#that should be long enough for any differences to kick in but i might be wrong. it took 2 months for my period to stop initially

[freeabortionslol]

"Baby Zegras" (luke Hughes x zegras!reader)

summary: childhood friends to lovers, reader is trevor's sister, secret dating caught by jack, trevor is portrayed as a mean older brother at the start (im sorry I love him I promise he gets better), italics mean flashbacks

warnings!! heated makeout, suggestive, cursing, mentions of alcohol, mutual pining, fluff, luke being a touch starved awkward king, I feel like I did a bad job proofreading

a/n: strap in cause this one is long!! towards the end it feels kind of rushed but that's bc I need to go to bed but I also wanted to finish this by tn. anyways hope you like it!!

wc:6.6k

The game was long. Too long. The entire time you sat at the edge of your seat up in the box. Your Anaheim Ducks jersey falling slightly past your fingertips, disregarding any attempts to push back your sleeves. Your own last name on your back as you watched your brother, Trevor, race for the puck. You sat in between your mother and father who were basically screaming at the ice like they were down there themselves, but you had your knees to your chest biting your nails. Of course you were proud of your brother, and you always cheered for him any other night, but this game was different. Your attention was focused on New Jersey defenceman, Luke Hughes. When Trevor was 12, he became close with Jack Hughes. They bonded over their love for hockey, and eventually claimed each other as best friends. That summer, Trevor was invited to stay at the Hughes lake house and with how gracious and welcoming Ellen and Jim Hughes were, they offered to let you stay as well. 

“Mama I don’t wanna go! This is stupid. These are Trevor’s friends. I’ve never even met these people before.” You whined as your mother dragged you by your hand out of the car. Your glance immediately caught the large house in front of you. You’d never seen anything like it, never visited a lake being from New York. A boy stood on the front porch, his mother standing beside him with a warm smile. Trevor immediately jumps out of the car, running past you and your mother. You watched as he did a secret handshake with the boy on the porch just before pulling him in for a hug. You took a moment to smell the salty freshness of the air surrounding you. Everything felt so wide and open, and for a split second you thought it might not be too bad. Just as you were enjoying the moment, your mother tugged on your hand walking closer to the house, and your stubbornness kicked back in immediately. You snatched your hand away from her, crossing your arms as you followed her up the porch steps. She hugged the boy’s mother and small conversation began to spark as you stood with a grumpy face behind her. You felt Trevor tug on your arm, pulling you to where he and the boy stood.

“Y/n, this is my friend Jack.” You kept your annoyed face as you shoved Trevors hand off your arm.

“Oh! You’re baby Zegras!” Jack greeted you with a wide smile and held out his hand for you to shake. You simply crossed your arms and let out an aggressive huff.

“I’m not a baby. I’m ten.” You tilted your head away from him as he slowly let down the hand he had up.

“Don’t pay attention to her, Jack. She’s just a brat who wants attention.” Trevor gave the back of your head a hit and you turned your focus back to him.

“I’m not a brat!” You shoved him back, and he sent you a slap to the shoulder.

“Are too!” What started as two shoves turned into a slap fight on the porch between the two of you. You took a couple hits to his face, while his slaps remained on your chest. Just as you were about to send him a friendly kick to the groin your mother came over to separate the two of you.

“Hey! Hey! Mrs. Hughes was nice enough to invite you both to her lake house which we should be grateful for! Let’s try to act like normal human beings for once!” She said sternly, but not yelling like she normally did. Probably didn’t want to scare off Mrs. Hughes.

“She was gonna kick me in the nuts!” Trevor pointed at you, to which you responded by pointing back at him.

“He started it! He called me a brat!” Your face grew angrier as you and Trevor were now in a stare off.

“Yeah, you were being a brat!” You tried to hit him through your mother’s grip, but she had caught it before you even thought about doing so. She put a hand on each of your backs as she guided the two of you into the house with Mrs. Hughes who had started laughing at the sibling tussle saying, “I have three boys. Trust me, I've seen worse. Quinn ripped out Jack’s braces at the ice rink last year.” The mother’s began to walk ahead of you, Trevor and Jack. Your arms remained crossed, still quite upset at Trevor. Before you knew it, Jack had his arm around you as the three of you broke away from your mom and Mrs. Hughes. Trevor walked up next to you mumbling something along the lines of “Don’t embarrass me or I'll kill you and dance on your grave.” Jack led you both down a flight of stairs to the basement, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder. You didn’t hate that it was there, Jack was a pretty boy and the fact that he was your brother’s best friend made the whole situation better. You knew you could use it to twist Trevor’s gears in the future. When you had made it to the bottom of the steps you were greeted by a couch full of guys you had never met.

“Y/n, this is Alex, Cole, my brother Quinn, and my brother Luke. Luke is your age, Quinn is 14 and those two dick heads are me and Trevor’s age.” Your hands fell out of the crossed position they were in, and you allowed your face to soften. “Everyone, this is Baby Zegras.”

You quickly shot him a glare “I’m not a-”

“Not a baby. I know, but the thing about hockey nicknames is that you’re supposed to hate it. You may hate it, but the team thinks it fits.” He interrupted your speech and shook you with the hand on your shoulder. You turned your attention back to the couch full of unfamiliar boys that were friends with Trevor. You’d heard countless stories about them, but now you could put faces to names. You upturned your lips into a half closed-mouthed smile and awkwardly raised your hand to wave. Everyone smiled back and several “Hi!”s echoed through the room. Jack moved his hand to grip on your shoulder as he moved you towards the couch. He took a seat next to Cole, and Trevor followed after. You made your way to the end of the couch to sit next to your brother, but he responded by putting his leg up on the seat next to him.

“Nuh uh. No way. I didn’t even want you to be here.” You almost felt tears well up in your eyes as the only thing you wanted was the comfort of your big brother in a room filled with unfamiliar faces.

“You can come sit with me!” You heard an excited voice from behind and turned around to see the littlest Hughes scooching over and patting the seat next to him. You sucked all of your emotions back into your chest as you made your way over. You took a seat in between Luke and his older brother who was sitting back looking at his phone. The two of you sat awkwardly for a moment and watched as the older boys discussed things that happened during hockey camp. You looked over to Quinn who you were sure was only there to make sure the boys didn’t break any furniture, or light the basement on fire. 

“They call me baby too. Baby Hughes. I hate it.” Luke let out with a small laugh. You smiled and let out a chuckle as the two of you sat shoulder to shoulder, with hands in laps. “We can be babies together.” He looked over at you and held out his fist for a fist bump. You quickly responded to it not wanting to ruin the chance of having an ally at this house for the summer.

Later that night after your mother left, and the house began to quiet down you were moved into the rooms you’d be sleeping in. Being the youngest child, you were prone to separation anxiety and homesickness. You missed your mom, but you were just thankful you’d be sleeping in a room with Trevor. Cole and Alex were tucked away in the spare room, Luke and Jack in Jack’s room, and you and Trevor in Luke’s room. Trevor was visibly upset that he’d be sharing a room with you, rather than his friends that he came on this trip to see. It didn’t make you sad that he didn’t want to share a room, just as long as he’d be forced in there because lord knows you couldn’t sleep alone. You and Trevor were tucked into Luke’s bed around ten. You tossed and tousled trying to sleep which was hard because you were so far away from home and your mother was nowhere to be seen. After about thirty minutes of lying in bed next to Trevor, you felt the weight of his body lift off the mattress. He had assumed you fell asleep and decided to make his way into the room with all of his friends. Without his presence beside you, you immediately felt a wave of sadness come over you. You burst into tears silently, trying to muffle your heavy breathing into the pillow. You wanted nothing more than to be safe in your own bed, in your own house with your family. You lay on your side facing away from the door, practically drowning yourself in your own tears. As you very quietly repeated the words “I just want to go home” to yourself, you heard the door creak open. You immediately sat up, pulling your knees to your chest under the blanket, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you tried to stifle your sobs.

“Trevor?” You sniffled out with a shaky breath following behind. You had expected, wanted even, to see Trevor creep through the doorway. Despite the fights you just wanted the comfort of your big brother.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Luke shuffled into the room with tired eyes, shutting the door behind him. You caught a sudden shock at the sight of him as he moved closer towards the bed.

“Yeah I-I’m fine.” You nodded your head trying your hardest not to cry in front of the boy, but that all went out the window when you said “I just miss my mommy.” Tears resumed spilling down your face. You bit your lip, hoping it would stop the streaming mess that was burning your face. Luke said nothing. He only walked over to you in the bed and wrapped his arms around you to pull you in for a hug. You continued to cry into his shoulder, letting out shaky breaths. The comfort of his polyester t-shirt against your chin definitely helped.

“You know when I'm away and I miss my mommy, I just hug Buttons and pretend it's her.” Luke let go of the hug and reached down to the floor to grab a beat up looking teddy bear. It had one missing eye, with a button for the other, its ears were limp, and it looked like it had been through two world wars. “I came in here to get him, but I think you need him more than I do.” Luke gave a soft smile as he handed over his teddy bear. The same bear that he’d threatened Jack to death if he dared to touch it. He’d never let another person hold Buttons except for his parents, but for some reason you were different.

Luke stayed in the room after handing over his one prized possession. He laid on the floor with a blanket and a couple pillows to let you have the bed. He talked your little ears off until you finally found the comfort to fall asleep, Buttons in hand. From that day on, you and Luke became inseparable. Everyday at the Lake it was always you two together running around in the yard. You would play together until the two of you basically dropped from exhaustion. You became the “babies” of the lake house. You were invited back the next summer. Per request, an air mattress was moved into Luke’s room which he took gladly and let you have the bed. You weren’t sad when your mother left anymore, in fact it made you happy to know you got to spend time with Luke. The Hughes continued to invite you and Trevor to the lake house every summer, and every summer you and Luke grew closer. You were close with all the other guys with them looking at you like a younger sister, but Luke's eyes turned into hearts when he caught the sight of you. He doesn’t remember exactly when, but he was around thirteen or fourteen when he realized how in love with you he was. The way you made his heart feel when you would even just brush a shoulder against him was intense, and he wanted to feel that way everyday for the rest of his life. When the two of you were fifteen, Jack, Trevor, Cole, and Alex decided to throw a party in the basement while Ellen and Jim were away. There were probably 50 people in the basement that night filled with beautiful girls who you were sure would take Luke’s attention away, but instead the two of you stood against the wall all night sipping from Coca-Cola cans since Jack and Trevor said neither of you were allowed to drink. You and Luke watched as your brothers sat in a circle playing spin the bottle with various girls you’d never seen before and would probably never see again. After realizing how lame the party was since the two of you couldn’t drink, Luke pulled you by your hand outside.

“Race you to the dock.” He said quicker than you could think as he began to run towards the water.

“Not fair Lu!” You raced after him in a fit of giggles trying to catch up. Luke of course, made it to the dock first and before you could stop in your tracks, He grabbed you by your waist. The two of you stood there laughing and collapsing into each other. A few moments later you found yourselves sitting at the edge of the dock sitting shoulder to shoulder with your feet hanging over the water. You two just sat there taking in the quiet bliss away from the obnoxious party behind you. The two of you started talking about the actions of your brothers inside the house specifically, spin the bottle.

“Never had your first kiss, Lukey?” You nudged his shoulder and he let out a soft laugh.

“No. Not yet. Who would I have kissed?” He looked over at you with a toothy grin.

“I don’t know. Sure there’s plenty of girls lined up to kiss the baby Hughes.” He gave a sheepish grin and looked down at the water “I haven’t had mine either. Feels kind of pathetic being fifteen not having kissed anyone. All of my friends have.” You shifted your gaze to the horizon in front of you, taking a sip from your coke can. What you didn’t realize is that Luke had been staring at you. Admiring your features and coming up with either the best or worst idea he’d ever had.

“You could kiss me.” He kept his sight on your face, not realizing what he’d just said. You almost choked on the soda in your mouth as you moved your head to face him. He had a smirk on his face that told you he was infatuated with the way you looked. You couldn’t understand why sitting on the dock with no makeup on, in one of his hockey sweatshirts, with your hair messily waved up from the lake water.

“Really?” You asked him with hope in your voice that he was serious.

“Yeah. I mean it wouldn’t be weird. We're comfortable with each other.” This is when he realized what he had suggested. A bright red tint covered his face as you scooched in closer to him. 

“Okay.” Was all you said as you cupped his face into your hand, pulling him in closer. He placed a simple, but sweet closed-mouthed kiss on your lips. The both of you pulled back in an instant, smiling at each other. You noticed the way his blush creeped towards his ears as you rubbed your thumb against his cheekbone.

Unfortunately for the two of you, this wasn’t the moment that your relationship began. However, it was the moment that made you realize just how in love you were with Luke, the crush no longer being one sided. Throughout high school neither of you dated anyone and the only people you’d ever kissed were each other. The two of you grew out of your awkward teen stages together, remaining close. After graduation, Luke went to U Michigan to play Hockey, while you studied psychology at NYU. Though it seemed to your families and friends that the two of you had drifted, it was quite the opposite. You and Luke would stay up late nights on facetime talking about your vastly different college experiences with each other. You loved him, and he loved you. It had always been that way and you’d hoped it would stay that way. When you found out that Luke had been drafted to the New Jersey Devils and he would be living only 20 minutes away, you immediately dropped every man on your contact list. It only took Luke until the second time he visited your apartment to confess his love to you. It was the most relieving moment of both of your lives, feeling like a giant weight had been lifted from your chests. You and Luke decided to keep your relationship a secret considering if Trevor found out, he’d have to resort to physical violence. Luke recalled Trevor giving a whole speech at the lake house to all the boys saying that you were “off limits” and if he found any of them touching you in any way that wasn’t platonic he’d “beat your ass so far into the ground you’ll be able to see the core of the earth” You and Luke’s relationship consisted of a lot of secret meetups at him and Jack’s apartment after games. Jack always went out with the team for drinks after a win, so you and Luke had the place to yourself. The two of you would steal moments during the day to go out for a nice lunch date, or a stroll through the park. It was all you’ve ever wanted and more

That was almost a year ago. Now, you were sitting in the box seats watching your brother go head to head against your boyfriend on the ice. The entire scene was nerve wracking considering it was third period, with the Ducks leading the Devils 4-3. Your parents were ecstatic as they watched the plays unfold, jumping up and down every time the Ducks got the puck back. You however, were nervously making a snack out of your freshly painted nails with your knees tucked to your chest in the same way they were the night Luke found you crying in his bedroom. With the way you looked and the seats you were in, all signs pointed to “this girl is a Ducks fan” but on the inside you were secretly cheering on the Devils. You’d never seen Luke play in an NHL game before, since you both thought it would look strange showing up to one of his games when the two of you supposedly haven’t spoken in two or three years. You had however, seen Trevor play several times and you knew when he was in the game, he was really into it. Deep down you knew that Trevor wouldn’t get aggressive with the Hughes boys, but for some reason the thought lingered in your mind. Not even specifically Trevor, but the thought of any Ducks player becoming aggressive with Luke made your skin crawl. To you, he was fragile. Always the sweetest guy in the room, and you don’t know what you would do if something terrible happened. You also knew that Luke was constantly chirping at the opposing team which caused your fears to escalate. 

