I’d like you to meet her.  She’ll be coming up on weekends here and there during school since it’s only an hour away from here.  Oh, and I’d love for you to meet my brother, Tommy.  We expanded the business to some parts of the Midwest, so he and his wife moved up here, too.”

“Wow, that’s great… you guys must’ve made all the right business moves.  I’d love to meet them,” you say, impressed by him.  He snorts.

“Wasn’t always like that.  Our pops helped us out a lot early on… two reckless twenty-something men starting a contracting business with no damn idea how to do it.  We knew how to do the work, but managin’ it is a whole different ballgame.  Plus, I was a single dad not long after we started.  Lotta late nights and caffeine.  We did alright, though.  Got offices in Austin and Dallas, Kansas City, and now Omaha.”  He says, running fingers through his silvery hair.  You feel yourself grinning at him.

This can’t be real, you think.  I just met this man today and already feel so connected to him.  Your face must match your deep thinking, because he asks you if everything is alright.

“Yes, absolutely,” you say, because it is.  His eyes flicker over your face with quiet adoration.  You admire his beard and how his mustache is dark brown, but the hairs littered on his chin and jaw are almost all-white.  You swear you see him lean in ever so slightly and turn nervously to take a sip of your beer.

Karaoke stops for the night, and the jukebox starts playing Eric Claptons’ Wonderful Tonight.  Joel stands from the stool and holds his hand out.  “Wanna dance, pretty girl?”

You blush and take his big, warm hand.  “Of course.”

He leads you out to the dance floor, where most patrons have gathered to sway to the music with someone.  He holds your right hand with his left and pulls you close to him with his right, wrapping his arm around your waist.  You lie your head on his shoulder and let yourself melt into him, wrapping your free arm around his upper back and taking in his scent.  He feels so safe, so strong, so firm.  You could stand here with him forever.

“You know, every man in here wants you, darlin’,” he whispers in your ear.  He feels your smirk on his shoulder.

“Every man?” You ask, taking your head off his shoulder to look him in the eyes.  He knows exactly what you’re asking.  You’re taken aback at how much desire his eyes hold, looking at you like you really are the prettiest woman he’s ever seen.

“Every man,” he whispers.  You’re not sure when he got so close, but you can feel his warm, whiskey-coated breath on your face and your heart starts thumping quickly in your chest.

“I don’t wanna overstep, but I really wanna kiss you,” he says, his eyes traveling from your eyes to your lips and back.  Your heart feels like it’s running hurdles over your ribs, down to the pit of your stomach.

“Please do,” you whisper back, licking your lips.

Time seems to pause indefinitely when he leans in and presses his lips to yours.  His lips are smooth, a lovely contrast from the coarse hair on his beard tickling your skin.  He tastes like whiskey and coffee, and he thinks you taste like beer and heaven.  The kiss is slow and gentle at first, like he’s asking for permission.  You deepen the kiss, lightly nibbling his lower lip and reaching up to tug on his curls.  He groans at that, making your core ignite.  He licks into your mouth and your tongues dance along with the music.  Both of his arms are now wrapped around you, his big hands lightly pulling up the hem of your shirt to feel warm skin near the waistband of your jeans.  He moves his hands up further under your shirt, learning the planes of your back and delighting in the softness of your skin.  The heat of his hands and your growing desire is almost too much, and you have an urging need to cool off before you explode into oblivion.  You both pull away after who knows how long and look each other in the eyes, four pupils jam-packed with lust.

“Wanna step outside?  It’s a little… hot,” you say, still pressed closely to him, and he chuckles while nodding.  He takes your hand and leads you to the outdoor patio, where some torches are lit and the music from inside is playing faintly.  The fall air whistles as it swoops over you, giving you goosebumps.  It’s dimly lit out here, but bright enough that you can see each other in the torch light, the flames dancing playfully over each of your faces.

“Can’t say I’ve ever felt so good from a kiss, darlin’,” Joel says, pulling you into him.  You smash your lips against his like you never stopped.  One of his hands travels to the back of your head, fingers lightly massaging your scalp; the other hand smoothing down your back until he reaches your ass.  A low growl emits from his chest, and you let out a faint moan as he squeezes.  Your hands both find home in his slicked, curly hair, tugging a bit and earning you another growl from Joel.  You know you’re soaked right now, and you can feel his hardening length poking into your lower stomach.

Normally, you would pull back and distance yourself from someone you’ve only known for less than a day, but something about this man has you seeing stars, clouds, and other celestial bodies.  Nothing has ever felt so natural or in sync for you.  He must think so, too, as he breaks the kiss to nip down your jaw and neck, soothing the little bites with his tongue afterwards.  You moan and feel him grip you tighter in response.

“God, ‘m never gonna forget that beautiful sound,” he hums into your neck, sending you reeling.  He licks over to the other side of your neck and kisses his way back up your jaw, back to your ear, where he pulls at the lobe gently with his teeth and sucks it back into his mouth.  You suck in a sharp breath and giggle, knowing that you’ve just given away two of your favorite spots to him.  He chuckles and continues kissing your neck, jaw, collarbone, and ears, simultaneously scratching your smooth skin with his facial hair.  Your skin tastes like vanilla and tangerine, and he marvels at how soft you are and relishes in the sounds he’s pulling from your lips.  “Fuck, Joel,” you whine, “that feels so good.”

