#thank you to that other post cause i finally got the inspo to finish this

[delightfuldevin]

I am become Pokemon

[jikookiekosmos]

When I Dream of You || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, husband!jungkook/reader

➥Summary: Jungkook always imagined being with you was like a dream come true, and after years of pining he can finally say it’s all he could have ever hoped for and more. But what happens now when Jungkook’s dreams about you no longer have a happy ending?

➥Genre: established relationship, (somewhat?) heavy angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~6.2k (little much for a drabble i know, sorry)

➥Content warnings: story mostly told from jungkook’s POV, jungkook has a nightmare, feelings of insecurity and anxiety, mentions of harassment (not much), yoongi to the rescue (seriously he’s the voice of reason i love him), making out, grinding, slight hair pulling, riding on top, reader is in control (and jk is happy about it), unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), cumming inside, cute times in the shower, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops

A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! Their relationship will make a lot more sense though if you’ve read OFY beforehand. This fic takes place roughly around a year after the events of OFY. (I also mentioned this in the post for OFY but for those who haven’t read it, the Kun in the story isn’t referring to any other irl person specifically, it was just a name I chose to make the initial story easier to write.)

As always, thank you to @dntaewithluv​ for being so supportive of me and motivating me to keep writing when there are times I feel like I shouldn’t. And for also being my beta-reader and just generally an amazing person, one of the best friends I could ever ask for.

I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:

Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait - ~6 months after OFY

Stay With Me - a few months after this dream drabble

I know this is the most angsty thing I’ve written so far (update: Stay With Me now holds this title), but I got attached to these characters and wanted to tell more of their story so here we are. I basically wrote this all in one sitting because I’ve had this idea in my head for a little while and I was excited to get it out. I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn​​

⊱──────── �� ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Jungkook was dreaming again.

It was a dream he’d had many times now, and it always started the same way. He watched as you appeared in the doorway of the chapel, ready to make your trek down the aisle.

You looked dazzling in your dress, and through the thin veil that covered your face, Jungkook could see the brilliant smile you wore, which caused him to break out into one of his own. Each step that brought you closer to him made his heart race faster, and it didn’t take long for you to finally be in front of him.

Well…somewhat in front of him.

He could only watch as at the last second, you turned slightly and were now standing in front of Kun, the man you were originally meant to marry. Jungkook’s stomach twisted with fear as he observed Kun lift your veil over your head and take your hands in his as you both stared into each other’s eyes. You, looking at Kun with all the love in the world, because that’s just how you were. And Kun, looking back at you, with a sinister expression that made Jungkook feel dizzy.

He opened his mouth to object, to speak, to do something but no sound would come out. Everyone around him that had gathered to see you get married were either oblivious to Jungkook’s obvious distress, or they just didn’t care.

They weren’t here for him, after all. They were here for you, in the same way that he was here for you, too.

When his legs could finally move without crumpling underneath him, he walked over to stand next to you and Kun as he tried to reach out to you. He couldn’t touch you, though, because it was like there was an invisible wall in between the two of you now. A wall he could still see through but couldn’t reach past. He moved back at the realization, only to be met with something similar hitting his back.

Jungkook whirled around and was met with the same thing, now surrounding him on all sides, trapping him inside some sort of box. A box where he could still see what was happening but couldn’t stop it despite what he did. He felt suffocated.

He was shouting from inside his new prison, banging on the walls, trying to make any sort of sound that would reach you. And he knew you couldn’t hear him; you didn’t spare even one glance his way. But he still had to try. The longer he let this go on, the greater the chance of losing you grew to be.

And the possibility of that, of losing you in any capacity, was something he couldn’t bear to even think about.

Jungkook could hear everything coming from your mouth. The cheerfulness in your voice was usually something he loved to hear under any given circumstance. But in this case, it was threatening to tear him apart. He listened dismally as the two of you started reciting your vows to each other.

And his heart started to break when he heard the words from the letter he’d tried to give you all those years ago. Tears were forming in his vision as he listened to Kun rattle off the words he’d written for you. Words he never got to claim as his own until much later, when it was almost too late.

He could feel his heart shatter at the sight of the breathtaking smile on your face as you two finished your vows, moving now to kiss each other and seal the deal.

He tried once more to call out to you, but any sound he could’ve possibly made would’ve been immediately drowned out by the cheering from everyone around you.

His legs gave out as he knelt down to the floor, helplessly staring at you as you linked your arm with Kun’s to walk back down the aisle as a newly married couple. It took the last bit of his strength to look up as you passed, and you didn’t notice him.

But Kun did.

Kun paused in front of Jungkook, still separated by that invisible wall, and he grinned. It was the kind of grin you’d expect from someone who’s sole purpose in life was to sabotage others’ happiness. Which, ironically enough, is exactly what Kun was now known for.

All Jungkook could do was look on while you left the chapel, followed by the many guests who had gathered for the ceremony. Only when everyone was gone was he able to move about freely, but he opted to remain seated on the floor there instead as the chapel slowly started to fill with darkness once the doors closed.

Jungkook awoke with a start, bolting upright and inhaling a sharp intake of air. He was covered in sweat that dampened his hair and made it stick to his forehead. His breathing was shallow, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was.

He was at home, in his bed. It was nighttime and sleeping next to him was a figure who’d remained undisturbed by his sudden movement.

He cautiously looked over at your sleeping form. You were turned on your side, facing away from him, breathing peacefully. His eyes softened at the sight and he could feel his heartbeat start to slow down into a pace much less frantic.

He pushed his hair out of his face as he took a deep breath. He knew he should probably wake you, especially since you always told him to do so whenever he had nightmares. Lately, he hadn’t been having any bad dreams, so it had been a while since he last had to rouse you from your slumber.

He reached an arm out, only for it to gently fall by his side. He hated waking you unless it was really important, because he knew you sometimes had trouble sleeping, and this included falling back asleep if something made you wake up during the middle of the night. You’d been especially exhausted lately, what with the new exciting event that had suddenly happened in both of your lives.

Well, exciting wasn’t really the right word. Terrifying fit way better.

After managing to avoid Kun for over an entire year, he somehow turned up at your new place of employment one day, surprising you and frightening you all at the same time. He told the staff at the front desk that he was an ‘old friend, here to congratulate you on your new position.’ And they believed it, so they let him come up to your office unsupervised.

Let’s just say when Jungkook heard about that little ordeal, he was not pleased at all.

Ever since then, Kun had been borderline harassing you, even sometimes going as far as to try and talk to Jungkook during his shifts at the bar. That lasted for all of maybe 2 encounters before Kun found himself banned and unable to return.

You both thought he was out of your life for good after the break-up, but he was proving to be much more of a plague than you or Jungkook initially imagined. So yes, these recent events had maybe been causing Jungkook to have intrusive thoughts once again that translated themselves into the one recurring nightmare he used to have shortly after the two of you got together.

The nightmare of him losing you. You obviously didn’t end up marrying Kun, but you came a lot closer to it than Jungkook liked. And that wasn’t because he’d been pining after you for years; he could’ve dealt with that, if it ended with you being happy. It was more so the reason that your relationship with Kun hadn’t seemed genuine on his end, and Jungkook wanted better for you than that.

Sometimes he wondered if he was the right one to give you what you deserved.

He shook his head to keep more thoughts from seeping in, but he knew sitting here alone in the dark wouldn’t help with that for long. He glanced at the time on his phone. It was 2:08 A.M., so not too late, but most people were usually sleeping at that time.

Nonetheless, Jungkook pulled back the covers and swung his feet over the side of the bed to stand up. He moved as gently as possibly to not risk waking you, but on his way to the bathroom he had to pass by your side of the bed.

Your sleeping face was free of worry, and your lips were slightly parted as you were breathing softly. The sight made Jungkook’s heart thump. He couldn’t help himself when he leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

If you woke up, he’d just tell you he had to use the restroom and try to coax you back to sleep. You looked too cute for him not to kiss you, though, so he deduced it was worth the risk.

He padded off to the bathroom then, only wearing a pair of gym shorts. Every step he took was calculated so he didn’t make much noise, and when he finally made it to the bathroom, he closed the door as quietly as possible, listening to the faint click before he leaned against the sink.

He sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. After dialing the number, he put the phone to his ear, and within 2 rings someone picked up.

“Kook? You ok?”

Jungkook smiled. “Yeah, Yoongs, I’m ok. Just needed to talk to someone, that’s all.”

He heard shuffling from the end of the line and he felt a small pang of guilt at the fact that he may have woken his friend up. But then again, it was Yoongi, and he wasn’t a stranger to being up at this hour.

Yoongi hummed. “Y/N not awake then, huh?”

Jungkook shook his head, despite Yoongi not being able to see him. Yoongi took his silence as confirmation.

“Hm, well you do know I love talking to you, but I am wondering why this time of night?”

Jungkook sighed. Better to get it over with than beat around the bush. “I had a nightmare.”

“Oh no,” he could hear the somberness of Yoongi’s tone. “Is it the same one, or…”

“Same one,” Jungkook answered without hesitation.

“Kook, we’ve been over this-”

“I know,” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “I know. Trust me, I don’t want to keep having this happen either.”

“Can you think of anything that may have triggered it?”

Jungkook tongued his cheek then. The more he thought about it, the only thing he could see as being a potential trigger for these dreams to come flooding back would be Kun’s unwanted reappearance.

While he was still thinking, Yoongi continued.

“Do you think it has anything to do with that asshole showing up again?”

Jungkook smirked. He knew how much disdain Yoongi had for Kun, and for good reason.

“Yeah, it’s exactly that, I’m almost positive.”

It sounded like Yoongi was moving again and Jungkook could just picture him now, sitting up and shaking his head in disappointment, not at Jungkook, but at the situation.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna level with you.”

Jungkook gulped.

“I honestly have no idea why you’re letting someone like that affect you. He’s not worth your time, he’s not worth Y/N’s time, not worth anyone’s time if you ask me. Letting him continue to have this kind of effect on you isn’t healthy.”

Jungkook sighed again, his breath coming out somewhat shaky. “I know, it’s just…it’s hard. It’s really hard, Yoongs. I can’t help but think of how close I came to losing her and fuck it hurts every time I think about it.”

“First of all, you wouldn’t have lost her, and you know that-”

“Yeah but seeing him is a reminder that I came close.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi’s tone was stern now, and Jungkook immediately stopped talking.

Yoongi took a deep breath. “Like I was saying, you wouldn’t have lost her. You mean too much to her and she means too much to you for either of you to have let that happen. Give her a little more credit, yeah?”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s lips curved upwards into a smile. He knows you’d never allow anything to take you away from him, outside of maybe some things beyond both of your control. But you certainly would never let someone come in between the friendship you both shared.

A friendship that had developed over several years and had now blossomed into a beautiful, loving partnership.

There it was again: you. Anytime Jungkook thought about you, it always made him happy. He was so in love with you and had been for so many years, so it was sometimes still surreal to him that you two were together now. Your smiling face was all he needed to get him through some days.

But right now the vision of you playing out in his head was the sight of you the night he found you in your house kneeling on the floor after Kun broke your marriage off. You looked so utterly broken, and Jungkook made a promise to himself then and there that he’d do anything in his power to make it so you never felt that way again.

“Kook? You still with me there?”

Yoongi’s voice roused Jungkook out of his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. You know I worry about you, kid.”

Jungkook smiled. “I know.”

“This is the first time you’ve had this dream in a while, right?”

Jungkook leaned against the sink again, looking at the tiled floor underneath his feet. “Yeah, it’s been months.”

“Then I want you to do something for me, ok?”

Confused, but intrigued, Jungkook shook his head. “Yeah, sure.”

“I want you to take a look at your left hand.”

Jungkook did as he was told, splaying his fingers out in front of him.

“Now tell me what you see?”

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at his gold wedding band as it glistened faintly in the light of the room.

“My wedding ring,” he answered softly.

“Exactly. Your wedding ring. It belongs to you. And it means you’re the one who’s married to her. Not him, not anyone else, but you.”

Jungkook could see exactly where Yoongi was going with this, and the thought made him almost tear up. Yoongi knew exactly what to say and when to say it whenever Jungkook needed reassurance about something, and this was one of those times.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna tell you this, and it’s something I want you to remember. Y/N loves you. She loves you so much. My God, sometimes it’s hard to look at you two because you’re always so lovey dovey like-”

Jungkook laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

He could imagine Yoongi smiling on the other end. “Good. I think as long as you remember that, you’ll be ok. It’d probably still help to talk to her, though. You know how upset she’d be if she knew you were suffering in silence about your dreams again.”

Jungkook shakily inhaled, his grip on the sink behind him tightening. “I know. I’ll talk to her, probably in the morning since she’s still asleep-”

Jungkook cut himself off when he heard the soft sound of you calling his name. “Yoongs, I gotta go, thank you for answering and for everything else.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Anytime. Night, Kook.”

Jungkook hung up the phone and peered from behind the bathroom door. He saw you sitting up in the bed now, rubbing your eyes before you stretched. He was so fond of you, the sight made his heart swell.

He also noticed how the t-shirt you were wearing had ridden up some during your stretch and he could see the exposed skin of your thighs now now. He even thought that something as simple as you wearing a t-shirt was breathtaking. And when it was one of his t-shirts, like it was now – on some days it was enough to drive him crazy.

Now wasn’t the time for that though. He watched lovingly as you focused your eyes on him and smiled. He wasted no time getting back in the bed with you, seated with one leg crossed under him, his hand coming down to rest on top of your own.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a lazy kiss. Jungkook melted into the kiss when you deepened it, because after everything he just went through, any touch from you now was igniting all his feelings for you.

All of them, which is why he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours.

“Hey,” he said with a smile, nuzzling his nose against yours before pulling away to look at you. He could tell you were still sleepy, but you wouldn’t attempt to go back to sleep without talking first. Especially since he knew you could tell something might be off.

Your brows furrowed. “Koo? What’s wrong?”

Jungkook took a deep breath, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I had another nightmare.”

The immediate look of concern on your face made his heart lurch, and not in a pleasant way. “Baby, what happened?”

He brought up your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles, right above your ring.

“I had that nightmare. You know the one…”

You frowned. “Jungkook-”

“But it’s ok, really. I talked to Yoongi and I feel a little better.” He was looking anywhere but your face now, so you placed a hand under his chin, tilting it up so he’d look at you.

“You know you can always wake me up and talk to me.” You brushed your thumb across one of his cheekbones and he sighed into the touch.

“I know. You’ve been having trouble sleeping lately so I-”

“You also know that if I have trouble sleeping, usually cuddling with you helps. So please don’t use that as an excuse.”

Jungkook felt guilty again because he knew you were right. Before he came along, sleeping wasn’t always easy for you, but in the comfort of his arms, you found slumber much faster these days.

You took Jungkook’s face in both of your hands, your own chest twisting with pain at the sight of him. His big, doe-like eyes were shining with so much emotion, and all you wanted to do was take away all his worries.

“Do you know why you had that dream again?”

Jungkook nodded, absentmindedly brushing his thumb along your thigh. “Everything that’s happened with Kun lately, it- I don’t know, it just bothers me. It bothers me way more than it should. And I guess it just made me think again about- well, you know.”

Jungkook’s head hung then, and you leaned down so you could look into his eyes once more. He brought his head up to keep you from having to lean uncomfortably like that for too long.

“Koo,” you brushed a piece of his long, dark curly locks out of his face. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I know that things happened in the past that we can’t erase or change, but what we can do is focus on our future. Our future that we’re building together.”

He started to smile at your words, his heart lurching again now, but in a good way this time. Every time you told him you were in love with him, he felt like he could conquer the world.

“So please don’t worry about what almost happened or what could’ve been, because what matters is we’re here now. We’re here together. And I don’t plan on going anywhere,” you placed a quick peck on his lips, “Unless you want me to, that is.”

Jungkook quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you so you were straddling his lap, making you giggle as you tried to steady yourself. His hands rested comfortably against your waist and you placed yours on his shoulders. He looked up at you now with so much love and adoration.

“Never. I’m not planning on ever letting you go,” he accentuated his words with his grip around you by wrapping his arms more tightly around your waist to pull you closer to his chest. “Not until the day you decide you don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Well I don’t see that ever happening, so I guess we have nothing to worry about then, do we?” You booped his nose and he grinned, placing a hand on the back of your head to bring your lips down to meet his once more. The kiss was soft, yet passionate.

And it quickly turned into something more.

You deepened the kiss and Jungkook groaned into it, kissing you back now with a fervor that had you unconsciously moving your hips against him. He broke the kiss to lean his head back against the headboard, eyes shut and mouth parted.

“Fuck,” Jungkook panted. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Y/N. And right now,” he opened his eyes to stare at you again, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

His hand snaked underneath your t-shirt to brush at the skin he found there, pulling your head back down for another kiss.

“I want to show you how much I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “Will you let me?”

The sound of his voice shot straight to your core, and you were nodding before he could even finish his question. He chuckled against your lips before he started trailing them down your neck.

“Need to hear you say it, baby,” he spoke as his lips ghosted over your throat, his hold on you tightening.

“Please,” you breathed out, pulling at his dark tresses and making him grunt. “Please, Koo. I want you to make love to me.”

That was all he needed. Jungkook started placing kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone that was exposed from the collar of his shirt, his fists clenching around the material at the bottom of it.

“I love you,” he kept saying in between kisses. “Gonna take care of you.”

He started tugging your shirt up and you met him halfway, ridding yourself of the garment fast enough that it made him chuckle at your eagerness. He started peppering kisses all over your chest, kneading at your breasts, rolling your nipples in between your fingers and making your hips move faster.

You could feel him growing harder underneath you through the thin fabric of the shorts he was still wearing, so you sped up your movements, making him moan.

“These need to come off, don’t you think, baby?” You tugged at his shorts. Another moan came from Jungkook as he nodded, helping you move up so he could shimmy out of his shorts. He still didn’t think he could ever get used to that pet name coming from you, and he thought it was the sexiest thing ever when it fell from your lips.

Of course, Jungkook thought nearly everything you did was sexy. That was just the effect you had on him. Everything intimate was intense in the best way possible, and if this was what being in love felt like, he never wanted to stop being in love with you.

He loved you. He needed you. He wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. And he’d never felt this way about anyone else for.

He felt all of these things for you. Only for you.

Jungkook was pulled out of his thoughts of how much he loved you by the feeling of you grinding down onto him again, this time the only barrier of clothing between the two of you being your own panties.

Yeah, Jungkook wasn’t having that.

He made quick work of removing your soaked panties, laughing again at your enthusiastic impatience. He loved seeing that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

“Be careful, angel,” He cooed at you as you tried to steady yourself on his lap once more. He rubbed his hands up and down your thighs while you huffed, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Just wanna feel you already,” you said breathily, and the sound of your voice mixed with the words that fell from your mouth made him twitch. He knew he probably wouldn’t last long inside of you, and with the way you were already worked up, he figured you might not either.

But tonight wasn’t one of those nights where he planned on going for hours anyway (even though you both definitely could at times and boy did he love it when that happened). No, tonight was about him proving to you how much he loved you, telling you through his words and soft caresses and the way he took care of you.

And you did the same for him. Jungkook had never had anyone care about him before the way that you do. He knew you’d do anything to ensure his happiness, the same as he would for you.

And that’s also why he thought you were destined to be together. And he hoped he would never fuck that up, that anything would ever fuck that up.

Jungkook heard you whine from your place in his lap, still grinding against him to find some much-needed friction. You felt so good on top of him that he let himself enjoy it for a few moments, soft moans escaping his lips as he watched you through half-lidded eyes. You leaned down to give him another kiss, and in the same movement, he picked you up by your thighs under your ass and placed you back down where his tip was at your entrance.

He grunted against your lips as he felt you sink down onto him, waiting for you to accommodate to the stretch as you’d done many times before. You always told him you could handle it and sometimes you wanted him to be a little rougher with you from the get-go. Jungkook wasn’t at that level where he was comfortable with that yet.

But one day, he thought, especially with how good you feel around him, he just might be.

When he was finally completely inside of you, he waited just enjoying the feel of your warmth around his length. He brushed some hair out of your face, noticing how your eyes were glinting in the faint light of the room.

God, he could never get enough of staring into your eyes. He’d happily get lost in them over and over again.

Now, though, they were starting to close as you picked yourself only to drop down again a moment later. The action caused Jungkook to let out a throaty moan, eyes fluttering closed at the motion.

Hm. That was new.

Usually, Jungkook would guide you with his hands on your hips, and it wasn’t that he didn’t let you have control, it was more that you never really wanted to take control. So, seeing you decide to do it now was exciting and something he’d gladly let happen if that’s what you wanted.

To be sure though, he placed his hands on your waist. You placed yours on top of his and shook your head.

“Let me take the lead,” you said as you pushed his chest to where he was lying down more. “You can keep your hands here, but I want to do the work.”

Jungkook frowned, only because he knew you still had to be tired. “Angel, are you sure? I can help- fuck.”

You cut him off as you clenched around him before you started moving again, his hands constricting around your waist. You placed your hands firmly on your chest to help you get more leverage as you continued moving.

As you sped up, Jungkook leaned his head back into the pillow he was lying on, eyes screwed shut and the prettiest sounds falling from his lips. You watched as the muscles in his neck strained with the movement, and that alone made you want to mark him up.

But now wasn’t the time for that.

Jungkook managed to open his eyes and look at you riding him, the sight making him twitch inside of you. He thought you looked so beautiful like this, and you taking the lead was so hot to him, he knew he’d definitely not last long if you kept this up-

“Do you know,” you broke off to moan as his cock hit a spot inside of you that made your breath hitch, “do you know why I wanted to take control tonight?”

Jungkook swallowed and shook his head, rubbing his hands along your waist.

You smiled at him lovingly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your lips before linking your fingers. The action made his heart soar.

“It’s because you always take such good care of me. I want to take care of you in that same way,” you squeezed his hand, letting your words wash over him.

“But you do take care of me,” he started to say, only to be interrupted by the feeling of your walls clenching around him again.

“I know. But tonight, I want to show you I know how to take care of you in this way, too. I want to show you how much I love you.” You leaned down, hitting a new angle that had both of you moaning as you brushed your lips against his. “Will you let me?”

Jungkook felt himself getting closer as you repeated his words from earlier. He nodded vigorously, kissing you with so much passion that you thought you might topple over. You sat up straight again and started moving faster, now pulling out as much as possible before dropping back down.

Jungkook’s high was approaching fast because of the combination of you taking control, the way you were riding him, and your words. He was feeling so many things at once and he tried to will himself to not let go.

He didn’t want to let go yet, not until you were there with him.

To help you along, he reached down in between both of you and started rubbing your clit, relishing in the feel of you around him as you stuttered in your movements. He smirked, knowing that even when you were in control, he still had an effect on you the same way you did him.

“Come on, angel, I’m right there, I want you to cum with me.” Jungkook’s voice was husky now, the pleasure threatening to overtake him any second. He bit his lip as he stared at you, watching as your head lolled forward on your neck and you started shaking from the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

“I’m almost there, Koo, I love you so much,” your sounds were increasing in pitch and becoming more frequent, so he knew you were close. All that was left now was for you to reach your high together.

He took your hand that was still intertwined with his and placed a kiss on the inside of your wrist. “I love you, too,” he said softly.

His response was enough to finally provoke your orgasm, it being so powerful that you fell forward on top of him. As you did, you were clenching so tight around him that his release wasn’t far behind. He grunted as he placed his head in the crook of your neck, filling you up, the familiar sensation of warmth making you shiver in his hold.

Both of you were trying to catch your breath, you now completely laying on his chest and his arms snaked around you. He placed a kiss on top of your head and you both just laid there for a few moments.

Jungkook was the one to break the silence. “Well, that was certainly something.”

You giggled. “Yeah, I enjoyed that, Don’t know why I haven’t done that before.” You felt his chest rumble with laughter underneath you.

“Me neither, but you can absolutely do it more often. I know I won’t be opposed.”

“Deal,” you said as you leaned up to place a kiss on his nose. “But only under one condition.”

“Oh?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued at your proposition.

“You,” you said as you traced patterns on his chest, “need to stop being so cautious with me.”

A tiny frown etched itself onto his features. “Angel-”

“I mean it, Jungkook. I’m not some fragile thing that’s going to break anytime you stick your dick in me.” He couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from him, immediately apologizing afterwards because he knew you were being serious.

“I know you’re not, I just- I never want to hurt you.”

“And I’d let you know if you did. So promise me you’ll at least try to treat me a little less like I’m gonna break under your touch?”

He ran his fingers through your hair as you laid your head on his chest again. “I promise to try. I don’t just do it for you, though.”

You brought your head back up to look at him, quirking your own eyebrow. “Oh? What do you mean?”

He chuckled darkly, his stare alone making you throb. “I also do it so I can maintain some self-control.”

You laughed. “What’s so bad about losing control?”

He smirked. “Nothing, I guess. We’ll have to see though, won’t we?”

The suggestion made you tingle with desire, but you were unfortunately too tired to go again, so you figured it’d be best to leave it alone for the night. Jungkook finally pulled out of you, making you let out a small whine at the loss. Before you could say anything, he picked you up and carried you with him to the shower, as he did most nights when you two shared these intimate moments.

In the shower, he helped you clean off, and as he was washing your hair, you stared up at him, seeing his dark locks falling into his face with the weight of the water that drenched them. His lips were parted and his tongue was slightly sticking out as he concentrated on making sure he lathered every inch of your hair with shampoo. He looked so adorable like this that you couldn’t help but giggle.

You ran your hands along his chest now to help him wash off the soap, and your ring caught the light, glimmering faintly. Jungkook picked up your hand and turned it this way and that to watch the ring shine from different angles, before he linked your fingers together.

“I told you I’d get you a better one, didn’t I?” You rolled your eyes in amusement at the cocky smirk that tugged at his lips.

“You didn’t just tell me, you promised me.” You continued washing all the suds off of him as he wrapped his arms around you to bring you closer.

“And did I follow through on my promise?”

You pretended to think about it for a second, making Jungkook tickle you under the shower’s waterfall. “Ok! Ok! Yes, you did,” you said as you laughed. “You always follow through on your promises.”

“I try,” was his soft response. He nudged your cheek with his nose, which is something he did when he wanted a kiss, a habit you were very quick to pick up on in the early stages of your relationship. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood up on your tiptoes, placing a gentle kiss on his lips that had him letting out a small sound of contentment.

“I love you. And I’m in love with you. Nothing, nor anyone, will change that.” You reassured him as you pushed his hair out of his face. Any doubts he still had you wanted to erase them all.

You wanted him to know that you loved him with everything you had.

He smiled, brushing his nose against yours. “I know. And I love you more than anything. All the love I have to give is for you.” He placed another soft kiss on your lips before he pulled back to quietly add, “Only for you.”

Those three words meant so much to you, and every time you heard him say them it made you fall for him even more, if that was possible. The two of you continued to hold each other and exchange lazy kisses until the water turned too cold to bear. After drying off, you both snuggled back into bed, with you falling asleep almost instantly, feeling safe in Jungkook’s arms.

He kissed the back of your neck and wrapped his arms around you securely, resting his forehead against your shoulder as you both laid on your sides. Your soft breathing let him know you were already asleep and he smiled, elated that he could provide you the comfort you needed to help you fall into peaceful slumber once more.

When Jungkook inevitably followed behind you, he was met with nothing but pleasant dreams, and all of them were about you.

[silksaddle]

The Traveler 2

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!reader Western AU

Chapter summary: 1907, Old West. Talk of the Statesman gang is slowly on the rise while Jack continues to distract you from your chores, taking you on another but entirely different night-time outing. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, guns, mentions of alcohol and gangs, copious flirting, SMUT, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex/piv sex, outdoor sex, thigh spanking, please pardon me for the amount of smut content in this chapter, a crumb of plot development, Jack Daniels again...

Word count: 14k (leave me alone)

A/N: gif credit to @javier-pena once again! thank you my beloved astrid! and as always, much love to my amazing friends who sent me inspo posts and listened to my anxious ramblings about god-knows-what. you are all the best and you have my heart.

Read Chapter One ~ Series Masterlist

Chapter Two: Six Shooter

Jack is spreading his half-naked body over the mattress in a contented stretch when you return to the bedroom, flustered and hot-cheeked.

“You here to take my sheets, darlin’? I must insist I keep ‘em,” he chortles, turning his bright face over the soft pillow as you attempt stripping the sheets from under him, your lungs emptying in a huff when he catches your wrist and draws you to him instead. Your body lands perfectly on top of his with your weak protest, a poor match for his irresistibly gravel-like voice and his buzzing snugness.

“You’re making my job quite difficult,” you mumble into his neck, kissing the smooth skin there although your words are much more harsh. His chest rumbles, fingers running the length of your clothed back from when he’d hurriedly laced you back into your dress, lips skimming graceful but mindless lines on your temple.