“Baby, you gotta calm down.” Your mom placed a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to bring down your nerves “You’re on high alert right now, and the Ducks are winning!” She points to Trevor on the ice, who is grinning wide. Your gaze remained on Luke who was sitting on the bench, and you wished he would just look at you for two seconds. 

“What? It's a stressful game!” You groaned at your mother with a hint of annoyance. 

“Yeah honey, I didn’t even know you got into hockey like this.” Your dad added to which you gave a simple eye roll and returned chewing on your nails.

“Ooh! I know! Let’s play that game where we try to find your future husband on the opposing team.” You looked over at your mom who was bouncing her shoulders up and down with a mischievous grin.

“No no no. Mom, I don’t wanna play.” You leaned your head back in frustration at her attempts to distract you.

“What? You love this game! Come on. Hmm…” She skimmed through the players on the ice reading the names and numbers on their backs “Oh! Luke Hughes number 43!” She excitedly pointed at Luke from the box “You two were awfully close as kids. How about reconnecting?” Your mother’s words did nothing except make you realize that he was back on the ice. You sat up straight in your seat basically going down on your nails at this point. “He’s got nice hair and he’s tall and-”

“Mom, shush I'm trying to watch this.” She sighed in defeat as you locked your full attention onto Luke skating around the ice. 

“You shouldn’t talk to your mother like that. I ruined my body for you, you know? I’m going to go get you a hot chocolate and we’ll see if that calms you down.” Your mom got up from her seat with your dad following close behind her.

“Yeah yeah that’s great, mom. Thanks.” Your eyes still strictly focused on Luke, whose figure was extremely small from the box. You watched as Jack passed him the puck. He skated fast as always, clearly attempting to go coast to coast taking a shot on goal, but it was ultimately saved by the goalie who returned the puck to the Ducks. You let your head hang for a moment in your hands before drawing your attention back to the game. You scooted to the edge of your seat, putting your legs back on the ground as you rested your elbows on your knees. You saw Luke skate closer to Trevors teammate, Ross Johnston. You knew immediately that he was chirping. He was chirping at a time like this. You stared closely, squinting your eyes, watching as Luke spat out a couple words to the taller and older man. You looked down and ran your hands through your hair as you let out a quiet “Oh my god.” Groaning through your words. You looked up from the floor, turning your attention back to the ice, only to see Luke being pushed up against the glass by Johnston. 

“OH MY GOD.” You practically shouted as you rose from your seat, stepping closer to the box barrier watching the scene unfold in distress. The arena’s camera pointed to Luke who was trying to talk his way out of things as usual. Luckily, his teammates had his back and swooped in quickly with the refs following close behind. You let out a sigh of relief as Johnston was pulled away from Luke. You moved back to your seat, heart just about beating out of your chest. You tilted your head behind you to see several Ducks WAGs and parents giving you confused stares. You just widened your eyes and slowly turned your head back to the game, wanting to hide yourself in your jersey. Instead you opted to pull your legs back up to your chest, resting your head on your knees. 

The game continued for another 10 minutes where Nico scored a goal to tie the game, and Luke made an assist to Jack who scored the game winning point. Your parents and everyone else in the box let out various groans and hung their heads in defeat, but you were wearing a secret smile behind your hand. No matter what it came down to, you were just proud of Luke even at the expense of your brother’s loss. People started shuffling out of the arena, including your parents who said they just wanted to make the hour drive back home and go to sleep. You told them you wanted to wait for Trevor as a cover up. You said your goodbyes to them and waited in the box for a bit longer.

lukey: Meet at my car in the parking garage. Second floor. Ily ❤️

You smiled at his message and began making your way out of the suite. All of the fans had shuffled out of the arena at this point, so you were just waiting for Luke to finish his post game interviews. Your walk to the parking garage was nicer than you expected it to be. You smiled and blushed at the way Luke looked when Jack scored the final goal. You couldn’t show it when you were sitting in the box, but you had to let out the excitement now that you were alone. The whole place that was once crowded with fans, was now almost completely empty and silent. You passed by a giant mural of Jack’s face as you walked down a hallway, and laughed to yourself about how big that guy's ego is. You made it to an elevator where you showed the security guard your pass. He looked you up and down visibly confused by your Ducks jersey paired with your Devil’s pass. He shrugged it off and let you in. You skipped your way down the parking garage until you found Luke’s car. You leaned against it, waiting for him to meet you there. After about ten minutes you finally caught sight of Luke running up to you with his duffle bag slung around his shoulder, grinning wide. His soft curls poked out the sides of his Devils baseball cap, while his black hoodie flopped up and down as he made his way over to you. He immediately engulfed you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“You did so good tonight, baby. I’m so proud of you.” You muffled through the fabric on his shoulder. 

“I love you so much. Thank you for being here.” He huffed out as he rocked your body back and forth. He let his hold strengthen as he took in the scent of your perfume which you only wore because you knew it was his favorite. 

“You have no idea how hard it was trying not to cheer when you made that pass to Jack.” You giggled through your sentence and he let out a soft laugh. He released his hold, flipping his cap backwards, and pulled you in for a kiss. His soft lips immediately washed away the anxiety that poured over you during the game. Jokingly you pushed him back.

“No! You asshole! You scared me tonight!” You giggled and pushed his chest back, as he sent you back a large grin “You have to stop chirping at guys who are bigger than you, ESPECIALLY dudes with a big temperament!” He simply laughed at your statement, wrapping an arm around your shoulder pulling you to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door for you and you stepped into your seat with the help of his hand. He wrapped an arm around you, resting his hand on the center console once you were settled. He planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“I will stop chirping the day you show up to a game in my jersey.” He whispered into your parted mouth before shutting the door and entering the driver's seat.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for Luke to get started with you. It never did. The moment you shut the door to his apartment behind you, he had you pinned up against it. His lips placed sloppy kisses on yours which were only growing hungrier by the second. His large hands were planted on your waist making you feel like the smallest woman in the world. Your hands moved to his chest, gripping at the fabric of his hoodie, working to pull him closer. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, causing a slight moan to escape the back of your throat. He removed his lips from yours just barely to whisper “Jump.” The feel of his breath against your lips made you eager for his touch. You jumped up to let him hold you. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you through the living room like you weighed nothing. Your hands moved from his chest to the nape of his neck, allowing your fingers to explore his curls. You tugged at his hair slightly to which he responded with a low groan from his throat. He moved throughout the apartment until his back slammed on the door of his bedroom. With one hand on your ass, the other very eagerly searched for the door knob. You gently bit his bottom lip as he finally managed to get the door open. Entering the room, he laid you down on his bed, positioning himself on top of you as your legs remained around his waist pulling him further up. He removed his lips from yours and began placing a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck, until he found your sweet spot and began teething at it. You threw your head back and arched your back desperately for him.

“Need you now, Luke.” You spoke softly with each word interrupted with a breath as his hand hiked further up your leggings. You felt him grin against your neck as he moved his kisses up your jawline until he reached your ear.

“Take off this stupid fuckin’ jersey.” He whispered and his words sent a shiver down your spine as you grew hungrier for his touch. He leaned off of you slightly as you sat up for a moment to rip the Anaheim Ducks jersey off your body. He leaned back into you and began leaving kisses on the parts of your left breast that were uncovered by your bra. He moved his left hand to your stomach, letting the right one reach towards your back to unclasp the lacy bra you had worn just for him.

“OH LUKEY BOY! HOW BOUT THEM DEVS?” Jack's voice echoed throughout the apartment as you and Luke froze, staring at each other with widened eyes. He quickly jumped off of you, realizing the bedroom door had been left open. Jack always went for drinks after a win, so this was unexpected and quite unusual. Your fight or flight mode kicked in as you quickly remove yourself from the bed, shuffling under it. You watched as Luke quickly made his way out of the bedroom, shutting the door closed behind him. Jack passed him on his way to the kitchen, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Good job tonight, man. Seriously.” Jack glanced over at his brother as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Luke’s face was completely saturated with a red tint and his lips were still swollen. “You good, dude?”

“I-uh yeah i-i’m good.” Luke stuttered over his words as he straightened his posture and stuck his hands in his pocket, trying to look as natural as possible.

“Okay.” Jack laughed, taking a sip from his water bottle looking at the counter. “How’s your dick?” Jack looked back to his brother now with a mischievous smile on his face.

“It’s uh- it’s good.” Luke nodded his head, not fully processing Jack’s question “Wait, what?” He leaned against the door frame.

“It’s poking out quite a bit.” Jack’s smile only grew wider as he teased his little brother.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at my dick for?” Luke's voice comes out as frustrated and slightly guilty.

“I’m not! It’s looking at me!” Jack laughed through his sentence, taking another swig from his water bottle. Luke rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “So…who's the bunny in your room?” Jack asked, catching Luke off guard.

“W-what I d- I don’t know what you’re talking about. There's no ‘bunny’ in my room.” Luke flailed his arms out, trying his best to cover up the situation. 

“Yeah bullshit. Who’s the girl?” Jack smirked, walking closer to his brother who just shook his head. “Tell me, or I'm gonna go in there and introduce myself.” 

“No no no, Jack. You have to believe me. There’s no one in there.” Luke protested,but Jack’s hand was already on the doorknob and entering the room. Luke followed close behind him, a feeling of relief washed over when you were nowhere to be seen. “See! I told you. No girl.” Jack felt defeated for a split second, but knew not to give up as he walked towards your jersey on the floor. You silently cursed at yourself from under the bed for not grabbing itn your heart dropping straight to your stomach. 

“So, this is your Ducks jersey I'm assuming?” Jack looked over to Luke with a devilish grin, jersey in hand. Luke's hands went straight to his head, as Jack crouched down to where you were hiding under the bed. Luckily the shadows of the night were in your favor, covering your face perfectly.

“Hey queen. I’m Luke's brother, Jack. Promise I don’t bite.” He reached out his hand for you to take as you sighed, and accepted the defeat. You slowly made your way out from under the bed, your head poking out first.

“Hey, Jack Attack.” You gave him a sheepish smile as he fell back into the wall in shock. His mouth gaped wide open as he looked over to Luke, then to you, then back to Luke.

“BABY ZEGRAS?” Jack yelled at Luke as you swiped your jersey from his hand, quickly putting it back on. “Baby Zegras is your bunny?!” Jack’s glances shifted back and forth between you and Luke. “Oh my god.” Jack covered his face with his hands as he leaned his head up against the wall. “How long?” You and Luke glanced at each other, unsure of what to do at the moment. “HOW LONG? OH MY GOD!” Jack whined at the idea of the two babies from the lake house being together.

“Uh um bout a year.” Luke let out as his arms fell limp beside him.

“A YEAR?” Jack turned to face him, uncovering his face “THAT’S A LONG FUCKIN’ TIME, GUYS!” You began to bite your nails, staring down at the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Luke you’re a deadman.” Luke's ears tinted pink as Jack rested his forehead against the wall.

“No no, he's not. Just please please don’t tell Trevor.” You whined at Jack, begging for the slightest bit of sympathy.

“THAT'S GONNA BE HARD CONSIDERING HE’S IN THE ELEVATOR ON HIS WAY UP HERE!” Jack muffled a scream through his spot on the wall. Your eyes widened as you looked over at Luke who had his hands on his knees, clearly stressing. 

“Holy shit.” was all you could let escape your mouth, as you heard someone knocking on the door. Jack ran out of the room to let Trevor in, as you and Luke shuffled in next to each other freaking out, like you were two kids who’d been caught by their parents. You winced at the sound of Trevor’s voice when he greeted Jack at the doorway. However it was quickly interrupted, by Jack pulling him straight towards Luke’s room.

“Trevor, let me direct you to the scene of the crime!” Jack said with a shocked, manic smile on his face. You and Luke stood there shoulder to shoulder. Both of you looked a mess.

“I don’t get it. Y/n, what are you doing here?” Trevor let out a small, confused laugh. He stood there and glanced at the two of you, trying to connect the dots in his head. You felt a hard lump in your throat as Trevor took an unbelievably long time trying to figure out what was happening.

“Oh my god, Trevor. THEY FUCKIN’!” Jack spat out, flinging his arms towards the two of you. You watched in terror as Trevor’s face grew angry, his fist charging up in the air. You quickly stepped in between him and Luke.

“NO NO NO NO! STOP! We are not ‘fuckin’! I think the two of you should sit on the couch.” You motioned the boys out of Luke’s room with him following close behind.

“Yeah, you sure have a lot of explaining to do.” Trevor huffed out as his face turned tomato red, taking his seat on the couch. You and Luke stood in front of the couch facing Trevor and Jack. Your firm gaze was planted on Trevor’s, but Luke was staring at the floor in fear that these were his last moments alive. You smacked him in the chest back into reality, as he fluffed his hair and directed his gaze towards Jack with a look that said ‘fuck you’.The two of you stood there side by side taking in the final moments of your private relationship. You looked over to Luke who gave you a soft smile and nodded his head.

“Luke and I have something to share with the two of you.” You started. Jack and Trevor moved closer to the edge of the couch wearing the same concerned expression with a hint of anger. “We are not just hooking up.” You kept your stern look on Trevor as you took Luke’s hand into yours. “We are in love.” You watched as Trevor’s mouth dropped and Jack pretended to vomit, leaning over the edge of the couch. “AND, have been…for the past year.” Trevors mouth gaped open wider as he tilted his head down, looking up at the two of you through his eyebrows. Jack began to laugh nervously at the situation, looked over to Luke, and mouthed “You’re fucked.” You and Luke glanced at each other nervously, hand in hand as Trevor stepped up from the couch and made his way towards Luke. Trevor gave him the death stare of his life, to the point where he was afraid to blink. Through Trevor’s tough exterior, you hoped there was a small part of him that just wanted you to be happy. Thankfully, you were right in your instincts and Trevor held his hand out for Luke to shake. A sigh of relief left your mouth as Luke smiled slightly, taking Trevor’s hand in his. 

“If my baby sister is gonna date an idiot, i’m glad it’s this idiot.” Your shared anxiety with Luke quickly left both of your bodies as Trevor made his way back to the couch. You looked over at each other with wide grins, realizing the part of your relationship that you both dread was finally over, and you could finally continue your lives without having to be so secretive. 

[ki-yomii]

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.4k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; fwb, angst w/ a happy ending, teasing, finger fucking, squirting, praise kink, frottage, dirty talk, pet names, commitment issues, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, dom!jk, idiots in love, misunderstandings ➥ summary | after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do. ➥ notes | istg i've re-written this more times than i care to count 💀 enjoy!