“You taste so good, baby,” he says and returns his mouth to yours, hands roaming all over your body but careful to not overstep boundaries.  Your hands do the same, but you both make sure you’re still pressed up as close to each other as possible.  You can feel his rock-hard cock ready to burst through the fabric of his jeans and your wetness pooling in your underwear, threatening to trickle down your thighs.

He pulls away briefly and groans, a look of near-despair clouding his amber eyes.  “I want you so fuckin’ bad, but I wanna do this right.”  You nod in agreement.  Snapshots of Joel taking your clothes off and running his hands and tongue all over your body are racing through your mind, but you know he’s right.  He’s got the same visions of you in his mind and wants nothing more than to make you feel good – physically and emotionally.

“Not like we need to rush anything,” you say, looking up at him.  His smile is so saccharine, and he leans in to kiss you softly on the lips.

“Got nothin’ but time, sweetheart.”  He holds you in his arms for a moment, and the door leading to the patio swings open with a squeak.  Loud music and warbled voices invade your space momentarily before the door shuts.  You look up and see Keri grinning ear to ear.

“See?  I told you you wouldn’t regret coming here, Joel,” she says, pursing her lips at the two of you as she brings her beer up for a sip.  You stick your tongue out and she giggles, turning to go back inside.

Your gurgling stomach makes its entrance, interrupting your sweet moment with Joel.  He chuckles, “Sweetheart, do you wanna go get something to eat?  It’s gettin’ late, and I know you had a long day,” he says, his hands crossing up your back and coming to land on your shoulders.  You hadn’t noticed until now that your stomach felt tense, like you had a hole in it that food needed to fill.  “Probably a good idea… I must’ve forgotten to eat after I left the center today,” you say, rubbing your stomach lightly.  You check your watch.  12:53 am.  Not too late, but the events of the day are starting to drag your body down into the depths of fatigue.  He cups your jaw with both hands and places a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“Let’s go, then, and I’ll take you home.  Where d’ya wanna go?”  He asks, eyes shifting between yours.  You think of all the places that would be open right now, deciding that something quick and greasy is probably the only option.  You shrug.

“You’re the local, you be the guide,” he says, releasing you from his embrace and taking your hand.  He leads you inside and stops at your work table so you can say goodbye.  You wave at everyone and give Keri a quick hug.  “You let me know when you get home, alright hon’?”  She says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.  “Yes ma’am, you got it,” you say, hugging her tightly.

You two leave hand in hand and walk to Joel’s black pickup, which looks very expensive and very new.  You attempt to open the passenger door and he stops you.  You raise an eyebrow and give him a confused look.  “Sweetheart, I’m a Southern gentleman,” he trills, opening the door for you and ushering you in with a hand on your lower back.  You smirk and feel the liquid courage bubbling up again.  “Oh yeah?  In more ways than one?”  His eyes flash with desire, moving up and down your frame as you get comfortable in the passenger seat.

“Don’t get me started on all the ways,” he says, voice deep and eyes fixated on yours.  You feel your neck and cheeks heat.  This is gonna be tough.  Joel shuts your door and trots over to the driver’s side.  He pulls out of the parking lot, his free hand reaching over the center console to lace his fingers with yours.  “Decide what you want?”

“I’m thinking classic McDonald’s… I’m a cheap date,” you say, squeezing his hand.  He laughs.

“We’ll see how long that lasts, darlin’… I gotta take you out for a real date soon,” he grins.  Your stomach flips at the thought of going on a real date with Joel.

After you go through the McDonald’s drive through, Joel heads to your place to drop you off.  He approaches the entrance to your building and puts the truck in park.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask.  He gives you a look, almost pained.  “Sure, darlin’.  No funny business, I promise,” he responds.  You tilt your head at him, amused.  “Not sure if we have the same definition of that phrase, but you’re about to find out,” you say, smirking.  He scoffs and moves the truck to a parking spot.

You enter the building and head to your door at the end of the first floor.  Hopefully it’s clean, you think.  You can’t remember the last time a man came over.  You pop in your code and open the door, Joel holding the door beside you.  You set your purse and keys on the kitchen counter and watch Joel’s eyes examine the place.  He looks at the pictures of you and your friends and family hung on the walls.

“Clearly, you’ve always been gorgeous,” he says, pointing to a picture from your 8th grade graduation.  Braces and all.  You smack his arm playfully.  “Shut it.  We can’t all be sexy-cowboy-chico-suave like you,” you gripe, making him burst out laughing.  “Never heard that one before darlin’, but sexy doesn’t cover you,” he says, eyes traveling up and down your frame.  He takes two big steps toward you.  “So, what’s your definition of funny business?” he asks, finger tipping your chin up to look at him.  You smirk and lead him to the couch, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on.

“You’re really gonna regret coming over here,” you giggle, pulling up Hulu.  You scroll down to continue watching The Golden Girls.  Joel groans playfully.  “Yeah… we definitely have different definitions of that word,” he says, putting his arm around you and kicking his feet up as you snuggle into him.

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