“Mrs. Adler thinks you’re doing your chores.” Jack’s palms are now ghosting over your shoulders as you prop yourself up on your elbows, taking his gaze with you as you move, and you can tell your dilating pupils are betraying the falseness of your annoyed tone when you look at his expanding chest. He takes a deep breath in, the angle of morning light catching his eyes just right to melt them into golden flecks, his dishevelled hair incurable without a bath. 

You card your fingers through, and though it’s slightly tangled, the texture is silky enough to brush through the messy state and straighten it out, just a smidge. The touch causes his eyes to flutter closed, and shimmying up his body, he leans his head back to expose his neck further, the long lines and tone popping against each other. His breath hitches when he feels your own puffing across it, his chest immobile while he waits to feel something more from you, but you don’t kiss him, don’t nip him, don’t caress him there.

“I’ve only come to take your sheets to wash them— I should already be downstairs,” you insist and he mopes, your voice softly carrying throughout the bright bedroom, limbs absent-mindedly wrapping around his firm ones until he clings to you.

“Oh,” he hums, tipping his body until you roll under him onto the no-longer-fresh sheets, landing on your back with his hands cradling your head. His handsome smile makes you forget you ever needed to take his sheets in the first place, and when he kisses you deeply, moaning low when you open up for him and his bare skin slides over you, you don’t even remember where you are. “Thought you’d wanted some more of me…”

“Mmm, Jack— she’s already a little suspicious of me,” you giggle, wriggling underneath his heavy weight and it’s a futile effort beneath his affection, his lips laying warm insistent kisses all over your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw. He’s unstoppable, whether it’s the heaviness or the happiness that makes you lie there and take it with quiet laughter as the rough skin of his cheek touches gently to yours. 

Jack is as much the sunshine of the room as the real thing, chuckling sweetly along with you and growing more pleased the louder your squealing sounds become, your fingers pulling across the bare skin of his back— he likes it too much to let you off in a timely manner.

Mrs. Adler had only just believed your excuse of a poor sleep as you’d rushed out in a tizzy with your disheveled hair and clothes, and a terrible flourish of panic had bloomed in your chest at the thought of an unchecked mark lingering on your neck. But Jack had looked you over meticulously; deft fingers had worked at the laces of your layers. And even before making it to the kitchen, two dozen kisses wet on your thighs, you’d opened the door only to find the old woman pacing about on the landing of the stairs. Slamming it shut with your back on the wood, panting in the face of confrontation, Jack snickered and peeked out for you a minute later, confirming your chance to slip out undetected.

Now finished serving breakfast, Jack once again prevents you from carrying out your tasks.

“You’ve left me with a lastin’ impression,” he rasps, eyes crinkling as he slips a hand under your skirt and the touch tickles and inspires a giddy laugh from your throat as you swat him away, at last slipping out from under him. 

“Give me your sheets, you greedy man,” you order, lifting your chin and furrowing your brow with your arm extended. Jack purses his lips and thinks, sitting up to run a hand through his dark hair, your smile growing despite yourself when it sticks up in bulky curls to leave his contented face in view. 

“These sheets have got your smell on ‘em now,” he grins like it’s his most favoured fact in his whole life, leaning back into his palms and his cock is slowly hardening between his legs as he considers his next words, “your cum is on them.”

“Jack,” you chuckle, “you’re dirty.” Inching closer to him, his joyous face turns dark when you arrive in the middle of his strong thighs extending past the edge of the bed, “Get up, please, or I’ll have you explaining why I’m behind schedule for the second time today.”

He presses up onto his feet, his gentle scent covering you as if a fleeting spell, and before any more rational thoughts occur, your hand is reaching into his unbuttoned pants, wrapping around his hard length. His head tips back, the softest growl filling your ears and he pushes his hips forward, placing his hands on your cheeks, urging your lips to slide along his as he fucks into your tight fist. It’s a sweet kiss compared to his already desperate thrusts, his cum still streaking your thighs, inside of you, outside of you, from mere hours before.

“I told you I’d come back here tonight. We’ve plenty of time to ruin more sheets.” Your whisper earns a heavy sigh expelled onto your skin, his grip sliding down to your neck and as his mouth hangs open, you nip at his bottom lip and pull it into your mouth, a tender suckle on the plush softness. He hisses as you let it go, burying his nose into the curve of your neck, and stilling his movements with your hand, he lets you work him like that— your fingers tightly curled around his cock as you slide it in and out of your palm. 

“Fuck me,” he groans, “I better see you back here if you’re gonna touch me like this, darlin’.”

Smiling, you pump him quickly, whispering how you can still feel him as if he’s fucking you right now, how good he is, how thick, and he growls from his chest, shutting his eyes tight in concentration.

“Maybe you’ll let me touch you tonight, too, Jack, leave your ropes for another time…” Your free hand clamps around the back of his neck, twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of it, before tugging him down for a slower kiss, capturing his striking whine in your mouth.

“Shit, darlin’... I’d do anything you say right about now… Christ,” Jack’s fingers trace the neckline of your bodice as his lips skate along your cheek, and his voice is so husky and rumbly, you almost consider a greater risk of trouble.

He makes no protest as you bend carefully, still pumping his thick cock while you yank the sheet away from the mattress, pulling back to fold it into your arms and finally leaving his hard length unattended. Jack’s eyes snap open in a crushing neediness, his displeased but wrecked voice calling after you in a bid to keep you here and he laughs incredulously, “You get back here right now.”

Backing up into the door, your lip caught in your teeth, you reach behind and find the cool handle, offering a cheeky grin before you slip away and murmur, “I’m busy.”

-

A mellow afternoon follows Jack’s disgruntled exit to the fractional post office, stealing a rushed kiss in the corner of the parlour for the mere seconds you were alone together, giddy glances spared through the window on his walk to work. You spend a small segment of your time concocting tea for Mrs. Adler who pours over the payment book, thanking you as she slides a list across the bar; it’s full of all things you know to do without the help of paper and pencil.

“How about that Mr. Daniels?”

Spluttering, you swivel on your heel, unsure of the intention of her question, your eyes mistakenly blowing wide with no answer to fill the subsequent silence. She must know, you worry, she must.

“What about him?” You query, looking down at your apron in no need of smoothing, yet your hands fiddle with the pockets, and her amused scoff scrapes through your uneasy stance.

“My, you’d better sleep well tonight... that man whipped those fools down in a second,” she laughs, flipping the page of the large notebook and scribbling something down with a spotted, shaky hand. 

“He did.” Wiping your face, you conceal a sliver of a smile under your hand when you think of him— ease and cockiness burned down to his big pleading eyes looking up at you for permission. “Thought you disliked him.”

“Well, I could admit we need someone like that around here more often,” she croaks as you pretend to look over the list of laundry, sweeping, cooking, cleaning. The sentiment lands somewhere uncomfortable in your chest— you no more than agree with her and you could never tell her why or how.

“Oh, and dear, the sheriff came by this morning,” she adds, relaying his spiel of reports.

Only the most notable happenings make it over from town to town, lawlessness rendering crime nothing more than irrelevant. It takes a mass robbery, or a mammoth fire, or an offense so deeply doused and coloured red in rage to make the rounds of neighbouring settlements, so when Mrs. Adler shares the spreading news of heightened gang exploits a little ways north, your heart sinks and adopts a painfully heavy sensation.

“He advises to be extra careful,” she finishes with a stern look, “they could be coming here for all we know. Those Statesman men are horrible…”

“Statesman?” you echo her words, scouring the back of your mind to place the familiarity of that name, but she smiles in return to soften your worried brow. Statesmen, a Statesman. You’d read it somewhere, embellished into leather or stitched into the label of a visitor’s coat while tidying.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. If anything, girl, that Daniels boy should be of use.”

A challenge not to snicker, she gives you, when she tells you not to fuss, as if you’ve got the liberty to enjoy the outdoors where a vigilant attitude is required— but Jack is the remedy, you think, eyeing the stray strands of her brittle grey hair twisted up, scrunching your nose.

“Alright, Mrs. Adler,” you agree, passing her through to the laundry closet.

The air is stuffy inside the small, shelved room, where pleasing, cooling, tiny splashes pepper your forearms as you pour the water bucket into one of the tubs, then grabbing the soap, you flump onto the short stool and drag the laundry basket to your side. The first sheet on the pile is the last one you’d taken— Jack’s— carrying his heady and wood-fiery scent now mingled with yours. With a vibration of anticipation up your spine, your thoughts twirl upon your admittedly cruel handling of his need— tonight, you’re surely in for it.

The usual, slowly passing and hot hours fill with inescapable reveries toeing the line of unrealistic: a cloudy day in bed, a sunny evening at the river, clothes discarded to the side. Shaking those heart string-stretching thoughts and trading for a better focus, you hang the wringed sheets on the line as the last blazes of the sun spread over the field, and take a moment to rest your elbows on the log fence at the back of the yard overlooking the vast, lush area. 

Something heavy, once more, tugs at your weary limbs, watching the calm breeze push along the beige blades of plant-life, and you think of Sylvie— her bright mane and soothing demeanor, the rush of riding with her and him. The thrill no longer chased, waiting for you still. There must be a few months worth left of him, two at the least, perhaps enough to soothe your aching heart in seeking more vibrant days. But before too long, you set back on your course of chores, trekking up to tidy the bathing rooms for those coming back from a dirty day.

Jack finds you there an hour later in the open door, kneeling on the floor by the bathing tub, scrubbing away at its already-shiny exterior, and he smiles under the sticky and sweaty clothes, watching the way your body jostles with movement.

“Hey, cruel woman.”

Halting, your head briefly hangs between your shoulders before you sit back on your heels and grin up at him, his weary feet leading him towards you, a set of clean clothes hanging off his arm. His shirt is sheer in some places more than others, namely his chest, damp with muscular effort. 

“Did you have a hard day, Jack?” You question, making big eyes at him from your low spot compared to his tall height, and his face grows slightly stern.

“Oh, darlin’, you know I did,” he kneels, takes your chin in his hand and you find yourself leaning up into his face, mere inches from his lips, entranced by their pouty curve. But he doesn’t kiss you. He pinches your chin harder, a deep pressure as he looks over you, taking in the way you indulgently advance until you’re on hands and knees, caged by his own, staring at him with none of the power you held this morning.

“You oughta continue what you started…” he whispers almost on your lips, never close enough to touch, your eyelids heavily drooping as you look down his torso, leading to his cock.

“Oh,” you sigh, slick pooling where he can’t see or feel it, “Jack, I can…” 

You crawl forward between his spread legs until your nose nudges the material of his pants, resting your weight back on your knees when you reach out for him, but his face is a sinister, knowing grin when steadily rises back up to stand, rocking into his heels.

“Not now, though,” he coos, swiping a damp thumb over your lip, “off you go, little lady.”

“Why—”

Whining involuntarily, you watch while he shrugs off his suspenders and closes his eyes, fluttering back open with a smirk at Mrs. Adler’s distant call for you to prepare dinner.

“That’s why.”

Your mouth hanging open, you roll your eyes, taking his calloused hand as he aids you upward from the hard floor, though he finally gives you a greeting of a peck on the cheek, “Later, angel, you can show me what you’ve been thinkin’ about all day.”

Nudging your body, he sends you off to your chores in a frazzled state and shuts the door with a wink, settling in to wash himself off from the dust and dirt.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so needy, it nearly feels stupid to still have the crushing weight of wanting Jack as you chop ingredients, peek into cupboards, fill plates. It’s even worse when he sits at the table, clean and fresh and irresistibly smooth, chatting in easy conversation with Mrs. Crockett who enjoys his company dearly as she tells him uninteresting stories of her husband. 

He watches your back as you turn about the steps, as you pass along plates to each person, and he brushes his fingers purposely along yours when you arrive at his spot, a gesture to offer his silent token of appreciation. Your breath catches, and his wink sets it free again through a quiet sigh, smiling sweetly for him. He tries not to laugh, you notice, and you stop yourself from touching his shoulder here in front of everyone— namely Mrs. Crockett, who has also made a poor reputation of gossip and a budding friendship with Mrs. Adler who is closest to her in age. The last thing you can manage is a rumour about your little life; by that point you’d be begging Jack to take you with him even before the post office is built, even with so much left to explore with him.

As the chitter-chatter diminishes down to an empty table with empty plates, and the visitors disperse into corners or run off to different buildings— they always come back for dinner to get their money’s worth— you sort out the dried laundry, slipping into the ladies’ rooms to aid with corsets, all with distant thoughts in a place where they shouldn’t be. They never ask about your day so much as they speak of theirs, whether time spent with their sweetheart, telling you how they prefer their things folded, or muttering how much they liked dinner. The last one you take lightly, thanking the ladies in whispers. Now, though, it doesn’t cause as much of an ache in your heart when you listen to their free and happy memories— you think of doing the same with Jack, of asking him and receiving his sweet smile in return, ready if you are.

When you finally sit at your simple vanity, it’s with a powerful sigh that you remove your boots, step out of your clothes, and trade them for your nightgown. You pull the threaded pink ribbon taut into a bow, and look over yourself in the mirror, giddy in your stomach for when the time comes to slip into Jack’s room. Judging by the clock, another half hour would do to be sure everyone has settled in so you can sneak in complete privacy, and it feels less daunting now than it ever did before.

Folding your petticoat to lay the soft cotton on the tabletop, you hear the handle click and turn and you gasp fiercely in response, rising from the chair as Jack all but barrels in, haphazardly shutting the door before swooping you into his arms.

“Oh, my—” you squeal, cut off by a rough kiss that you eagerly return, bombarded with the scent of his soap and shaving cream. You only urge him off with your hands sneaking between your bodies to press on his chest and ask a burning question, his lips not wanting to part from you. It’s a tiny struggle but he eventually gives way, fondly looking down at you as you speak. “Did anyone see you?”

“Hall was empty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you… lost my damn patience,” he croons, plushy lips open on your neck, leaving kisses that bloom into pleasant flourishes of need like ink dipped into water. It’s a new spot that you allow him to explore, bringing your hands up his wide shoulders as you turn around the room together, stepping at random. “Had to keep from touchin’ myself and dreamin’ of you…”

You wrap your arms around his neck, reeling him in closer for a whisper against the shell of his ear.

“You don’t have to dream, Jack, I’m here.”

His breath stutters uncharacteristically and it must be your chance to keep him like this, his pleasure dependent on what you decide to do with him— so you pin your front to his and he grunts, giving a miniscule, testing rut back.

“No more teasin’?” he asks hopefully, sweet brown eyes glowing in the low light of your little lamp. “You weren’t so nice this morning…”

“Oh, Jack, I’m not so sure about that.”

In a mirror of the morning, you slip your hand lower to find his cock hard again, splaying your fingers over its thick length and rubbing over the fabric. He squeezes your waist, digging his thumbs in helplessly as he staves off a groan in a bid to keep what willpower is still left with him, then loses it all when you place a simple kiss to his collarbone, not open or rough or wet— just plain, pressed lips to his skin, and he asks you for more.

“Will you let me touch you this time?” you murmur, urging him backward onto the bed. He slumps over the mattress, eyes trained on your face as he places himself further up with his legs spread, palms sinking into the covers. He swallows thickly when he takes you in: standing over him in the sheer, light fabric of your nightgown, its lace edges bordering the slopes of your body.

“I want you in my mouth,” you continue, lowering yourself to your knees, hands over his own as he shuts his eyes and breathes deep, long breaths, grunting when he feels your fingers working at his buttons. “Think I’ve earned it.”

“You could ask me for anything you want, darlin’... shit—” His thighs tense under your ministrations as you reach in and pull his cock out, the tip of it shining in his own, generous arousal. He looks down from himself to your sparkling eyes, and cups your cheek in his large hand, its smoothness traveling down the curve of your face. “Anything you want.”

His lip twitches, mouth falling delicately open and his eyes shutting once more as you place your tongue flat at the base, licking upward, circling around the head while you watch his face strain and pull, his neck sticking out prominently. He’s gorgeous when you touch him like this, still so fresh and clean from the bath. The warm drips of precum glide slowly on your tongue as you hold it out, then wrap your lips around him, whining when he fists through your hair and cramps his fingers.

“That mouth is just about gonna kill me already,” he rasps, bucking his hips up a smidge to perch himself deeper in your mouth, your hand rising to cover his at the base of your neck. Its heat is dangerous yet satisfying in its revelation of just how affected he is, a tiny spot of sweat swiping from his palm onto your neck.

Blinking up at him, you pull off, wetly sliding over half the length of him before moving back down to take more, feeling it brush against the back of your throat. You keep him there as he squeezes you harder, his spine curling over you and the new sound he makes is just begging to be heard, but he smothers it with a bite of his own lip to quiet it.

“Like that…” he sighs, carefully canting his hips forward as you wrap your fingers around his base, enveloping him and spreading the wetness of your mouth over his entire length.

He glistens like that, shimmering in the low and golden light, fisting at the blanket and your hair, puffing focused breaths every time you take him deeper, longer, sucking him harder.

Up and down, you keep your lips wrapped snugly around his cock, its throbbing heft a pleasurable weight on your tongue, the satisfying hit of the head at your throat.

“Where have you fuckin’ been,” he nearly laughs in disbelief that you’re even here, much less on your knees, much less with your mouth around him.

Pulling off for a deep breath, you trace the edges of your nightgown, eyeing him and his debauched, handsome face as you bring the lacy straps off your arms, leading them from your wrists. “I’ve always been here.” 

The fabric gathers at your waist in a soft pool of cotton and ribbon, your chest bare and level with his cock.

“Do you like that, Jack?” you preen, settling closer to him this time over the hard and truthfully painful floor— you don’t notice it as much when you feel him hitting that spot all the way down your throat.

“You know I do,” he smiles breathlessly, crinkles and that little dimple creasing in his content face. He leans down for a kiss, its nature unlike the urgency of your own mouth wetting his cock— it’s always sweet like he is to you in every other way, lingering there before you lean into the space between his legs, eager.

“I wanted you all day,” you coo, running a thumb over his tip, a saturated kiss placed there before you put him in your mouth for a brief suck, managing to keep him inside for a few short seconds. “I should have felt so tired after what you did to me, but all I could think of was this.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, he then lets it go in a gravelly sigh as he holds your bobbing head in his hands, spanning the sides of your face. Your forehead brushes his soft stomach as you push down, hollowed cheeks hugging every inch of him and he jolts, driving himself the smallest bit further, moaning at the tight and wet sensation of you. You pump him, looking so falsely innocent between his legs, your chest and shoulders bare for him to admire, peeking out of the fine gown.

“Keep goin’ darlin’, I’m gonna fill that pretty mouth up... know you want it down your throat, bet you thought about havin’ my cum drippin’ from your mouth all day, too, hm?”

Licking the tip and rubbing him faster, you nod fervently, opening wide in a stretch to finish him off with firm squeezes and strokes, his breaths now raggedly rough from above you every time he hits that spot. Your mouth is hot on his skin and he warns you he’s going to cum soon, he’s going to fill your mouth up nice and good, and you shut your eyes tight in concentration, focused on the thick feel of him sliding in and out between your lips.

“Wanna see you when I fill you baby doll, c’mere n’ look at me.” Jack’s fingers brush the underside of your chin, and you strain to look upward before you slide your hand over his slick cock. He tenses up by another degree, his chest and forehead damp, throat straining as he swallows thickly. 

A final squeeze and he cums all over your extended tongue, the milky liquid sliding off and onto your chest as he moans through gritted teeth, dazed as you are as you both watch it drip all over your exposed half. You swallow what remains in your mouth, letting your jaw drop to show him your now clean slate.

Bending into you and still panting, he smiles, streaking his thumb down your chin to gather up what’s left, guiding it into your open mouth. Heart racing, you take it in, your enthusiastic glow causing his face to soften.

His gaze drifts south to linger on your glimmering chest, pressing his palm flat and firm into the slight pool of it. He paints you with it, spreading his cum all over each breast with a clear sheen from the separation, special attention granted to each nipple with a flick of his wet thumb. Its initial warmth has cooled and with it lingers a soothing cover over your front as you lay your cheek over his knee, toying with the worn laces of his boots.

“Now… how to thank my darlin’ girl and her perfect fuckin’ mouth…” Jack wonders aloud as he cups your cheeks in his hands and puts a contrasting, innocent kiss to your forehead.

Grinning up at him and placing your hands over his, you tell him that’s all you wanted to give him, all you needed was to finally feel him in your mouth.

“Well,” he whispers, “I wanna show you what I was thinkin’ about all day long.”

The spark in your eyes must be a blinding one, his hands gliding over the slope of your body as you work yourself back onto your feet, your knees throbbing and sore. Wincing, you balance yourself on his broad shoulders, glancing down to notice his eyes not relieved of their dark hunger.

“Jack, you’re…”

“Not done, angel,” he finishes for you, and that’s when you feel it, the slick dripping past your core to spread slightly down your squeezing thighs. He pushes his sleeves up as the corner of his lip tugs upward too, straight teeth glinting the same as his eyes.

“Your turn, then,” you murmur, parting his hair through your fingers. It falls back into place, his pillowy and gentle lips finding yours as he stands with you, always chasing you, waltzing you backward until your ass bumps against the thick windowsill.

“I was choppin’ wood, thinkin’ of settin’ you right here,” he confesses lowly, ensuring the curtains are drawn completely open with a quick swipe of his hands over the gauzy lengths previously covering the glass, “thinkin’ of fuckin’ you on my fingers like this.”

You situate yourself properly on the sill and he steps back, taking a comically focused once-over of your seated body, but the desire is still so thick it doesn’t even bring you to laugh when he hurriedly comes back to you. He spreads your thighs wide, his palms a fiery heat that couldn’t be further from where you want it.

Tugging at his collar, you reel him in to place an open kiss just under his ear. “Give it to me how you want.”

The glass cools the staggering temperature on your skin as he knocks you into it, your back sticking to its chilly surface in the midst of his swirling breaths, ghosting the edges of your shoulders before he hikes your thighs up higher to his waist.

“You ready for me?” he murmurs with a husky voice, and it’s a powerful shock from your head to your toes, seeing how easily he’s worked back up to needing you as he lowers a hand to your core. His fingers part you, a slick and effortless slip through your folds to your entrance. “Darlin’... you’re soakin’ my hand already. Did suckin’ my cock do all this to your sweet little cunt?”

A hushed, restrained sound tears from you and is quieted by his mouth covering yours when he rubs his calloused fingers over your clit, rasping those low words sweetly into you, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth as the digits travel lower. The arousal dripping from your cunt makes that first slide so easy, Jack bottoming out to his knuckles with a soft sigh. His stomach nearly touches your own still covered by the bunched nightgown and he pauses there, a reassuring squeeze to your side and then a smooth gracing of his free hand to hold your thigh tight to himself.

“This is where I’ve wanted to be,” he confesses, his nose drawing a line from your shoulder, delicately down to your chest as he bends and swipes his tongue broadly over your sensitive nipple. The signals from your brain to your muscles are jumbled now, feeling the heat of his wet tongue tasting the cum on your chest— it’s out of your control when you arch your back into him and whine, when your fingers tangle into his hair and tug.

He responds in a groan, licking across your skin to your unattended nipple which he suckles on gently, lapping at it. Jack curls his two thick fingers before straightening out to kiss you fleetingly on your lips; he parts and watches your eyes intently, a stray curl falling to hang between his brows.

“So full already, hm?” he teases, his thumb swiping slow patterns on your clit, and you lean further back into the glass with a pant, its surface no longer able to cool you down.

“Yes,” you manage to respond in a gasp as he grants a second, deeper hit, a slight slapping sound causing you both to hug each other tighter and chuckle.

“Tight, sweet thing,” he groans, extended curls and strokes stretching you wholly around his hand, “take my fingers just right. Is that it, darlin’, were you made for me to fill you?”

“Mm,” you suck in sharp breaths, “mhm, you fill me up, Jack, you fill me up so good.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his chin hooks onto your shoulder, digging into it hard as he holds you with one toned arm snaking around your waist. Like this, your damp chest brushes his, his fingers pump and work you open another smidge wider as he pushes in, grinds his palm against your clit, pulls his fingers out a fraction of the way. The motions of his hips against his own wrist are gentle, unhurried for now, having already cum into your slack mouth.

With the flat of his free palm caressing your back through soft strokes, he draws his lips back and forth over the curve of your neck.

“You know what I see?” he asks, urging his knuckles deeper in the hardest plunge he's given you tonight, an agonizingly fiery touch to your clit. “Men, walkin’ around all dumb— could see me fuckin’ you right here on my hand if they’d just look up— shit, they got no clue I’m feelin’ the wettest little pussy, huh?”

“Fuck, Jack,” your nails dig into the lean and muscular bulge of his biceps as he keeps you upright against the glass, your thighs squeezing him so close he can hardly fuck you anymore— he just rubs and grinds his hand against you while remaining far inside your aching pussy, soaking his already drenched fingers with more slick.

“And only I’m gonna watch you cum,” he adds in a grunt, working himself into you with every last drop of energy he’s saved, his soft moans and sharp teeth spurring you closer to coming all over his perfect fingers. You might have gone longer if not for the irreversible, desperate need for him that sucking his cock had instilled in you— had you nearly dripping onto the floor, your body left unimaginably sensitive that each time he brushes up against you now, you dig deeper into his skin. He likes it though, and it makes him move with a crazed edge, his moans transforming into snarls.

“Only you…” you echo, starting to grind with him yourself, rolling into and meeting his short, fast thrusts, every muscle tensing and straining and it’s so close, almost there—

“There you go, doll, can feel you squeezin’ me so tight… cum on my hand, fuckin’ soak me, c’mon…”

“Jack, Jack I’m gonna—” Urgently, you tap at his shoulder with wide eyes and worried brows as you feel it start to happen, knowing how close you are to crying— your nails dig into his shoulders so intensely when you cum, jaw dropped and eyes shut and he makes a wincing yet completely pleased noise into your mouth; it’s cruel. You manage not to make a peep at the cost of losing large breaths, and it makes your orgasm all the more intense: light headed, woozy, and tingling numbness reaching the length of your body.

“Sweeter than fuckin’ honey when you do that,” he smiles widely, until his mouth drops fully open at the way you hug his hand inside from coming so hard around him. Your slick gathers between your thighs and you still can’t breathe, his face buried into the spot under your jaw as he pulls them out of you, dragging the pads up to your clit while the rest of it spreads throughout your folds. He stares down at it, at the wetness dripping and glistening from your core, and he groans again, blinking slowly.

Placing his palms on the sill by either side of your trembling figure, he hums, your smile against his skin buzzing at his insatiable drive, how he’d fucked your mouth and your pussy with such short rest, feeling the damp hair at the back of his neck. He drops his head down as an offering and you take him in a gentle cradle, kissing his forehead as he’d done to you while he nestles. He looks up and back down, waiting for another, your fingers smoothing the unruly hair from his face.

“Hell, if I don’t wanna fuck that pretty pussy every night till I die,” he exhales, another glance at his wet fingers, dropping a kiss to your collarbone.

“Oh, Jack,” you laugh, your heels hitting the wall underneath you, “if only you were here for that long.” 

His face scrunches a little in confusion before his lips curve, “How many times do I have to remind you I ain’t leavin’ so soon?”

“As many times as it takes,” you whisper, fingers scratching down his arms, his own dipping into your cunt again without a warning, “fuck—”

“Yeah, baby doll,” he croons, “I got somethin’ to prove to you still?”

You nod with a greedy smirk and he retracts his fingers, taking them into his mouth after drawing a line between your breasts to taste your mingled releases, moaning in your ear. “Go n’ get on the bed. You’re gonna ride my face.”

A shiver chills your spine, mainly at the way his voice has dropped a miraculous third time, his hand landing a light swat on your ass when you pass him, shaky legs taking you toward the mattress. He follows to lay on his back, perpetually pleased with himself, arms outstretched and beckoning you forward. You crawl up to him and you can feel your own cum streaking your thighs as you move, soon beside his large body, and he raises his brows impatiently, “Well go on, sugar, I wanna taste some more of that.”

Stretching his neck every which way, his eyes crinkle as he grins between your thighs while you throw one over his shoulder and his arms fall behind him, fingers searching for yours until he laces them together, squeezing.

“You’re not tired yet, old cowboy?” you tease lightly, the force of it lost when he gives a broad swipe of his tongue and moans yet another time, indulgently, swallowing the remnants of your previous release.

“I ain’t ever gonna tire of this,” he replies, another lick from your entrance to your clit, such an easy slip of the muscle, your sensitivity dialed up too many extra notches. His brows knit together in effort, rough cheeks pleasantly scratching on your skin when he moves his head side to side, tongue hanging out of his mouth and edging with a perfect pressure all over your sensitive bud.

“I’d hope not,” you exhale, grinding your hips over his wet mouth until his grip moves to your thighs to prevent you from moving. His eyes look up at you keenly as he closes his lips around your clit and sucks, your head tipping in silent rapture as you take it all for him without the relief of motion. 