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cnt make it 2nite

The text is blunt - biting. No explanation offered, and certainly no false platitudes found in the lifeless string of black letters. Rather simple and straight to the point.

As you should have expected from Jungkook. He wasn’t known for his verbosity, and even less so for his love of texting.

But as you chew the fat of your cheek, reading it over and over again in an attempt to glean some hidden meaning that isn’t there, you admit to yourself - at least privately - there’s no more avoiding the truth.

One that’s been hovering over your shoulder for weeks like a shroud; an unwelcome guest you can’t ignore anymore: Jungkook’s been avoiding you.

It shouldn’t be surprising.

Moreover, it shouldn’t hurt.

There shouldn’t be an ache in your chest every time you see his contact or the plummet of your stomach when that inevitable excuse comes through.

In the end, he owes you nothing. The arrangement between you is casual, just a little fun between good friends.

It still fucking sucks though, you think, sucking your teeth.

Night thoroughly ruined before it’s begun, it’s only a matter of deciding how to respond now. In the past you’ve used a plethora of options, but you’re stumped. Unsure how to correlate the level of hurt to the nature of your not-relationship.

Should you be petty, passive-aggressive, indifferent - or worst of all: honest?

Hah, no way. I’d rather die.

Beside you, the bartender politely averts his gaze and busies himself with polishing a stack of pint glasses. It’s a slow night, and that’s saying something as this bar’s a little hole in the wall.

It’s never overly busy, which is one of the reason’s it’s a favorite meeting spot of yours. The floors might be sticky, but the music’s decent, the strobe lights they kick on after 10 PM aren’t offensive enough to induce a migraine, and the drinks are cheap with a heavy pour.

Watching him work is impressive - and almost distracting enough for you to ignore the needle sharp ache taking root beneath your ribs, the churn of your stomach.

Humiliation burns hot, creeps up your neck to settle into the apples of your cheeks as you’re stood up.

Again.

It isn’t the first time - it won’t be the last.

But it cuts deeper than all the rest combined, harder to shake off. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. The growing distance between you throbs like an open wound, as if Jungkook himself plunged a hand into your chest.

Scooped out any tender, soft thing he could find and left you hollowed out. Drained.

Not taking his flakiness personally used to be so easy. And now… well.

Goddamnit. A palm scrubs over your decolletage roughly to soothe the throb of your heart. What the hell did you expect to happen, getting involved with Jeon Jungkook, huh?

Everything from his stupidly pretty eyes to the dangerous curl of his mouth, the thick soles of his boots to the lapels of his leather jacket scream walking red flag.

Never mind the fact his proclivities are an open secret among the group. He’s never tried to hide his distaste for commitment. Finds it too monotonous. Predictable.

An eternally free soul much preferring to flit from one experience to the next, never shackled down for long. The Icarus of myth made flesh.

He runs through women like he runs through shoes, and you witnessed enough of the ensuing heartbreak and tears to be wary.

But knowing and feeling something are two very different things.

The dichotomy throws you off-kilter and finds you abandoned in a bar, once again, to choke on a regret so bitter you swear it’ll burn a hole through your throat.

What’s going on with me, you think, this is nothing new. He does this all the time.

You used to get on so well.

Any initial misgivings faded away in the face of Jungkook’s blinding attention, his unfaltering kindness lurking just beneath that surface of grit and gravel.

Even after you fuck, he never acts any differently, as casual between the sheets as he is lounging on your couch.

It's been great, it's been enough - until now.

Just the thought of going back to your empty apartment, alone, only to wake up and fall back into Jungkook’s orbit tomorrow when he swings by with a half-assed apology on his lips, and your favorite drink in hand is enough to make your skin crawl.

Stomach twisting itself into knots, everything in you rebels against the sudden cold realization: nothing will change - least of all Jungkook.

He’ll continue to take-take-take.

You'll continue to give-give-give.

On and on you'll go; a distant star orbiting a black hole, losing little bits of itself until there's nothing left.

Then he’ll leave your life as quickly as he entered it, a blurry after-image there and gone in the blink of an eye.

Fuck, I - I can’t do this anymore, you think, a shiver rattling down your spine, Because I…

An errant thought gains teeth, sinks them deep. Refuses to budge as an awful truth - one buried so deep you forgot it was there, ever lurking in the shadows - rises to the forefront of your mind.

And then --

Oh.

It’s because I love him - because I’m in love with him.

Suddenly it hurts to breathe, your lungs burning as you drown on the air itself. The steel band cinching around your ribs threatens to crack you open.

Your heart lurches in your chest, despair following swiftly to settle over your shoulders. Moreover, there is no one to blame except yourself.

Even if you want it to, it will never work out because loving Jungkook is to love the ghost of a long-forgotten memory.

And there are too many hurts to soothe, too many disappointments to name.

I can’t believe I actually -- shit. You swipe a shaky hand over your forehead. When you swallow, a sour taste clings to the back of your tongue. Should’ve known better.

You glance at your phone, the cursor blinking back at you mockingly. Should’ve done a lot of things, I guess.

Now, you're in too deep.

Waiting without ever realizing you began to do so in the first place; a life on pause, surviving off scraps of half-measures and maybe's, what-ifs, and if only's.

Now, it's clear the only way out is through.

The time to let go is here.

You need to muster up some semblance of self, and work to untangle the threads of connection binding you together. You need space to rediscover the pieces of your heart you left with him.

How to live without the taste of his kiss, the clench of his muscles, the thrust of his cock.

A new life sans Jungkook which begins with a simple reply in place of everything you really want to say: ok.

Then you wave the bartender over.

He does you a kindness once more, pretending not to notice the tears brimming along your lower lash line. “You ready to order?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah - sorry, I was…”

His mouth twitches. You waver.

Then the screen of your phone lights up with a notification.

Refusing to look lest you cave, emotions too fresh -  scraped raw and tender, you switch on DND and turn it face down where it will remain until you go home.

You're far too fragile (and sober) to think about reading Jungkook’s reply, let alone engage with him in any meaningful way.

“I’ll take a double vodka cranberry.”

Maybe if you get drunk enough, you'll forget about the home he carved in your bones.

Bottoms up, bitch.

w8 nvm guys cnt make it

y/n?

i cn b ovr in 10

???

gn ttyt

hey, sorry. called it early.

wyd?

nothing much. you?

nm running some mtchs

cool, cool. you able to swing by today?

yeh b there in 30 :)

In hindsight, trying to have this conversation with Jungkook face to face isn’t the brightest idea. But if anything, last night showed you every choice you’ve made lately is a disaster waiting to happen.

Your life’s already a mess - and you’re hopelessly in love with a man that’ll never love you back - so what’s another mistake added to a long string of misfortune.

So what if your hands tremble and your stomach churns as you unlock the door to let him in.

So what if he leans in for a kiss and you duck to the side, his lips brushing the slope of your cheek.

So what if he pauses and gives you a long, searching look before toeing off his shoes and offering you the drink he picked up on the way.

It can’t get any worse, right?

Only the hungry, molten mixture of rage and rebellion fueling you thus far fizzles away the minute you see him head towards your bedroom with a wink.

Anguish and despair follows in its wake, nipping at your heels.

This is all you’ll ever be to him, you remind yourself as you step into the room. A fun time. Nothing serious. You have to break it off.

You shoot him a tight smile. “Did you have a good night?”

Jungkook shrugs, glancing around at the decorations littering your dresser. “Nah, not really.” His gaze slides to you, traveling from your head to your bare toes in a slow once over. “I definitely would’ve had a better time with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you rub your hands over your arms and suddenly feel far too naked - exposed in your light summer dress. “Hah,” you intone without humor, awkward and stilted. “Probably not. I was out by 11:30.”

“Mm, that’s not like you.” Jungkook hums, moving forward until he’s right in front of you. His hands reach for you, grabbing your wrists gently. His thumb strokes over your pulse point. “You’re acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about, baby?”

Of course he’d notice.

It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Jungkook always pays attention to the details, makes leaps of logic based on little more than quiet observations.

You stitch together a chuckle. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, his lip ring dimpling the swell of his bottom lip. Your chests brush with every inhale, sharing space and breath. 

“Nothing,” he agrees.

It’s torture. It’s too intimate.

The glow of your overhead lamp highlights the sweep of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes as he blinks slow and happy. The barely there impression of his body is too much.

You shrink back, clearing your throat.

“No, don’t do that. Where are you going?”

His eyes, shimmering with warmth, plead with you to stay, his shoulders curving towards you. A large palm settles over your shoulder, sparks igniting wherever he touches.

“Stop hiding. You can talk to me about anything. Come on, I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Steeling your resolve, you inhale and exhale with a shudder. His expression is open, soft. You know it won’t last, and take a few seconds to commit how he looks in this moment to memory.

For all you know, this will be one of the last times you’ll be this close to him again. At least until you can beat your feelings into submission.

And then you can’t put it off anymore, unable to take the ginger strokes of his fingers. The calming caresses as if he thinks you’re something precious. Quick like ripping off a band-aid, otherwise the words will never get past the bend of your throat.

“I want to stop.”

You catch the way his eyes darken, sharpen in the dim overhead light. He knows exactly what you’re talking about, but his half-smile never falters.

Of course, he refuses to make this easy on you. To acknowledge this is happening. He’s always been a greedy man; wants what he can’t have, and destroys what he does.

“Stop what?” Jungkook says. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

“Kook,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “You know what I mean. I just - I can’t do,” your voice cracks, a hand motioning to the space between you, “this anymore.”

A vein throbs on the side of his neck, his jaw working in response. Muscles tense and release with every grit of his teeth. He asks, “You gonna tell me why, huh? Or are you just going to ditch me and act like it didn’t mean something?”

“Kook…”

There’s a certain grief that can’t be spoken, gnarled roots burrowing deep in your chest. A sense of loss so keenly felt it almost steals your breath.

You wish this wasn’t happening, you wish you could take it all back but this pantomime of a relationship isn’t fair to you. Not anymore. And you knew this conversation wouldn’t be fun, but Jungkook’s staunch denial still manages to surprise you.

“It didn’t mean anything though,” you say.

At least, not to you, you think. To me, it meant the world.

-- And that’s the problem.

You need to stop whatever this is between you from building. He’s already shown he doesn’t share your desire for more in a multitude of ways. He’s been avoiding you for a reason, whether he was consciously aware of your feelings or not.

Undoubtedly, you trust him with your life but not your heart.

As sweet as he is, has been, he won’t treat it gently. Not through any intentional ill-will but because he can’t contain his own commitment issues let alone make room for yours.

It’s better this way.

Let what you have - had - stay a memory unmarred by the ugliness of your hurt feelings and bitter disappointments.

Jungkook’s shoulders draw up towards his ears, his gaze glacial as his hands slide away from you. “Is there a reason you’re done with me now?”

Shadows lurk in the depths of his eyes, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him looks weighted down.

“Well, is there? I mean, shit, I think I’ve earned an answer after all the time we spent together.”

Your heart breaks for him, everything in you calling out to close the gap and offer him comfort. But you can’t. You don’t trust yourself to touch him without wanting more than your heart can bear.

“I’m not done with you,” you say. “I would never do that to you, Kook. I just - I can’t be with you like that anymore, that’s all. I need space but I’ll still be around, I promise.”

The glare he shoots your way freezes the blood in your veins. “Cut the bullshit,” he snarls. “Tell.me.why.”

You avert your gaze, arms wrapping around your chest. “Why does that - I -”

You only had one rule at the very beginning of this mess: if there’s someone you’re serious about, you stop fucking. It comes as a handy lie - a believable excuse that’ll stop any further questioning.

You don’t think you have the fortitude if Jungkook keeps pressing you, cracking under the weight of your grief and the anger in his eyes like fine china.

“I think I - I think I want to start looking for a boyfriend again.”

An expression flashes across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But there’s no doubt he recognizes it for the goodbye it’s supposed to be.

This is it, you think.

You can put what you had to rest and move on, a memory on a shelf you’ll dust off years down the line when the hurt isn’t so prevalent. And hopefully, with time, you can relearn how to be friends.

Though the strange gleam to his eyes sends a prickle of apprehension down your spine, and then you find yourself being manhandled as he snaps forward like a snake coiled to strike.

Air flees your lungs as Jungkook shoves you with a firm palm, your feet stumbling over themselves as you trip backwards into your bed frame.

Wood knocks into the backs of your knees, and you fold like a stack of cards. The sheets puff out around you, the scent of your laundry detergent tickling your nose.

You blink at the textured ceiling, mouth agape as you try to process what happened.

The empty space above you doesn’t stay vacant, Jungkook quickly crowding you into the mattress with his weight as he settles over top of your body.

He molds himself to your front, his firm hips slotting themselves between your thighs. Broad palms, warm and calloused, skim your sides and ruck up the skirt of your dress as he reaches under you to grip the soft globes of your ass.

He yanks you into him, your pelvises slotting together. You whine before you can stop yourself, eyes fluttering shut at the heat of his body.

Teeth scrape along the delicate skin of your neck, the sharp pricks of pleasure-pain coaxing a shiver down your spine.

Lips brush the shell of your ear, his minty breath puffing against the side of your face as he speaks, low and husky, “So that’s it, huh?”

“What--!”

Teeth nip your earlobe, and you wince.

“My girl thinks she’s going to leave me for someone else?” Jungkook snorts. “Like I’d ever let that fucking happen.”

“I’m not your girl.”

You squirm, a bolt of awareness slicing through you as your body responds to his proximity, the weight of him over you electrifying. Liquid desire blooms behind your navel, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

“I never was.”

Blunt nails dig into the fat of your ass, and a cruel mouth latches onto the corner of your jaw. “Ah, is that right?” Jungkook asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your torso, your nipples tightening as they drag over the plains of his chest. “You’re not my girl?”

You swallow, and ignore the throb of your clit as the line of his cock ruts into you. “I’m not your girl, Jungkook.”

“If you’re not my girl,” he grinds into the cradle of your hips, teasing - taunting, “then why the fuck are you so wet?”

Keening, you twitch, involuntarily rocking up into the firm pressure of his shaft. The angle’s just right, spreading your folds beneath the thin cotton of your panties and giving your neglected clit the perfect stimulation.

Exposing your soaked core to the chill of your room as your body warms with mortification.

Jungkook hums in approval, giving the side of your neck a sloppy kiss followed by a stinging nip. “You think some nobody can fuck you better than me?”

“That’s not what I - ffuck!”

Heat pools low in your belly, blood pumping fast. You’re steadily losing control, the aborted rolls of your hips increasing in frequency.

“Answer me.”

A sharp burst of copper floods your mouth, your skin splitting open with how hard you’re chewing on it. Blood clings to the swell of your bottom lip, a ruby red bead you lick away with a nervous tongue.

Sweat dappled your brow, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the molten desire curdling your stomach.