“We go real nice together,” he grumbles into your slick center. Tightening the hold of your thighs, he laves his tongue all over you in focused circles, faster, with just enough force for your legs to start shaking around his handsome face, for another gush of arousal to spread over his swollen lips. All that’s left for you to handle it is to scream it out, how good he makes you feel, how precious, but the house is so silent and only you can hear the slick sounds of his mouth on your clit— he won’t even let you rub yourself over him. You can only bite your lip and hold your breath, yet little puffs and moans sneak out when he does something unforeseen, like a single bite on your thigh or a gentle nip to challenge you— it’s all on purpose and easily noticed by his gratified face.

He tugs your clit a short, miniscule distance and lets it go, shaking his head when you mope over the loss of contact.

“Are you tryin’ for me, sugar?”

“You’re being tough on me,” you whine, shimmying further up his body to regain his lips that are brightly shining.

“If I ain’t tough then it ain’t right,” he whispers, “stay still and quiet for me and I’ll take you out again.”

He tips his head down and forward, swiping his prominent nose to spread you further open, but you don’t even consider the promise of a gift, your focus on the return of his soaked tongue to your throbbing core, biting hard on your lip to quell the need to cry.

“Is my darlin’ gonna come? You gonna cum all over my face? Gimme another one, dolly.” His mouth latches back onto your clit and you can’t think, much less form an answer in your blank head where all you see is white, or maybe blinding stars, or just plain nothingness as you let go, his moustache wet with you, his lips dripping.

By some miracle, the scream you fend off becomes so high pitched in your throat that nothing makes it out of you save for the helpless cry of, “Jack!” as you tremble around his cheeks.

“Yes,” he grunts, and thank goodness it’s muffled by your soaking core; your fingers finally escape his hold to grip at his hair with a fierce, unforgiving tug, and that softer sound fills the room again while your body freezes up and you cum harder this time, covering him, coating him. He grumbles something again, but it’s nothing you could hope to make out in the crushing wave of pleasure that hits you— the light sensation does not leave you, though the shaking eases off as Jack places a tender kiss to your clit, and you jolt at just that velvet brush, his eyes turning sympathetic. You breathe deep, slumping with great exhaustion and the dazed happiness of having him in your room now as you lift your thigh from his body and he leans his head up to grant a quick kiss while it slips away from him.

“Knew you could be quiet,” he smiles under the shine of your second release, resting his arms open over the blanket to welcome you into them.

“As if you don’t make it hard.” Huffing, it’s with a reciprocal smile that you crawl back to him, nearly toppling over on your way with the weakness of his own power against your body, and he chuckles at you, not shying away from his joyous teasing when you throw him a half-glare.

“Did I wear you out again?” he questions, guiding you into his side, turning his body over yours to swipe his tangy tongue over your bottom lip.

Whimpering, it turns into a cheerful giggle as he drops pecks over your nightgown, wrapping his finger around the tail of the ribbon. 

“You just keep going, don’t you, Jack?” you cup his face in your hands, and it’s now that he adopts a sheepish expression, turning his eyes away to tilt his neck and kiss your stomach once more.

“Until you ask me to stop, darlin’.” He lends two more kisses, one to each breast, and then gathers the straps of your nightgown from the pooling of fabric underneath your chest, tenderly helping your arms through the holes. You admire him quietly as you sit up to ease the gesture, letting his fingers guide the intricate lace edges back to your shoulders. He pats the cotton down to smooth it, your thumb stroking over his left eyebrow. His hands pry under you to wrap his arms around your middle, his cheek resting over your belly as you scratch through his dark hair. 

“I think you’re softer than you realize,” you whisper, twirling a lock around your finger and he peeks up, the apples of his cheeks rising in a twinkling smile.

“I can shoot a gun a million times but I sure don’t like it more than kissin’ you,” Jack coos, tickling up your sides and swatting away your protesting hands until you make an involuntary squeak and his eyes widen, hurriedly covering your mouth with his own. You titter over his smooth lips, his weight pinning you as he opens his mouth, taking more. “I’d think I’d have sold my soul to the devil to end up here with you if I didn’t know any better.”

You let the next bubbling ripple of affection take over you when he whispers that with his gleaming eyes, and you kiss him three more times, each slower than the last.

He rests there for some time, indulging in the carding of your fingers over his scalp, and he ensures you’ve drifted off before he rises in search of a cloth. He finds a green one folded by your petticoat, his fingers briefly dragging across its white lace before he dips the cloth in the small dish of water left beside it. He crawls back up beside you, lazily yet with careful attention guiding it under your slip and over your breasts, relieving you of the stickiness. You stir but don’t wake— his touch is too light, yet still unlike a feather— he cleans you off, sets the cloth back in its spot, and resumes his position, nestled up next to you.

-

Sneaking into Jack’s room— or him into yours— becomes a habitual routine after the goodnight click of Mrs. Adler’s door, though you often find yourself with an early visitor with eyes too bright and a needy little grin on his face. It follows his giddy lips on your neck hours before in scarce moments of isolation from other guests, or after he’s stared too long across the bar, and to ease the tension, he’ll ride to take Sylvie to stretch her legs, a sympathetic look on his face at the door knowing you can’t join.

And he wears you out. Nightly. A simmering threat to your timeliness in the morning that you can’t let go of. A single time, he’d taken the sheets with him in a rapid roll onto the floor as Mrs. Adler knocked and knocked outside, calling for you to rise, until she barged in and the thump had to be blamed on yourself, standing in your disheveled chemise. Her shifty eyes become less of a fear in your head and more of a laughing stock, though not as much as Jack was in his stupid course of action to thump on the floor behind the side of the mattress, taking the blankets, too.

His dignity is not lost, though, each time you press on him about it— his grip tightens over your thighs as you straddle his lap, feeling the impression of his leather settling into your skin.

A rare clump of clouds settles over town the following week, lingering long enough to darken this evening further and forcing an early lighting of the lamps inside, a cozy glow over the hectic and crazed state of the bar.

“Let’s not slack, dearie,” Mrs. Adler sings in her urgently high-pitched voice as you handle the treacherous beast of the card game hours, handling too many requests for the strongest liquor from the cabinet, working your wrists as you open new bottles and impatient sighs crumble out of overworked throats.

Jack glances at her, a rapid flick of his angry eyes as he sets his glass of whiskey down, furrowing his brows in obvious disagreement with her words.

“She’s doin’ fine,” you hear him grumble, and you don’t have it in you to turn and face him to offer your surely-silencing glare, and without it he continues, “think we could offer a little patience.”

Chest fluttering, you shut your eyes with a bothersome huff, setting your hands flat over the counter as you wait for Mrs. Adler’s response, and the other men waiting at the dining table chat over things well beyond you, another fleeting mention of the Statesmen— but Jack remains silent along with her, and you can already picture the way he must be maintaining a hard stare at the old woman to leave her increasingly frazzled.

“My girl does this every day,” she states primly, blocking his view of your back with her own body after an uncoordinated waddle, “you keep out of it.”

Jack scoffs, soft but pointed, the wood groaning under the slide of his glass as he moves it aside, “If you cared to notice, ma’am—”

Spinning on your boot, away from the assortment of glasses set over the counter in their stage of finishing touches, you raise a hand, his first name almost slipping out until you choke on the unspoken word, widened eyes earning a mirrored expression from Jack, “It’s alright, Mr. Daniels,” you soothe, and his smirk is much too telling in his amusement of your spluttering, that you’d called him the old, proper name.

Mrs. Adler huffs a victorious breath as she checks over the full and heavy tray, granting approval while you giggle at Jack’s silly face made behind her back, followed by a wink of his eye. 

He closes his eyes as Mrs. Adler finally limps off into her study— what she achieves in there he does not know— and watches you with affection and a warming dose of admiration in his stomach as you handle the tray, setting down shining crystal glasses on the table, a soft smile on your face as the youngest card player offers his thanks. They rarely ever do.

“You look real nice,” he drawls as you round the counter, his elbows sliding along the surface as he leans in, all sparkling eyes and teeth with his wide grin as he follows your steps. “I think I’d like to get my hands on—”

His words fall away to a whisper as you shake your head in feigned annoyance, the laughter stealing your breath as you lean opposite him, taking in the sly look on his face and the pull of his shirt across his shoulders. His hand reaches for yours, tentatively, and you’re powerless against the sweet touch on your fingers as he traces them out, pulling your palm into a bed of his two hands. 

You watch as his eyes set on the random patterns he draws, eyelashes curling against his face every time he blinks, your conscious mind soon oblivious to your placement in relation to the large group at the dining table— but it doesn’t matter. They’re as absorbed in their gambling as you are in his focused touch and feel, your heart an obnoxious flutter when he smiles up at you, a perfect mix of kind and sultry darkness. 

“I’d like to get my hands on you,” he murmurs, those repeated words spoken lower this time and with a twinkle, raising the back of your hand to his lips. A gentle press, your eyes locked together in a soft gaze to match, and he gives you back your hand as the spell of slowed-time is broken by a shocking round of cheering from the group behind you both.

With a subdued grin, you ease yourself away from the magnetic pull of your lips to his, “You’ve always got your hands on me.”

“And in,” he huffs, stifling a snicker at the fifth roll of your eyes today, watching the ends of your tied apron’s ribbon swing around over the length of your skirt. 

“You’d better find something to do in the meantime, or I’ll be asking Mrs. Adler to send you off herself.”

Jack shudders in a fake paddy of fear, the miniscule shakes of his body diminishing the sooner he realizes the severity of your words, and he merely chuckles. “Why’d you want to get rid of me?”

The pleading pull of his face and the wide and warm eyes he gives are somehow not enough to stop you from gesturing your head towards the pile of dirty dishes from dinner, waiting beside the basin. “You’re distracting.”

“Sweetpea, I’m ‘fraid that’s what you’ve got yourself caught up in,” Jack rests his chin in his palm, eyeing the clearing weather outside, “if you insist on woundin’ me, I think I’ve got a horse who needs to go for a ride, and a little lady who’ll have to join us next time…”

“I’ll see you later, Jack,” you whisper, rounding the edge of his ear with your fingers, easing his hair back into place and he adopts a light blush— softer things always more efficient in pausing his heartbeat than harsher things— and he grabs his hat left to the side of him, placing it over his head and bidding you a caring goodbye, “Miss me, darlin’.”

-

Once the room has cleared at last, leaving you in that familiar spot with soapy hands, sore feet, and a wandering mind, you arrange the wet dishes to dry, stacking each on top of the other with meticulous attention. You dry your hands on the fabric of your apron, rough cotton soaking up the water, your back leaning into the hard edge of the bar behind you. The strain in your neck grows sharper as you push your head back, groaning, willing away the next few hours until you can put your feet to rest upon Jack’s lap. 

And at the thought of him, a whistle from the exterior shoots your stream of mental pictures down as your head whips to look out the window, and there he is— Jack, thighs spread wide over Sylvie’s back as he urges her to stop, his eyes straining to find you through the window. Stomach twisting, you make a speedy trip to the stash of berries hidden away, and you pull a handful of them into your apron’s pocket before sparing the parlour a thorough peek and slipping out the front door.

It’s not loud enough for you to make out, but it must be Jack’s voice in a baby soft tone as he tells Sylvie what sounds like “there she is,” with a pat between her perky ears and a smile towards you. 

“Hello,” you grin, stepping to the edge of the porch where you meet the two of them, shamelessly devouring the way he sits tall upon her in the dying sunlight clear of clouds, dark clothes, dark hair, dark eyes, a bandana hugging his neck under his glistening throat. “Back so soon?”

“It was her idea,” Jack pokes, leaning back in the saddle as Sylvie adjusts her hooves into place over the dust and sparse blades of wheatgrass. “Suppose I had to lead her here, though…”

With a hand gliding along her wide neck, you watch his smile only grow in size as he watches you gather the berries from your pocket and throw a quizzical look his way, to which he nods enthusiastically, leaning forward again to watch and guide.

You call her name softly, approaching her from a better angle, and she makes an odd pattern with the movement of her head before she digs into your offered palm of treats, her wide mouth a great tickle on your skin that you try not to flinch at.

“Nice girls,” Jack whispers, swiping his hand over Sylvie’s shoulder, then turning his attention to you. “No more flak from the lady, I’m hopin’?”

“No, haven’t seen her since,” you giggle, “you know, Jack, that was kind what you did, but I am still fine.” 

Sylvie chomps down the rest of your stash of berries, licking the leftover juices off your palm as you gasp, retracting your arm, and Jack extends his hand far across to you in a warm beckoning. You give him the dry one and he laughs when he notices, “I ain’t afraid of no horse’s mouth,” steering you around to where he’s sat on the saddle.

“You’re not even afraid of Mrs. Adler,” you say bluntly, resting your laced hands over the meat of his thigh and then your chin on top, and Jack stares down at your widened eyes, his chest stuttering with a slightly choked breath.

“I came here to see you, darlin’, to tell you somethin’.” Running his thumb over your hand, he starts to lean his body down, your own straightening for his lips to meet your ear in a warm breath, sending ice down your spine and a melting heat between your thighs.

He waits for your prompt, his radiating need causing your posture to wither as you slant up and into him, “What is it?”

Whatever upward curve your lips adopted seconds before falls away as your eyes close, that heat between your thighs now wetter, your grip on his leg tight enough to pinch.

“I’m gonna take you out again tonight, gonna lay you in the grass and fuck you dumb, listenin’ to you whine loud as you can.”

He’s utterly pleased with the visible, hitching breath you can no longer take in, your chest pausing in its stunted passing, and he straightens up his back again to look down at you with his face shadowed under his hat. “Ain’t that somethin’ old girl, the little lady is speechless…” Jack coos to the horse and she puffs, followed by another pat of her hoof on the ground, and his grin is a mix of genuine and egotistical happiness.

“Jack,” you purr, all bothered and wobbly-knees, a helpless look in your eye as you tug the looped rope, and he prepares to ride back off. He doesn’t partake in your pleading this time, instead giving a squeeze of his legs over Sylvie’s back.

“Same place, darlin’,” he calls, “I expect you.” 

A backward glance and a tip of his hat as courtesy— or to make up for his foolish teasing— and his figure dies off in the gunpowder dust behind him and his girl, his jacket the same one you’d worn your first time away. 

-

It’s cool and dark the next time you step out onto the porch, carefully shutting the door behind you, locking it with your key. You rub your hands over the sides of your arms as you creep over the wood, peeking past the pillars before descending the three short steps. Same place, he’d said, so you set off in the direction of the stables, bathed in the soft light of the spaced lamp posts, the same exhilarating rush as the first time bubbling head to toe. 

“Ever heard of a sweet little maid ‘round here?” Jack’s happy rumbling sounds just behind you, turning into laughter at the yelp you let out, its sound squeaky and fearful until he catches you by the waist, pulling your back into his chest to sway your body around aimlessly. “Works for a Mrs. Adler, prettiest face you ever saw…”

An endeared giggle falls out of you, mouth covered immediately by your hand when he comes to place his chin on your shoulder, his fingers pressing tightly to your middle. His clothing feels rough by your neck, unlike anything else you’ve felt him wearing against you, but his cheek is soft and freshly shaven, his lips hungrily kissing behind your ear.

“Oh, I’m not so sure I have…” you murmur, allowing yourself to sink backward into his promising support, and his hum is sweet into your skin when you say so, arms squeezing you just enough for your feet to lift from the ground. 

“She’s got angel eyes,” he whispers, a finger coming to trail down your cheek as he lets you back down, until his hand cups your chin, turning your head sideways to capture your lips in a deep, swelling kiss. Your own hand rises to mirror his gesture, knees suddenly like water with their wobbly weakness, and the ball of your foot scrapes over the dust as he tugs you even closer, tasting your lips. 

“That might ring a bell,” you smile when you finally part, stroking your thumb over his jaw. He likes the way it feels, tilting himself further into your light grip of his face. The world surrounding you will never be the same level of interest when he stands before you— a daydream of an outing only seems as sweet if he’s there. A guidance, of sorts, a protector.

Roaming your eyes over him, a surprised gasp follows that welcoming kiss when you notice his top half covered in a navy blue poncho, its edges finished with white tassels and the wool adorned with white lines making intricate patterns over the length and width of it.

“Where have you been hiding this from me?” you simper, picking up the edge of it to feel the slightly scratchy material. He grins, weight shifting to one foot with a cocked hip, hands resting at the base of his suspenders underneath.

“Hidin’ it?”

“You’ve always got that jacket on,” you murmur, leaning upward, grabbing his face in an internal fit of fondness at seeing him covered in the blanket-like garment, giving him a harsher kiss that surprises him enough to nearly stumble backwards. He gains his balance, beaming against your mouth as he steadies the both of you, the world returning.

“You sure keep me on my toes, little lady,” he breathes, brows raised in bashfulness that you forget he has stored in that cocky brain. “Don’t you stop.”

Humming, your hand falling to rest on his chest as you recall more private contexts to his last words, you notice he wears a cross-body leather satchel underneath the poncho. “What have you got in there?”

“I can’t be full of surprises if you wanna make me spill ‘em all,” he teases, pushing his nose into yours, “come on, just you n’ me tonight.”

With your fingers laced together, Jack leads you through the familiar field to an unfamiliar spot at the top of a climbing hill, large rocks worsening the upward trek under the minimal light.

His hands find the backs of your thighs as he helps you over the last hump and your frustrated huff gets lost in your throat when you realize his hands are helping you up under your skirt instead of over.

“Jack,” you guffaw, using your biceps to push up and over the hard surface and he plays dumb behind you, a deep chortling following as you roll over to the flat space of dry grass above it. Looking ahead you notice a small gathering of wood placed in a circle around the center of the clearing in the trees while Jack rolls up next to you, much more gracefully with what must be years of practice.

He shares a sideways glance with you, “What?” 

His pouty lips drag downward in his falsely innocent question, your eyes rolling without annoyance but with affection. He grabs your hand again, tugging you near the woodpile and he reaches into the satchel, revealing a box of matches in his palm.

“Is this what you did earlier?” you ask, a bewildered softness easing over your shoulders, and he nods with a grin.

“Sylvie n’ I came here to get it ready.”

Sliding the box open, he strikes the match against the rough side of the cover sleeve and the spark ignites a smoking, small flame that he holds to a coil of waxed thread under the arranged sticks and wood. It catches on and flourishes upward, sprinkling tiny sparks that rise then fall by Jack as he recoils, standing back up to his feet.

“How’s that?” he looks at you, pulling you into his warm side, your fingers instinctively wrapping around a tassel. You raise your other hand to hover over the fire, its heat so pleasant and lively on your skin and you look back at him with the same fondness as always for his generous gifts, that might not even be considered a gift to anyone else but you.

“Thank you, Jack.” On your tiptoes, you place a kiss on his cheek filled with all the words you can’t think to say— it’s only a campfire, and to you, it holds all his care, burning there.

“There’s more,” he whispers, and his fingers rise to touch where your lips had just been, then he looks to them and you, smiling. “Said you wished you could run,” he starts, pointing to an old, battered tin can sitting atop a tree stump several feet away, “reckon there’s a few things you’ll need to learn first.”

From underneath the wool, he pulls out one of his revolvers and it shines in the flickering fire, freshly polished. He extends his hand, your own hesitantly touching it’s handle, cupping the barrel with the other as you slowly hold it on your own.

“Jack, I really don’t know about—”

“Careful,” he coos, circling back to stand behind you and placing his hands on your hips, he helps you adjust your grip with the beginning of his lesson whispered into your ear, his hands gentle as they cover yours. “Two hands.”

“I’m not sure I’m the gun slinging type,” you whisper nervously, your palms becoming clammy just handling the weapon, and you remember when its silver glint was pointed at Mr Porter, under its power.

“Always assume a gun’s loaded,” he continues, aiding you in extending your arms out, the aim at the can improving as you go. “Feet apart.”

With the toe of his boot on the inside of your ankle, he pushes your feet further apart until shoulder-width, and your shoe slides over the dry grass as you suck in a deep breath at the physical order. 

“Hold it tighter,” he whispers next, ensuring your fingers are hugging the grip tightly, your other hand cupping the trigger guard firmly. “Don’t leave your finger on the trigger unless you’re aimed and ready.” 

Jack is rasping now, a growing hardness on your ass from watching you handle his own weapon with determination and he pinches your hips, inciting a gasp as you try to keep your arms steady.

“The cylinder's full,” he adds, “you hit the can and I’ll make good on my promise.”

With the shot of arousal that comes after his words and the reminder of his promise to fuck you hard over the grass, it’s too easy to convince yourself that you’ll miss every shot.

“Won’t somebody hear it?” you question, turning your head as far as you can and he hums thoughtfully, pinching you softer.

“It’s luck if you hear a gunshot from a distance,” Jack soothes. And it hits you, that when Mr. Porter and Mr. Bryant started shooting blindly in the house, that those were the closest bullets had ever been to you— and here, you hold them in your palms.

“Go on, sugar, knock it over and I’ll fuck you right by this fire.”

A whine escapes you before you can aim it again, the grip even sweatier than before, the fire merely a glint now as you focus on the target tin.

Locking your grip around the handle, your pointers steadying the direction, you shut one eye, then the other to test the placement, and you pull back the hammer with a stretch of your thumb.

“I’m scared,” you breathe as your arms remain pointed forward, and Jack nods, applying pressure to your shoulders with his palms.

“I’ll keep you steady. S’okay if you miss.” Jack rubs some of the tension away, your arms growing tired from holding them up as you make one last adjustment. The jolt when you pull the trigger is more powerful than you’d expected, and Jack keeps you still as your body reacts to the sharp sound and the full shock of it. The bullet only just skims the side of the can, a tinkling sound following the jarring shot from the barrel.

“Fuck,” Jack breathes, his eyes wide and his smile too, when he looks from your near-shot to your frightened face turning into confidence. He throws his hat to the side, smoothing his hand through his hair before bending slightly behind you, “that was fuckin’ close, darlin’. Go again.”

His tone is pure excitement as you shake off the last lingering threads of apprehension, and you aim again, not a one inch difference from your first shot, pulling the hammer down a second time.

You place your pointer over the solid trigger and Jack’s breath hitches as he waits and watches intently, his hands still supporting your shoulders. This time, when your upper body jostles back from the force, the shot is farther off but still close, hitting the bark where a small explosion of wood chips scatter to the grass and you startle at the cracking noise, casting a worried look to Jack.

“Keep tryin’,” he soothes, cuddling his cheek to the side of your neck as he cozies up, and you’re certain it’s not the best condition for a shooting lesson, the middle of your thighs gathering slick and your palms more nervous sweat. With a deep breath, you stretch your arms out once more, muscles pulling up tight as you adjust your feet, your eyesight on the tin can reflecting the flames of the little campfire.

“That’s it,” Jack whispers as you touch your finger to the hammer, “focus.”

Scoffing, you settle your aim, determined to ignore the way he’s still pressing up against you.

“You’re doin’ great,” his voice scratches just before you pull against the trigger’s resistance and the bullet releases, harder it feels like, and pierces the tin with an incredibly loud metallic pang, sending it fast off the stump. Although you’re not too far from it, you don’t trust it yet; looking back down at the weapon in your hand and then to him, his smile already turns smug. It’s a surprise to hit it at the same time that it’s not— luck or natural talent, you don’t think you’ll ever find out. He shakes his head with pride dripping all over, crushing you into his side with a tense squeeze of his arm, your neck fitting in the bend of his elbow.

“That’s too quick,” you breathe in modesty that Jack tells you to shush away, as your disbelieving eyes fall back on the tree stump, tin can-less. “I wasn’t far away enough.”

“Come on, darlin’.” He disembarks, jogs to the stump, picks up the can behind it. A hole burns through the center on both sides. “Still shot it on the third try.”

When he arrives at your feet again, you peer down at the silver gun in your hold. Struggling to accept your own accuracy, you slowly hand it back to him.

“It'll be harder next time,” he purrs, sliding it back into its holster pocket, “but I think you’ll make the most charmin’ gunfighter in the whole damn world.”

“That’s your title,” you smile, brushing the dark hair from his forehead, curling your fist into the wool draped over him. “And the most handsome, too.”

Jack’s chest puffs out against yours as he preens at your softly-spoken compliment, the tone of his hum pitched in a questioning way to urge you on to continue.

“I’d rather like to learn more about that lasso,” you say instead, fingering where it’s attached to his hip, and he looks at you through his eyelashes, closing his hand around the one fisted in his poncho.

“Hell, if I taught you the ropes I doubt you’d let me out of your room for a whole week, darlin’. We’d better work up to that…”

“Oh well,” you tease, perching yourself up to level your lips with his ear, “you’re too soft on me to be my teacher anyway.”

“Too soft?” He raises his brows, eager to know, causing you to step back as he advances on you.

“Too easy. I ought to shoot that can three more times from ten more feet away just to be sure I’ve learned.”

Jack lays the thick blanket next to the crackling fire after pulling it out of the satchel, motioning for you to come.

“Sugar, I’ll show you rough,” he grumbles, dragging you down to the blanket with him, your chest thumping square on his when you land, a stunted breath into his mouth. His promise, listenin’ to you whine as loud as you can, returns to you now as he holds the back of your neck and opens his lips to brush yours, nipping your lower lip to earn the first wince.

“Don’t disappoint me,” you taunt, landing yourself rolled over and pinned under his heavy weight as he lifts the poncho from his head and drapes it over your bodies, hidden and warm together as you share the fiery heat of yourselves and the physical fire beside you.

“I’d hate nothin’ more than to disappoint you.” He keeps his eyes trained on your face as his fingers creep up your leg, a soft ghosting until he reaches the stark wetness compared to your dry skin everywhere but your core and he’s already groaning at just the sensation of your slick covering his fingers. “Think I could fill you right now, hm? Soakin’ me so fast…”

“I need you to fuck me as hard as you can,” you demand, your head tipping back against the ground underneath the blanket, heat accumulating in your own makeshift tent of the dark poncho. His fingers twitch over your clit as he watches your face twist in effort to get your last coherent thoughts out, “This is where I can cry.”

“Jesus,” his head falls into your shoulder and he rubs his cock on your thigh, covered by his trousers. He’s hard and thick, just as he was watching you shoot his gun, and he lifts your skirt higher, bunching the fabric at your waist. “You always get what you ask for from me.”

Blindly searching with your fingers, you find the buttons of his trousers and pull them open, carefully taking his cock out, the tip leaking generously onto your skin. You spread it for him though it runs out quickly, but your own burning arousal is enough for the two of you as he settles himself closer, his hair flopping out of place. His moustache brushes against your temple when he spreads your legs wider, a soothing slide of your skin over the blanket before you feel his cock running through your slick folds, and it’s enough to start whining. Even the little sounds you let out at the house are suppressed and quietened— here, there is no one but the two of you.

“Give it all to me, baby doll,” he rasps over your throat as he positions himself and pushes past your entrance, slowly stretching you open on his thick cock and your thighs fall open wider, too, your breath heavy and low for him to bask in. “Ain’t that sweet…”

Jack’s eyes carry the glint of the fire beside your bodies as he stays there for some moments, letting you squirm all you need before he flattens you to the ground with his chest, cooing encouraging gentleness to contrast with the untamed way he’s going to fuck you here, on the blanket, again. His cock pushes deeper with the added mass, your whimper not enough when he finally thrusts and hits his hips to your wide-spread thighs and works the wetness of you all over his cock.

“Ja— Jack—” you whine, and his hot hand soon comes to glide over the innermost part of your thigh, rubbing it firmly as if he’s about to—

He spanks your thigh and earns the high-pitch moan he’s been working for all along, drawing himself back to return with a harsh thrust as he keeps his hand on the stinging sensation, groaning out his nose.

“Fu-uuck, there we go, that’s what I wanted,” he grunts through stunted breaths as he sets a new, punishing pace, sliding with ease in and out, hitting deep inside to brush against that satisfying spot that when he slaps the same part of your leg, the pleasure from both makes you cry louder, moan louder.

He draws the wool tighter around his back as he lowers his lips to your mouth, emitting an animalistic groan over your face when you clench around his cock and pull him in closer for another open-mouthed kiss, true and full.

“Oh, god,” you groan, his hand caressing the underside of your thigh, until he draws it up to push your knee on your chest, fitting his hand in the bend of your leg.

“Gimme more, sugar,” he demands, landing a sharp swat to the side of your ass lifted off the ground that gives him your neediest, filthiest sound yet as you fist his hair, taking his brutal pace. 

“Jack, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Fuck,” he curses back harder, “I’m gonna steal you every god damn night for this.” Jack hisses through bared teeth on your collarbone, keening when you raise your hips to meet his. The fire rises beside you at the same time a wave of building pressure in your abdomen knocks through your lower half, and you place your hands on his face, sliding them up to meet his hair.

A shaky breath puffs out of you, the sting of his spankings spreading over your leg as you crane your neck and cry out while he buries himself and grinds against your clit, “You just get wetter n’ wetter for me,” he remarks hoarsely, “just can’t help but need me, hm?”

“I... Yes,” you sigh into his heated neck, your limbs softening in their hold of him as he fucks you hard over the blanket, his grip deathly on the side of your thigh.

“I want to hear it, darlin’, say it to me,” he scrapes, his voice at the bottom of his register, and when the words get stuck in your mind and jumbled out of order from the fullness of your core, he draws himself out and rolls you onto your stomach. Mindlessly, empty, you whine with an equal hoarseness to his own, the end of it pushed out prematurely when he flattens his chest over your back, lining his cock back up with your soaking entrance.