The softness of your body knows the hardness of his, every curve has a matching divot. The heady, pleasant scent of his cologne floods your lungs with every stuttered inhale.

Your senses are overwhelmed as he surrounds you.

“Shit, Kook, please,” you plead, hands tangling in the sheets by your head.

You’re not sure what you’re asking for but at the same time, you’re not sure how you ended up here. Again.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

This was supposed to be an amenable end to a dubious affair. It’s anything but.

“I want you to tell me who your cunt belongs to.”

Fingers inch down to tease along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and play with the elastic of your panties.

You tremble, gooseflesh dimpling the exposed skin of your arms as knuckles brush over the length of your soaked pussy.

Your clit pulses, the pressure enough to tease.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook coaxes, working his way beneath the fabric clinging to your core, “tell me you’re my girl.”

His cock nestles into the crook of your hip, hot and heavy through his jeans as a darkened patch blooms across the denim crotch. The sticky wetness of his pre-cum smearing into your skin as arousal swells, crashing over you.

Leaving you a whimpering, trembling mess in the cage of his arms.

“You just have to say it - say you’re my girl and I’ll be so, so good to you.” His breath warms the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to cobble together a response, sliding a thick finger through your sticky folds and into your needy pussy just as your lips part.

All words leave you, your mind wiped clean as a low, broken cry echoes out into the room. Swallowed up by the sounds of city life outside your apartment as he works to stretch you open.

You clamp down at the sudden fullness, walls tight and fluttering around his finger like they would be around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You always feel so soft and wet.”

Whining in agreement, you give up any pretense of resistance, letting primal desire chase away the despair, the guilt that threatens to choke you. Wiping your mind clean of any thoughts until the only thing that remains is the thrust of his fingers and the ache in your cunt.

Your hands slip, scrambling for purchase with sweaty palms. “J-Jungkook!”

Your knees tremble where they dig into his sides, air rushing from you in heavy pants as the space between your bodies heats up. You know you won’t last long, already hanging on the edge.

Never in a million years did you expect to be so turned on by Jungkook’s rough behavior. He usually treats you like something delicate.

Though he holds no such compunction now, raw in his desperate desire to make you cum.

Jungkook peppers kisses onto whatever skin he can reach, spreading your thighs wider with his torso. His knuckles strain against the fabric of your panties, stretching out the cotton and ruining them forevermore as he slips another finger into you.

Then his dark head bows, catching your gaze, and he says, “Hold on.”

Barely seconds after you anchor yourself to his shoulders, he starts finger fucking you to within an inch of your life. His forearm ripples with strength, the movements of his fingers pressing and rubbing against all the right spots. Curling up to massage at your g-spot until you’re shaking beneath him with hitched breaths.

“Shit, shit,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as your toes flex against his side, “Kook, baby, please don’t stop.”

He huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “Wouldn’t ever do that to you, baby.”

“S’good - I - I’m close.”

You sob, tears brimming along your lash line. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your pussy ring in your ears, as embarrassing as it is arousing. He’s making you gush, slick wetting your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass to stain the sheets.

“So close, gonna - hnnng - gonna cum.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, baby. Give me that squirt.”

You shake your head. “I can’t - I can’t!”

If you could, you’d suspend time so this moment never ends. The finality of your arrangement hovering just on the other side of pleasure.

In the back of your mind, you know Jungkook’s only behaving this way because he’s jealous. Angry. He doesn’t mean it, and this is a mistake.

It’ll only hurt you in the long run but you’ll take what you can get.

After all, this is the last time you’ll be together like this.

“No,” he shushes, dropping a kiss to your sweaty brow, “No, don’t lie. I know you can. I’ll make you.”

There’s no escape.

He refuses to let you escape, using his weight to keep you pinned as he spreads his fingers open inside you, twisting and fucking so deep you feel a twinge behind your navel.

And then you’re right there, crashing over the edge as the bubble of pleasure bursts, crackling through your limbs.

You cum harder than you ever have before. Nails sinking into his shoulders with a hiss as a wounded, broken wail scrapes its way out of your throat.

Your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deeper as a rush of cum gushes from you in spurts. Your ears ring with white noise, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact your hands have gone numb.

For several long moments, you float with a head full of cotton, only rejoining the atmosphere when warmth dribbles down your ass in sticky rivulets of squirt.

Jungkook’s arm is curled around your waist, holding you close as his nose nuzzles into the side of your head. Tender lips dust kisses over your crown. His cock is still a heavy weight digging into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to relieve himself.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, a wave of fatigue crashing over you. Your eyes sting when you close them, a lump building in your throat. You ache all over pleasantly, satisfaction settling deep into your bones. In spite of that, a rift opens in your heart. “Jungkook, I--”

He kisses your shoulder, shushing you. “Don’t ruin it. Just let me hold you for a little while longer… please.”

The tears are almost impossible to stop. “It’s already hard enough, don’t make me -- I can’t just…”

Jungkook squeezes you gently. “I love you,” he says, “but I swear to god you can be so stupid sometimes.”

You jolt, eyes swinging up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “What did you just  - I - I  don’t. ..Jungkook?”

“How could I not feel the same?” he asks, tone resigned and wary. “Honestly scared the shit out of me when I realized because, well, y’know I don’t have the best track record.” He averts his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I almost fucked everything up too, but Namjoonie-hyung helped me get my head on straight.”

Something unfurls in your chest, and you feel as light as air. Ridiculously buoyant with happiness. Hope.

Oh, how stupid.

“We’re kind of idiots, aren’t we?” you ask, sniffling as you shoot him a watery smile. “Like… the biggest.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, a boyish gleam to his eyes. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

[singmyaubade]

The Girl We Love

Poly!Marauders x Female!Reader

A/N: Hello! Long time no see; this came to me out of nowhere, and I just wrote it off the top of my head; I hope you enjoy it! <3 P.S. I have no idea what to think about this story.

Summary: Can all of them handle loving you at the same time?

Warning: Containing cursing, soon-to-be-smut, etc... Viewer discretion is advised.

--

The boys were enjoying their summer, basking in the hot sun and the chance to go in the pool anytime they wanted. Although it was just Remus, Sirius, and James, that was all they needed. Unfortunately, Peter was in France, but 3/4 Marauders was better than none.

"James, Sirius!" Euphemia yelled as James and Sirius groaned, not wanting to go downstairs due to their laziness, "I know you boys can hear me, and I am giving you five seconds," She yelled louder as the two boys looked at each other in fear as they both lunged to the door, James pushing Sirius into the wall.

"5..4...3.." The boys had rushed downstairs before two to see their Euphemia setting the dining room, "Why is Remus the only helpful boy in this house?" Euphemia huffed as Remus set down the dishes.

James ignored her, noticing the fancy table mats she would only bring out when people came over, "Uh, Mum, what's going on?" James asked, scratching his head, confused.

"Yeah, we never use this table unless James forgot he's human instead of dog," Sirius joked as James smacked him in his stomach, earning a groan.

Euphemia sighed, "Ms. L/N and Y/N are coming for dinner," She answered, setting the plates over the tablecloths.

James's mother and your mother were best friends, practically inseparable when you all were younger. Even when they didn't see each other, James would see her writing letters to your mom.

"Why?" James asked as Euphemia glared at him, "I just mean that we haven't seen her in so long, like since we were like thirteen,"

"You mean when you all would rough house and were into wrestling and Quidditch?" Euphemia hummed.

"The good old days," Sirius added, looking up in dramatics.

"Yeah, when you would tackle her and throw mud on us all," Remus muttered.

"Um yeah?" Sirius responded, "The good old days!"

Having you over was like having another brother around when it came to James. You always loved watching Quidditch and would yell with him when your favorite team won, chest-bumping each other.

You would always dress like the Marauders, wear whatever trend they were following, and play with whatever toys seemed remarkable to them.

You all ate like absolute slobs, and Euphemia and your mother would constantly reprimand all of you, but you didn't care because if you all did it, it was incredible.

When your parents divorced and you went to France with your Father, they all hadn't realized the switch in your presence as much. They would mention you sometimes but would only give it a short conversation. They were just kids; They didn't know much until later.

"This might be nice, you know?" Sirius said, "We haven't seen Y/N in so long, and I do miss having another one of the guys in the house," Sirius wrapped his arm around James's shoulders.

"Y/N is a girl," Remus corrected.

"You know what I mean," Sirius said, sitting in his seat.

"Wonder if she still plays Quidditch," James added, sitting beside Sirius.

"Can't wait to kick her arse in it," Sirius said, putting his hands together tauntingly.

Euphemia shushed them, "Enough of this talk, they should be arriving any minute now, and I expect the most from all of you," She tsked, moving near the door.

"She's talking about you two," Remus said, smirking.

"Oh shove it, Moony, you aren't a saint," James teased.

"Yeah, we know of your unspeakable acts in the bedroom," Sirius joked, winking at Remus as he bit his tongue.

James could hear voices from the front door as you stepped into view, hugging Euphemia, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing; none of them could.

Of course, you were different; the years did you well, but your hair grew past your shoulders, not the usual bob. You were wearing a lavender dress, a step away from your tomboy outfits. From what he remembered about you, your nails were painted in your favorite color, and you no longer wore a retainer everywhere you went.

Your dress hugged your waist perfectly, and none of the Marauders were perverts, but none of them could hide the fact that they were staring at you.

You looked at them with a grin, going over to James first as he stood up from his chair like a statue, "Jamesy!" You squeaked, the childhood nickname sounding different now.

You embraced him in a tight hug, your boobs pressing against his chest as he grew flustered. You pulled back, looking at him, "I missed you so much," You excitedly said, returning for a hug.

James could feel how soft your skin was, like a rose petal coated in shea butter. He had never felt something so gentle in his entire life like it wasn't real.

Once James squeezed you back, you moved over to Sirius, giving him a tight hug. His hands stayed on your back as your lips were on his neck accidentally. Sirius was never the type to blush, but somehow, you succeeded.

Sirius could smell home when he was near you, like cinnamon and hot chocolate, like a long day of Quidditch on the grass and Euphemia giving him a cold glass of Butterbeer kind of touch.

You pulled back, giving him a smile instead of words because moving over to Remus, pecking him on the cheek, and moving to a hug, "Remsy, long time no see," You giggled, giving him a hug as he smiled, trying not to let his thoughts get to him.

Remus could feel your happiness like sunlight as if it was glowing. When he hugged you, he felt happy like never before; it made him forget every stormy night or memory.

They all could feel your presence like a lightning bolt with each embrace, and it was hard to hide when you were up against them.

Euphemia and your mother were still chatting at the door, so you decided to talk with them about their social life as much as possible.

"I missed all of you so much," You cheesily said, sitting across from them all, "Please tell me how all of you have been," You looked at Sirius first.

You had developed a slight French accent, but only people would notice if they genuinely heard you.

Both Remus and James side-eyed Sirius, who looked shellshocked, "Well, I've just been focusing on school since graduation and just been enjoying summer," He awkwardly laughed, not knowing what to say, "I made Quidditch Co-captain with James,"

Your mouth fell open, "Oh my god, I am so proud of you guys; congratulations," You said happily.

"Thank you," James and Sirius said in unison as you laughed.

"What about you, James?" You asked, looking at him.

"I've been focusing on Quidditch and maybe becoming an Auror in the future when I'm done with my Quidditch career," James responded.

"I remember you always talking about being an Auror; I'm glad you still want to do it," You responded kindly, "What about you, Remus?" You looked at him.

"I've been focusing on becoming a healer or professor since I enjoy helping others," He said as you beamed.

"Well, considering you did help me when I cut my knee on the concrete when we were ten, I would say you are perfectly trained," You joked as Remus grinned.

"What about you, Y/N? What have you been up to?" James asked.

"Well, I hope to become a journalist or a write since it is a dream, but I was going to move back to London with my boyfriend," You said as all of the boys mentally punched themselves, "But then he cheated on me so I might just be alone," You said as the boys grinned from ear to ear.

"Yes!" Sirius said as you raised an eyebrow, "Yes, what an awful thing for him to do; I am so sorry, Y/N," Sirius said.

"Agreed, he must be a bloody fool," Remus added.

"I'm glad he's out of your life," James said, "Uh because, he's a horrible person,"

"Thank you, guys; I am glad I found out before I moved with him here," You said with relief.

Your mother and Euphemia approached the table, your mother sitting next to you and Euphemia sitting across, "I apologize, Fleamont couldn't attend; he has business matters in Rome," Euphemia said in a sweet voice.

"That man always focuses on business," Your mother tsked as Euphemia smiled before your mother looked at the three boys, "Oh my, how you guys have grown," She smiled dearly.

"You don't look like a day over twenty, Ms. L/N," Sirius winked as Remus elbowed him, causing the air to fall out of his lungs.

"Why thank you, dear," Your mother said genuinely as Euphemia glared at Sirius.

"First course is ready!" Minnie said, snapping her fingers to a variety of foods. Your eyes shot in amazement at the different dishes, even some being French.

"Thank you, Minnie," Euphemia said, nodding to the elf as Minnie bowed, disappearing.

"Y/n, how have your studies been at Beaubaxtons?" Euphemia asked, grabbing some potatoes.

"Delightful," You responded, "I know that it seems like a reform school for young girls, but I actually do enjoy it there, and we always watch Quidditch, surprisingly," You said as Euphemia grinned, "I do wish we had our own team though, I would love to play,"

"I'll play with you, Y/N," James said as the table looked at him, "If you ever need a partner," He whispered, digging into his chicken.

You cheerfully looked at him, "I would love to,"

James smiled to himself as Sirius side-eyed James, "And if you ever need another partner, I am here as well," Sirius added, making James kick him from under the table.

"Thank you, Sirius, I would love that as well," You said, still smiling.

Euphemia noticed the two boys rolling her eyes, "And your mother has told me you enjoy reading; Remus might know a thing or two about that," She said.

"I've needed a reading partner. The girls at Beaubaxton read, but they don't have much variety," You chuckled.

"Well, I can assure you that I do," Remus jokingly said as both James and Sirius glared at him, causing Remus to clear his throat.

"That's great! Considering I will be staying here, that sounds incredible," You said as James nearly spit out his dragon fruit juice.

"The cat seems out of the bag," Your mother said, eating another piece of meat.

"Oh, I apologize; you hadn't told them?" You said, looking at Euphemia.

"Not yet," Euphemia said with a slight smile, "Y/N and her mother will be staying with us for the summer,"

They all felt like they were in a dream that felt like reality; Sirius was close to pinching himself.

If they were thirteen again, they probably would've considered this a chance to have another Peter around, but now, it was entirely different.

You were sweet, still enjoyed Quidditch, and read while being entirely yourself.

You were like a dream.

"Trust me, they are all excited," Euphemia told you as the boys snapped out of the trance.

"That sounds amazi-" Remus started.

"I am so glad-" Sirius beginning.

"I can't wait to-"

They all said simultaneously, making you giggle, "I am excited too."

From then on, the conversations were light with laughs and banter, moving through the courses until Euphemia decided that all the kids needed to go to bed, to which James and Sirius protested.

They were all instructed to guide you to your room, to which you followed them up the stairs until they led you to a room with lavender walls and blue and white bedding.

You stopped them at the door, grinning ear to ear at the room, "Thank you all for leading me to my room," You said as they all said you were welcome at the same time.

You giggled, "I missed you guys so much," You said, hugging all of their tall figures with a kiss on each of their cheeks, "Goodnight, I will see you tomorrow,"

They all stuttered a goodnight as you closed the door.

And the Marauders didn't know they could ever want something so wrong.

[eowynstwin]

the rain

previous - neighbors - next

You return home, and let John do to you what he's promised. cw: cunnilingus

The moment you ’re home, I’ll give you everything you want.

There’s a dangerous cast to the sky—dark, heavy, near-splitting at the seams. It’s not a night to have rejected a ride home from the station, not with those words ringing in your ears.

But when the ride was your ex, you’d rather risk getting caught in the downpour.

The pavement is hard and cold beneath your tired feet. Your whole body is sore from the long train ride home, spent stiffly across from Ben as you’d avoided his gaze, but you’d walk twice the distance home to even halve the time you’d spent with him. His sad eyes and kicked-puppy stare had been stuck to you the whole time, as if magnetized, and they weigh on you now as heavy as the suitcase you drag behind you.

This trip was a mistake. You should not have gone anywhere with Ben, professionally or otherwise. Not with how weird the energy has been between you and him, ever since you broke it off.

“Can’t you just try to be happy with me?” he’d asked you then. “I’m a good partner, aren’t I? I just want to make you happy, sweets, and it’s like you won’t even let me.”

Objectively, Ben had been the boyfriend everyone seemed to want when they talked about romance—interested and engaged, excited about a future together, sensitive and willing to talk about his feelings. He even knew where the clitoris was. There was nothing—no red flags, no warning signs—that should have scared you off.

It was just you. There was something wrong with you, because none of that made you happy—not the lunch dates, not the weekly flowers, and not even the sex. All you knew was that when he started wondering when you would introduce him to your parents, ice had run down your spine.

A bad gust of wind slaps you from behind, followed by a crack of thunder, too close for you to make it home dry. Indeed, there isn’t much time after finishing that thought before the deluge unloads, raindrops falling heavy and cold and fat as bullets.

You come to a resigned stop in the middle of the sidewalk, tilting your face up to the sky. There’s no point in rushing now—thick, late-winter clouds spread low across Liverpool, slow-moving. By all appearances intending to linger as long as possible. You’d neglected an umbrella, and your coat is nowhere near waterproof. You think of the warm interior of Ben’s car and shiver.

You want John.

You struggle to understand it. He is nothing like what you’d assign yourself for a match—there is a wide gulf of difference between you and him, too wide for you to ever expect an easy crossing. He and you should feel disjointed, incongruous, as ill-suited as a war horse might be to a hummingbird. There shouldn’t be anything you could offer each other that either would have use for.

And yet, you do. It is easy. Breathable, in a way that feels unearned enough to make you nervous.

How are you supposed to navigate something that shouldn’t be working, but is anyway? How can something feel this good with barely any effort on your part? How can you go through with this, when you’re not even sure what it means?

The rain reaches its fingers down into your collar, pools around your feet. You close your eyes and try to hear John’s voice in your head again. Soft and low over the phone, coaxing. Inviting your fears out into the open to be soothed.

You’re walking again before you realize it—one cold foot in front of the other, heavy suitcase clattering behind you, familiar with the way home even through the sheeting rain. And what feels like mere moments later, you’re walking up the steps to his front door.

The window beside it glows a soft yellow around the edges. You can’t help but stand there, frozen again as this suddenly becomes real. John, and everything he’s offered you, is on the other side of the door. All you have to do is take it. All you have to do is knock.

But John opens the door before you can even lift your hand.

“Jesus, love,” he says, the moment he looks at you.

Time slows. Warmth pours from the open portal. He looks… comfortable. Soft around the edges in blue jeans and a knitted sweater—the same one he’d worn to dinner at the pub. You hadn’t realized how much you missed him, even in the few days you’d been gone, but once your eyes land on his you don’t want to look away. The angle of his brow; the shape of his mouth beneath his old-fashioned mustache. Looking at him is like looking at your bed at the end of a long day.

“Hi, John,” you reply, smiling apologetically.

“Come on, get inside!” he exclaims, hurrying you in as thunder claps behind you.

In his flat, the lights are low. As you stand dripping on his entry, you take in an arrangement of somewhat retro furniture and sparsely decorated walls. It’s utilitarian in a way that probably isn’t meant to be; spare of anything particularly homey because the inhabitant just doesn’t have time to pay attention to it. You’ve never actually been inside before. It’s very much like John himself; tidy but old-fashioned, practical, hiding absolutely nothing.

You don’t think the candles, though, sitting on a few end tables and shelves and glowing soft gold, are his standard decor. Nor is the crystal bottle of liquor languishing in an ice bucket at the center of a small coffee table, attended by two whiskey glasses off to the side.

“When you said you were on your way I didn’t think you’d be walking,” he says, taking your luggage and setting it aside. “Why didn’t you ask me to come get you? I have a car, would’ve been happy to drive you.”

“I—” and you laugh a little nervously, magnetized to the concerned slant of his brow, “I didn’t know you had a car.”

You’re not sure you would’ve asked him for a lift even if you had known.

He draws close, so close his warmth cuts through the chill of your wet clothes, his gaze moving across you like he’s drinking you in. He cups your face lightly with one hand, thumb tracing a gentle line across your cheek. The expression on his face is almost too tender for you to bear.

“You’re here now,” he murmurs.

There’s a tremble working its way through your chest. You feel desperately seen again, recognized in a way no one ever has before. “I’m a mess, I—maybe I should go and change, come back…”

“No,” he purrs, taking your chin between thumb and forefinger. “You’re stayin’ right here.” And quite easily, John kisses you for the first time.

His mouth is warm along yours. His free hand hooks your waist, pulls you closer as he moves to cup the back of your neck. You’re so surprised you don’t react for a moment, but that doesn’t deter him; he just coaxes you into responding, sipping at your lips, teasing at the seam with the tip of his tongue.

It throws you off balance. He kisses you as if he’s known all along how to do it; as if he’s studied you, all of those mornings, noting the way your lips touch the rim of your coffee mug and the way you look up at him when he talks to you. Calculating the angles, the ways your mouths could fit together.

He shifts, angling to kiss you deeper. A wave of vertigo threatens to overtake you—your hands fly to his chest, which is broad beneath your fingers. You dig them into the cable of his sweater, a little whine escaping you, and John huffs a laugh against your mouth before greeting your tongue with his.

You have never felt as small as you do now in John Price’s hands, at the mercy of the way he holds you—like he’s planning to keep you in place until he’s finished with you.

When he finally pulls away, you have the opportunity to take a deep gasp as he chuckles again. He thumbs your bottom lip, almost playfully.

“Mm,” he murmurs. “Wanted to do that the minute you walked into the pub that night.” You don’t have time to reckon with this confession—if you can even call it that, because once he says it you realize you’ve known the whole time—before he continues. “Come on, you must be freezing. Let’s get you warmed up.”

John helps you out of your coat, unwrapping you like peeling away a chrysalis. It exposes the thin, damp fabric of your dress to the warm air—and to his gaze—and you can’t help but feel suddenly naked in front of him. He’s revealed nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but irrationally, you want to cover your chest, or cross your arms over your stomach. Shield the most vulnerable parts of you from consumption.

John takes your hands in his and pulls you to an armchair—a comfortable, plush thing with a low back. He backs you into it so that your knees buckle, and you sit, looking up at him as he stands over you.

“First order of business,” he says.

He turns away from you to lift the decanter from the bucket, and pours a finger of liquor into a glass. You try to pretend your heart isn’t thrumming, like a bird’s beating wings behind your ribcage, as he turns back and holds out the drink, long fingers dwarfing the rim.

“As promised,” he purrs, “Balvenie.”

You accept it the glass; the scotch sparkles, amber-rich and glittering gold where the low candlelight catches it.

“It looks good,” you say, looking up at him.

There’s a pleased look on his face. “Give us a taste, then.”

Heat blooms across your face, spreads down your chest. You bring the rim of the glass to your lips immediately, still held by his gaze—

Smoke blooms across your tongue, heavy and soft, pricked with notes of honey and vanilla. You roll the scotch in your mouth, close your eyes as its warmth slides along your tongue, pressing it up into your soft palate, citrus appearing in a sudden, tangy splash. You let the drink flow into your throat and feel the smoke fill your head as you swallow.

You open your eyes and look up at John. “That’s really good.”

It shouldn’t surprise you, really, but it does: John bends over you, takes your chin in his hand, and kisses you again, dipping his tongue into your mouth as if searching for leftover drops of liquor. Your head swims; warmth suffuses you, waking up the nerves along the back of your neck. The hair on your arms stands on end as the world narrows to John’s mouth on yours and nothing else, the wet heat of his tongue, the prickle of his beard against your skin. It’s slow and molasses-sweet, rich and decadent. Thunder rumbles, far away.

“Mm. It is,” he says when he pulls away. Another brief kiss—like he can’t get enough of it, like he’s been saving up every moment he hasn’t kissed you, and is spending all of his chances now. “Promise me you’ll never drink Walker again.”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, taking an unsteady breath.

The ends of his beard move against your face in a smile. “Enjoy that. I’ll be right back.”

He straightens, and steps away. The tug of his gravity is so strong that you list forward, toward him, until he leaves your orbit.

You look around his apartment again, helpless, as if to find some sort of anchor that isn’t John Price—he’s going to get you drunk on his presence alone faster than the liquor ever could. You catch sight of a bookshelf, sparsely populated with a short line of books; as you stare at them, trying to figure out what they are, you realize with a start that they’re all brand-new copies of what you’ve lent him.

Actium. Nafisi. Da Vinci. McMurtry. They’re all here. The textual foundation of your relationship aligned in a tidy, even row. Living here, in the center of his home.

You take another nervous sip of scotch.

John returns with a stack of clean towels, unfurls one, and drapes it over your head. But before you can tend to your hair yourself, he lays his big hands overtop of the terrycloth, pressing down into your scalp.

Your breath leaves you in a rush, depressurizing your lungs. Pure sensation dances up your spinal cord, suffusing the space between your ears, as he kneads with an even, firm pressure, massaging the water from your hair. Your eyes slide shut of their own accord. Your mouth drops open as he digs his fingers into the tense nerves down the back of your head.

The little sound that escapes the pit of your throat is utterly involuntary.

John huffs a chuckle. “That good, then?”

“Uh-huh,” you hear yourself mumble again. Somewhere in the back of your mind, obscured by smoke, you think you should feel embarrassed, ashamed of how naked your pleasure must be. But John gives you no time to ruminate.

He tilts your face upward and presses his lips to your forehead, down the bridge of your nose, gentle, soft, to your mouth. Your mouth, over and over again, as calloused thumbs caress your temples.

It’s a gentle way of taking control. You have no need to reach out with unsure hands, or stumble your way through half-desires with no time to think about them. John has seen into you, divined your quietest, sincerest needs, and feeds them back to you now like he’s only been waiting for your go-ahead to do so.

The bird in your ribcage flutters nervously. Is this really alright? Should you be letting it happen like this? Shouldn’t you be…participating, somehow, in this, other than to take what he gives you?

“John,” you start, but you have no idea what you want to say to him. “Shouldn’t I…shouldn’t—”

“Shh,” he says. “You should let me take care of you.”

John squeezes your hair one more time, then sets the damp towel aside. With an expression you can only describe as beatific, he smooths errant strands of hair away from your face, and then lowers to his knees in front of you. He touches your ankles; nods toward the glass of scotch encircled by your nervous hands. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You hold his gaze, and take a sip. The satisfaction on his face is almost too much to bear.

“Good girl,” he says. He lifts the heel of your shoe onto his thigh, smoothing his hand up and down your shin. “You’re doing such a good job, letting me do this.”

He takes your shoes off as tenderly as he’d removed your jacket, tucking away the laces and setting them off to the side. With warm hands, he rolls your wet knee-high socks down your legs, exposing your chilled calves to his palms. After he folds them and places them by your shoes, his mouth and the warm scratch of his beard meet the top of one foot…move up your instep, and to the inside of your ankle, then to your shin…up your calf…to your knee—

“Is this—” you begin, and have to swallow the trembles in your voice, “what you talked about on the phone?”

“Mm-hm,” he hums, kneading your other calf as he urges your legs to open for him.

Your breath is shallow in your lungs—as if any one too deep might startle John away from his quarry, convince him you’re not aching for this. John kisses inward along the inside of one thigh, keeping the other open with his kneading hand. The flesh molds like clay to his touch, extruding between the gaps of his fingers. He makes an appreciative sound, a hum, as he slides his hands further upward and under the damp hem of your dress, cresting the angles of your hips. Inexplicably, you go tight, anticipatory, like the skin of a grape exposed to a knife.

It isn’t like you haven’t been here before. Your sex life with Ben had been—while not particularly active—not nonexistent. And yet this feels new anyway; as if John is sweeping dust off a body long left unused. Your thighs are taut and sensitive as a yearling’s flank, ready to twitch at the barest whisper of breath.

But isn’t this new, after all? No one, not Ben or anyone else who’s ever touched you, has made you feel this way.

“Lift your hips, darlin’,” John rumbles, and for the first time you catch a hint of scouse in his accent—low, slung around his words and leaving off the hard edges. Like a vein of gold unearthed. “Bring ‘er closer to me.”

Heat blazes across your face. There’s a small end table beside the armchair; you take one more pull from your scotch glass and set your drink aside. Then you shift, edging your hips forward, tilting your pelvis—angling your pussy toward John’s face.

He kisses the crease of your thigh and groin. “That’s a girl,” he purrs, and then presses the bottom half of his face directly into your underwear, opening his mouth over the wet fabric and inhaling deeply. The panties are nothing fancy, simple cotton with a floral pattern, but his eyes slide shut in what you can only describe as ecstasy.

“It’s like you’re getting as much out of this as I am,” you say, trying to laugh, to make this feel like less than it is if only for the sake of your nerves.

“I am,” he says, rough around the edges, and pulls at the gusset of your underwear with his teeth. “I’ve thought about this every morning—” he runs the flat of his tongue along the outer seam, touching bare skin “—and every evening—” edging his fingertips into the leg hole at the top of your hip “—since I met you.”

“You barely knew me,” you whisper, trembling.