“I’ll pull every last pretty sound you got left in you if I have to.” 

The words are a terrible blow to your senses, sparking a rapid increase in the sound of rushing blood in your ears as he pushes your thigh up to the side and presses down on it with his palm.

“Please…” you breathe, “I’m so close— fuck me, please fuck me again—”

Shutting your eyes, hoping to feel him push himself back inside you, you instead are met with a final, cracking swat on your leg that sends you wailing as Jack waits for you to scream it, “Tell me, sugar!”

“I need you, Jack— I need you!” 

It doesn’t sound like your own voice. Never has it been clouded by so much desire and such a sinful edge to your witless begging, but it’s enough for him. A push forward, and he fills you; his own sounds have grown needier too, reaching far out. He plants a hand by your face and you grab onto his wrist as he shoves his cock repeatedly deeper and at this angle, you could consider the punishing stretch of him painful, but it’s everything you need, causing you to whine a step higher every time his hips hit your ass.

“You’re all I fuckin’ think about, darlin’,” Jack mouths at your earlobe, your bodies turning slick under the poncho and your clothes, “here you are, shootin’ my gun n’ lettin’ me fuck your tight little pussy, beggin’ for me— gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

Your jaw drops and an involuntary squeal stumbles from your hanging lip, Jack snarling behind you as he plunges again, hooking his hands under your shoulders and splaying his fingers wide over the tops of them.

It’s a taut stretch of your chest when he pulls on you like that, the soft curl of his hair tickling your neck as he nestles his face to yours and muffles his grunts and groans. You pull up tighter around him, squeezing his cock, nearly driving him to collapse over your back when he feels it happen and what is easily his hardest, neediest and wrecked groan tears out and spreads over your limbs with the rumbling breath he takes after.

“Jaaack,” you whisper, his movements heavily weighing on you, your body resting just at the precipice of something overwhelming, “So… full..”

“I’m gonna fuck my cum into that sweet cunt.” Jack fists the blanket with his supporting hand and the next time he rams his hips forward, a full-bodied scream fills the air, and once more, you squeeze him tighter as you cum hard around his cock, your nails starting to dig into his wrist as he fucks you through it. 

“Baby doll, you’re too fuckin’ good to me— squeeze me so fuckin’ tight when you cum, keep it comin’—”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god— fuck!”  You can’t stop gushing around him as his thrusts lose rhythm, as he focuses more on the sounds you’re making and the grip you have on his cock and it just won’t end, tears beginning to form in your eyes while the movements never cease.

“That is just heavenly,” he says with a strained laugh, “shit, you really did need me, huh? You want my cum inside you too? Want to be spoiled?”

“Yes!” you cry, miraculously raising your ass just a little against his cock as the orgasm finally calms, a growl and a bite on your shoulder at your ceaseless will to beg.

“Take it.” One final, gorgeous moan from his throat and he buries himself, a wet warmth painting your walls, his chest deflating as he settles around your back and rubs your thigh in a soft contrast to what was his stinging swats minutes before. He blows and pants to recuperate, and as he brings himself out, you feel the warmth spreading and dripping down to your clit. For a moment, you share the breaths you’re both trying to catch, but the sensation of his cum sliding over your skin is yet another obstacle to returning to a manageable state of being.

“This…” he whispers, taking his hand back, leaning on his other elbow to support himself as he slides his fingers under your skirt to lead them to your swollen cunt, “is my favourite, darlin’.” He spreads his cum over your folds, milky liquid sliding wherever he traces, and you push back on your knees to raise yourself for him while he guides it back inside you, your throat tired but still whimpering as he pushes his fingers in.

“Keep me inside,” he murmurs on your temple, urging you to lay back down over the plushy blanket, and as you relax, mussed and twinkling by the fire, he drapes the poncho over your body, tucking the fabric under your sides. He strokes your cheek with the dry hand, lifting your head to his lap as he carefully sits by you, your eyes delicately fluttering closed. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, and without opening your eyes, you shake your head no. Jack makes a purring sound, considering the moans his actions pulled out of you, and he begins to stroke your face some more. “Hope I never do,” he adds softly, studying your peaceful expression under the firelight and stars, “you’re soft.”

The last two words make you blink and smile up at him, finally granting him a peek which he returns with curved lips, and you know that “soft” doesn’t mean “weak” when he says it.

“I got an idea of where to take you next, if you think you can handle it...”

-

tags for yeehonk idiot:

@filthybookworm @frannyzooey​ @javier-pena​ @javierpcna​ @astroboots​ @userdindja @pedros-mustache​ @princessxkenobi​ @trashcora​ @writerdee1701​ @thelemongeneration​ @libraryofrecs​ @fan-of-encouragement​ @herb-welch​ @writeforfandoms​ @queenofthecloudss​ @leannawithacapitala​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @kesskirata​ @fuck-goes-on​ @lawfulgranola​@apascalrascal @prismaticpizza​ @xemmaloveskillianx​ @littlemissoblivious​ @quica-quica-quica @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @little-big-mac2​ @recklesswit​ ​@frankie-catfish-morales

let me know whether you’d like to be added or removed! 

[harrywritingsbyme]

Sunday Smut Concept #32

A/N: i can’t believe that i haven’t posted any smut for two consecutive fridays...it’s a bit weird tbh😂anyways, this one is crazy hot and I’m so happy that got past my recent writing anxiety a little bit to write a blurb for you guys bc this one is ✨spicyy✨it’s kinda loosely based on the “inspo” but who cares lmao...enjoy🙃

So this is hands down subby wife!y/n while older/ceo/daddy!harry is working.

Since Harry has been at home and working from his home office over the past couple of months, you’ve become incredibly needy for his attention. You were constantly looking for ways to have his eyes and focus on you and only you. From wearing the prettiest little dresses that Harry was absolutely obsessed with, to doing little things for him just to get a big cuddle or some kisses from him to say thank you, you made sure that you got some type of attention. Now along with being incredibly needy for his attention, you were also needy(well, more like desperate) for his cock. You just wanted to have his cock inside of you all the time. It could’ve been in your mouth, in your pussy, in your beyond tight second entrance, or even in your hand; that didn’t matter to you at all. All that mattered was that you got his cock. And right now, getting Harry’s attention and his cock were the only two things in your mind. You thought that you’d be able to be good and not disturb him for the entirety of the hours he’d blocked off for work but it was really hard. You couldn’t take your mind off of how good he made you feel first thing this morning. The memory of how hard he made your body shake, how he was able to make you beg for him to give you more and in one breath and make you beg for mercy in another lingered in your mind and it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

This meant that you were going to were going to have to weigh what would make Harry “madder” per se; you touching yourself or bugging him while he’s in the middle of his work? Considering that you weren’t a big fan of really intense punishments, you decided to go with the ladder option. Harry was very picky with your pleasure. He wanted to be the only one who could perfectly and fully pleasure you. The only time he even considers allowing you to touch yourself is when the two of you have gone multiple rounds and he’s been unsuccessful at tiring you out. With that being said, you decided to have a go at bugging him. Before you went down though, you decided to slip on something that would make it a bit harder for him to say no. After picking through your drawer, you found the prettiest and softest set of baby pink lingerie that Harry couldn’t bring himself to rip off of you when you’d worn it before. He thought you looked too pretty in it for him to rip it off of you. So he didn’t. Which allowed for you to wear it again.

After carefully putting on the delicate garments, you adjust everything and you do a quick once over before skipping out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and to Harry’s office. As you got closer, your steps became slower and quieter, trying your best to keep some of the element of surprise in all this. When you reach the doorway, you stand quietly in the doorway as Harry continues on talking to his his employees through the screen. Instead of just lightly knocking on the door to get his attention, you decide to just stand there and let him discover your newfound presence in his office. Your hopes of not having to stand in the doorway half naked too long came true and within a few short minuets, Harry’s eyes were on you. When he sat back in his chair and looked up from the computer, his eyes and mind did an immediate double take. He didn’t know whether to address the fact that you were just standing in the doorway, the fact that you were pretty much naked and looked absolutely stunning, or the fact that his cock was growing in his pants. He also didn’t know whether or not he wanted to give your ass a couple swats for coming in when he was working or give you what you wanted. Either way, he was planning on enjoying this. 

After a good minuet of going back and forth between ogling you and paying attention to he meeting he was in, Harry finally beckons you over to him with his index and pointer fingers. When he does this, you immediately push yourself off from the doorframe and make your way over to him. When you round his desk, Harry is quick to stop you in your tracks before signaling you to get on your knees and crawl to him, keeping his eyes steady on the screen in front of him. Now obviously it was to protect your modesty and keep you from flashing his employees(even though he was pretty sure someone accidentally walked in on you two in his office before). But there was a bit of a selfish reason behind his quick signaling. He just really liked to see you on your knees, especially when you were crawling and needy.

When you finally make it over to him, you waste no time laying your head on his knee and bringing your hand up his other thigh and to his lap where his cock was fully hard in his pants. When you do this, Harry’s breath immediately becomes labored and he could feel a warmth rising though his body.

“M’sorry to cut you off but uh, how about we take a 15? Stretch your legs a bit, get some water, and then we can wrap up for the day.” He immediately interjects. Upon agreement from his team, Harry is quick to turn off his mic and camera before turning out from the desk and focusing back on you. “Now what are you doing down there?” He huffs, sitting back in his chair and watching as you bring yourself between his legs, beginning to rub your face against his clothed cock.

“Want daddy to play with me.” You whine, continuing to move your face against the bump in his lap.

“M’working baby.” He coos down to you, managing to steady his breath a bit. 

“M’throbbing for your cock.” You sigh. 

“Why don’t you come up here so daddy can feel.” He instructs, smoothing his hand around the back of your neck and giving you a slight squeeze. In an instant, you’re removing your head from his lap, lifting yourself from the floor, and straddling Harry’s lap, dropping yourself right onto his clothed cock.

“I think daddy wants to play too.” You giggle, pushing yourself against him a little.

“He does sweets, just after he’s done with work.” He pouts, raising his hand up to your cheek to give it a little pinch. “Now lift up f’me.” He instructs, tapping your hip with his other hand. Once you’re no longer sitting on him, Harry brings a hand down between your legs to feel around. As soon as his hand comes in contact with your panties, his fingers are met with a warm and sticky mess between your legs. Your panties are essentially ruined and he can almost feel a really faint pulse in the area. “You really are throbbing doll. And made a complete mess out of daddy’s favorite panties.” He observes and reprimands.

“M’sorry.” You whisper back to him bashfully.

“S’not your fault that this cunt of yours is so greedy.” He chuckles, giving a little pat to your barely clothed and completely sticky and puffy mound, causing you to jump a little. Keeping his eyes on the area between your legs, Harry pulls you back down and begins moving you back and forth against the hard bump that is his cock. As he does this, you can’t stop the little mewls and whimpers from leaving you mouth as you enjoy the amazing feeling of his hard cock against your achey cunt. “Feel good?” He asks huffs sweetly, trying to suppress his own moans that were bubbling up in his throat, shifting his eyes up to your face. Your eyes were snapped shut and your mouth just hung open, letting your sweet moans and whimpers leave your mouth as he (with your help of course) moved you back and forth against him.

“Incredible daddy.” You sigh happily. “I want more.” You continue on.

“Daddy wants to give you more doll, but he has to get back to his meeting in a couple minuets. Can you preoccupy yourself in here while daddy finishes up?” He states, continuing to let you rock against him as he cups your cheek.

“Don’t know how.” You moan, continuing to enjoy the feeling of his clothed cock against you. When you say this, Harry immediately comes up with a solution to your little problem. See, you tended to come into his office a lot, wanting to be taken care of and loved on by him when he wasn’t exactly able to. Even though he wanted to just drop everything and take care of his girl, if he were to stop what he was doing, he’d end up loosing his train of thought and it would take a really long time for it to come back. So with that being said, Harry kept something in his desk drawer that never failed to keep you preoccupied before he was able to play with you and give you his full attention. He kept a suction dildo that was a bit smaller than his cock in his desk drawer so that you could ride or suck on that while he took care of business. He’d simply hand it over to you, and you’d suction it to the floor and just play with it until he took it away and gave you the real thing. And that’s what he planned on doing now. As you kept enjoying yourself in his lap, Harry reached over and pulled out the drawer on his desk to reveal the dildo. He quickly pulls it out and brings it down to tap at your lower stomach in order to get your attention.

“Can you play around with this while daddy finishes business? I’ll give you a treat if you can.” He offers, bucking his growing cock up into you towards the tail end, holding the sizable dildo up between you two in the process. 

“Mhm s’so big.” You hum happily, wrapping your hand around the squishy and very sizable shaft of the dildo. 

“But not as big as who?” He asks, tugging back on the toy.

“S’not as big as you daddy.” You hum back sweetly.

“Good girl, gimme a kiss.” He “asks”, cutely puckering his lips for you to connect yours. Without giving it a second thought, you bring your face in to connect your lips with his for a quick, sloppy, and tongue filled kiss. “Now take all of this off, don’t rip it baby, and play with this.” He instructs, completely letting go of the toy and giving your nose a quick peck.

You’re quick to climb off of his lap and sit yourself on the floor, a little bit away from him so you wouldn’t be in view, where you suction the dildo to the floor. Once it’s as secure as possible, you stand back up and you push your messy panties down your legs. And instead of dropping them onto the floor, you place the sticky panties along with your bra onto Harry’s desk since he liked this set so much. When you do this, Harry is quick to pluck the panties from the little pile you formed, bringing the drenched fabric to his nose for a smell. When he inhales the intoxicating smell of your arousal, Harry couldn’t help but relax in his chair and bring a hand down to to his cock through his pants. He then brings the fabric to his mouth to suck on it and get a little taste of you.

“S’not fair to tease daddy!” You exclaim below him.

“Well it’s not fair to be a fucking minx while m’in the middle of work. But I let you get naked and have the dildo right? So the least you could do is let me have the panties. Now how about you get to using said dildo.” He says bluntly, dropping the panties back onto the desk and sitting up in his chair. Without saying another word, you lift yourself onto your knees and position yourself right over the toy. Facing him, you then begin to sink down onto the dildo, letting out a loud gasp when you feel it push past your entrance. “Now don’t go down too fast, wanna watch it disappear into that cunt of yours.” He says, continuing to palm at his cock as you take the dildo inside of you. 

“Feels so good daddy.” You sigh, enjoying the attention and feeling of being filled with something, even if it wasn’t Harry’s cock. In no time you’ve taken all of the dildo inside and as you begin to move yourself back and forth on the toy, Harry’s meeting is reconvening.

“I know it feels good baby, but m’gonna need you to keep quiet while I finish up in here.” He says, almost pleading with you to keep quiet.

“Okay daddy.” You sigh, beginning to pick up the pace of your hips on the toy.

“Good girl.” He praises before turning his camera back on and getting back into the meeting. 

Over the course of the next 20 or so minuets, there is an immense amount of tension forming in the room. While you’re having a good time bouncing up and down on the dildo and feeling amazing, you’re also trying hard to not moan too loud or at all. You had a hand loosely around your mouth as the other was flat against the floor to hold your body up. You could feel the toy really pushing up into you and you were in love with how the veins on the shaft felt against your walls. On top of that, you are fantasizing about how you’d ride daddy’s cock if he wasn’t in a stupid meeting. Those thoughts only intensified the pleasure you were giving yourself. You could’ve sworn that you were in heaven from how good you were feeling. Harry on the other hand was dying. For starters he made sure to keep his mic muted. He didn’t want to keep it on and risk you (or him at this point) making a sudden outburst from the “situation” at hand. On top of that, Harry had is hand pushed into his pants, palming and tugging at his cock, trying to relieve some of the mounting pressure as he tried so hard to focus on the meeting and not on you or his cock. He was trying so hard to keep his normal straight face and not give away the fact that he was on the verge of combusting in the middle of this zoom call as well. All he could think about was how good your cunt would feel wrapped around his cock and how good it would feel to just fuck you until you’re quivering below him again.

But even though it was an enormous challenge, you and Harry were able to successfully keep your little situation a secret. You and Harry were also able to push yourselves extremely close to the edge. Precum was beginning to bead at Harry’s slit and you were feeling a warm tightening sensation in the pit of your stomach. Once Harry’s meeting was officially over, Harry was quick to end the call. Once he was sure that it was all hung up, he immediately stood up and pushed his sweats down his legs. Over the past 10 or so months, Harry really came to embrace the whole business on top and whatever the fuck he was comfortable in idea. He also hastily undid his shirt leaving him naked as well. Instead of just sitting back down and tugging his cock until he came, Harry walks over to you and stands right in front of your heaving body. When you see his big cock standing proudly in front of you, you’re quick to wrap your hand around his shaft before stuffing your mouth with him. When you do this, Harry is quick to pry your hands off of his cock before wrapping his hands in your hair and thrusting his hips into your face a couple times, causing you to gag a bit and slobber around him. Once he’s used your mouth and throat a bit, he then holds himself in your throat one good time before pulling out completely. 

“Wanted to use that mouth of yours before I use your pussy.” He explains. 

“M’so close daddy!” You whine out to him, continuing to grind down onto the dildo.

“Well come on sweetheart. Want you t’cum around my cock while I cum in that sweet pussy of yours.” He grunts, reaching down to tug you up and off the dildo. 

Once you’re up and on your incredibly shaky legs, you’re immediately pulled up and into Harry’s arms. He then turns you both around and lays you right on the desk in front of him. Wasting no time, Harry pushes right into you, causing the both of you to let out a string of relieved moans. You were overwhelmed with the feeling of truly being full, and Harry was overwhelmed with how tight and wet you were. The both of you were at the very edge, extremely close to falling over and into your releases. Harry could feel just how close you were from the way you were clenching up and pulsating around his cock. It only took a good handful of hard thrusts before the both of you were falling apart at the seams. You were shaking and whimpering as you fell apart below Harry as you let go from the pleasure that was mounting inside. You let go so hard that you squirted all over him too. Getting his cock, part of his lower body, and his desk covered in your “heavenly drops” as Harry liked to call them. Harry too let go extremely hard, feeling thick rope after rope of his cum stream out of his cock and into the pit your stomach, painting your walls with his potent and creamy seed.

“Such a perfect and pretty little wife I have.” He admires through his pants once he steadies his breathing a bit, taking in your completely fucked out appearance. “So pretty, loves me so much, knows how to use a toy, has a perfect little cunt, lets me cum in her tummy, and lets me use her body. Absolutely perfect.” He praises. “Wanna have some more fun with daddy sweets?” He asks, bringing one of his hands down to fondle one of your breasts as he awaited a response. 

“Please daddy.” You shakily breathe out to him, feeling exhausted but ready for more. 

Masterlist

[wormstacheangel]

Tangled up in Words

For @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover cause you’re awesome. Thanks for the inspo post :)

Dean doesn’t know how he ended up getting talked into playing twister. Maybe it was seeing how Jack and Eileen were both laughing so hard they ended up falling on each other. Or when it was Sam’s turn to join with Jack, he was so tall that Jack called him out for cheating. Sam ended up laughing and falling which ended with Jack winning. Maybe it was seeing how happy Cas looked spinning the board and calling out the colors.

He looked so cute and human - because he was - as he doubled over laughing, his feet lifting just a little off the floor when he fell back into the recliner. 

So when Jack told him it was his turn Dean didn’t argue but now he wished he did. Because maybe if he fought it a little more or agreed to spin the dumb board instead then he wouldn’t be trying to balance himself in a weird twisted push-up position while Cas’s face was right under his because he was in a weird crab position. Everything was going fine and Dean thought for sure he was going to win until Cas tilted his head just a little and playfully stuck his tongue out at him to get his attention. 

Shock to nobody, it worked. 

“If I win I get to pick the next movie.” Cas grins at him and then that bastard had the audacity to wink at him. 

Gosh, he looked like such a dork doing it too but Dean went blank. There might as well be a dial-up noise coming out of his ears because he couldn’t register what he just saw. His heart pounded against his chest and he could hear himself loudly swallow before he slowly -or quickly, he didn’t know, time didn’t mean shit at that moment - leaned down to kiss Cas. 

Kiss is a generous term because Dean never remembered kissing someone like that. Just a soft glide of his lips because he wanted to - no he finally needed to - just know how they felt against his skin. 

Then everything went in fast forward and he saw Cas fall, eyes wide before he winced in pain when his head fell on the concrete floor. 

“Dean won!” He heard Jack called out but Dean couldn’t take his eyes off of Cas’s shocked expression that stared right back up at him.

“He sure did.” He heard Sam say but his voice started to sound further away and then the slam of the door made both of them blink. 

The magic freeze-frame of swimming in blue eyes was gone now when they both scrambled up to sit on either side of the plastic tarp. Dean didn’t turn to look at Cas, he instead grabbed his boots so he could quickly put them on and give himself something to do. 

The silence carried on until Dean saw movement from the corner of his eyes. He turned to see Cas get up, rubbing the back of his head, and go to sit back on the recliner. He looked up to meet Dean’s gaze and he should have looked away when green met blue but he couldn’t because Cas looked so… sad.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out automatically and he knew they were the wrong ones before he saw Cas’s gaze turn cold. He looked away from Dean and reached down to put his shoes on. “Cas.”

“I’m fine.” Clearly he wasn’t by that tone. 

“You’re mad.” Dean sighed as he finished lacing up his boots and looked back up at Cas who was tying up his laces, something he just learned because apparently on his first trip as a human he would just bundle it up and tuck them inside his shoe.

“You’re a genius.” The ex-angel has become much more sarcastic since becoming human because Dean could hear him roll his eyes now. Then he groaned in frustration while he fumbled with the laces. 

Dean crawled over to him and sat at his feet. “Dude, let me help.”

“I’m fine.” Cas doesn’t look at him but the hurt was now starting to come through the anger. 

“Stop stealing my line.” Dean pushed Cas’s hands away and slowly started to tie his sneakers. When he was done he tapped the foot away and tapped his knee so Cas can put his other foot on Dean’s knee. He slowly tied the next shoe. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“Me too.” Cas quickly said and yeah...Yeah, Dean deserves that. “I’m waiting for you to be comfortable with my feelings for you, Dean, but that… you can’t do that.”

“I know. I know.” Dean finished tying his shoe but didn’t look up from it. “I was being selfish and I wasn’t thinking.”

“Shocker.” 

Cas took his foot back and Dean knew that if they don’t talk about it now then they won’t talk about it for weeks or maybe months later. Hell, if things go the way they’re going it could be years. So Dean quickly boxes Cas into the recliner, standing up and placing his hands on either side of the armrest. Cas falls back into the recliner with wide eyes as he searches for something in Dean’s face but doesn’t fight him on it.

“You said you loved me.” Dean starts and Cas’s only response was a silent nod. Looking at him with curious eyes even as his body stiffened up. “And when we got you back I um...I said it back.”

“I know. I was there, Dean.”

Dean ignored him and continued. “I told you I needed time to sort my shit out but honestly I don’t think I’m ever going to do that, Cas.”

“Oh.” Cas looked down and away from Dean. “So there is no reason to hope for us then.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Cas looked back up, eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“Then what are you-”

“I love you, Cas.” Dean quickly breaths out. His shoulders fall as relief washes over him. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to say that again so many times.”

“You have?” 

“Yeah.” Dean chuckles as he lifts one of his hands to hesitantly brush Cas’s curling hair back and make sure Cas could see him. “I love you. And...and I’m never going to be ready for this but just like everything I’ve done, I’ll figure it out as I go.”

“I’ve never done this before either.” Cas reminded him and then he leaned into Dean’s hand, making Dean suck in a breath by how cute that was. 

This is what he was afraid of? Touching Cas without death or danger lingering behind them? This is what he has been praying for and now that he has it...he was afraid?

Dean slowly leaned down and froze when meeting those blue eyes again but Cas nodded once before he closed his eyes. He tilted his head up and stretched his neck to meet the kiss halfway.

Tag List Below:

@galaxycastiel @superduckbatrebel @slipper007 @ar-bi-trary @winchestcas

@imlivingliferightnow @bi-bi-marie @nguyenxtrang @dancerdovegirl

@chocolatecakecas @trasherasswood @celestialcastiel @castiel-is-a-cat

@readeroftheimmortalbooks @marichankitty @confusedisaster @wigglebox

@castiels-bitch @destiel-bitches @tearsofgrace @queen-rowenas

[moshymosh]

Remember me- A Night To Remember

When the love of your life suffers from a disease that affects their memory of their life with you, what do you do? Will you spend your last days with them, trying to get them to remember you? The life you had, or would you give up and let them forget you?

Summary- Dr. Spencer Reid felt his whole life change when Agent Y/n L/n joined the BAU. She came in like a cool summer breeze changing everything Spencer knew about love and his capacity to care for someone so much. Y/n came to the BAU with a tragic past, her only goal was to save lives and make the world a safer place for everyone. She meets a skinny shaggy haired doctor, which causes her whole life to change, much like Spencer, will she fall in love or will her tragic past or even her job prevent her?

Pairings- Dr. Spencer Reid x f!reader.

A/N- This is a notebook inspired story, this story will be told and wrote like a chapter book. So some of the endings will not always make sense. Also I don't claim go own Criminal Minds or the Notebook, this is solely for entertainment purposes and for enjoyment. Some of the lines are from the notebook movie, again I don't claim to own either fandom/tv show/ movie. I try to make Y/n as vague as possible so shes more inclusive so if there is any descriptive things that don’t apply to you feel free to ignore them. Also just putting this out there as the story progresses Maeve is still alive and well, she is a good friend of Spencer and Y/n’s. There will be graphic content and sexual scenes in later chapters, warnings will be added as they go. Also if you want to be tagged send me an as or comment here, also send requests I'm down for making little fics. I know this part is a little weird, but there will be a -A Night To Remember part 2

PS- Please don't post my fics anywhere without my documented consent, thanks -Karma (MoshyMosh)

Warnings- some mentions of guns, violence and some minor crime talk, the usual for criminal minds. (I’m bad at writing case talk, please don't hate me.)

Here's the dress I was using for inspiration. Also here are the roses. If the links don’t work, here’s a link to the inspo board on Pinterest.

Previous part | Next Part | Masterlist

Y/n walked into the bullpen a package clasped in her hands. Y/n saw JJ talking to Derek and glanced around, making sure Spencer wasn't around before she walked over to the pair. "JJ I need a favor, " Y/n said softly, holding out the newspaper-wrapped package. "Give it to Spencer when I'm- uh not around?"

JJ and Derek shared a small smile after JJ took the package from Y/n and watched her go over to her desk and begin to set her stuff down. Y/n tilted her head at the small bouquet of yellow red-tipped roses sitting on her desk. Y/n smiled softly and pulled the notecard from its holder. Her eyes were drawn from the notecard to the three bags of gummy bears behind the roses.

Y/n let out a giggle and shook her head with a small smile on her face. She then looked up to JJ with a look of confusion but brushed it aside and sat down as she began to pull the card from its envelope.

'Will you go to the FBI ball with me?-SR xx'

Y/n giggled and slid the notecard into her blazer pocket and grabbed one of the bags of gummy bears, opening it as she left the bullpen to go to Garcia's bat cave.

Spencer smiled as he saw Y/n's reaction to his gifts, turning back to Rossi and Hotch, as they all stood in Hotch's office. "I think she liked them." He said excitedly. "Thank you." Spencer said before he left Hotch's office.

JJ saw Spencer walking back to his desk. "Spence!" she called for him as she began to walk over to him, Derek trailing behind her.

Spencer turned and looked at JJ, confused, seeing the package in her hand. "Looks like pretty boys got a crush." Derek said with a chuckle, nudging Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer took the package from JJ, pulling the notecard from under the emerald green ribbon that was decorating the package. Spencer looked up at JJ and Derek, confused before he opened the envelope and pulled out the card to read its contents.

'I love Walt Whitman, you saw and remember how I like my coffee, here's my favorite book of poems. Remember them- F/I L/I x'

Spencer put the notecard down and went to untie the ribbon when he looked at his desk to set the ribbon down and saw a note on the back of the card.

'PS- you once told me a statistic on recycling and I took it to heart, hence the newspaper. It's recycled.'

Spencer chuckled and carefully unwrapped the newspaper so it can be reused before he pulled the book from the wrapper. Spencer opened the hardcover and saw the copyright page.

"A first edition?" Spencer asked in disbelief.

Y/n and Garcia walked back in the bullpen, Y/n looked over to Spencer and smiled at him before she popped a gummy bear into her mouth.

"Okay guys, the FBI ball is next Wednesday. We just got a case, let's meet and discuss." Hotch said from the second floor.

Y/n followed Penelope to the meeting room and found a seat as the others filed in after.

"Ok, guys this case is in our very own home." Garcia started talking, throughout the meeting Y/n and Spencer took turns glancing at each other.

"Ok L/n you're with me, we'll set up here. Reid and Morgan go check out the first crime scene. Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss go to the recent scene." Hotch said as he closed his file.