“I knew enough,” he says, lifting his face to meet your eyes—his pupils are blown wide, encased in a thin rind of blue. Delicately he takes the waistband of your panties between his fingers, eases it down. “Knew you were a good girl, who wouldn’t even fuss at mean old bastard for waking her up. Wanted to eat your cunt to apologize.”

Something flushed and hot radiates from your core, molten and liquid. “Every time you call me that I—I don’t know what to do, John, I feel…”

“Good,” he says. “Lift your hips again.”

You obey. You think you’d do practically anything, if he told you to in that voice, rough and commanding like far-away thunder. John peels your underwear from your hips, dragging it down over the swell of your bottom, closing your legs to pull them down and—you swallow—shoving them in his pocket when they’re off. Then, like opening the shutters of a window, he parts your legs again, and slots his face between them.

The first thing that strikes you is how hot his mouth. He eases a molten tongue into your folds and you watch his eyes slide shut, feel the soft groan he gives vibrate against your flesh. Your body heat blooms, sight going liquid around the edges—or maybe your temperature is just rising to meet John’s own, thermoregulating to avoid meltdown as he stokes a fire between your legs. Hot breath meets you as he opens his mouth, gets as much tender flesh between his lips as he can.

He’s slow. Exploratory. He tongues your pussy luxuriantly, indulgently, as he loops his arms under your legs to hook them over his broad shoulders, thick forearms dark with hair snaking overtop of your thighs. Holding you in place as he eats— savors . He maps your topography, delving and cresting the landscape like trying to discover every significant landmark, and finds a spot on your clitoris that makes your thighs seize up and your hips jerk under his mouth. He chuckles low against you, playfully flits his tongue across it at what you’d swear is the same rapid pulse of your heartbeat.

You look at him between your legs. The curls of his dark lashes are pretty against the pale hue of his skin, freckled with sun exposure. Fever pink spreads across his cheeks as his brow furrows in the middle, creasing as he laps at the beads of moisture pearling up from your entrance. You watch him, mouth hanging open to allow your shallow breaths to flow free—and he opens his eyes, sharp blue, meeting your gaze.

A sound escapes you, raw, rough in the back of your throat. He smiles, drags the flat of his tongue up your folds as if to show off, and strokes along the sensitive border of your mons and lower stomach with the rough callus of his thumb.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you, love.” He kisses your mound and then takes your pussy, soft and slow, back into his mouth.

There’s a trembling behind your sternum. Something in you breaks open—seeps cloying and honey-gold—into your bloodstream. Your head lolls back as his tongue slips deeper into you, stoking pleasure, your old friend, your old enemy, like turning embers out of ashes. Your thighs relax over the ballast of his shoulders. They’re broad enough that even as your legs fall further open, they don’t slip off.

It’s like your body and his are dovetail joints cut long ago, yet still now slide easily into place. Your heels rest comfortably on the expanse of his back with plenty of room left over; his big hands, as they spread wide across your stomach, fit along its curves and dips like rain sliding along soft green leaves.

It soaks you to the bone, warm and deep into your marrow, filling your veins and blotting the spaces between your alveoli until John, John, John is on every breath.

You must be saying his name aloud, because John’s grip tightens around you. The flint-strike of his tongue against your clitoris, lightning-sharp, catalyzes the pleasure in your bloodstream into a tight, unfamiliar gnarl. You gasp hard, almost painfully—how long has your body been able to feel like this, somewhere beyond your reach?

Has this pleasure always lived at the end of John’s tongue, along the contours of his hands, draped over his body like a mantle?

(How can something like this be a fair exchange for books and clumsy conversation?)

Your hand flies to John’s hair as it grows—a trembling feeling that touches places inside of you that you’ve always been dimly aware of, but never have given much thought to. It loosens you at the seams, grinds the fault lines inside of you together, dislodges your inhibitions from their foundation.

“John, please,” you whimper, brows drawn together, “please, please—”

He growls against you. Grinds through your center and then sucks your folds into his mouth, grazing the hood of your clit with the edge of his teeth, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue—

Suddenly, it overtakes you.

Flying sparks finally catch along aching tinder. A single point of furtive, glowing heat blooms between your legs, unassuming except for that you’ve never felt it before. It only sits briefly in your folds before bursting outward, seizing every nerve ending in the immediate vicinity, blazing bright like fire spreads over paper. Then you tighten around nothing, the inside of you desperately grasping something that isn’t there, body snapping taut as you arch from the backrest, mouth hanging open as a sharp gasp dies in your throat. Sensation consumes everything. Your vision darkens; the air stills in your lungs.

The only thing spared is the heat of John’s mouth, the cords of his arms around your thighs, and the ballast of his shoulders hooked in the bend of your knees—he keeps you anchored, held together as you try to fly apart. The caress of his hands and fingers across your lower belly does not stop as his mouth continues moving over your cunt, moves until your whole body is shaking, moves as you finally gasp for air and cry out in overstimulation.

You collapse back into the chair, pushing now against John’s head even though you’re not sure you want him to stop. He resists—kissing your pussy, once, twice, three times as you come down—and then takes a wrist in one big hand and kisses your palm.

“That,” John rasps, “is a fucking climax, love.”

You swallow, throat dry and smoke-rough. Even in the aftershocks, the pleasure lingers, and you squeeze your inner muscles to hold onto it for as long as you can.

It doesn’t escape his notice. Of course it doesn’t. John’s fingers trek inward, gathering some of the wet slick between your folds and then lazily circling your clitoris.

“Look at you,” he rasps, “my poor girl needs more, doesn’t she?”

Ecstasy grips you again; you whimper as he manipulates your flesh. “John…”

“How long you been aching for it, love? Years? How long’ve you needed me, and I ain’t been there, mm?” He kisses the soft part of your lower belly. “You don’t need to worry anymore. I’m here now.”

You angle your head to look at him, running your dry tongue along your lips. What you see on his face steals the meager oxygen you’ve managed to pull in since your climax abated.

His face is flushed. Lips rosy and swollen from their work. The blue of his eyes has been eclipsed almost completely by black singularity—inescapable, unfathomable, a depth more vast than comprehension. Ready to swallow you whole.

This whole time, you’ve been afraid of John’s touch the way you are afraid of a hot bath on a cold night. There is a comfort beyond the first step into the water, languorous ecstasy waiting only for you to claim it, but the toll separating it and you—the shock of first contact, the split second of violent adjustment, makes you nearly content to remain in uncomfortable but familiar dissatisfaction.

Thunder cracks outside as you reach for him, as he reads your mind and surges forward to kiss you, hand catching the back of your neck to reel your mouth to his. You kiss each other hard and fast, over and over again, eager to end each one only so you can start the next.

Nearly content, in the end, is not content at all.

“John,” you murmur against his lips, as his hand still works your cunt, “I’m still cold.”

[lvrxly]

ִ ࣪𖤐- An Odd Feeling

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

summary: your neighbor, Simon, is a single dad. and you frequently babysit his son, Oliver. You've grown to love Oliver, buying toys for him, planning play dates, and even offering to babysit him while his dad goes on a date..wait what? You really thought after all of this Simon would choose you, but maybe he will..?

cw: simon is somewhat oblivious at the beginning >:((, mdni - smut, slight age difference (Simon is in his mid-30s while the reader is in her mid-20s), unprotected sex, breeding kink on Simon's part, oral sex (f receiving), Simon can't help but want another kid after seeing how you treat his :((

a/n: sorry this took so long to get posted! and i apologize for any grammar mistakes, i don't have the energy to edit this right now ;( (it's almost 4am).

hope you enjoy lovies ;)

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"Thanks again for this love, I should be back around 9pm, please try and get him to bed before then," Ghost says frantically as he passes his son over to you along with his diaper bag and favorite blanket.

There was that damned nickname again. 'Love'. Simon always seemed to call you love, it was almost infuriating how that little pet name could make your heart race and your cheeks heat.

Simon had a date with someone a friend of his set up for him, Soap, you think was the guys name. From a photo Simon showed you, she was pretty, gorgeous even. Slim and tall, long blonde hair, and seemingly put together.

"Yeah no problem. Have fun, try and get laid. You definitely need it," You say with a dry laugh, bouncing his son, Oliver, over to your other hip. Why the fuck would you say that? 'Get laid?' Why would you even suggest such a fucking thing knowing you can barely stomach watching him go out on this date in the first place.

He cleans up nice, a fitted pair of dark grey khaki pants with a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled, revealing his tattooed forearms, and his sandy blonde hair slicked back out of his face, making him less shaggy looking than you were used to.

Simon laughs and waves goodbye as he turns on the heels of his dress shoes and hops down the steps of your front porch. You wave at his back, shutting the door with a heavy sigh. You turn around and set Oliver down, watching as he bolts toward the little corner of your living room which you had designated as his play area for when he comes over.

Your heart feels heavy as you walk over towards your couch, tossing Oliver's diaper bag and blanket onto one of the cushions. You flop down onto the other cushion, kicking your feet up on the coffee table that is placed in front of your couch.

Oliver looks just like his father, from what you could see anyways. Dirty blonde hair, gunmetal blue eyes, and a small dimple on his left cheek. He was an adorable kid, an easy one to babysit too.

Oliver runs up to you, a toy tractor in his hand as he holds it up to you, his other hand rested on your knee as if to help him balance better. "Tac-tar!" He exclaims.

You smile at him, taking the toy he was offering you, and touching your fingertip on his nose, causing the little boy to giggle. Enough about Simon. Oliver was your date tonight. Your own play date buddy.

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It was a little after 9pm, maybe just about 9:47, when Simon got back. He had knocked on your door for a good 5 minutes before he gave up and decided to let himself in.

He used the key that you would poorly hide under your doormat. The two of you would get into arguments about the placement of the key.

"It's the most obvious spot, love, you're gonna end up getting robbed on of these days." Simon had said the day you told him where it was, he was always worrying about your safety. You knew he was an ex-military Lieutenant, but then again that might just be the dad in him talking.

After unlocking your front door and pushing it open he begins to speak, "Sorry I was a little later than I thou-" But he cuts himself off after his eyes land on your couch.

There you laid on your back, an arm falling off the couch and a leg propped up on the back cushion, snoring lightly. That position couldn't have been that comfortable. But that's not what made him freeze. It was how his son was laying on your chest, fast asleep with his favorite blanket draped over his back. You looked as if his son was your own.

His breathe is caught in his throat as he stares at the two of you, slowly shutting the door behind him as he makes his way over to the couch.

A small smile paints his face as he stands behind the small and slightly sad turquoise couch, bending down so his forearms rested in the back cushion. He watches you sleep, his eyes dragging up and down your frame. After a moment he uses a single finger to brush a stray piece of hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

His smile never falters as he pets the back of his sons head, his long blonde hair slightly sweaty from how hot it probably was being all nuzzled up to you.

You stir in your sleep, your eyes fluttering, only for them to end up shooting wide open in shock. You gasp and clutch the back of Oliver, sighing after realizing who was really watching you sleep.

You sit up, cradling Oliver in your arms, careful not to wake him. "Do you normally watch people sleep?" You say with an annoyed look on your face as you rub your eyes, sleep still attempting to pull you back in.

After regaining most of your consciousness, you stand from the couch, your clothes wrinkled and Oliver's little head on your shoulder as you hold him in your arms.

"Eh, define normally," Simon says, a joking tone noticeable in his voice. Was he trying to make a joke? Since when did Simon Riley ever makes jokes? What the hell happened at the date?

"Your in a good mood. You didn't really end up getting laid right? You know what..? I don't think I wanna know." Your words are frantic and slightly irritated. Why did you feel so...odd right now? Simon is a single man. He has the right to go on dates with beautiful women. Unfortunately.

You bounce around your kitchen, rocking your hips side to side to keep Oliver asleep for as long as possible. You can't help but notice how Simons eyes follow your hips as they move. And..what was that? Did he just groan? No no, that would be crazy.

"No I didn't get laid," He finally replies. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Almost like a breath of relief.

"If I was getting laid I would have gotten back a lot later..It takes more than 30 minutes with me, love.." Simon was suddenly behind you, his breath hot on your neck as his hands hover above your hips, heat radiating off of his tatted skin, almost scorching the flesh of your thighs through your pants.

You stop bouncing his son, glancing over your shoulder at Simon and..holy shit he was close, almost too close. Those damned eyes were pulling you under and you didn't know if you wanted to be saved.

Oliver shifts in your arms, waking up slowly. His tiny hands rub his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. Once he's awake and spots his dad he immediately makes grabby hands towards him.

You gladly hand him over to Simon, anything to get away from the man that was way way wayyyy to close for comfort. You give Oliver to his father and take a large step away from Simon. You see his smile falter but he quickly regains his composure when his son calls his name, his tiny hands on Simons cheeks.

"You have fun while I was away buddy?" He asks his son, to which Oliver responds with a vigorous nod. He then begins to blabble on about his trucks and snacks he ate, but you space out, your eyes still locked on the two of them.

Simon looked so good with a kid, he was a good dad. You can't help but imagine how good he must have been to his wife while she was pregnant. Her lose for leaving him. He's a great guy. Unfortunately, that means women probably throw themselves at him. Hot, ex-military, AND good with kids??? Yeah, they definitely do. And you would to, if you were so full of self doubt.

"Love?" You hear Simon say, his eyes now focused on you as Oliver was seemingly put down to go play for a little longer.

"I asked if you're free this weekend? Oliver is going over to his grandparents for a few days and I was wondering if you'd like to do something?" His voice was shy...that was weird. It's almost like-

"Are you asking me on a date?" You say, a teasing smirk playing across your lips.

"No no, well- no it's not like that. Just as friends, you know- without the ruckus of that one running around." When he says "that one" he points towards Oliver, who was currently crashing two tractors together and making a crash sound with his mouth.

"You know what? Sure Simon. I'll see you then."

He smiles, nodding softly as he runs his hands through his hair, the gelled effect must have worn off because it was back to its shaggy state, almost getting to the point it reached his eyes. He needed a haircut, but it's not like you didn't like the shaggy look. It was unexpectedly sexy.

Maybe it was just your hormones talking but everything about this man was unexpectedly sexy. His tired eyes from sleepless nights and early mornings, his tatted arms, a few of the tattoos colored in with what seemed like marker from Oliver, and his tall frame, almost towering over you to the point you had to look up to see his face.

You did suggest that he should get laid, but maybe you're the one who really needed the action. It's been who knows how long, and your getting so desperate that you literally can't look at him without butterflies fluttering in your stomach as well as..further south.

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After sending Simon and his son home, you immediately ran to your bedroom, quickly stripping out of your clothes and hopping into the warm water of your shower. With your back to the water and your hands in your hair, you can't help but let your mind wander back to your neighbor.

What was he doing right now? Was he helping Oliver brush his teeth? Was he just getting into the shower too? Was his shower water warm or cool? Did he have tattoos elsewhere? What did the soap look like running down his chest and down his legs..?

Okay, you need to go to bed. Sleep would do the trick. Right?

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Wrong. Sleep 100% didn't do the trick. Two full days of almost nothing but sleep and this man has been filling your head with thought of him, some more naughty than other. He had crawled into your dreams, your thoughts, and your daily life in general. You cant even pour creamer into your coffee without seeing his smug ass face in your mug.

It was now the weekend, around 7pm on a Saturday. The sun had already gone down and you were sitting in your living room, a random cheesy rom com on the television as you scrolled on your phone. You scrolled through your feed, seeing videos of your college friends out partying, drinking, and having fun. Then there was you, sitting at home with day old mascara on your lashes and sleep evident on your face.

There was a heavy knock on your door, with a raised brow you hop up from your couch and make your way over to the door, peaking through the peep hole to see who it was. And to your surprise, it was exactly who you were thinking of.

There Simon stood, a bottle of champagne and a single red rose in his hands as he bounces on his heels, he was back to his regular shaggy look, unkempt hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, and his silver dog tag hanging from his neck.

Quickly, you open the door with a smile and invite the man in. As he walks in towards your kitchen counter you quickly become aware of your appearance. Old makeup on your face, and crinkled clothes that you couldn't be bothered to iron.

However, at this point the two of you have seen each other at your worst, hell you've seen Simon running off of two hours of sleep with a sick little Oliver who wouldn't stop crying and coughing.

"Champagne and a rose? This feels like a date to me.." You tease running a hand across his shoulder as you pass him, earning a shiver from the man. you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island as he takes a seat on one of the barstool chairs you have, sliding the bottle towards you.

"Take it however you want love." He laughs, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face, his bicep flexing in the process, and holy fuck.

You shake your head and pop open the bottle of champagne. "I'm glad I know you and Oliver, he's a good kid."

"You're such a big help with the little guy, I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. He loves you a lot." Simon is more soft spoken than usual as he twirls the rose between his fingertips.

You're frantically searching your cabinets for those champagne glasses you got all those years ago but have never used. You swear you still had them.

"It's no biggy. He's a joy to have around and probably one of my only friends!" You laugh, sighing after you cant find those dumbass champagne glasses and grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet instead. Not quite what you'd normally drink something like champagne out of, but it would have to work.

"So I'm not considered a friend? I see how it is," Simon fakes a hurt expression as he takes a mug from you with a raised brow. His shoulders shake in silent laughter after he looks at the mug to which it read "Male Tears" in big black lettering.

You laugh along with him, "Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease, pouring the champagne into each of your mugs. Your mug saying "Reading is Sexy" with blue lettering.

There the two of you sat, at your kitchen island drinking cheap champagne out of coffee mugs with a single red rose placed between the two of you.

-

After a few hours and an entire bottle of champagne, the two of you sat on your couch together, a movie on your tv.

You sat with your legs draped across Simons lap, his hand resting on your knee as his fingers gently rubbed circles into your skin. It tickled, but in a good way.

You fought sleep, your eyelids slowly shutting and reopening. Your breath was calm and slow, a comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you.

"Gettin' sleepy love?" Simon asks with a chuckle, his deep blue eyes lingering on you as he rubs up and down the length of your leg.

You don't bother answering verbally, you don't have the energy. You shake your head in a quiet and small 'no', your hand coming up to rub your eyes. What time was it? It couldn't be that late.

With a groan, you sit up and grab your phone off of the coffee table, tapping your screen a few times for it to turn on. Your screen nearly blinds you, a curse falling from you lips as Simon merely chuckles next to you. 11:57. Almost midnight already? You thought, there's no way.

Simon peaks over your shoulder and shakes his head, running his hands over his face with a yawn. "Surely I haven't been here all that long, it's definitely past our bedtimes," he teases as he moves your legs off of his, standing from the couch with a stretch, his shirt lifting, showing off a fucking happy trail. This man was too hot for his own good. It had to be a crime at this point.

You stand next to him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you yawn, making your way lazily towards the direction of your bedroom.

"I better get ta' goin'-" Simon begins, before you cut him off.

"Oh please, theres no way in hell you came over here just to hang out as friends, Simon." Your voice is low as you stand before him, your bodies mere inches apart as you stare up at him. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, and those god damn dimples shining through as he smirks down at you. You fuckin' knew it.

His arms wrap around your waist, his face nearing yours as he walks you backwards into your kitchen, your hips hitting the kitchen island. "I've been caught."

His breath smelling of cheap champagne and cigarettes as his lips grazed yours. His lips are soft as he finally kisses you, fitting perfectly against yours.

Simons hands remove themselves from your waist, landing on the kitchen island, trapping you between him and the counter. You deepen the kiss, standing on your tippy toes to match his force, earning an audible groan from the blonde man in front of you.

When the kiss ends, nothing but heavy panting and quiet curses fill the air. "Fuckin' hell love.." he whispers against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up and down your warm skin.

Quiet whimpers leave your lips as his lips work their way up to your ear, where he whispers a phrase that makes your knees want to buckle. "Get on the fuckin' counter doll, I've waited far to long for this and my tongue is tingling for your taste.."

Obviously, you do as he says, hopping up onto the cool granite. "Atta girl," he says, his voice raspy as he tugs the waistband of your pants down, pulling them off your legs as if he's been craving you for years. Maybe he has been..

In a swift motion he pushed you onto your back, earning a quiet yelp from you as your back touched the cold surface. With his eyes glued on your panties and his hands on your plush thighs you can't help but whimper, letting your head fall back onto the counter top.

"Fuckin hell lovie, you're already so wet..." Simon says through gritted teeth, the pad of this thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit, the feeling of the pressure over the fabric of your panties was enough for you to clench around nothing.

"Simon please-" you whimper, your hips rolling against his touch, eager for more. This draws a chuckle from the man in front of you, he pulls his hand away with a smug smirk on his lips.

Not another word is shared between the two of you before Simon is kneeled on the tile flooring and he has your legs over his shoulders, his face at perfect height with your core. He pulls your panties to the side, groaning at the sight before him. He was so fucking hard right now, straining against the zipper of his pants.

He blows a cool puff of air against your cunt, watching as it flutters before it, his smirk never falters as he runs his thumb over your cunt, coving his finger in your juices.

"Riley I swear to the gods, if you don't stop playing with your food-" you begin, getting cut off with his tongue against your slit and his thumb rubbing circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue works in and out of you, flicking and sucking, the noises that fill the kitchen are positively hypnotic. Your whimpers and moans mixed with the wet noises of Simons tongue between your legs. And to top it off, every time you buck your hips against his face he moans, a low growl like noise that makes you absolutely drip.

Simon is only using one hand to hold open your legs, his right hand has traveled down to his pants, unzipping his jeans and finally giving himself that oh so needed friction that he's been deprived of. His tongue goes flat against your cunt, his head shaking side to side, flicking his tongue every so often, just enough to catch the tip of your clit.

He palms himself through his boxers, rutting into the palm of his hand. "You like that baby? You're gettin' louder.." he teases as he sucks on your clit, causing your back to arch off of the counter top and your hands to fly to his hair, tugging on the blonde strands, pressing his face into your greedy little cunt even more.

"Simon! Right fucking there, please please please..." You moan, your thighs threatening to close around his head as your legs shake with pleasure. Your breath is quick and your moans are loud as Simon god damn Riley holds your legs open, sucking and licking your clit, you were about to fall apart right then and there, but after he shoves two fingers into your cunt you absolutely crumble.

The orgasm rushes throughout your body, your grip on his hair tight. He doesn't stop though, his tongue stays glued to your clit, his fingers moving at a pace that makes your writhe, drawing out this heavenly orgasm as long as he can.

You're already fucked out as he pulls his fingers out of you, kissing your fluttering cunt, kissing up your torso and tugging your shirt over your head to kiss all the way up your lips. This kiss was everything passionate, the taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy and your chest rises with a quick pace, still trying to come down from your high. Sweat glitters your skin, your panties hanging from your ankle and your mascara running down your cheeks. "So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous baby.." Simon whispers as he kissed you on the forehead, running his hands over your cheeks. "But we're not done yet, no no no, this night isn't over until I fill you up so full that Oliver will have a fucking sibling by tomorrow.." His voice is deep and sultry, pulling you up off the counter by your wrists and tossing you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes.

With a yelp from you, Simon gives a little smacks to your ass. His quick strides make it to your bedroom in no time at all. He tossed you on the bed, you landing on your back, your toes bouncing along with the mattress, earning a low curse from the man in front of you. He stands at the end of your bed, quickly pulling his pants and boxers off of himself. He can't go another fucking second without being inside of you.

The image of this man crawling on top of you, his ink covered arms on either side of your head and your legs on either side of your hips as he pressed against you. It was all so much, your cunt was dripping, and from what you could see so was the tip of his cock.

Holy shit his cock, it was huge, veins running up and down the length of it. You figured he was from the start, but now that it's in front of you, how the hell will it all fit?

His hands reach for your thighs, pushing them up so your knees neared your ears, the tip of his cock teases the entrance of your cunt, the bead of pre-cum smearing all over your clit. You wiggle your hips, eager for something, anything but this fucking torturous teasing that this man seems so obsessed with.

"Simon.." You moan, earning a groan from the man. His eyes have not left you this entire time, his gaze wandering up and down your figure with a look of biting desire.

"Moaning my name like that..fuck," He groans through gritted teeth, pressing the tip of his cock inside, fucking finally.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, biting down on your bottom lip as you grip the sheets.

Simons eyes shut with pleasure as he pushes into you. Only to open once again to watch your face, watching for any looks of displeasure, he makes it about half way when your eyebrows furrow and your hand flies to his torso, pressing against his abdomen as a way to tell him to stop for a second.

"It's okay lovie, breath, you're taking me so well.." He whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, kissing away a single stray tear that had seemingly rolled down your cheek. Slowly, he continues to push into you, the two of you share a mutual moan as he finally bottoms out, his stomach pressed flush against your clit.

"Good girl, my good girl baby, yes.." He moans, his hands under your knees as he holds one leg over his shoulder and the other off the the side.

Your whimpers, his groans, and the smell of sex fills the bedroom. You rock your hips, indicating the need for friction. With pleasure, Simon gives you what you needs, rolling his hips and pulling out about half way before slamming back inside you. Your loud moans and pleases for more, more, more fill the room, causing Simon to let out a guttural groan, hai cock twitching inside of you.

Simon shifted his hips, dragging his cock out of you. It glistened with your arousal, and it made his face grow hot. He bit back a whimper when he pushed inside you once more. You gasped, and he did it again. Again and again until he had a set a rhythm that had your entire body on fire, writhing against the mattress.

"Yes yes, fuck Simon, makin' m' feel so good, I-" You whimper, your legs shaking and your eyes squeezed shut out of pure pleasure.

Simon had reached a hand down and was now rubbing circles on your clit. Your words had his brain swimming, his thrusts deepening and pace quickening. The tight ball of pleasure was drawing tighter and tighter in the base of your tummy, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good..wanna put a fuckin baby in you lovie..." His voice is low, his groans turning into whimpers as his thrusts become sloppy, he's nearing his own climax. Your own peak is nearing, your cunt fluttering around his cock, clenching and squeezing as he moves at a pace that is absolutely intoxicating.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered. "Come on my cock. That's it, baby, yeah– good fuckin' girl."

His finger moves quickly against your clit, rubbing as his cock bullies in and out of your greedy little cunt. The force of his thrusts make your tits bounce, earning deep and needy groans from the back of Simons throat.

You came around his cock with a sob of his name, your cunt squeezing him tight as the ball of pressure snapped in your tummy. Your orgasm was hard, slamming over you and rendering you breathless, your head floating. Your clit pulsed beneath the movements of his fingers.

The tightness of your cunt earned a fucked out moan from Simon as he slams in and out of you, reaching even deeper than before. You wanted to scream. He was so deep. You were so full.

"Such a good girl, suck a greedy little cunt— so tight I don't think I'll be able to pull out-, yes baby.." He blabbered helplessly as he becomes utterly pussydrunk, his head lolling back and his eyes closing with pleasure.

"M'gonna come in this tight cunt," Si whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. He spoke louder when he continued his sentence. "You want my cum, baby? You want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you up, fill this pretty tummy?"

"Yes! Please—!" You practically scream.

"I will— I'll fill you up with all of my fuckin' cum.." He moans, his thrusts sloppy and his grip on your thighs bruising. "Take it all like a good girl," he moaned. "Get you–fuck —get you pregnant. Fill you up with my kids. I'd look after you, baby."

You were basically screaming.

And with that Simon cums, your name falling from his lips as the white hot liquid spills from his cock into you. He doesn't pull out, tugging you up so that you straddled his hips, his hands on your as as he holds you up, him leaning back against the heels of his feet. The two of you share a tender kiss, his lips softly kissing your lips, cheeks, and neck.

"Fuckin' hell love.." He laughs, his voice raspy. He finally pulls out, a deep groan slipping from his lips as he watches his cum drip out of that sweet little cunt. Carefully, he lays you back down on the mattress, staring down at you with low eyes and a small smile on his lips.

"You were so good just now, you know that? So beautiful, so fuckin' hot-" He moves so he's laid beside you, his chest pressed against your back as he rubs small circles on your hip with his finger. "-I loved your moans, and the feeling of your pussy..just stay like this with me for a second, yeah?" His hand runs up and down your side, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as his breath tickles the back of your neck.

What an odd feeling. It all felt as if everything had always been like this. As if the two of you were meant to be, and this was all just natural.

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Simon and You sit in your living room together, his hand on your thigh and Oliver running back and forth with a superman action figure in hand making a 'swooshhh' sound with his mouth.

The promise ring on your finger sparkles as you look down at it, you can't take your eyes off the damn thing. It's been a week since he's given it to you, but every time you eye catches the little piece of jewelry you can't help but stare.

Three years of crushing and helping him raise his kid. One night of his name being moaned and orgasm after orgasm. Two weeks form that night he asked you out. It's been four months since he asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. But not, at the same time. It feels like you've know each other forever so it was natural. Nothing odd about falling in love so quickly.

Or maybe the love has always been there, it was the commitment and the confessions and the confusing mixed signals that were messing with the process.

But in the end everything had fallen in place. Simon still lives next door, but that is gonna change soon. He spends more and more time over at your place than his own. Both his and Oliver's clothes litter your laundry, and instead of one lonely toothbrush in the bathroom, there's now three.

Pink, Blue, and a tiny red one for Oliver.

This was how it was meant to be. Simon, Oliver, and you. And possibly another one. Simon is pretty eager for that addition. Now that was a little fast even for you.

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a/n: not to singledad!simon anymore. <33

p.s.- i tagged everyone who i saw asked to be, sorry if i missed ya! and thank you all so so much for all the love. i love all of ya so so much! <33

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cherry Blossom. aka - Cherry, Part Four.

a night of conversations, kisses and long awaited confessions.