"Y/n." Hotch said once everyone left and they began to set up the evidence boards that they had wheeled into the room.

"Yes sir?" Y/n asked, looking over to Hotch as she finished putting up the final picture on one of the boards.

"Did you like Spencer's gifts?" he asked, handing her some more things to put on the board.

Y/n smiled to herself as she hung the things he handed to her, "Yes, I did. Though, I can't wrap my brain around what those yellow roses are supposed to symbolize. They have multiple meanings such as friendship and/or falling in love." she said as she turned around and placed her hands on the back of a nearby chair. "Does that mean his note is 'go to the ball with me as friends.' or 'go to the ball with me because I'm falling in love with you.'?"

Hotch chuckled and shook his head with a smile. "Don't overthink it like Reid did." he said

Y/n shook her head with a laugh before she smiled up at him. "I think just because you said that I'm going to do just that."

Their friendly banter was interrupted by Hotch's phone ringing. "Reid, what did you find out?" Hotch asked as he answered and put his phone on speaker, Y/n listened alongside Hotch to what Reid was telling them. Y/n looked over to the map on the board, mentally putting points on it.

"I think I know where the unsub's comfort zone is." she said, moving away from the chair she was leaning against and began putting the points she envisioned onto the map for the team.

"Reid, Morgan tell everyone to get back here." Hotch said before he turned and looked at what Y/n was doing as he hung up the phone.

After a few days if run around by the unsub they managed to track him down. Y/n went into the warehouse with her gun drawn as she led a few SWAT members in.

"Thomas McDonald!" Y/n shouted, her gun drawn on the man who was holding a knife to the throat of a girl he recently kidnapped. "Put the knife down, and let the girl go."

Soon the team came in and the unsub backed down. They quickly arrested the man and the victim was given medical treatment. Y/n took a deep breath when she stepped out of the warehouse, Y/n shook her head to shake loose her thoughts before she looked at the woman sitting on the back of the ambulance.

"Agent L/n?" a medic called over to her, she looked over to the source of the voice. "She wants to speak to you."

Y/n walked over to the woman and sat next to her. "You saved my life." the woman said, grasping Y/n's hands.

"It wasn't just me." Y/n said as she rubbed her thumbs over the back of the woman's hands, turning her head to nod towards the team. "They all helped." Y/n whispered to her. The woman hugged her tightly causing Y/n to gasp in shock. Y/n hugged the woman back and began rubbing her back in a comforting manner.

"Thank you so much." The woman said. Y/n continued to rub the woman's back, not knowing Spencer was watching her comfort the woman.

"L/n." Hotch called out to her, causing Spencer to look away, as Y/n looked back to Hotch. She excused herself from the woman's embrace and came to join the team, standing beside Spencer. "You did a really good job of defusing the situation, " Hotch said earnestly, causing Y/n to let out a small sigh of relief. "Let's head back to Quantico and debrief."

Y/n and the team headed back to Quantico and began to work on writing their reports. Y/n sighed and rubbed her eyes for what she felt was the thousandth time, everyone had finished and went home. Spencer looked over at Y/n who yawned and rolled her head, stretching out her neck.

Spencer stood and began to grab his things. "Y/n go home, it'll be there tomorrow." he said to her as he walked past her desk.

"Oh! Spencer, yes I'll go to the ball with you on Wednesday." Y/n said as she smiled at him. Spence smiled back at her and nodded his head before he turned and continued walking to the elevators, leaving Y/n behind in the empty office.

The sun rose on the Monday before the ball. Y/n groaned as she lifted her head from her desk as she heard her coworkers enter the bullpen, she rubbed her eyes sleepily as she turned her head in their direction.

"Y/n did you sleep here last night?" Penelope asked as she walked in beside Derek.

Y/n stretched and yawned as she looked around. "I uh- must've fallen asleep after I finished my report." Y/n said as she rubbed her eyes again. "I remember putting my report on Hotch's desk and sitting back down to gather my things and I fell asleep."

Spencer walked in behind JJ, carrying two to-go coffee cups, smiling at the sleepy Y/n at her desk. "You slept here." Spencer stated, walking over to her, holding out one of the cups to her.

"No, I just decided to wear yesterday's clothes and not brush my hair." Y/n said sarcastically before she took a sip of coffee.

"Ouch, Y/n's got bite in the morning." Derek said with a chuckled to which Y/n gave him a death glare. "Oof meow." he said, gesturing a clawing motion with his hand.

Hotch walked in with a chuckle overhearing their conversation. "L/n, JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia why don't you girls take the day, go do girl things." he said with a smile. "Just keep your phone on you."

JJ and Emily looked at each other in disbelief as Penelope squealed and did a happy dance. Y/n saluted with a sleepy look as she sipped her coffee again.

"Rossi, Reid, and Morgan, we all have tuxs to get for Wednesday." Hotch said. Spencer watched as Y/n gathered her things into her white messenger bag before she stood, slinging it onto her shoulder.

"Spencie, thank you so much for the lifeline this morning." Y/n said as she raised her cup in his direction.

"Y/n! Let's go, we've got dress shopping to do!" Penelope shouted from the door to the bullpen, causing Y/n to cringe at the loudness of her voice.

Y/n turned around and motioned her hand in a lowering gesture. "Penny sweetie, too loud." Y/n whispered as she walked over to her, and slung her arm around Penelope's shoulders after she switched her coffee cup to the other hand. "Let's go bitches." Y/n said with a laugh as they walked to the elevators, to go shopping.

Y/n sat in the dress shop, watching JJ, Emily and Penelope come in and out of the fitting rooms, trying on different dresses. Y/n turned her head as her eyes glanced go the burgundy she had her eyes on.

"Girl, go get it." JJ said as she watched Y/n, the dress she decided on, hanging over her arm.

Y/n looked back to JJ, biting her lip. "Should I?" she asked as she began playing with her fingers.

"Oh hell yes." Emily said adjusting the dress she was trying on in the mirror.

Y/n nodded her head in determination, before she stood and walked over to the display her dress was hanging on, flagging down an employee for help. Y/n waited by the dressing room as she watch the employee take the dress off the display for her to try on. Y/n walked behind the curtain after the employee handed it to her.

Y/n stood in front of the mirror inside the fitting room, as she ran her hands down the tulle bodice. She took a deep breath and turned to exit the small room.

"Oh my God!" All of the girls said when they saw Y/n in the dress. The burgundy tulle of the skirt flowed around her perfectly.

"Does it look ok?" Y/n asked softly as she adjusted the sleeves, turning around to look in the mirror behind her.

"Yes, you do." JJ said as she came up behind her, rubbing her shoulders affectionately. "Look if you do your hair up..." She said as she demonstrated showing Y/n what she meant.

Y/n bit her lip as she looked at her reflection as JJ held her hair up. Emily came up behind the pair and smiled, leaning over Y/n's opposite shoulder.

"You know I wasn't sure about you at first but I've changed my mind about you now." Emily said as she draped a necklace she saw on a display on Y/n's neck. "I saw this necklace and I thought it was perfect." she said as she looked up from the necklace on Y/n's chest to her reflection.

JJ stepped away from Y/n and Emily, and went to look for a necktie that matched the color of Y/n's dress for Spencer to wear. JJ dragged Penelope into the search after they both paid for their dresses and accessories. Y/n smiled at Emily when she stepped away. Y/n went back into the dressing room to change back into she came into the store in. Emily took the necklace she found for herself and the one she found for Y/n, along with her dress, and went to the register to pay for her items.

Emily waited for the girls by the door of the shop. Y/n stepped out of the dressing room, the dress she was getting, draped over her arm as she gathered her bag from the couch she was previously occupying. She went to the register to pay for her desk, smiling as the woman put her dress in a dress bag before she stood next to Emily by the door, waiting for Penelope and JJ.

Once all the girls were ready they walked out of the shop and out to their cars. "Hey girls, why don't you guys take your things home and then come back to my apartment for some drinks and take out?" Y/n asked when they all reached their cars that were parked near each other.

"You got a deal sister. I'll bring the wine." Penelope said giddily.

Emily chuckled and shook her head as she hung her dress in the back of her car. "I'll bring face masks." she said with a wink to Y/n.

"JJ, what are you bringing?" Y/n asked, watching the woman in question put her dress in her car.

"I'm bringing my love and support." JJ said as she opened her driver's side door, putting her purse inside of the vehicle. She turned to the girls, leaning back against the back door. "I will bring the steamy emotion-filled, romantic movies."

"Bring magic mike, please." Penelope said, giving JJ a pouty face.

Y/n laughed with a shake of her head as she watched the girls get into their cars and begin to leave. Y/n loaded her things into the back of her car, careful not to wrinkle her dress in its bag. As Y/n sat in her car about to leave the parking lot her thoughts turned to the roses she had Penelope take to her home while they were on the case.

She began to drive home, her thoughts now turning to think of what Spencer was doing.

[afoolnottoloveu]

moonlight ♡

Summary: Spencer wants to go to sleep, but Reader doesn’t wanna break tradition (WC: 1.6k) {Masterlist <3}

Pairing: Spencer Reid x (intended she/her but technically gender neutral)!Reader (could be read as platonic or romantic!!)

TW: none!

A/N: i was supposed to post this on the 29th.. we dont talk about it its okay its fine everythings all good, I ALMOST FORGOT thank you to gracie for beta reading this!! she’s the first one on the taglist at the end if you wanna check out her amazing work as well mwah, n e ways enjoy :0

Playlist Pairing: it’s not a singular song this time, listen to the inspo playlist here! 🌘

_

You rushed up the stairs, praying to some deity that you would catch him before he sent himself to bed or was too immersed in some book to answer the door. JJ had called you 7 hours ago, so it wasn’t surprising that you somehow didn’t notice the time passing, plus the fact you had to get gas for your little trip.

Rapping at the door insistently, you were delightfully startled when Spencer opened the door only a few moments later. He was still in his work slacks and button up but tie-less. A quick glance behind him and you could see he had been making himself tea, and the satchel by his feet couldn’t have been dropped more than 10 minutes ago.

“Peanut?”

You were too elated that you had caught him to respond, instead opting to attach yourself to his torso. “You’re back! Oh my gosh, I was so worried you wouldn’t make it back in time, but luckily JJ called me that you were getting back today, but that was over like 7 hours ago, and then I got worried I wouldn’t make it here before you went to bed--” you rambled, but Spencer quickly brought you back down to Earth by removing you from his torso.

“Y/N! What’re you doing here?”

“We’re going on a drive, duh!” you said, before grabbing his wrist and making it halfway out the door before being pulled back.

“Now? I just got home from two back-to-back cases, and it’s almost midnight.”

“Spence, we can’t break tradition now! Unless Mr. Eidetic Memory forgot what tomorrow is--” you interrupt yourself with a very exaggerated gasp, earning an eye roll from Spencer.

“Of course I know what tomorrow is but--” Knowing he would only go on and on to list reasons why he shouldn’t come with you, you used your last resort, the “puppy dog eyes.” All Spencer did was stare at you, both of you knowing fully well that he was capable of resisting, but he didn’t like to. After a whole minute of unnecessary intense staring at each other, Spencer let out a groan and turned around to walk away, which you thought meant that he was going to bed. Instead, you were pleasantly surprised when you heard him half-yell from across his apartment, “I’m just getting my keys!” You squealed excitedly, knowing what was ahead of you both that night.

~

Your car was small, a basic silver Toyota corolla you named Carrie. She smelled of gas and was decked out with teddy bear head pillows and keychains that you asked Spencer to buy, hanging from the rearview mirror, (but only from the cool states). You even kept a tan knitted blanket in Carrie, which Spencer was now wrapped in.

You couldn’t help but notice Spencer’s infatuation with the moon tonight, as he took a long sip from one of his two cups of hot cocoa you guys had picked up on the way.

“Is it a full moon?”

“No,” he said--not in a rude way, just quietly and quickly, like he didn’t want to take his focus away from the moon or it might disappear.

So, you let him be. He was most likely tired, and despite tomorrow, which most people would be restless for, he probably just wanted rest. You almost felt guilty, but your tradition was important to you, and you could only hope that it was important to him as well. 

“Did you know the full moon is one of the most powerful symbols in astrology? It can represent one’s emotional instincts, habits and private aspects of one’s personality. It’s said that while the sun sign of someone represents their head, their moon sign represents their heart. Though, most astrologists say the moon is heavily compulsion-based. Similarly, someone’s sun sign depicts their actions, but their moon sign depicts their reactions,” he told you, still gazing, almost longingly at the moon.

“I didn’t take you for an astrology type of guy, Doctor.”

“I have knowledge in many areas, Y/N, I thought you knew this by now.” You snickered at the understatement. “If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression of something beautiful, but annihilating,” he quoted.

“Plath--are you flirting with me, Doc?”

“Never, peanut.”

You rolled both your eyes and the windows of your car. Hopefully the blanket and cocoa was enough to warm him. All you wanted was to not blow out his eardrums as you turned up the music. Night Changes by One Direction was playing, and you reminisced on the fact that he originally had never heard of the band, causing your binge session, which consisted of watching their documentary and listening to all 5 of their albums straight. He told you he thought they were okay and he saw the appeal. What he didn’t tell you was that his favorite album was Midnight Memories, but if the way he was humming along to the song now was any evidence, you could’ve been a profiler.

You two listened to your playlist, made specially for the tradition, (Spencer insisted you always pick the music on these trips, since you weren’t very interested in classical piano) and besides the melodies, a comfortable silence encompassed the car for the most of the ride. As the road started to incline and your destination started getting near, you broke it.

“Can you believe-” you started, earning Spencer’s gaze from the sudden conversation, “Can you believe the audacity the calendar has, to change dates in the middle of the night, just like that, while we’re sleeping?” Spencer couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out from him. “Like tomorrow… You’re gonna wake up and, and you’re gonna be one year older.” When you said this, you couldn’t help but steal a look at him. He wasn’t making eye contact, just fidgeting with his fingers, but the small smile was there.

“Just like that,” you finished, as you pulled onto the edge of a hill. 

When you showed up at his apartment the night you got your driver’s license, you found this spot. This was your guys’ cliff. The one you guys found on accident, when your car ran out of gas on your first night of the tradition. The same one you guys have had a handful of picnics at and late night rambles about both of your favorite things. Covered in the blanket of light that the moon so graciously provided, it was perfect, and it was both of yours.

Parked atop the hill, you turned off the car and turned to Spencer, who went back to admiring the stars. You were just about to tell him that you would be right back, but you decided he was a little busy, and so you quickly shuffled to grab the box he wasn’t aware was hiding in the trunk.

He finally noticed your disappearance when you came back with a lavender gift box in your lap and an excited smile on your face. “Oh Y/N, you know you didn’t--”

“Save it, Spence. Just open your gift,” you demanded, shoving it into his arms and the smile on your face only lingering. He rarely received real gifts, only for Christmas. You were essentially his only non work friend, and he told everyone at work that he never wanted nor needed anything.

He repeatedly blinked, yet carefully removed the lid. He first saw the small brown envelope which contained a gift card for the local coffee shop near his apartment. Underneath that and the matching lavender tissue paper, he found a tie of no other color than purple and two pairs of socks, one of colorful stripes and the other of baby tardises. (You knew nothing about Doctor Who, but he appreciated the references.) The whole time smiles adorned both your faces. The last item was a copy of The Alchemist. It was one of the main books you two had bonded over, and only a few weeks ago, someone had spilled coffee on their copy. Spencer was against buying another one, saying he could literally recite it in his head word for word if he ever wanted to again, but you stubbornly insisted that it didn’t have the same sentiment, (and of course you were right).

He took the book out the box and held it by the spine as he flitted through the pages, taking note of the annotations, your annotations. When done, he closed it and only opened the cover, finding your heartfelt message. 

Dear old dear old Spence,

I know you’re probably gonna read this in .02 seconds, and probably right in front of me at that. Unless we broke tradition. But I trust that I convinced you. (It was the eyes, wasn’t it?) Regardless, I wanted to wish my very, very best friend a happy birthday. You alone are so strong for going through all that you’ve gone through, stuff that no one should have to even imagine. You are one of the strongest people I know. You need to know that I’m proud of you, Spencer. I’m beyond grateful for you, for having such a caring, resilient, and just incredible friend as you. I hope I don’t need to remind you that I will be here for you, through anything and everything. See you in 500 years :)

Love, with all my heart, Peanut

In only a handful of seconds, he shut the cover once again, and the happiness (and slight gleam) in his eyes became painstakingly evident. “This is your copy?” He asked, mostly rhetorically, because he knew it was. At this point, he was lightly sniffling between words. “Thank- thank you, peanut,” 

“It’s no problem Doc,” you smiled and lightly punched him on the shoulder, “happy birthday, Spencer. I’m glad we didn’t break tradition.” And by the look on his face, well- you were no profiler, but you could safely assume that he was just as glad.

-

Taglist: @bxbyspxncer @goldenxreid @prettyboy-reid @rottenearly @rainsong01

[grasslandgirl]

for the writing ask tag — 2, 19, 20, & 23?

thank you for sending this in!! i meant to answer it AGES ago but im terrible at answering asks lmao <3 but anyway here we (finally) are

2. Anything that you’d like to write but feel like you’re unable to?

ohhhh goodness. there isnt anything off the top of my head that's like. an idea that feels like a pipe dream, if that makes sense? i have a lot of story ideas in my head almost constantly, and if i end up not writing them its more often because theres not enough meat on the metaphorical bones to go anywhere, or that ive started writing it and gotten blocked or bored- not that im unable to write them

obviously there are stories that, as a cis white woman, aren't mine to write, and stories that i feel uncomfortable digging into alone because of my lack of personal experience with the subject matter, but i don't know if that's necessarily what the question is asking- because it's less of a story that i'd like to write but am unable to, and more of a story i'd like to read, and am unable to write- if that distinction makes sense?

in a larger sense, there are genres and styles of storytelling i kind of want to write but don't know how- large scale sci fi, anything with a depth of world building, vivid historicals, etc- but more often than not, im drawn creatively to the things i can create, because they're more fufilling for me to explore

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

Fig glanced down at the doodle of Ayda’s eyes, peering up at her curiously from between two scrawled lyrics. She snapped her notebook shut.

I’m just tired, she told herself.

She shoved her notebook back in her pocket and grabbed her guitar by its neck, climbing down the ladder one-handed with practiced ease. She shuffled back to her bunk and collapsed into bed. Jamina was already asleep, her loud buzzing snores filling the whole room. 

Fig told herself that was why she couldn’t fall asleep. Why she spent the whole night staring up at the hammock above her, tapping a familiar beat against her thigh. 

But even Fig, the consummate deceiver, couldn’t believe her own lie.

:)))) iykyk

20. Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you?

oh i have SO many wips simultaneously. so many.

i like to jump around a lot, i've found it helps keep me from getting blocked for too long, if i have other projects i can jump to when im feeling uncertain about one, or not in the mood for the story/genre/scene- i tend to stick really strictly to writing chronologically, bc otherwise i never finish things, and so i can keep multiple metaphorical writing plates spinning at one time bc i know where all of them are going- to a lesser or greater extent- cause they're all on a clean timeline in my head !!

according to my annual word count google sheet, ive got abt 7 wips in various stages of completion- but i've also got a bunch of idea docs and notes and unused concepts swirling in my head pretty much all the time that i just havent actually sat down and written yet (i've also got like 6 wips for a non-fic oc type thing that i dont post i just like to write about when im in the mood, that i bounce around between !!)

a lot of the time ill get Really Into one project and work on it for days or even weeks in a stretch, but sometimes i get blocked or bored!! and its really nice to just have a bunch of different things on the backburner that i can go and read through and add a little onto while im looking for inspo <3

23. Dialogue or description? Why is the other one so hard?

god. truly i think it depends on the fic. i feel like every scene i write either starts with a really vivid mental image, or a really clear idea for a conversation/ inner monologue, and what i find easy to write depends on that dichotomy of inspiration- description for the former, and dialogue for the latter. if i don't know exactly what the setting looks like or what the energy of the space is, i tend to write the dialogue first and let the setting fill itself in organically, and if i dont have a strong grasp of characters voices as im writing, ill usually dig into the space and the circumstances and the narrator's thoughts until i find a hook!

that, or rewatching/rereading scenes and moments where character voices are really vivid so i can get them In My Head

oops! i got rambly on this one, but it was really fun to answer!!! tysm for sending in this ask i really enjoyed it <3

send me a writer's ask from this list!!

[jmnjmnjmn]

Eternal beings | Chapter 9

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Human!Reader

Key words: supernatural, vampire, soulmates.

Word count: less than 4,000

Warnings: swearing,  sadness, jealousy, mentions of murder

Inspo board

Masterlist

This chapter is the last one I had somewhat planned out before I started posting this story. 😬 So please bare with me as I try to come up with the next ones... And comment if you have any predictions or ideas of your own!

“Here.” You heard a beeping sound and you averted your eyes to where it came from. Jungkook walked towards a black car parked on the sidewalk leaving you a couple of steps behind as you stood in place unsure of what to do. He reached for the door handle on the passenger's side and opened it for you. As he noticed you weren’t there to get in he looked up at you with slight surprise in his eyes which quickly turned into care. “I won’t drive you to your death.” He assured you with a chuckle, but you only looked away towards the train station. “You can take the train if you want.” He said straightening up. “I’ll go with you either way.” After giving yourself one more second to look longingly down the street you decided upon getting into his car. Why? You didn’t know yourself, but for some reason it felt like the right choice to pool home with a stalker-murderer. You just let your feet carry you forward. Jungkook held the door open for you and closed it when you were inside.

“Can we stop by Panda Express though?” You asked, adjusting your seatbelt as Jungkook closed the door behind himself on the drivers side.

“‘Course.” He said simply and smiled at you, as if it was a given he’d drive anywhere if you asked him to. 

-

As you were close to finishing placing your order to the cashier at Panda Express you automatically turned to Jungkook to ask whether he wanted something as well, but he declined. It made you feel a little suspicious. Did he not want to eat with you and Taehyung again? If so, why? Was it because of yesterday? “Probably” You answered your own question. 

After a couple minutes of waiting the two of you left the place with two bags full of food bought for Taehyung and you to have for dinner as an apology for yesterday’s awkwardness. Jungkook once again held the door open for you as you both left the restaurant and got into his car which made you feel a little timid. You spent the rest of the ride silent up until the moment he stopped the car in front of Taehyung’s house.

“Thanks for the lift.” You said reaching for the door handle. You wanted to get out of this car as fast as possible and get away from Jungkook even faster.

“(Y/N)?” The softness of his voice made you stop and instantly turn your head to face him. You felt a wave of concern come over you as you noticed how tense he was. You wanted to reach your arms out and hug him, comfort him somehow. Your eyes traveled from his which were focused on the street before him, to his lip that he was biting on and onto his hands that still held onto the steering wheel tightly.

“Hm?” You hummed in response, letting him know he can go on with whatever he has to say. He sighed slightly and relaxed his arms, letting them fall down onto his thighs along with his gaze.

“I’m sorry I startled you last night. It wasn’t my intention.” He said. “I’d like to… Tell you everything again if you give me a chance.” He glanced at you, but quickly took his eyes elsewhere making it seem that it’s hard for him to look at you right now. That piqued your curiosity so you decided to dig a little deeper.

“Tell me what again?” You asked cluelessly.

“Everything.” He said, looking down onto his hands again. “About me, and others like me, and about why I won’t leave you alone.” He smiled lightly to himself and scratched the back of his head. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Yoongi yet.” He glanced at you again, but lowered his gaze quickly onto your hands that clutched on your bag. “ God, I’m sure he would be better at explaining this than I will be.” He chuckled nervously and you felt yourself become embarrassed for staying and trying to hear him out.

“I don’t want to hear it.” You spat out looking at Jungkook with a changed expression. His head shot up as he finally dared to lock his eyes with yours.

“What?” He asked with slight disbelief.

“I’ve heard enough.” You said shaking your head at him and reaching for the door handle once again.

“(Y/N), there’s more to vampires than draining people of blood and ancient invitation rules. You need to hear i-” He spoke quickly as you opened the door.

“No.” You shot him down quickly, putting one of your legs out of the car.

“No what?” He asked now fully turned towards you, his eyebrows furrowed on his forehead.

“I don’t want to hear it anymore. It’s absurd.” You explained, stepping out of the car with your bag in hand. You slammed the door behind yourself and opened the backseat door to get your food. Jungkook quickly undid his seatbelt and got out of the car. Standing on the opposite side to you, resting one of his hands on the open drivers door and the other on the roof of the car he opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t let him get a word out. “Yoongi painted enough of a picture for me.” You said and reached onto the backseat collecting the paper bags full of Panda Express. With those in one hand and your own handbag in the other you straightened up. Jungkook stood on the other side of the car with a puzzled look on his face. “Really. Don’t bother expanding on-” 

“Wait.” He shook his head slightly as he interrupted you. “So Yoongi told you? And you just… Didn’t believe him?” He asked as if it was hard for him to understand what you just told him.

“Yeah.” You sighed, annoyed at the memory of hearing Yoongi tell you that unbelievable story. “ He told me about your vampire theory-”

“Theory!?” Jungkook called out and looked up to the sky with his mouth open in shock. He looked back at you confused. “(Y/N), I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situation. I-” 

“Oh, I understand. Believe me.” You cut him off with a patronising tone. “You’re all crazy.” You said as anger started to overshadow the annoyance you had in you at the moment.

“Wha- I-” Jungkook stuttered, unable to form a sentence.

“I don’t know what you did to (Victim’s name) and frankly I won’t care as long as you just stay away and keep me out of it.” You finished your statement and slammed the back door closed. “You can pass that onto Yoongi and his creepy friends as well.” You added, turning around and walking towards Taehyung’s front gate.

“(Y/N)-” Jungkook whined from behind your back sounding as annoyed and tired as you were.

“Honestly-” You said under your breath, still walking.

“(Y/N)!” He raised his voice.

“I don’t want to hear it!” You yelled matching his pitch.

“I can't believe this!” He scoffed.

“What?!” You turned back around. He stood behind his car in the same position you left him in. He looked at you with disbelief and anger in his eyes.

“You’re supposed to be my soulmate and you don’t even believe in me!” He yelled out, slamming the driver’s door shut.

“Soulmate?!” You asked with a laugh.

“Yes!” He whined. You saw the frustration in him growing with every second of looking at you.

“What else?! You can’t eat garlic?!” You yelled out.

“For god's sake, (Y/N)! This isn’t a joke!” He spat back your way.

“You sure?” You asked him, leaning your head to one side. ‘Cause it sounds like one. A bad one too.” You added with spite.

“You can deny it all you want, but can’t say you haven’t felt anywhere close to what I feel when we’re together.” Jungkook hissed through gritted teeth.

“And that would be?” You asked, feeling as if you were a part of a hidden camera or something.

“Ecstatic. Dazed. In love.” He listed and you chuckled.

“I-“ You started, but he interrupted you.

“Don’t lie.” He said in a warning tone. You exhaled sharply, looking the other way, trying to conceal a laugh. You looked back at him. He had a hopeful yet angry expression on his face.

“All I've felt since I saw you for the first time is confused and scared. You murdered a man.” You spoke slowly in a calm tone again.

“He had it coming, (Y/N).” He said matching your more placid sounding voice.

“I don’t care.” You answered him, giving yourself a second before you spoke.

“He did.” Jungkook spat back quickly.

“I don’t. Care.” You repeat yourself, putting more pressure on the words.

“This isn’t over.” He said, opening the car door once again.

“God…” You breathed out and turned back towards Taehyung’s house.

“Call your boss.” You heard Jungkook say in a serious tone. “Tell her you won’t be coming to work tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?” You asked, looking back at him with lack of conviction.

“I’ll be here at seven to pick you up.” He said looking you dead in the eye.

“Good luck.” You sneered as you pulled on the handle of Taehyung’s front door.

“I’m seri-” 

“Bye.” You called prolonging the ending of the word as you shut the door behind yourself leaving Jungkook on the curb.

You kicked your sneakers off and stomped into the kitchen. You set the bags of food on the counter with a loud thud and turned around to walk up to your room, but were stopped dead in your tracks with the sight of Taehyung standing in the doorway.

“Hi.” He said shyly, holding a cup of hot coffee in his right hand.

“He.” You exhaled, relaxing your shoulders. “I bought us dinner.” You said pointing your hand to the bags behind you. “Panda Express.” You explained and Taehyung’s expression instantly brightened.

“Oh, how great.” He said walking to the counter and started looking through the bags curiously. “Mm, my favourites.” He said with a smile growing across his face.

“Yeah, I hope it will make up for the awkwardness I put you through with Jungkook last night.” You said scratching the back of your neck. Taehyung glanced at you from the bags, but quickly averted his eyes to it’s contents once again.

“Of course.” He said glancing at you once again. “While we’re on that topic. What was that about?” He asked, turning to face you and leaning on the kitchen counter. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to tell him the truth. He raised the mug he had in his hand to his lips and took a loud sip waiting for you to answer his question.

“Do I really have to tell you?” You asked him with honesty and tiredness in your voice.

“If you want to keep staying here.” He said jokingly.

“Well.” You started, wondering if Jungkook was still parked outside. “It’s complicated.” You said fiddling with your fingers. “Jungkook just… He insists on spending time with me and won’t take no for an answer.” You blurted out quickly.

“Hm.” Taehyung scoffed. “I thought you were into each other.” He said, sounding unsure.

“No.” You assured him with sternness in your tone. “I was never into him. He’s the one that keeps appearing everywhere I go. I can’t get rid of him. I even tried to ask Yoongi, but he said there’s no way he could help. I honestly don’t know how to get him off my case.” You spoke fast, almost running out of breath at the end there.

“Okay. If you say so.” Taehyung said, nodding, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

-

As you got ready for work the following morning you regretted buying as much takeout as you did the night before. Your stomach still felt heavy from yesterday's dinner composed of Taehyung’s Panda Express favourites and beers.

“Never again.“ You whispered to yourself as you grabbed an apple from the kitchen to serve as a light breakfast you would eat on your way to work. You slipped on your shoes and headed out the door. As you closed it gently behind yourself not to wake up your host bestfriend you noticed Jungkook standing on the street, leaning against his car.

“You’re early.” You said remembering he said he’ll pick you up at seven. “It’s barely six.” You added walking down the two steps leading to Taehyung’s front door.

“I take it you didn’t call your boss.” He said with a frown, the morning sun making his hair shine in different shades of brown.

“Did your vampire powers tell you that?” You sneered walking through the front gate.

“Get in the car, (Y/N).” He said in a serious tone.

“No way.” You snapped back.

“Get in the car.” He repeated. You decided to just shoot him a sassy glance and turned right to walk to the train station. You didn't take more than three steps though before he grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you back towards his car setting off a scuffle between him and you.

“Let’s go.” “No.” “Come on.” “No way, Jungkook.” “You’re going.” “No.”

“You either get in the car or I’ll stuff you in it against your will.” By that time you were practically pressed against the passenger's door with Jungkook blocking your way out of the situation.

“You’re already doing it.” You said with distaste trying to enlarge the distance between your faces that were awfully close.

“God damn it, (Y/N).” Jungkook shook his head and before you could comprehend what was happening he swiftly opened the car door and pushed you inside. You yelped in surprise as he pushed your legs in as well and shut the door simultaneously locking it with the car keys he held in his other hand. Without wasting a second he got in on the drivers side and started the car.

“This is kidnapping, you know?” You asked him, knowing well there was no way in hell you could get out of the car now unless he let you.

“I know.” He answered bluntly, pulling out of Taehyung’s street. “Cheer up.” He said as he glanced at you and noticed your highly irritated expression. “You’ll forget all about it once you’ll understand everything.” You scoffed sarcastically knowing exactly what he had in mind when he said “everything”.

“Are you taking me to a Twilight screening to help me understand your way of life?” You asked, knotting your arms across your chest and Jungkook exhaled a small laugh.

“You should call your boss now, (Y/N). Tell her you can’t make it this morning.” He said and you sighed. Knowing he was right you pulled your phone out to text your boss and Jimin about your sudden inability to come to work this morning.

The text you sent your boss was professional and apologetic, but the one you sent to Jimin was nothing close.

“Jimin, I won’t come to work today. Jungkook literally kidnapped me. If I turn up dead tomorrow you know who did this.” You typed up the text quickly and pressed sent. You knew Jimin wouldn’t take your text seriously and would assume Jungkook just took you  out or something, but you had no idea what else to tell him. As you locked your phone and reached to put it back in your pocket Jungkook leaned in your direction and snapped it out of your hand.

“Hey!” You called out.

“You won’t be needing it anymore.” He said, stuffing the phone into his jacket. 

“Wha- I-” You were speechless, kidnapped and now also phoneless. It’s not like you were going to call the police or something, that didn’t even cross your mind this time - for which you scolded yourself later - you just like the sense of having a possibility to call or text someone, check your location and so on. You sighed letting your shoulders fall down in defeat. “Can you at least tell me where you are taking me?” You asked, closing your eyes and letting the feeling of powerlessness engulf you.

“To a fortune-teller.” He answered and you widened your eyes at him, feeling more alert than ever.

“What?” You hissed and he just chuckled, taking notice of your shocked expression. On the list of things you don’t believe in fortune telling was definitely close to vampires and magical rules. “You’re being serious?” You asked again.

“Yeah.” He said, trying to conceal a laugh. Yesterday your lack of desire to believe him made him feel aggravated, but today it just seemed silly and somewhat cute.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You asked more yourself than him and rubbed your forehead.

“I know, right? It’s going to be great don’t worry.” He said jokingly, but the cheerfulness in his voice seemed sincere.

“Oh, my head hurts.” You mumbled and hid your face in your hands. “Why me?” You whined.

“Relax.” Jungkook spoke sweetly. “It’s going to be alright.” He said reaching his arm over the gear box and rubbing your leg above your knee to comfort you.

“Get off me.” You sneered and pushed his hand away with disgust. He just sighed loudly and turned on the radio wondering why you were so stubborn.

He wasn’t blind or deaf. He saw the way your pupils widened whenever you looked him in the eye and heard the change in the speed of your heartbeat whenever he came close to you. He knew you must have felt something, but why were you so opposed to letting yourself feel it? Was it because he was too forward? Too blunt with telling you he killed a man the first night you two met? He glanced at you buried deep in thoughts. You had your arms crossed on your chest, your head resting on the window, eyes peeled to the birds flying outside in the wind. He knew you were mad, but hoped you would forgive him once you understood him and the fact that the two of you were just meant to be.

[ynscrazylife]

Spoilers

Not sure if you write for Melina from Black Widow but if you do could you please write a Melina x Reader where they are both locked in the cells in the red room and confess to each other and kiss

Destined to Lose | m.v fic

Summary: Melina recalls the love that she once shared with a Red Room agent years ago.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, as the Red Room focuses on girls, the reader will be female.

Warning: Implications of some malnourishment. 

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 |  Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

Ever since the Red Room had been stopped once and for all, there seemed to be the fragrance of calm in the air, washing over Mother Russia . . . or maybe it had just washed over Melina, Alexei, and Yelena, as everything had been shifted now. They were all free and had the opportunity to work on their shattered relationships - and to work on their shattered selves. Each one had coped in their own way, discovering and rediscovering their interests and who they were outside the Red Room, outside KGB.

One of the ways that Melina chose to heal was to take time for herself, and that included reading. More often than not, she’d be curled up in an armchair in the living room, entranced as her eyes swept over the ink printed on every page. The stories, whether they be fiction or non, always captivated her, and she soaked in every word.

That is the precise reason that despite being a highly trained and experienced spy, she didn’t notice that her youngest daughter was in the room until she piped up and spoke.

“Melina?”

Instantly the brunette was tugged from the faraway world she was in and her head snapped up, eyes holding a gaze of alarm for just a moment before they stilled. Melina took in Yelena’s state. The younger woman was standing confidently but her face told a different story. She was concentrating on something, Melina could tell from the way that her muscles were pulled, and there was an inner dialogue going on, troubling her.

“Yes, dear?” Melina said, carefully turning over the corner of the page and closing the book on her lap, as she could tell that this conversation wouldn’t be over in a minute.

“I had a question,” Yelena began, pausing for a moment and then sitting in the armchair across from her mother. She continued when she was comfortable. “-which you don’t have to answer.” She reeled in her worried gaze and made it more neutral.

Melina allowed her shoulders to slump into a relaxed posture and drew her bushy eyebrows together, her chin jutting down ever so slightly. “What is it?” She asked, the curiosity gnawing at her, since this wasn’t Yelena’s typical behavior.

Yelena seemed to be collecting her thoughts and, when she was finished, spoke in a delicate manner. “When I was looking at the Red Room’s files that Natasha got, I . . . I came across yours. It had said that you had been through the Red Room five times and . . . It mentioned someone named Y/N Y/L/N? I was wondering-” she cut herself off abruptly when she saw the solemn and serious look on her mother’s face.

The moment she heard that name, it struck something inside Melina. The memory, the feelings, it all came hurtling back with a force that had been absent for years. Y/N.

Y/N was the name that caused her stomach to twist and turn as the wound was ripped open. Y/N was the name that put a smile on her lips through the tears and reminded her how far she came when she was sad. Y/N was the name she thought of as a battle cry when she jumped into a fight against those Red Room agents. Y/N was the name she focussed on, like one would stare at a point on the wall to keep focus, as she got through the hardest times in her life, motivated her to push through with all her might.

With all those thoughts running through Melina’s head, she finally looked up, met Yelena’s gaze with her own, and parted her lips to tell her a story.

Melina had long since given up keeping track of the days at this point. There was no use, for by this time the days had all blurred into one. She could only differentiate the day and the night because every night is when someone with a deep frown on their face would walk in and give her a tray of food, and every morning was when someone else would arrive and take said tray away. She had barely moved from the position she sat in: back against the chain wall that seperated her cell and the one right next to hers and her knees drawn to her chest. She’d tune in to any sound she could hear and fixate.

She had been thrown into this cell because of her attempt to escape the Red Room. It wouldn’t be the first time she tried to escape, nor would it be the first time she sat in this cell, but it was the first time that she had gotten as far as she did, since she had help.

Melina could only wonder why she was here and Y/N wasn’t, and those wonderings always ended up with her conjuring thoughts and ideas that frightened her.

She ended up having the endless questions crawling at the back of her mind come to a halt when she heard pounding footsteps one day. Despite being in a tired haze, Melina snapped right out of it and became alert, watching and waiting with anticipation as their footsteps got closer, and closer, and closer.

The person - or people - belonging to those footsteps came into sight and Melina couldn’t stop the gasp before it escaped her lips when she saw what was happening.

A man, a Red Room agent, was practically dragging Y/N who was thrashing about, doing her best to put up a fight, but ultimately losing it when he carelessly tossed her into the cell next to Melina’s, locked the door, and walked away.

Only after his receding footsteps could be heard no more did Y/N look up from her tears, only for her eyes to widen and for her to lurch towards the chain wall, fingers grasping around it, when she laid eyes on Melina. Melina did the same and, after a little struggle, they managed to hold hands in a steel grip through the chain.

“Mel,” Y/N breathed, but her hoarse voice caused her to cough.

“Y/N,” Melina whispered, tightening her grip and scooting as close to the chain wall - as close to Y/N - as she could. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Y/N let out a shaky sigh, alarming Melina, and rested her forehead against the chain. “I wasn’t thrown into the cell immediately because you’ve been through the Red Room five times now, but I haven’t. They wanted to train me more and they did their best, but when I kept on fighting them they decided to put me in here.” she answered tiredly.

Melina thought this over and let out a sigh of her own, but this was a sigh of relief. She was glad that she no longer had to worry about Y/N and thankful that Y/N was with her so she could make sure that nothing bad would happen to her.

After a couple moments of the silence beginning to creep in again, Melina decided that she needed to tell Y/N something. “I have to tell you something, love.”

Y/N looked up, a beautiful glint in her eyes telling that she was intrigued. God, Melina had missed seeing that look on her face.

“Don’t feel pressured to respond, just, after I’ve been away from you, I really, really have to say this: I . . . I love you,” Melina confessed, bravely meeting Y/N’s gaze.

Y/N blinked, but that glint did not go away. In fact, it seemed to get bigger, making the smile on her lips reach her eyes, and she squeezed Melina’s hands as best she could.

“I love you, too.”

Those four words were probably the softest words she had ever spoken, but they were beyond true.

Melina leaned forward and Y/N after a moment did too. They did their best and managed to meet each other with a kiss. The two cherished it - the kiss was sweet and simple and not over-the-top. Perfect. They each leaned back.

Then, the silence came again, but this time, to Melina, it was more comfortable.

“I have something to tell you, also”

Melina looked up, expecting the smile to still be on Y/N’s face, but it was faltering. She tilted her head to the side.

“I insisted to them that you not be put through the Red Room a sixth time. I’m not sure if they’re going to do anything, but I wanted to stop what they were doing to you and-”

“That you did. They’ve listened.”

Both looked up to see a Red Room agent standing outside Melina’s cell. He unlocked it and she instantly scurried back, but couldn’t do anything to prevent him from grabbing her and yanking her up. “Y/N!” She yelled as she was half-dragged, half-carried away.

Y/N sat up, banging on the chain. Tears started streaming down her face. It was happening far too fast. “MELINA!” She yelled. “I’M SORRY!”

There was fear in her voice. Oh, god, what had she done?

Melina paused for a moment, eyes focussed on Y/N as they went down the hall. She then said calmly, but with a firmness, “Don’t be!”

“And that was the last time I saw her,” Melina concluded her story, not meeting Yelena’s eyes, but with tears threatening to spill.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes @kathryndimitrescu @snipyloulou @big-galaxy-chaos @cc13723things @ycfwmalise14 @unexpected-character  (could not tag)  @passionswift

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[jtrbluv]

shutterbug | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, unbearable but relatable tiger parents

request: Jungkook,, one shot,, 38 + 40 please 😊😊 @asiivnc 

“you leave whenever you feel like it.” & “don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

A/N: sheesh, i have not posted in a hot minute! i’ve been trying to work on this single request throughout quarantine and it really only came down to these last few days where i literally had a spike of inspo and drive and well,, ideas LOL. i considered an alternate angstier ending but i am a self-indulgent mofo who doesn’t like to make myself cry even though i’m sure i cried while writing this at least once (maybe twice). there is so much jk content on my blog i wanna set aside more time to write for other members from now on until i’m satisfied! regardless, thank you @asiivnc for requesting this and sorry for the wait luv, hopefully this can make up for it !!

Jungkook was known to be heavily passionate and fully invested in whatever his life had revolved around at that moment. As a film/photography major, as well as a man that just had a strange knack for being naturally adept at whatever was thrown at him, he incessantly poured his utmost efforts into his works. You weren’t any different, as you held just as much significance in his life as the way his serotonin levels would skyrocket as soon as his fingertips touched his precious camera.

Not to be self-absorbed, but you always thought of yourself as his muse. Or befittingly for his sake, the subject of the photo that you would give the title ‘his lover’.

You were so indisputably sure that you loved the boy and even moreso that he felt the same. While being so accustomed to his own nurturing ways and devotion to you and the reciprocated energy on your part, the bone-crushing weight of college hindered all and didn’t give a single fuck about anyone or anything.

Carrying the begrudging burden of having to succeed because he didn’t take the traditional lawyer/doctor career route, was always at the forefront of his mind. Likewise, for fuck’s sake, he nearly got disowned by his own parents and it took him what seemed to be a lifetime’s worth of energy to convince him to just give him a chance. Jungkook was not planning on taking that chance for granted.

Jungkook, being the person he is, was excelling, and his name was beginning to become known in the community of photographers and videographers, and he was finally starting to feel at ease. His parents were even acknowledging his successes to the extent that they were helping him financially with school, which was a huge burden off of his shoulders. And then you suddenly crash-landed into his life and just made his life even more fulfilling and by all means, worth living in.  

He knew it was a bad idea. Distancing himself from you was the last thing he wanted to do. All his parents were concerned about was the fact that you were the only thing hindering him from making it “big”, when turns out, you became the sole inspiration and muse for most of his recent works. So they gave him an ultimatum to either be cut off financially or break up with you. He didn’t understand, because his parents liked you so much and they loved the influence you had on his work. He didn’t understand. He hated it—the fact that he was basically hanging by puppet strings and didn’t have a say in what he did considering the age he was in now.

He also hated the fact that he knew they had good intentions, and were only doing this because they wanted him to be successful. Their idea of true success for his career could only be seen as the financial benefits of being a director or producer rather than being able to just pursue and learn more about the art form that he loves. There was no use of trying to persuade them, so likewise, he did not. But why get her involved into this mess too?

Jungkook tended to stray away from confrontation and hated immediate and unexpected change as much as he acted like it didn’t phase him. He figured the sooner he can gain benefit from his passion, the less dreadful this dilemma would be. Less mess. Less stress. More time to be with you. That was the intended plan.

His next course of action was to score a film internship and potential job at the rather famous, Fox Studios. By doing so, would have to win the statewide film contest— a much larger scale than he had ever involved himself in. The mere thought of him having to showcase his own self-produced work to critically acclaimed film critics made the bile in his system threaten to upchuck onto the lemon-pledge scented floors of his dorm room. Then he remembered and was reminded— by the help of you of course, that he was Jeon Jungkook, and everyone knows that Jeon Jungkook does not like to lose.

-

He presumed that keeping up his grades would give him more credibility to getting the internship as well, so he put more focus onto his schoolwork. The remainder of his time was dedicated to exploring his potential ideas and storyboarding out his options and what would be most effective and most consequently— worthy of winning first place.

During this very strenuous time for the poor man, you would most likely see him trudging down the halls, hair in a complete disarray or simply hidden by the fabric of his hood, his eyelids threatening to close shut almost as if it’s taking all his willpower to keep them open, chugging down another red bull with one hand while he grips the strap of his backpack with practically no energy.

I mean you thought it was kinda cute at first, but his apparent deteriorating state mostly caused you to be more concerned than anything else.

In hopes to not hinder his creative flow but still keep his health at par, you would stop by every so often to give him food and give him reassurance—he never needed it so much until now.

Jungkook never told you about the irrational ultimatum his parents had given him. He came to the conclusion that it’d be unnecessary as long as he was able to carry out his plans. Nonetheless, the pressure of the whole situation was getting to him. The love of his life, passion for working with a camera, his parents’ disapproval, and just the own personal dream to be able to tell everyone that “Fuck you, I told you I could do it, and I did,” enveloped his whole mind these days.

Time had proved to not work in Jungkook’s favor. Two weeks passed in a mere blink of an eye leaving him with only two more weeks to finish his film in time for the film contest. This time around, he decided to choose a topic that resonated more with his own personal life. The film revolves around the struggle to be able to conform to the standards and expectations that society implements onto young people, whether it’d be from mainstream media or direct connections, like family. Typically, he stuck a title onto his projects after fully completing it, but for some reason, this time, it had worked in reverse. The title itself suddenly popped into his mind one day and from there he was able to garner ideas from it. And so the title was ‘Moulded’.

A very risky step on Jungkook’s part was what you initially thought when he first told you the idea. He knew that too, which is why he did it. You knew him long enough to be aware of the influence his parents had on his life and their outdated beliefs. You also knew the potential the boy’s zeal could take him, and because of that, all traces of worry left you shortly afterward.

-

Two days. The film contest was in two days. Jungkook was just about finished at this point, constantly playing back frames and adding final touches, rewatching the same parts over and over again until he became satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh, eyes finally averting from the screen of his desktop to the clock on his bedside table.

“Only 9:15?” he muses, realizing these past four weeks had completely fucked over his sense of time, “At least I’m down, color correcting can be such a bit—”

A small jolt reverberates through his desk, interrupting his verbally spoken train of thought. His eyes beeline back to his phone, the contact picture of his mom flashing on his screen. Why would she be calling me at this time?

His brows knit together as he picks up his phone and swipes his thumb across the screen in uncertainty.

“Um, hi mom?” he greets, with the obvious tone of confusion in his voice.

He can practically hear her scoff over the line, “Jungkook-ah, how’s the film coming along?”

“It’s almost done-”

“Are you still with that girl?” she forcibly asks out of nowhere, leaving him dumbfounded to the point his mouth was hanging open in return.

A few seconds pass by as he processes what’s going on. He tightens his grip on the phone at the mention of you as he confesses through gritted teeth, “Yes mom.”

“We had a deal didn’t we?”

He retorted without waver in his voice, “Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Then give it back. The tuition money,” she affirms without hesitation, “Jungkook, me and your father have done our part. It’s about time you do yours.”

“I’ve done practically everything you’ve asked. I’m doing just fine,” he monotonously states, trying so hard not to implode on his own mother at this point, “Y/N has nothing to do with this.”

There was a short pause, leaving Jungkook in the same state of dejection per usual when he had to talk to his parents, “We just want you to be successful,” her voice softens, using the same line that somehow magically guilt-trips Jungkook every time the words travel to his ears.

He shakes his head in disbelief over hearing the stupid line that seemed to control every aspect of his life, “You say that every time.”

“And we mean it every time,” she interjects, a sigh audibly present over the line, “this discussion is over.”

She ends the call as Jungkook lets out a raspy and guttural groan, slamming his phone onto his desk in frustration with such strength it’d be surprising if the cheap glass screen protector he’s had on it didn’t suffer any damage.

“Kook,” a voice utters softly from the other side of his door, “is everything okay?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, considering you were just the subject of the conversation he just had with his mom that left him fuming with rage more than anything.

“Can you please leave Y/N, this isn’t a good time,” he objected, adjusting himself in his seat so he’d face away from the door. Even though you couldn’t see him you could still hear the small indication of irritation in his response.

It was more than apparent something was wrong with him, with only two days left until the film contest, you knew he couldn’t manage to keep his guard down, regardless of the stress and turmoil he’d been putting himself through for the past 4 weeks, “Just because you leave whenever you feel like it…” you enunciate, raising your voice loud enough for him to hear your intentions, “doesn’t mean I will.” Both of you knew the last 4 weeks had taken a toll on the relationship, it was only then that he realized how much he’d been putting it off.

The door began to emit tiny clicking noises as he slowly turned the doorknob. He slowly widens the area as he meekly steps to the side, letting you come in as you make your way toward his bed and plop down onto his sheets.

The tension had never been this thick between the two of you, to the extent where it felt absolutely suffocating and unbearable. You had never seen him in such a state of dejection as he simply sat there, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he nibbled on his lower lip, eyes diverting away from yours at all costs. The knit between his brows that would usually derive from confusion or frustration, seemed entirely different this time around. It was as if his mind was full of nothing but everything all at the same time.

You heave out a deep sigh as you finally break the ice, “Jungkook,” you begin, looking up to see him looking back at you to your surprise, “you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for making it seem that way.”

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it,” he mutters only to see the flash of hurt in your eyes that makes him divert his gaze back to the floor, “I know I’ve been acting so selfish lately. I’d understand if you felt that way.”

“I hate seeing you like this you know,” you confess quietly, “I know there’s something up.”

His eyes meet yours once again, mouth slightly parted as if he was about to say something, but the silences ensues and he closes the gap once again, resorting back to nibbling the skin off of his bottom lip until it starts to bleed. Your eyes soften as you observe the boy once more. The span of your relationship had naturally led to the two of you being able to open up to one another so easily. You were both able to tell when the other was feeling a certain way and why. It just came with time and getting to know the other person more throughout the relationship. And alongside that was the ability to know when the other was purposely keeping something under wraps—this was one of those times.

“Jungkook”, you whisper just loud enough to catch his attention, which works as he gazes back up at you with all doe-eyed glory, the knit between his brows gone surprisingly out of sight for the first time since you came over. You glance at his bed—emphasizing the void of space next to you on his bed by patting the fabric and peering at the cryptic man, hoping he would get the sign to sit next to you.

Fortunately, he does. He places his hands on the armrests as he timidly pushes himself up from his chair. The chair produces an obnoxiously loud squeaking noise almost emulating the sound of your dog’s dog shaped squeaky toy (counterintuitive I know, but it was a gift from Jungkook himself, the prick). The sound causes you to involuntarily snort as you look away in hopes to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. Too bad you missed the smug grin on his face at your lackluster attempt.

He carefully approaches you as he warily lowers himself onto his bed, making sure he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He shifts his body to turn towards you, propping his hands at his side. His eyes avoid yours once more, sparing glances at every inch of his own room as if he wasn’t already familiar with the enclosed space.

You pause and calculate your next move, eyes studying the boy’s body language. You outstretch your arm, gently grasping his wrist as you slide your fingers through his calloused palms and twine your fingers with his own, allowing your hands to rest on your knee. His eyes glaze over your connected hands, trailing back to finally meeting your own once again—they had this all too unfamiliar gloss to them, not the usual star-like specks you had been accustomed to looking at. As a few seconds had passed, you spotted the pool of tears starting to brim in the corner of his eyes. Taken aback, you retract your focus to his whole face and how his bottom lip started to tremble, hopeless. Hopelessness was what he was denoting, an emotion you had rarely if never seen coming from the man sitting in front of you.

Before you could formulate any words of comfort, he speaks up, voice brittle and wobbly, “Am I just a failure Y/N?”

“Wha— what? No, how could you ask that? Of course I don’t think you are,” you assert, unknowingly tightening the grip on his hand.

“It’s just,” he drawls out, pausing to think of a coherent way to voice his concerns, “maybe it just would’ve been easier if I complied with my parents in the first place y’know. I’ve been spending all my time and energy fighting it, maybe I’ve just been putting my energy into the wrong-”

“I don’t believe that,” you calmly interject, “I believe that whenever you put your energy into something, you have a reason behind it. You thought about it for a while, it obviously wasn’t something that just sprouted overnight,” you countered, staring off as your eyes land on his workspace, the flashing screen of his computer that reveal his last minute editing as well as the camera you seldom see the man without, “Working with a camera, creating art,” you say while clasping your free hand over the one that you were already holding, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the back of his hand, “that is what you love to do.”

“I love a lot of things Y/N,” he simply states.

“Hm?” you let out under your breath as you notice the single tear that falls onto his cheek, contradictory to the straightforward tone of his voice you had just heard seconds before. Your body stiffened at the sight of the fallen drop.

“Did you hear me on the phone before you came?” he questions, swiping away the tears that threatened to fall with his free hand.

You take a moment to recollect the moments that preceded until knocking on his door, “No, I just heard a loud bang. It sounded like you broke something.”

“Oh, that was my phone,” he shyly admits while scratching the back of his ear, “there is something I need to tell you.”

You perk up at his sudden willingness to tell you what was wrong. Your body language conveys the signal for him to continue, and he does.

“I got a call from my mom before you came,” he starts, “she was checking up on me, knowing the deadline is coming soon and what not.”

You nod slowly in understanding, “I see, what did she say?”

“You have the right to know,” he mutters under his breath while diverting his gaze back to your interlocked hands. He intentionally grazes your other hand before taking it into his own before flashing you a small grin of reassurance, “The farther I’m advancing, my parents just constantly feel the need to strip me of everything else. You probably knew that already. You also know that I tend to just rebel and find a loophole out of things most of the time. I don’t know, lately, it just seems like they solely care about success and money these days more than my own happiness and wellbeing, and it’s been like that for so long. Anyways, I’ve been prolonging and putting it aside for awhile now, but they threatened to cut me off financially if I didn’t break up with you Y/N.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. You’re at a loss for words and coherent thought. The only thing you muster to say is whatever decidedly popped up into your head first, “W-why haven’t you then?”

The brimming tears began to fall more frequently for you as well as from the eyes of the man in front of you. He releases both of his hands and slides his calloused palms up to your forearms pulling you closer in proximity, “I said it before, I love a lot of things Y/N,” he gingerly reiterates as he swipes away the tears from your eyes with the pad of his thumb before trailing his fingers to your fallen strands of hair, tucking them behind your ear.

“I love my parents, I love working with a camera, but I undoubtedly also am in love with you,” he tenderly professes while sliding down his hand to the crook of your neck, “I know my parents never meant harm, but they have to realize I don’t either. I owe it to myself and I realize that I am capable of obtaining and having everything I want in life,” he wholeheartedly declares despite the tears that continue to run down his face, “ And it wouldn’t be everything I want if you weren’t here with me.”

He renders you speechless, tears streaming freely as he continues to wipe them away. He was much more composed now, wiping away his own remaining tears with the back of his wrist. You, on the other hand, were practically sobbing into his palm, tears spilling all over his forearm.

“There’s a reason why I chose that particular subject for the film, “ he describes, hands sliding down to intertwine with yours once again, “It serves as a testament to my parents, to my peers, to you, but also to myself,” he beams, releasing the hold on your hands as he stands up from his bed, extending a hand out to you.

You unhurriedly grab his hand, as he tugs you to stand up from his bed, leading you to sit in his own seat. He swivels the chair for it to face his computer, stepping aside so you could sit down.

“I wasn’t planning on giving any sneak peeks, but it just seems right to show you this now,” he explains, clicking through the frames until he arrives at his destination and clicks play.

It starts off with the emulation of a glitching tv screen, the audio sounds as if someone was inserting a tape into a DVR. The ‘no signal’ screen fades into the familiar setting of the beach in his hometown. Hues of blue fading into muted shades of oranges and yellows flash across the screen, accompanied by the soft crashing of the waves washing ashore on the fine sand. The camera quickly shifts his focus to what seems to appear as Jungkook being fully enveloped and underneath the sand, his head being the only thing that isn’t submerged. Flashing his signature grin, his arm emerges from the sand as he gives a thumbs-up to the camera, making the person behind it erupt into a fit of giggles. That person was you.

The scene transitions into the city streets of the suburb that was close to the college. You were walking down the sidewalk, enamored by the bustle of the people who lived there as well as the twinkling lights that were draped from building to building. Clips ranging from his family, his friends, him working, and more are compiled and presented as he talks over it. His voice begins to say, “As individuals living in a society where opportunities seem to just be knocking left and right, we all have dreams and desires. Whether they are attainable or not, that’s what makes them all the more worthwhile and exhilarating to find out for ourselves. Society, whether we like it or not, is filled with certain conjectures that they believe can assure us of these dreams and desires, what they’ve made us believe as the path to success. They mould us from the beginning. As kids, we are told to behave well, listen to our elders, go to school, get good grades, and get into a good college. As adults, we deem success as having a stable job that pays the bills, buying a house and settling down, finding the love of your life, having kids, and working tirelessly until we become worn out and old. We have these presumptions about what’s better and what’s not, what is easier and what isn’t. Regardless of how much we get told that we can achieve anything we want to in life, we grow older and life unexpectedly throws more curveballs at you to make you think that it’s not actually the case. Well, as cliche as it may sound, I’m here to tell you that it’s just not true. Do what you want. Do what you love. Be with the ones you love. Cherish these moments. Film them as keepsakes to look back on. So… what’s your story? What are your dreams and desires? What sparks pure joy within you and keeps you on your feet? Break those moulds that have been holding you down. Reach for the moon and the stars. And maybe someday with the right amount of determination, and a little bit of luck, you can get there.”

The video ends right then and there, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was his best work to date albeit only seeing a snippet of it. A smile graces your lips as you turn your head to look at the creator of it all. He looks back at you with the familiar star-like specks in his eyes, making you feel rest assured that within all the chaos, you would both get through it all.

-

-

MASTERLIST

[millllenniawrites]

Hey how are you doing?

I saw you tagging some post a Helix inspo and was curious about your OC and which story is he from? Just want to know about him💕

(before I answer this I need you to know that I actually screamed and jumped up and down while reading this!!! thank you for asking about helix!!! that series is my baby!!)

okay so Kade Sol (im assuming you're asking about Kade cause i just reblogged some henry cavil stuff) is from a series called Helix that i'm writing with @vampirewithbedsidemanners (who is also my beta for all of the stuff that gets posted on here). Helix is my Star Wars sequels rewrite!! so the series spans years 28 to 35 ABY during the collapse of the New Republic and all the way through to the end of TROS, though it's a completely different plotline from the movies. it's very much inspired from the pieces of SW Legends that I love and also our personal theory on the Force? so it's kinda weird? only the first 1/4 of the first book has been posted but there's more coming soon! we had to put the series on hold for some rewrites (and i got a fun mental illness diagnosis that rocked my shit for a little while) but we're BACK IN ACTION and working on a) finishing a final pass on book 1, b) editing book 2, and c) drafting book 4 ALL AT THE SAME TIME

it's an oc fic and it deals with some incredibly dark themes so I don't post it on tumblr. it's just on ao3. when the stars miss the sun is an alternate universe of Helix (and Kade is also in that one!), and i DO post that one on here because it's got a similar vibe to my usual content. also it's really fun and there's so much smut.

but about Kade: KADE SOL IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE OKAY??? HE IS A BABIE SUNSHINE LIGHT OF MY LIFE. Henry Cavil is technically the face claim for him but i hate face claims tbh cause he's not quite right. Kade is larger and also scruffier?? like Henry is almost too pretty but ANYWAYS yeah Kade is a large scary mans but also a teddy bear at the same time and literally everyone loves him. it's impossible to not love him. Kade and Poe Dameron met while attending the naval academy on Hosnian and they have a very complicated relationship? but they're best friends and each other's family and they balance each other really well. like neither of them are super functional without the other. their dynamic is honestly one of my favourites that i've EVER written. they've got so much history and it's so fun to play with.

also Helix starts with Poe being very young. he's a bright young pilot and he's got dreams and he's exploding with potential but he's still got a lot to learn, and Kade is a big part of supporting him through that (especially through the second book!!! which vampy and i are editing literally right now!!) When we see Poe in TFA, he's already established in leadership. vampy and I wanted to explore how he gets there and what that journey looks like (while also giving him some fun trauma! yay!)

so YEAH that's helix. thank you so much for asking about it!! i could rant for hours about this damn series. so if you see any other tags for oc's, they are probably from Helix cause that's really the only place i develop original folks

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Five:Sensory Integration 1

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A Friday full of teasing for Shane ends in a steak dinner with a blue-eyed beefcake. If you don’t finish this chapter hungry for one or the other, if not both, I haven’t done my job! Lol! (For inspo on Sy’s date outfit, think back to that one Men’s Health photoshoot Hen did and just imagine his hair shorter. That’s what I did. lol!) 

Click me to catch up on the story and other stuff by Hannah!

Word Count: 4k (This date got away from me! Lol! And it’s only half over!)

Warnings: Mostly this is utter fluffy fluff, but I’m gonna put the following warnings on, anyway. Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, borderline food worship (Shane may have a problem, I definitely do! Lol!) Also, pretty much every Sy fic I’ve read says that his given name is Logan, so...should his given name be used henceforth, that’s what I’m going with because it seems the most cannon and I like it and if it’s good enough for Wolverine...

Author’s Note: So, guys, this is crazy. First off, the reaction and love Sy and Shane’s story has been getting has taken me completely off guard and utterly made my day/week. (I’m serious. Every note makes my heart do a happy dance. A like, a reblog, a comment. It all means the world to me. Thank you for your feedback and for sharing this story.) Second, YOUR FEEDBACK MATTERS TO ME! Because initially, idk what I was thinking. I was going to skim over their first date and like…not write it…and I kept getting notes as I worked on further chapters to the tune of “can’t wait for this date!” and I thought…hmm…well, the date must be written! So, here it is, the first half-ish, of Shane and Sy’s first date. I hope it’s all you were expecting…or at least half of all you were expecting! Lol! More to come in part two of Sens Integ! (BTW, fun fact, these chapter titles are all named after treatments that therapists actually use on their patients sometimes! Lol!)

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira @oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland @speakerforthedead0@tumblnewby @suavechops

Friday morning. She was up with the sun. And a bit before, really. Today was the day. Her first date with Sy. She’d taken extra care in the shower, less clumsy, thank God! She shaved her legs because she had chosen to wear a knee-length blue dress with a scoop neck and cap sleeves in wrinkle-proof Jersey knit since it would be in her tote bag all day. She was not shaving because she thought anything would happen tonight with Sy. She didn’t think she was ready.

That is, she was ready, but, only physically. Emotionally, mentally, she would need to prepare for him a bit longer before taking him as a lover. She hoped he was on the same page.

He had an appointment in the early afternoon. He greeted her with his warm “Hello, sunshine.” Following it up by telling her how pretty she looked today, causing blush to burn in her cheeks. She’d reciprocated, even though he was in his typical tee and shorts look. It was still true. They got on their usual bikes to warm up for about 15 minutes, and then took to the leg press to try to advance his strengthening.

“I’m really proud of your progress! You wouldn’t have been able to do this much weight two weeks ago!” She encouraged him.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Now, we are going to do some drills next. Simple ones, but they aren’t going to be fun for you. I’ve chosen to do them on your last day of the week for a reason. You may be sore. Ice and whatever you take OTC if you must. Ibuprofen or acetaminophen. But try the ice first. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Okay.” He conceded, dejected.

“Stretching afterward.” She promised.

“Okay!” He pepped up. She knew he just loved an excuse to have her hands on him.

Later, as he lay on the mat, sweaty from the exertion of the drills, with her up there with him having to use her whole body to leverage the proper stretch out of his hip flexors, she felt the heavy weight of his gaze. She tried to look anywhere but those sapphire eyes below her. They were too vulnerable. She couldn’t handle that right now. Not here.

“Shane?” Dammit, he was gonna make her.

“Hmm?” She looked down at him, smile meeting smile.

“I just…” he couldn’t seem to get out the words. But she thought she understood what he was feeling.

“I know, Sy. I know.” She gently patted his outer thigh where she had been bracing her hand for the stretch, and let his leg back down, while dismounting the mat, as well.

“Well, that’s about the hour. Any questions before I let you go?”

“Are you as excited for tonight as I am?” He asked. She chuckled. She couldn’t imagine him being more excited than she was!

“Yes! Hehe! But I still kinda meant about therapy, Sy.”

“Oh, right. Are you excited to finish up with your therapy patients at therapy today so I can pick you up from the therapy clinic and take you on our date?”

“Just because you say therapy 20 times doesn’t make it about therapy.” She laughed.

“Okay, I do have a question for you, since I’m here.”

“Shoot.” She encouraged.

He stood and held her face, taking it into a kiss so devastatingly and painfully tender, she could not process what to do next. She was leaning toward fainting. But then tackling him onto the mat again seemed an attractive option. She settled for placing her hands on his waist, ready to control the situation as need arose. But after a brief moment of slight deepening, he broke away, still holding her face in his large strong hands.

“Ahem. That’s a good question. Why don’t I have you a reply later this evening?”

“Sounds good to me, sunshine.” He grinned widely, and waved a quiet goodby to her.

She walked to the doorway of the small room to watch him walk out…his gait still uneven from his injury but improving enough that she could tell he once took very…confident strides. She could almost picture it. She sighed, forgetting herself for a moment until Anita came up behind her walking her elderly patient with a gait belt and front wheeled walker.

"Is that a bit of drool on your chin, Shane?" she said quietly, but still startling the younger therapist from her reverie.

"Oh, uh, hey." she checked her chin, absentmindedly, late in getting the joke, and rolled her eyes. "Funny, Nita. Do you need anything?"

"Nope, Gladys and I are just headed to the gym for a few minutes on the NuStep to round out her treatment." Nita grinned at Shane.

"Who was that handsome young man that just left, Shane?" Gladys asked her, as women of her…demographic tended to do.

"He's just one of our patient's Miss Gladys. But I can't tell you his name. It's against the privacy policy." She explained.

"Oh, okay. Well, if I was a few years younger, I'd let ya give him MY name…and my telephone number." she smirked with pride in herself. All three ladies giggled.

"I'm pretty sure he's spoken for, Gladys." Anita broke the news to her randy patient, smirking at her coworker.

"Shame! Well, that's one lucky young lady!" Gladys hobbled on with the walker as Anita cued her not to let the device get too far ahead of her feet. Shane was beet red from the whole interaction. At least she wouldn't have to wear blush tonight.

Her day finally finished, notes done, and final communications sent,  the most important (in her opinion, probably not her employer's) message of them all was next. The text to Sy that he could head toward the clinic to pick her up.

She touched up her eye makeup, applied another coat of mascara, and dabbed on some of her favorite lipstick in a deep red that complimented her skin tone. She also spritzed on a bit of her favorite Armani perfume before slipping on her dress and black ballet flats and sliding on a pair of simple hoop earrings. She'd had her hair pulled up all day in a clip, so it should be pleasantly wavy when she took it down…and with a bit of flipping, shaking out, and finger diffusing, it was.

She looked in the mirror. She was ready.

Was she ready? She examined herself in the full length mirror in the empty locker room at the clinic. The dress and the shoes suddenly seemed all wrong, both together and as individual pieces for the occasion. She looked great, it wasn't that…but…was it right for tonight? Should she cancel? Was she being ridiculous? Clearly she was, as she'd already sent the message telling Sy he could come get her. But the closer she got to being ready to go, the less ready she felt. Those butterflies were suddenly clawing at her esophagus, disrupting the bile in her stomach, and threatening to choke off her air supply. They were no longer pleasantly fluttering. She felt like she had a boot against her windpipe.

She was snapped out of the panic attack when she heard her phone go off. A message from Sy.

Your chariot, m'lady. Should I come in and get ya?

She grinned like a lunatic. How could she have considered calling tonight off?

Nay, m'lord, verily the gates be locked. I shall use the rear exit and meet thee around yonder forsooth.

Wow, you ran with that one. *laughing in tears emoji*

I have that tendency. Lol. *monocle wearing emoji*

She grabbed her bags, walked out the back door, and tossed the one that wasn't her purse into her vehicle, which was parked nearby and walked around to the front. He was standing on the sidewalk near that edge of the building.

The sun was just setting, and the light from it hit him so bewitchingly that it took away her breath. Not in the frightening way of the panic attack she'd just had, but in the nice way, like right before you surface from a deep dive and you know the sweet relief of oxygen is imminent. She assessed his ensemble with approval. Black books, sleek dark blue jeans, and a sapphire v-neck polo that even in the low light of near dusk made his blue eyes dance with vibrant intensity against his fading tan. His hair was starting to grow out ever so slightly, but it was still very close cropped. His beard, she could tell, had been finely groomed, combed, and styled. He looked…well, she'd never looked up the word "handsome" in the dictionary, but she imagined it would describe the image before her quite succinctly. And alternatively, Sy's image could be used as an illustration in the reference book, itself.

The best part, though, was the look on his face when he saw her.

She felt like he'd never properly looked at her, perhaps. Maybe he wasn't expecting a dress, or loose hair, or red lips. Or maybe it was a combo of the whole Date Shane package he was seeing before him. As his eyes beheld her, he almost looked confused. As if she was a stand-in. Or maybe an alien. Some body-snatcher. Only he wasn't frightened. She was having a hard time working out his expression as she'd really never seen it before, and particularly, never aimed in her direction. He said one word.

"Wow." It was reverent. Not a whisper. But barely a decibel above.

Again, her cheeks required no artificial pigmentation.

"Hey. You look…you certainly scrub up good, mister." she giggled nervously, feeling immensely awkward at her inability to properly compliment the chiseled image of Adonis before her. His every muscle hugged to perfection by the fabric covering it. How did you even begin to tell such perfection how perfect it was?

"You…Shane, I don't remember the last time I saw anyone look so beautiful." he frowned, as if trying to recall, then giving up with a smile, and leaning in to kiss her cheek. He lingered a moment to hug her, hold her as the day faded, breathe her in. She did the same. He was freshly showered and wearing cologne, as he often did, but it rarely hit her so solidly as it did tonight. She loved this scent. Woody, but earthy, with notes of bergamot, a kind of musky scent similar to amber, but more masculine, and something spicy that she loved. The combination exploded like an olfactory fireworks display.

The shirt was an unthinkably soft cotton (blended she thought perhaps with kitten, she could not stop touching it.) and the warmth of him radiated into her as his chest rose and fell over the course of his numerous breaths as they stood there holding each other and enjoying this feast for the senses.

"You ready for supper?" he asked, a faint but distinct rumble from his abdomen indicating that he most certainly was.

"Yes." she smiled up at him as he took her hand in his and led her to his truck. A Ford F150, the same sapphire blue as his shirt and his eyes. She was sensing a pattern, here. It wasn't the newest vehicle, but he had taken immaculate care of it. She felt shame for her own treatment of her Explorer, Bessie, which often functioned as storage shed, trash can, and sometimes, hotel, when she felt like a road trip on a shoestring budget. He walked her to the passenger side, opened the door for her, and helped her in, as the truck sat a bit higher than what she was used to.

"So, I have us a table saved at this great steakhouse just down the road. And then, it's supposed to be a nice night, I thought we could take a walk by the lake?"

It sounded perfect to her. Quiet and simple.

"Amazing. As long as your knee is up for a walk?"

"I've got all weekend to rest before getting tortured again." he smirked at her as he pulled the truck out of the parking lot and on the main road toward the interstate. "B'sides, who better to have with me if I start hurtin' than my PT?"

The emphasis he placed on the possessive pronoun, claiming her as HIS PT sent a delighted shiver through her that she blamed on the AC, which he promptly turned down.

He had his Spotify shuffling Kings of Leon at a low volume as they conversed lightly and pleasantly. Since it was an earlier model, even well equipped as it was, it wasn't quite ready for auxiliary or Bluetooth sound, so he'd bought one of those radio receivers that tune into an unused frequency and connect to your phone or iPod. She'd retrofitted her 2003 Ford Explorer in a similar fashion.

They were both caught a bit off guard when "Sex on Fire" came on, and tried valiantly to keep talking. But it was hard to hear anything but those lyrics. Singing of exhibitionism and dangerous sex acts that were definitely moving violations…and simply the sex being on fire. She was thankful, for once, that this song that she'd always found catchy without paying much attention to the actual lyrics, was now fading into the night as they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

She remembered to wait for him to get the door for her, even though it had been ages since she'd been on a date or had any kind of romance whatsoever. He helped her down from her perch, giving her a gentlemanly moment to adjust her skirt before taking her hand and leading her into the building.

He opened the door and led her in by that lumbar lordosis that made everyone tremble and swoon. She was no exception just because she knew that part of your back was not actually called "the small" and she got perturbed when she heard it referred to as such.

"Welcome to Mark's, how can we help you?" the host greeted warmly.

"Reservation for Syverson." Sy piped up. She was used to being the voice in these situations. She was thankful not to have to for once. It was a small thing, but it was still nice.

"Right this way, folks." he grabbed two large menus, a mid sized one, and a small one, and led them to a cozy but still spacious two-top in a quiet corner of the dining area. The warm light was low and ambient, and there were real kerosene lamps on the tables, which she loved. It had the rustic ambiance of a cabin with all the refinement of any four+ star restaurant she'd ever been to. Not that she'd been to many.

"Here you are, the table you requested, and your menus. Have a look at them, and Katie will be out soon to answer questions and take your orders."

As he walked away, Sy pulled her chair out for her, and aided her sitting. His gentility was so refreshing to her, because it was so sincere and kind, and in no way oppressive or domineering, as some men seemed to use such gestures. Wielding them like a club rather than a feather. She was just used to seeing a certain side of him, teasing and silly as he was in therapy that this side of Captain Syverson, or as she may end up calling him one day, Logan, his given first name, if it pleased him, had taken her off guard.

"Nice place." she approved, looking around at he exposed beams of the ceiling and the iron and copper chandeliers and light fixtures on the wall. She also noticed quite curiously a copy of American Gothic by Grant Wood on one wall and The Kiss by Gustav Klimt on another. Such different styles to be displayed in one room. She really liked it though.

"It's one of my favorites. I try to come in every couple weeks or so." The fact that he liked steak on the regular was definitely a point in his favor. She loved it but rarely went out for it on her own. Eating out alone wasn't so bad, but it was hard to enjoy a steak dinner by one's self.

"What's your favorite cut?"

"Oh, I've tried most of them, and you can't go wrong." He assured her.

They had a crazy selection. Ribeyes, filets, sirloins, prime rib, all seasoned, smoked, topped and wrapped in every way you could imagine…it was like staring at the Netflix menu of steak. And much like she tended to do with Netflix, she relied on a classic favorite. After all, who goes for an obscure choice their first time at a new steak house?

"I'm keeping it simple and going for their prime rib and a baked potato."

"Ah, that's a perfect choice. We're getting some of their lobster mac and cheese to start, though. Unless you're allergic or something?" he added the disclaimer when he saw her eyes widen.

"Not at all, that sounds…"she was thinking "sexual," but decided instead on "heavenly."

Soon, Katie, a peppy, slender young redhead in black jeans she'd been poured into and a white T-shirt she had outgrown some time ago, descended upon their table with gusto.

"Howdy, I'm Katie and I get to take care of you fine folks this evening. What drinks and appetizers can I start y'all off with?"

Sy looked at Shane to prompt her to start.

"Sweet tea?" she half stated, half inquired. Katie nodded and jotted.

"Sure thing! Sir?" she thought her eyes sparkled when she looked at Sy…she couldn't blame her. But…she thought she could take her if she tried anything. She was certain there was a very sharp knife in the black napkin set-up at her right hand.

"Same for me, Katie. And we are also gonna need an order of your lobster mac to start and a bottle of your house cab."

"Fantastic. I'll be right back with the teas and wine after I put in for the lobster mac for ya, and then I'll take your meal order." she smiled brightly. Sy looked at Shane, though, as he replied "Wonderful."

~~~~~~~

Her instincts about the lobster mac and cheese had been spot on. She couldn’t contain her yummy noises of enjoyment which amused Sy to no end. She couldn’t imagine the steak any better.

About that, she had been completely wrong. It was so succulent, tender, and flavorful, she debated on whether or not the provided au jus and horseradish were even needed. They were also too good to resist, though.

Her potato, twice baked to the perfect tenderness had a salt brined skin, and a garlicky butter that just sung with the sour cream and chives. She was in food heaven, and even if that meant she was dead, it was fine.

He’d ordered the same entrée as she had, but took his baked potato…a bit differently.

“You don’t like sour cream?” She asked, nonplussed.

“Nah, I mean, I can eat it, but…it feels weird in my mouth. I prefer the au jus and butter, instead. It’s much more tasty.” He said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” She laughed.

“You’re welcome to try mine when I get it all doctored you how I like it!”

She did, right from his fork. And he was right about it being so flavorful, but she preferred the mild, creamier texture of her own side with the savory notes of her steak.

They ate and enjoyed each other’s company and conversation.

“Ya know, Sy, I totally had you pegged as a beer man, instead of a wine guy.” She said, as she brought her own glass of the deep red liquid to her mouth and nose, inhaling the bouquet before she took her sip.

“Normally, you’d be right. With a burger, pizza, sometimes tacos or what not, definitely. But I can’t do beer with steak. It’s gotta be wine. Red. And full-bodied.” He held her gaze as he drank from his own glass. Why did he have to look at her like that when he said those kinds of words? Her cheeks were warm from more than the booze.

For desert, they shared a decadent marbled brownie/blondie a la mode. He’d had the idea to slide his chair so he was sharing a corner of the table with her, rather than looking across it at her. Purely so they didn’t have to keep sliding the dessert…not so their knees would brush against one another now and then, or so they could feel the heat radiating from one another’s bodies…but actually, exactly for those reasons.

“Last bite is to you, Sy.” She set her fork down, full to bursting.

“Are you kiddin’? My mama’d tan my hide if she knew I took the last bite from my date.”

“You’re being gallant, actually! Rescuing me from a certain belly ache.” She patted her small but slightly rounded tummy. She did like her food, and was no gym rat, after all. He didn't seemed to mind. Yet.

“How 'bout we share the last bite?” He suggested.

“Technically that’s not physically possible. Becau…”

He interrupted what was going to be an intellectual explanation of why no matter how small you cut up a bite, the remaining bit was still technically one bite, and couldn’t be shared.

“No. Shh. I know you’re smart. You got nothin’ to prove here. I’m gonna cut what’s left in half until I get a bite you’re willing to take. Okay?” She nodded.

He only had to take the fork to it twice before she conceded, also letting him feed her, feigning paralysis from the food coma. She held the fork tightly between her lips, making him work to pull it from her mouth. She looked innocent, but she was an intentional little shit.

“You're so cute when you eat.”

“Said no one ever!” She held her hand over her face.

“You are, though. You enjoy the food. Experience it. It’s like you’re…getting a story from it, or something. Like it’s…almost like it’s entertaining you, I don’t know. It’s just…beautiful.” He leaned his elbow onto the table, supporting his head in his hand as he looked at her.

"Well, sometimes I think I like food a little TOO much for my own good." she lamented, reaching for the cabernet only to have it snatched by her date. He uncorked it and dispensed a generous pour for her, and topped off his own glass, killing the bottle.

"No such thing. Like I said about the wine, full bodied is the way to go. Nothin' wrong with a little cushion." he winked at her. She could not resist finishing a rhyme she'd always heard about the desirability of curvy girls…for the pushin,' and hoped the flush in her cheeks from the wine was enough to disguise the deepening color from the current blush she was feeling thinking of Sy…pushin' her cushions…but something tipped him off to her distraction.

"What's on yer mind, sunshine?"

"I'm wondering if you're prepared to carry me on this walk we're planning, actually." It was possible to think more than one thing, after all. "I don't know how I'll ever even walk again."

"Ah, give it fifteen minutes. Finish up your sweet tea, and by the time we're done with our walk, you'll want an ice cream cone."

"Ha, doubtful." But she was ashamed to admit, ice cream already didn't sound bad. Vanilla…maybe pistachio….no, coffee! In a waffle cone…with fudge drizzle…and almonds…maybe she had a problem.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded. He flagged down Katie and gave her cash, and what one might call a benevolent tip. They left the warm steakhouse, and entered the breezy late summer evening, the humid air seeming thick with promises.

Up Next: Chapter Six-Sensory Integration 2

[justmywriting1313]

I am alive!!

Heyyoooooo friends!!!! How are youuu? I hope you guys have been well and doing good!! I know there is so much going on with the game and in the world in general and i hope all of you are doing okay!!!! 

Okay soooooo I AM BACK… kind of… its a bit complicated… okay let me fill you guys in on whats been happening and whats going to happen. 😅😅

A little note before that: Before anything else is said or can be said a Thank you is in order!!! THANK YOU so freaking much for all the support the fics have been getting despite me being dead for a little bit on this blog. Like oh my freaking god you guys are so sweet and supportive and I promise I will reply to all the messages and the asks and stuff after posting this. But yeah I just want to say how sweet you all are and honestly its what pulled me back to the blog. Like I kind of considered deleting because you know i’ve kind of been not nice by leaving everyone hanging without saying anything since a lot has been going on in my life and yet you all sent such sweet messages reaching out. My heart is going to burst and i just cannot!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Okay so after this little emotional announcement/ spiel lets get to why I went away and when I will post next. 

So basically after the last  fic I posted I was like okay I need a little break cause I am starting to burnout and my passion for writing about our amazing demon bros was running out. So I was like okay a week should be good maybe two. So during the first week of my break I went out with a few friends who in hindsight were toxic and I met a boy who I kind of started dating but not really at the same time. (I don’t usually get into relationships because a) I eventually will have to leave to go back to uni and b) I don’t necessarily think relationships workout between people of my age.) 

So anyway he was really clingy and didn't let me do any kind of work which included fic writing and he started becoming really toxic which then made my mental health go down like whooooosh. So for a month in which I was seeing him I couldn’t do anything. Then he broke my phone so bad that I could barely see half the screen so after that I broke it of with him. But I still had to get my phone fixed. So after another three weeks in which I couldn’t play obey me and therefore not write much since inspo was lacking I finally got my phone fixed. Then guess what despite backing everything up, which I double checked, when I opened up the game it got me back to the start like I was playing if for the first time and I almost cried. The amount of money I have spent to get so many devil points and get all the cards I had... all of it gone in a single thing. I had worked so hard to have all those cards and save money plus i was a VIP member but all of it gone... I tried logging in with my apple ID but it did not recognise and I don’t know how to get my transfer password...  I got really depressed cause the game meant a lot to me you know. I honestly dont know what to do and I am too scared to reach out to the game company incase they reject me.

After moping about it I finally decided come back to the blog because a) I had promised so many fics and I loved writing for you guys and seeing how much you all connected to the writing and enjoyed it and I felt sad that I wasn't giving it out again, b) I missed writing about the boys and just you guys know how it is, c) I thought maybe you guys had ideas on how to get my progress back since I have no clue and am crying while writing this post. 

So yeah in summary it was a crappy time without both the game and you guys!!!! I also broke a toe, fell down stairs and got a concussion and also almost broke my wrist so safe to say its been hectic!

Okay so next is wether i will write again, finish the fics and all that... 

Heres the thing; the fics I had put in the masterlist, as in the ones I was going to post before all of this happened... those I promise to finish and post. Like I wont stop writing those ones until they are finished. 

About new fics I really really really want to but without seeing whats happened in the new lessons and seeing whats been going in the game and all the events I don’t know if I will be able to do a good job. I also honestly think its too hard to try and get to the level I had before cause it was a lot of money. Also a lot of the event cards I had before i wont be able to get again like the Beel animal chaos card I had. With that said if i can get my progress back then of course I will write... 

Okay for now thats it. If you guys have any idea on how to get my progress back by transfer password or any other ideas then please pretty please let me know cause ill be able to continue writing again. 🥺🥺As for any upcoming post I might put a small HC post or maybe the next part to a fic. Okay so byeeeee love you guys and yeah look out for the next post!! also will spend some time now replying to everyone! 

[shuahoonie]

bed, booze, and him. [tom holland]

PAIRING: college!tom holland x reader

SUMMARY: life as a university student is already hard. sharing a flat with two college guys (one semi-decent, one all-around-annoying) just to get through paying the rent? funnily enough, even harder. it’s halloween plus midterms just ended so that means parties are never-ending and students are getting wasted. you should be out partying but you're stuck finishing a paper. how are you going to survive the night again?

WARNINGS: swearing as per usual! mentions of alcohol! slight mention of blood! friends living that domestic life! reader literally being in love with their bed and i cannot stress that enough! otp sharing a bed????? what???? 

WORD COUNT: 4.3k 

SONG INSPO: drunk on halloween - wallows 

A/N: hiya babes! another long-ass note here! thank you for all the kind words that i’ve received from ragnarok.  i apologize as i’ve been slacking lately! i really tried to write whenever i had time but i’m mostly occupied with work & university. i’ll try to post something throughout the semester. [though no promises! the semester is going by way too fast and i’m trying to keep up lmao] in the meantime, enjoy this fluff that was based on a prompt that would’ve been poppin’ during 2013 lmao. also, can i just say how hard it is to figure out what type of songs tom listens to lmao.i based it off from this playlist i found on spotify! go give it a look 💛

gif credits: @tmholland  

vanessa’s masterlist

x

“’Cause you make me feel like, I’ve been locked out of heaven.”  A shirtless Tom sang loudly, looking for a top to go with his denim jeans. The basket of freshly done laundry was sitting on top of the couch when Tom started rummaging through it. 

“Oi, oi.” You called out as you swatted Tom’s hands away from the laundry. “I just folded these.” You countered as you began refolding and fixing the mess that he managed to create within seconds. 

“Just need a shirt,” Tom mumbled. 

“Yeah, no shit.” You grunted. “The top pile is yours, dumbass.” 

You didn’t even ask to do some of his laundries. He just saw you loading up yours and then started chucking some of his clothes inside of the washer. How you’ve managed to live with him, you have no clue.

“You’re welcome by the way,” You yelled sarcastically as you went back to your previous spot: the dining room table. Your notes were sprawled all over the table and sticky-notes placed on every possible page with your laptop beaming at you. 

“Thank you, darling.” He grinned, showing off that pretty smile that always made everyone swoon. “Y/N, can you tell me why are you writing a paper on a Halloween night when you could be partying and drinking the night away?” 

Tom was now sitting across you with his chin placed firmly on the palm of his hand, looking at your notes before turning his attention back to you. 

“Look, Holland,” You sighed “not everyone is having the time of their lives after the mid-term season is over. Some of us have to catch up with papers because life wasn’t supposed to be fair.” 

Tom held up his hands in surrender, “Alright darling, calm down.” He chuckled before standing up to pound on Harrison’s door again. “Mate, c’mon! You need to fucking hurry up or I’m leaving.” 

You just rolled your eyes at the sound of Tom’s annoying set of knocks. “Thomas Holland, I swear to god...” You groaned. 

“Y/N, darling, you know I love you but why can’t you just write in your room?” He asked. 

You narrowed your eyes at him before focusing back on your notes. “I could but I don’t want to pass out on my bed with a sloppy, unfinished paper watching me sleep.” You reasoned, not looking up at him as you were busy scrawling additional information on your notes. 

Tom hummed, obviously resting the argument as you’ve made your point. 

You really try your hardest and make an effort not to make your room a space that you associated your works with. You always studied either in the living room or at the library. Never in your room. 

You made sure that when you moved into the flat, you’d make an effort and would try to make your room as cosy as possible. You didn’t make a huge fuss regarding what you wanted. You got a skeleton-frame bookshelf, a study table, a nightstand, and a glorious bed. You had fairy lights strung up around your room as you kept the walls plain and white. 

You also had to accept that your bed would put a serious dent in your budget. You bought tons of pillows that take up at least half of your bed and a duvet guaranteed to keep you warm. 

You hardly meet the required amount of sleep a person needs but when you do get some zzz’s, the bed does the job and it does it well. 

Your room was sacred, and both Tom and Harrison knew that.

Harrison had only been inside your room once and it was an accident. It’s not that you forbade him, it was really just a matter of respecting each other’s privacies. 

Tom had been inside your room twice and none of those were accidents. 

One was when he and Harrison were playing hide and seek. You were quietly watching Netflix inside your room when Tom went in to hide since he claimed that Harrison would never suspect him being inside it. He promised to do the dishes for two days if you let him hide and you did. You were satisfied with his negotiation. 

The other was when he knocked on your door one night. 

“Hey, do you have a bandaid?” Tom asked you as soon as you opened the door.  

You raised an eyebrow at him.”Why?” 

He then showed his bleeding finger which caused you to gasp. “Tom, what the hell?!” 

You opened the door wider for him to come in and you quickly ran to your nightstand to grab the first-aid kit from the drawer. 

“Huh,” Tom hummed and sat at the edge of your bed while you sat on the floor, gently grabbed his hand to look at his wound. “Your room is oddly inviting.” He commented.

You looked at him oddly. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Hm?” You were still staring at Tom, waiting to elaborate on what he said. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom quickly apologized as he just realized what he just said. 

“Please, Tom, elaborate before it becomes awkward in the next sixty seconds.” You said almost too pleadingly as you started to clean his wound. 

Tom chuckled. “What I meant was your room is dangerously comfortable.” He said as he plopped himself down causing you to hiss at him.

“Hold still, you dickhead.”

“Seriously darling, if this was my bed, I’d never get up,” Tom mumbles happily as he tried to make himself comfortable, lying in your bed. 

“What were you doing that involved you and a bleeding finger anyway?” You asked. 

“I was trying to cook dinner.” He answers almost shyly. 

You were quiet for a moment, causing Tom to tilt his head over in your direction and look at you. You had your brow raised and disbelief was painted all over your face. 

You, Harrison, and Tom at least try to do some cooking in the means of saving money. It was a pretty smart way to get through their university life without always being on the brink of getting broke. You and Harrison usually took turns in making dinner while Tom was always in charge of breakfast, seeing that he was always the first one to wake up early. 

This set up was also made because Harrison claims that he doesn’t trust Tom with a knife. 

“I was trying to prove to Harrison that I can make pasta without getting myself wounded in some type of way!” Tom said defensively.

Harrison was right. 

You rolled your eyes playfully at him and finished up cleaning his wound. You rummaged through your kit, looking for a bandaid when you found a certain one that your friend gave you as a ‘gift’ from their trip to Japan. “There, all done.” You said after wrapping his finger with bandaid. 

“Thanks, Y/N. Sorry to-” Tom stopped himself when he raised his hand to look at his newly-treated wound and saw the pink, Hello Kitty bandaid that was staring back at him. 

You pulled a tight smile. “Make sure you change your bandaids every day! I have more if you need them.” You said innocently at him.

“Oh, darling,” He stood up to cup your face “I’ll make sure to knock on your door every day so you don’t worry too much.” He replied as he gently removes his hand from the side of your face. 

You dropped your smile and pushed Tom towards the door. “Bye, Tom.”

Now that you’ve thought about it, this whole “it’s Halloween! take a break at least!” thing only makes you want to leave all of your work behind and just crawl up to bed.

Harrison finally stepped out of his room, looking like he’s finally ready to intoxicate himself with alcohol and release himself from the stress this semester has caused him. 

“Fucking finally, mate” Tom let out a loud, exaggerated sigh as Harrison rolled his eyes at his impatient friend. “C’mon then, let’s go!”

“Can you calm down, mate?!” Harrison said as he made his way towards the kitchen. “You don’t even have a shirt on!” 

Jesus Christ, why are they always like this? You thought to yourself as you watched the two bicker in front of you. 

It’s always like this. The two would always have a tiny bicker every time they have to do something together. You always reasoned why on earth would they even have to do it together when they always end up bickering. They claimed that it’s all for fun and adds dynamic to their friendship. 

Dynamic my ass. Easy for them to say, they’re not the ones who have to endure two annoying dumbasses. 

“Could you be any louder?” You said in annoyance as you looked up from your laptop. You were about to start writing your paper, that’s due tomorrow mind you, and all you have is a sloppy mess. 

For crying out loud, who even gives out papers and assigns the due date the day after Halloween when they know students are drinking themselves shitless that night? Oh, that’s right, university professors do. 

And these two? Not helping. At all. 

“Yes? Is there something you’d like to add, darling?” Tom asked teasingly. Not without with a huge smirk plastered on his face. 

God, he’s ten times more annoying when he’s fueled by his impatientness and thirst for alcohol. 

“For fuck's sake” You grunted, bringing both your hands and ran them up in your face, obviously irritated. You’ve been roommates with Tom and Harrison for almost three years and until now, Tom can still find a new way to irk you.

Tom chuckled at the sight of you, dreading to pull your hair out due to the overflowing irritation. 

You stood up from the table and grabbed a black shirt from Tom’s pile of fresh laundry, then chucked it at him. “There, put that on and leave.” 

“Hm,” Tom looked at the black shirt that you shoved “Sure this is okay?”

“Yes, yes, now go. I can’t work with you two here.” You waved dismissively at them. “Especially you, Holland.” You pointed out as you looked at Tom pointedly. 

“Is it because you still have a crush on me, darling?” He teased, causing Harrison to chuckle. 

You narrowed your eyes at Harrison, who just grinned at your frustration. “That was a long time ago, ‘ya dickhead!” You groaned, slightly embarrassed that he still remembered that time. Curse the day you and a couple of friends went out for a drink. 

You had one too many drinks when Liz, a friend from your literature class, asked you a question. “Okay, I know you said that you’re friends-”

“Oh, no,” You groaned. “I know where this is going.” 

“Y/N!” 

“Okay, fine!” You raised your hands in defeat. “Shoot.” Fuck it, right?!

“Bed, wed, behead Luke, Josh, and Tom,” Liz stated with a teasing smile on her face. 

“Oh, the choices are horrible!” You exclaimed with an awful amount of concern for such a flimsy game. “Awfully considerate of you to use this version instead of fuck, marry, kill, by the way.” You added as you took another sip from your margarita. 

“Anyway, I’d kill Luke. After lashing out because I wasn’t comfortable giving out my number? Kill Luke, that easy.” You explained which earned a handful of approving nods. 

“I guess I’d have to fuck Josh,” You answered as you were still weighing the pros and cons of your answers as if they really matter. “I mean I’d only have to do it once anyway.” 

It was when you finished your drink when you realized what was left out of the options. “Wait,” You yelled quite obnoxiously. “I don’t want to marry Tom!” 

“Okay, but you have to admit that Tom’s cute.” Liz pointed out. 

“I mean,” You were flustered for a moment, “Y-yeah. Tom’ is good-looking, I’d be lying if I said otherwise but that doesn’t mean I’d like to marry him!” 

“You’re taking this game way too seriously, love,” Zoë commented with an amused look on her face.

“Is that so, Y/N?” A curious voice suddenly popped up from behind you and saw Harrison with a smirk on his face. 

Your friends said their quick hello’s and Haz politely returned them as well as asking how are they doing. 

“God, can I have one night without seeing both of my roommates?” You groaned and buried your face in the palm of your hands. 

“Well, I can grant you half of that wish,” Harrison commented before he asked the bartender for another pint of beer. “Tom’s stuck in the library, cramming for his Physics exam.”

“I told him to start his revisions early. That exam is no joke.”

“Yeah, and the bloody idiot didn’t listen,” Harrison grumbled. “But speaking of the idiot, you were saying you didn’t want to marry Tom? I didn’t even know he proposed.” He teased. “I didn’t even know you had a crush on him!” 

“I will kill you in your sleep, Harrison.” 

“Hey, I was just asking why you didn’t want to marry Tom.” He defended himself with a grin, obviously enjoying how flustered you were. 

“What are you even doing here, Haz?” You asked, plain exasperated. 

“Well, Y/N, I need to have a social life too.” Haz answered. 

“Can you have a social life somewhere else then?” 

“Nah,” He dismissed you and out of sheer reflex, you smacked the back of his head. “Oi!” He yelped in pain. 

You and Harrison were pretty close and you two established that early when you three started living together. You two definitely bickered like siblings and everyone knew that. Tom never felt out of place with you and Harrison as you three collectively found ways to annoy one another.

“It’s okay, YN,” Zoë tried to console you for a moment before adding, “Harrison can stay.” 

“You’re just saying that because you have a crush on him,” You grumbled before taking a sip of your drink.

 You suddenly felt a stinging pain from your arm and saw Zoë glaring at you, cheeks blushing. “Oi, what is wrong with you?” You cried while rubbing your arm, trying to disperse the pain. 

“I don’t see why you’re so deeply affected with the idea of marrying Tom,” Liz commented as she turned to you. “The two of you already fight like a married couple anyway.”

“I still would’ve loved to hear it from you, darling,” Tom commented as Harrison was fighting off a laugh behind him. 

“Keep dreaming, Holland.” was all you said before turning back your attention to your laptop. 

“We’re heading out for Jackson’s party, ‘mkay?” Tom called out, stuffing his phone and wallet in his back pockets.

“Mhm… sure… as if I care…” You mumbled as you started typing your essay, with your draft as reference. You were definitely annoyed at how you were spending your free time.

“I’m just saying!” Tom remarked in his defense “I just thought that maybe you’d wait up so…”

You tore your attention from your paper and looked into Tom’s eyes and said bluntly, “I don’t know how you do it, but you never fail to surprise me with that ego of yours.”

“I’ll miss you too, darling. Don’t stay up too late.” He winked then left.

"We’ll see you later, Y/N. Lock the doors!” Harrison said before waving you goodbye. 

x

You sat up from your bed, sneering at the loud banging noise coming from outside of your door. You blindly looked for your phone and as you found it, you checked the time and it says 3:21 AM.

“For fuck's sake," You grunted as you stood up and marched your way to the living room. You’ve only been asleep for less than two hours and you were ready to kill whoever’s outside your door. 

As you opened your door, you saw a very drunk Tom who looked like an absolute mess and will probably regret everything the next time wakes up. You leaned into your doorframe, as you watched Tom successfully maneuvered his way around the living room. 

“Tom, it’s past 3 AM.” You groaned in exhaustion as you watched Tom, clearly drunk out of his mind, trying to keep his balance. 

“Y/N, baby,” Tom greeted you, “‘ve missed you.” His speech was beginning to slur as he engulfed you in a hug. 

“Holland, you reek of alcohol.” You scrunched your nose in disgust and wriggled your way out of his hug. “Come, I’ll take you to your room.” 

“Nooo,” He drawled out as he dragged his footsteps inside your room, lazily walking to your bed.

“Tom, you can’t sleep here.” You argued as he still didn’t budge and just flopped on the top of your bed. 

“Why not?” He murmured, clearly out of it. 

“Because that’s my bed and you have your own, dumbass.” You replied as you threw your head back, frustrated. At this point, you knew it was hopeless. This was the most you’ll be getting out of him. 

“Hey, Y/N?” 

“What?” 

“I really, really like your bed,” Tom confessed which only made you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, I figured.” You commented as you began pulling out the sleeping bag stashed in the back of your closet. You often wondered why you bought this as you were never the type who camps for pure pleasure. 

I guess I finally have the reason to use this now, you thought to yourself. You grabbed a couple of pillows and the plush blanket you’ve always adored then began setting them up on the floor where you will be sleeping. 

You stepped outside for a minute to grab a glassful of water and some aspirin for Tom before placing them on top of your nightstand. You also stopped inside Tom’s room for a quick minute to grab some clothes for him to change in. 

You didn’t know why you were doing all of it but there you were, standing in front of Tom’s closet, looking for a shirt and some sweatpants that he could change in. 

After you’ve managed to grab Tom’s clothes, you popped back into your room only to find Tom completely sprawled on top of your bed. You quietly approached him and gently dabbed the damp towel (that you also prepared before coming back to your room) all over his face. 

Brushing Tom’s hair away from his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him in complete awe. Until now you were still asking yourself why you’re going the extra mile for him. 

Maybe you were trying to convince yourself that you’re trying to be a good friend and should be looking after him. 

Maybe you were trying to convince yourself that you’re trying to be a better person and through this, you wouldn’t feel a sense of guilt if you let Tom pass out in the living room. 

Or maybe those pesky little feelings that you tried to suppress were emerging once again. You did have a little crush on Tom but there was no way in hell that you’d ever admit that nor does anyone have to know. 

Tom wasn’t bad. Yeah, maybe he does annoy you out of sheer pleasure but the guy wasn’t the absolute worst. 

Tom always gets you coffee when he knows he went over the line and pissed you off. 

He’d always leave little notes beside them too, saying “sorry if I was being an ass last night :(” or maybe something like “coffee in exchange for letting you sleep in a bad mood”.

You always said they were cheesy but you secretly adored them. You always kept the notes too, you were a sucker for those sentiments. 

You pushed your thoughts in the back of your mind and gently tapped Tom’s shoulder, asking him to wake up.

He eventually obliged, half-asleep as he sat up from your bed. 

“You need to change into more comfortable clothes, Tom.” 

“M-don’t want to,” He murmured as he rested his head on the headboard. 

“You are literally covered in sweat, dumbass.” You argued, “Also, I don’t want my sheets to smell like sweat and alcohol.” 

Tom sighed as he took off his shirt and changed into clean ones. He was about to take off his pants when he caught you watching at him. 

You quickly turned your attention away from him, your cheeks definitely burning from embarrassment. You didn’t even know why you were watching him in the first place. 

You always see Tom shirtless so that wasn’t a huge deal, and there are a couple of instances where you saw Tom walking around the flat with just his boxers on.

Why you were suddenly embarrassed with an almost half-naked Tom, especially when this was not a foreign sight for you, only confused you. 

Maybe, I’m the one who's drunk. 

"Are you decent?” You asked Tom, afraid to turn around as the embarrassment was still running through your veins. 

You heard a soft chuckle from Tom and he murmured “yeah” in response. 

Tom laid back and took the spot at the edge of your bed as you took the sleeping bag that you prepared a little while ago. 

You quickly peeped at your phone to check the time and it was almost 4 o’clock in the morning. You were wide awake now. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Tom suddenly called out.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response. 

“Did you know that flamingos bend their legs at their ankles and not at their knees?”

“I-uh,” You were lost for words, either at this fact or due to the fact that Tom even knows this. “What?”

“Well technically, the joints that we see on their legs are their ankles while their knees are much closer to their body and are hidden under their feathers.” 

“How do you even know this?” 

“I usually do a deep-dive on the web when I can’t sleep.” 

“Oddly enough, that makes sense.” You confessed, chuckling. 

There was a small period of silence and you suddenly wondered where Harrison was. 

“Hey, do you know what happened to Harrison?” You asked out loud. 

“No,” He murmured. “Why are you suddenly looking for him?”

“Well you two left together and only one of you made it home, so I think I get worried for that idiot right?” 

“He probably crashed at Jackson’s or he’s hooking up with someone.” Tom answered. “I told him I was heading home and he said he wanted to stay so that’s my best guess.” 

You picked up your phone and tried calling Harrison but he wasn’t picking up. 

You furrowed your eyebrows and sent a text to Haz saying, “text me if you’re alive. need to know if we need to clear out your room. jk. pls text back.” followed by a “ also pls don’t do something remotely embarrassing. text back, haz. i mean it.” 

The room fell into silence once again and it made you a bit uncomfortable. 

“Tom?”

“Yeah?” 

“Do you mind if I play some music while sleeping?” 

“Go ahead, it’s your room.” He answered. 

You scoffed, “Yeah, thanks for reminding me.” 

“Anytime, babe.”

You connected your phone to the bluetooth speakers and put your playlist on shuffle. Soon enough Cigarettes After Sex’s song “K.”, started playing softly in the background. 

You shuffled across your ‘bed’, trying to find a more comfortable sleeping position. 

“This is going to kill my back when I wake up.” You mumbled to yourself.

“Sleep with me then,” You heard Tom suggest. 

“I beg your pardon?!” You were appalled. 

“Wha- Oh! Not like that, babe.” He quickly took it all back, trying to recover from another layer of embarrassment he just cost the two of you. “I mean yeah, sure, why not.” He joked.

“Ha ha, very funny Holland.” You said sarcastically. 

“What I meant was lay down next to me. Here. In the space next to me.” He cleared out. 

“I think I’ll be fine here.” You answered. “I mean what’s a day of pain right?” 

“Y/N, I think we’re two grown adults. We’re just sleeping together.” Tom tried to explain which only made you wince even more. 

“Tom, you really have to clarify things well.” 

“We’re two grown adults, sleeping in one bed. Nothing malicious there.” He did his best to do it properly. “Besides, are you really passing up the opportunity to sleep on your outrageously comfortable bed?” 

You sat up straight and shot daggers at him. “Screw you, Holland. You should be sleeping on your own bed.” 

He closed his eyes and said, “’m too tired to move.” 

You sighed, grabbing a few pillows and your blanket. You made your way to the empty spot of the bed, right beside Tom. “Don’t try anything, Holland.” You warned him and laid right next to him. 

With his eyes still closed, he chuckled and said, “I promise, darling.” 

“I’m serious, Tom. If you try something, I swear I will curse you and the next three generations of your family to fail.” 

“I’ll marry you then.” retorted Tom.

Flushed from what Tom just said, you grabbed your phone to divert your attention to something else. It was then when you noticed a text message from Harrison saying, “i’m fine. crashed at jack’s lol. it’s not me you should be worried about, it’s tom. the blabbering drunk might finally confess he likes you haha.” 

You quickly turned off your phone as it only left you even more flustered. Right then, you felt Tom tug your hand only to interlace his fingers with yours. 

You turned to face him but he had his eyes closed. You decided to just close your eyes and force yourself to sleep. 

You were slowly falling into a deep slumber when you heard soft mumbles from Tom. “Goodnight, Y/N. Going to sleep with my heart racing is harder than I thought. The things you do to me, darling, you’ll never know.” 

x

hiya again babes, please leave some feedback!!!! whether you think it’s shit or just plain horrible! or maybe you liked it for some reason?? lmao any feedback is nice.

[shut-it-tinman]

green light

character: bucky barnes

inspo: songfic of lorde’s first track on her sophomore album, melodrama

warnings: break-ups, mentions of drinking, some swearing, past mentions of death, past mentions of cheating, mentions of lying, gossip

word count: +1.6k

a/n: wow it’s been ages, sorry about that, but I am working on multiple things so hopefully more to come. also never got to post this on here, though I did on ao3 and wattpad. this was written a while ago. but yeah, hope you enjoy!

The car ride was shaky, and both Y/N and Jemma dreaded that they had let Natasha drive them. Wanda was fine, constantly saying that she’s dealt with worse with her brother trying for the fourth time for his driver’s license.

“Romanoff! Can you slow down? I’m trying to put my eyeliner on,” Y/N whined, as the car jerked violently into one direction, causing her to have a long wing on her left eyelid.

“Why what’s wro- oh my god that’s fucking hilarious,” Daisy giggled. Y/N groaned as she tried to look into her phone screen using it as a mirror.

“You would have finished your makeup if you didn’t insist on taking a nap before we would leave for the party,” Jemma said, snickering at her eyeliner wings.

“Is it all gone?” Y/N said, facing Daisy. She nodded.

“Yep, just a little bit right there,” she said, reaching her arm out to wipe the smudged eyeliner in the corner of her eye.

“Thanks,” Y/N said, “and now I’m done.”

“Finally,” Wanda grumbled, “because we’re here.”

The club that the gals had gone to, the one that they all frequented after their college lives, was dark, crowded, and loud with music.

“Hey, isn’t that Bucky?” Daisy whispered to Y/N as they walked into the club. Wanda gave Daisy a look and elbowed her.

“Ouch! What? I thought that their relationship was over.” Jemma rolled her eyes at the brown-haired girl.

“Their relationship is never really over, not when she’s still in the picture.” Y/N looked over to where Daisy had mentioned, and there he was, nursing a drink, probably something hard, like whiskey or bourbon, but he also seemed to be brooding over something.

“I’m gonna go say hi,” she decided, sauntering over to him.

“Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea since-” Jemma said, floundering to try and grab her arm before she left.

“Well there she goes, and she’s gonna have her heart broken again,” Natasha muttered.

“C’mon, let’s go take a seat and watch for her,” Daisy said, ushering them to a booth in almost line of sight from where Bucky was.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming,” Y/N said, taking a seat next to him.

“I was surprised that you called me,” Bucky replied, taking a sip of his drink. A bartender came to her attention as soon as she sat down, so she ordered a random cocktail that she could think of off the top of her head.

“I’m surprised that you’re now a cocktail kinda gal,” he said, downing his glass.

“Well, you seem to be into new things lately as well,” she said as the bartender set down her drink. She reached over to her purse, looking for her wallet.

“Let me get that since you’ve paid for mine last time.” She mumbled her thanks and took a long sip of her cocktail. “Brian, you can just put her drink on my tab, thanks,” he said with a smirk and a wink. Brian nodded and walked away.

“So how have you been?” she said. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“How have I been? Well great, Georgie and I have been great, fantastic, if that’s what’s you’re asking,” he with a smirk that he what was coming. He always did. Every Friday night, Y/N and her gal pals would plan to go out, and she would secretly invite Bucky to each gathering. And he would bring Georgiana just in spite of her. And she would yell, curse and even slap (only twice, unfortunately) him for bringing her along, especially since their relationship is technically not over.

“We’ve actually been thinking in buying a house on the beachfront,” he blabbed on and on.

“Wait, I thought you hated the beach,” she said, interrupting him.

“No I don’t. You hate the beach.” She looked incredulous, annoyed at him.

“I LOVE the beach, and you would always make a fuss whenever I would drag you along to the beachfront parties.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders, effortless and uninterested.

“I don’t what you’re saying, I loved going to the beach, and you were the one who would always make a bi-” And one slender arm wrapped around Bucky stopped him from talking any further.

“Hey Y/N, nice dress, though I heard it was from last season,” Georgiana said, all smiling with glistening teeth, but snarky as usual. Y/N rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing herself for the storm.

“Georg, you’re here,” Bucky said, his eyes softening at her appearance. He softly kissed her on the cheek, while Georgiana fluttered in utter joy. Y/N forced herself to withstand it, gripping her hands together from slapping the both of them but also rolling her eyes at their attempts of affection.

“Like I was saying Y/N, you may need to head into that charity shop that Bucky’s been tellin’ me that you love to find something that doesn't reek of desperation and yesterday’s mistakes.” Those words burned at Y/N, the urge to provoke her was rushing to the edge, closer and closer. He had told her. And she went there to donate the clothes that she felt she didn't need, to give to those less fortunate. He told Georgia and twisted the story. Not that shopping at thrift stores was a bad thing. They have the best Christmas sweaters for the cheapest price. She refocused herself, baring down any bad choices surfacing that she would regret later.

“Thanks Georgia, I really appreciate your fashion sense, and fuck you Bucky,” she said, sauntering away with her drink, back to her friends.

It seems as if Georgiana wanted to comment back, but Bucky tried to calm her down, like there was some sense of guilt and genuinity left for Y/N.

Eighteen Months Ago

“What are you doing?” she giggled, as he awkwardly bounced around to the techno music that thumped in the club.

“Y/N, what does it look like I’m doing? I’m dancing,” he said with a goofy grin.

“Oh my god, you’re insane.” He shrugged, leaning in closer to her. Bucky wrapped his arms around her neck, and they stared into each other’s eyes. “This feels like a thing that people used to do in high school dances, not techno clubs,” she whispered, smiling softly. He stared into her warm eyes, and his lips curved into a wry smile.

“I love you.” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Wha-what did say?”

“I love you.” Y/N smiled, her heart growing by the minute at his confession.

“I love you too.” Bucky leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

This was the first time that he said the L-word.

Bucky had always believed that the word was reserved for “the person.” The person that he would say “I love you” to, would be his forever and always. Those words were the steady nod that he was in this for real, that this was real. And it was. Until something traumatic happened.

“He’s a dick. Like a super, dough-bag dick.” Daisy declared once Y/N settled back to their table. Y/N half chuckled in response, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Y/N, that sad picture of a man doesn’t deserve all the attention that you’re giving him,” Wanda said, rubbing Y/N’s shoulders in comfort.

“How does he seem to be at all the clubs that we go to?” Jemma said, thinking outloud. Everyone shrugged, some curious while others didn’t care for the reasoning why Bucky Barnes and his bitchy girlfriend seemed to ruin their nights for the past two months.

“That’s odd. Unless he and his crazy, bitchy girlfriend are stalking us, someone is telling him, because there is no way that it’s mere coincidence,” Natasha reasoned, taking a few sips of her Russian Vodka cocktail. All the girls looked at each other with steely eyes. Then, something clicked in all of their heads; they all turned to Y/N.

“Y/N,” Daisy said, touching the woman’s shoulder gently, “have you been telling Bucky where to meet up with us?” Y/N looked up at her friends, nervous.

“Maybe?” she squeaked.

“Oh Y/N,” Jemma sighed. They all looked at her in sympathy.

“Babe, you have to get over him. Move on. Break the ties,” Natasha said.

“Okay,” Y/N said, nodding. “I’ll do it. Just not tonight. I don’t think I can handle it anymore.” The other girls nodded, and they all stood up from their booth.

“Well that was a night,” Daisy said.

“Sure was,” Jemma said, as they were walking out the door.

Y/N trailed behind them, watching them ask the valet for their communal car.

“Y/N, aren’t you coming?” Wanda said, turning back. The other girl nodded.

“You go ahead, I just need a minute.” Wanda gave her a smile, before darting off.

The club was still loud and full of energy as the night was winding down. Y/N could spot Bucky and Georgiana still sitting at the bar. A small part of her was waiting for him to look at her, but he didn’t. And then, she was okay with it.

She smiled to herself as she walked out, glad that she wasn’t gonna fall back down that hole again.

Bucky looked up, having the sense that someone was watching him. And he saw her, leaving, with no regrets. His heart panged, regretting all the pain that he had put her through. And he realized that it was the last time that he’ll ever see her again.

To: Bucky Dickbag Barnes

Since you didn’t have the courage to dump me yet, guess I’ll jump ahead. Also, since you’re such a dickbag, I’m breaking up with you over the phone.

And fuck you Buck.