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - cursing, kissing (but no real smut).

word count - 2.6k

authors note - the babies are back!! no smut in this one - it was getting too long. but don’t you worry… there’s gonna be so much smut in part five !! sorry for the cliffhanger. love u <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

series masterlist. main masterlist. inbox.

The smoke from the bonfire is stinging your eyes, ash sticking to the strands of your hair. Orange embers burn rapidly, dry wood being occasionally thrown on top by drunk boys with red cups in their hands.

The music is way too loud for a forest party, but no one seems to care. Someone’s haphazardly strung lights between the trees, creating a surprisingly cosy ambience. The atmosphere is alive, charged with the electricity of being out later than curfew.

“M’lady!”

You laugh, accepting the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you say as you curtsy sarcastically, making both of you laugh harder. “Hey, you didn’t bump into Steve on your way over here, did you? I haven’t seen him for like an hour.”

The curly haired boy kicks the toe of your sneaker with his.

“Saw him with that Clara girl, talking by the lake.”

You take a steadying breath, pretending it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

“You should go and check if he needs rescuing,” Eddie jokes. “God knows she can talk for hours without coming up for air.”

You smile at him, pulling at one of his curls.

“Good idea. Just in case.”

“Just in case,” he winks, pushing you in the right direction.

You saunter down towards the water, spotting your best friend instantly. He’s stood with his arms across his chest, weight on one hip as he tries to listen to whatever Clara has to say. The minute he sees you, his posture is straightening, lips quirking up at the corners.

Clara turns around to see what Steve is looking at, her face falling when she recognises you.

“Hi. I don’t mean to interrupt! Just wanted to check if you needed another drink, Stevie.”

The boy grins, beckoning you closer with a nod of his head. When you’re near enough, he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, all affectionate and tender.

Oh.

You don’t do that.

The two of you have kept your romance completely behind closed doors, up until now. It hasn’t got a name, never mind a label, and you don’t need people asking questions when you don’t even know the answers yourself.

You could blame it on the alcohol, but you know Steve’s on his first drink. With your head spinning, you look up at him as if he is the sun and all things warm. He looks down at you the exact same way.

“I’m gonna go see where my friends are,” Clara says a little too loudly, strutting away with as much confidence as she can muster.

You have a sudden feeling that you’re the villain in her story, but you’re not entirely sure why.

“How many drinks have you had?” Steve asks as he pulls a strand of hair away from your face.

“This is my second. I was nursing my first one, Eddie says.”

The boy laughs, and you grab onto his bicep for support. The sound of it is enough to buckle your knees.

“This is my first. It’s not doing much for me.”

“You want something different? I’m sure Robin has that beer you like in her bag.”

“Nah, I’m okay. Don’t think I’m gonna drink any more tonight.”

Steve slips his hands into the back pockets of your jeans, pulling you in closer and keeping them there.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he whispers back.

And then he kisses you. Again. It’s slow and careful and so romantic that you think you might start crying about it.

“What time is it?” he asks when he pulls away as if nothing happened.

“Eleven thirty.”

“You wanna stay a bit longer?”

“Not if you don’t.”

Steve presses his lips to your forehead, hands cradling your cheeks.

“I kinda wanna go home.”

You smile at him, all soft and sweet.

“Then let’s go home. I’m getting a little cold, anyway. And I didn’t bring a jacket.”

“Will you ever learn?” he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“If it means I have to stop wearing your jackets that I know you bring to parties just for me? No, I won’t.”

You weren’t supposed to say that out loud, but the way Steve chuckles soothes the sting of the accidental wound.

“Let’s go home, Cherry Baby.”

Home. The assumption that the two of you will always be returning to the same place makes your heart so full, you wonder how it doesn’t spill over.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You good?”

“Feet hurt.”

This happens every single time the two of you go to a party, so you feel as if you’re reliving a memory.

“Hop on.”

“Steve-”

“Cherry. Come on. We’ll get home quicker this way.”

You can’t argue with that. Steve crouches as you jump onto his back, his hands wrapping around your thighs to keep you steady. You wrap your arms around his neck from behind, resting your head on top of his.

“Comfy back there?”

You hum, the noise of agreement enough for Steve to start walking.

The two of you chat each others ears off on the way home, talking about nothing and everything. You laugh so hard at something he says that you end up with a mouthful of his hair, which he in turn finds hilarious.

“Have you thought any more about what I said the other day?”

“You say a lot of things, Steven.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and giving your thighs a squeeze.

“About college.”

You go quiet for a moment, and Steve wonders if he’s chosen the wrong time to have this conversation.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s talk about it later, okay? When I’m not constantly worried I’m gonna accidentally trip and kill you.”

You nod, and he feels it. You know it needs to be a discussion sometime soon, but perhaps having it when you’re being carried down the street on your best friends back isn’t all that practical.

“Love you,” you mumble into the crook of Steve’s neck.

He shudders a little at your lips on his skin, leaning his head sideways to rest against yours.

“Love you, Cherry Pie. More than anything.”

You let Steve piggyback you all the way to his front door. Neither of you say anything else. Neither of you feel the need to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Steve bumps his hip into yours as you both brush your teeth, laughing at your shocked reflection in the mirror.

“Are you okay?” you ask as you place your toothbrush back in its holder, right next to his.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

You hop up on the bathroom counter, sitting up so you’re eye to eye with the boy in front of you. He takes a step forward, standing between your legs as he splays his cold hands over your thighs.

“Why’d you ask?”

You trace over his fingers where they rest on your skin, quiet for a moment.

“You seemed pretty eager to go home tonight. It’s unlike you. You love a party. Leaving at eleven thirty is like… unheard of, for King Steve.”

“King Steve would rather be at home with you than at a party with all those people.”

“Really?”

“Really. Clara was going on about something or other, the music was too loud, and I could feel the chill coming in. It hit me, all of a sudden, that I’d rather be in bed. Or, anywhere else, as long as I was with you.”

You lean forward to rest your head against his chest, sighing when he starts playing with your hair gently.

“You’re a softie,” you mumble into his shirt. “And a mind reader.”

“It’s my one talent,” he chuckles. “I wish reading your mind was a college major. I’d be the best in the world.”

You shake your head, laughing like you can’t help it.

“If I don’t move soon, I’m gonna fall asleep on this bathroom counter.”

“Want me to carry you?”

“Contrary to popular belief,” you tease as you hop down, “my legs actually do work.”

Steve gasps, all theatrical and exaggerated, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Come on, sleepy girl. Let’s go to bed.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“We’re not talking about stuff.”

You whisper it into the darkness, the trees rustling outside Steve’s window serving as the only sound you can hear.

“Hmm?”

Your legs are tangled with his, tired head resting on the boys shoulder as your sides are pressed together. You’re both lying on your backs, staring at the ceiling.

“We keep saying we’ll talk about stuff, but we haven’t been. It’s not like us.”

“You mean, like, feelings?”

“Yeah.”

All that can be heard now is two sets of heaving lungs. Steve’s hand finds yours under the duvet, fingers intertwining.

“Is there something specific that’s bothering you?”

“Not bothering me as such. I just… I think the more we don’t talk, the more complicated things become.”

There’s silence for a moment, before Steve speaks.

“I’m scared, Cherry.”

The tone of his voice is paper thin and vulnerable, and you will yourself not to cry about it.

“Of what, Stevie?”

You squeeze his hand, tucking yourself further into his side until there isn’t an inch of space between you.

“Of… everything changing. You’re my best friend in the entire world, and I know that what we’ve been doing isn’t typical… best friend stuff. I just…” he takes a deep breath, exhaling carefully. “I worry that something will happen and we’ll break up, and I’ll lose you forever.”

His voice cracks on the last word, fear seeping through his pores. Yet, he continues.

“I’d die without you, Cherry. I really would. I don’t know what it’s like to live in a world where we’re not… us.”

You turn onto your side to face him in the dark, reaching up to cradle his cheek softly. You rest your forehead against his temple, pressing a kiss into his skin.

“I’m scared too. I have been ever since that first night in my room. Not because I don’t trust you, or because I don’t feel that way about you… but because I don’t want to lose you either. More than anything, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Why didn’t we talk about this sooner?” he laughs, throat thick with emotion.

“Because we’re us. And whether we talk or don’t talk, we know we’ll figure it out. We always know we’ll be okay.”

“I love you,” he whispers into the dark. “More than all the stars in the sky.”

“I love you,” you whisper back. “More than all the grains of sand on all the beaches in the world.”

You press another kiss into his temple, letting your lips linger on his soft skin. He smells so familiar, so warm, so yours… you can’t help but inhale, chuckling when he shudders.

You continue to leave kisses across his jaw, over his ear, down his neck. He tilts his head to give you better access, groaning when you nip at his throat with your teeth, licking over the scrape to soothe him.

Steve pulls you in as if you weigh nothing, moving you so you’re lying on top of him. You sit up, straddling his lap, as he does the same so you’re chest to chest. Running his hands under your shirt and over the bare skin of your back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You look so pretty like this,” he hums against your lips. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

“You wanna talk about pretty?” you tease, running your fingers through his hair. “My pretty, pretty boy.”

Steve’s hips buck up into yours, making you giggle.

“Oh, you like that? You like it when I call you pretty? Or do you just like it when I call you mine?”

His hips buck again as his cheeks flush pink.

“I am yours,” he murmurs. “Always have been.”

You thought you had the upper hand for a minute, but now you just want to cry. You’re overwhelmed by the way you feel about the boy underneath you, unsure of how to process it without bursting into tears.

“All mine,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your fingertip.

Steve takes a deep breath, watching your eyes as they look over him again and again, taking him in as if it’s the first time. He decides it’s now or never.

“Cherry?”

“Stevie?”

Your voices are low and careful, irregardless of the fact that you’re alone in the house.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your heart stops, and so does the world outside. Everything pauses, the two of you suspended in this moment in time.

Steve takes another breath, exhaling it carefully before meeting your eyes and continuing.

“You don’t have to say it back. Now, or ever. I just - I needed you to know.”

You blink back tears as you watch his face, biting your lip to stop them from falling.

“Steve-”

“Hey, I told you. You don’t have to say anything, babe. I know-”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just-”

You surge forward and kiss him with all the affection you can muster, trying to express your feelings. You grip his hair, plastering your bodies together where you sit in his lap still. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in as close as he can.

“If you let me talk,” you say when you pull away, all breathless, “you’d hear that I have something I’d like to say.”

Steve smiles, humming in acknowledgment and encouraging you to keep going.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

The boy looks shocked to hear it, as if it’s news to him.

“What’s that face for?” you laugh.

“I just… I didn’t expect you to say it back.”

“Steve,” you chuckle, looking at him sternly. When you realise he’s being serious, you double down. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. When we were kids, and someone would say the word ‘husband’, I always pictured you. I was so convinced it was always going to end up being you and I.”

“Why… why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He laughs, and the sound makes you feel as if you’re on cloud nine. You can feel his heartbeat where his chest is pressed to yours, frantic like he’s just ran a marathon.

“Fuck, I love you.”

He leans up to kiss you, all saccharine and honey sweet.

“Say it again,” you whisper against his lips.

“I’m in love with you, Cherry.”

“Say it again.”

“I, Steve Harrington, declare that I am completely, utterly, ridiculously in love with this girl right here. I always have been. I always will be.”

You can’t help but throw your head back with laughter.

“And I love you. So much.”

The words you’ve always said mean so much more now. It’s a welcome change, one you never thought you’d see happen.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hmm?”

You lean in, nosing at his jaw as you murmur into his ear.

“Want you. So bad.”

“Fuck, honey,” he groans, all low and rough.

“Please. Want it to be you.”

Looking up at you with big eyes, he searches your face for any kind of hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

Smoothing his hair away from his face, you trace your thumb over his bottom lip.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “I’m about to rock your world, Cherry Blossom.”

@psychicnerdcat @allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @internallysalad @saucypeanuttt @empathyroad @niceskyler @spookysins @theoraekenslover @7minutes-tomidnight @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @clairesjointshurt @livsters @diffrent-spokes @regular-joe-shmoe @ihatepeanutss @ladyburberry @thenonweeknd @abarelyexistentbeing @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @slut4gaga @hopelessromanticwriter @mgchaser @wintrsoldrluvr

[ddarker-dreams]

missing scarlet ribbons so bad… brain food for SR: confined space stand that lowkey locks SR reader in a really small alternate dimension space with the bucci gang. like… chest to chest on top like “aughh sorry!! its so cramped in here :((“ and the guys r j internally screaming over it

RETURNING WITH SOME SCARLET RIBBONS !!!!!!!!!!!! i love them your honor <33333333

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Although Giorno recognizes this predicament's unique benefits, he still prioritizes your well-being. He will check you over, ensuring no harm has been inflicted. Once that’s settled, admittedly, a few mischievous thoughts flit through his mind… none that he’ll act on, however. He accommodates you to the best of his ability. Ever the opportunist, he’ll gratefully accept any physical contact your shuffling around results in. Should you find yourself bored while waiting out the Stand’s effects, he’ll humor (most) requests you make of Gold Experience. And no, he won’t agree to create an elephant, no matter how passionately you plead your case. You’ll have to settle for a duckling or something similarly small. Capybaras aren’t off the table. 

Your level-headed leader, Bruno, finds himself unusually flustered. He recoils a bit too fast from any contact and dedicates a lengthy chunk of time to clearing his throat. He steels his nerves by asking if you’re alright, feeling any adverse side effects, etc. Sticky Fingers is summoned to check for a way out of this pocket dimension, an idea that’s proven implausible. You’ll both have to wait it out. Bruno gives you as much space as he can, to the point his contortions are stressing you out from how uncomfortable they must be. He almost chokes when you offhandedly suggest sitting on his lap to ‘free up space.’ Poor man. 

Fugo’s irritated over the fight’s outcome. He feels useless, since your presence prevents him from utilizing Purple Haze, lest you fall victim to the Stand’s abilities. He critiques your strategies and lists what you should’ve done differently. Don’t take it personally — internally, he’s berating himself for being unable to do more. The self-loathing steadily fades away as he recognizes how close these accommodations have you. Fugo cuts himself off mid rant, sputtering incoherent gibberish. His heart starts beating so hard, he wonders if he might be going into cardiac arrest. Your knees are brushing against each other. Why aren’t you panicking? Why is he panicking? … And why does he feel some gratitude toward the Stand User responsibles for this? 

Narancia considers this a golden opportunity to prove how reliable (and cool!) he is. Will most likely quote an action hero for maximum effect. He reassures you that he’s ‘totally got this’ and suggests shooting the walls with Aerosmith to bust out. You have to talk him out of this brilliant plan, reminding him that ricochet is a thing. Sitting still and waiting for the Stand’s ability to run its course hits him the hardest. He wants to be proactive, primed to pummel the asshole that got you both in this situation. However, your presence greatly decreases the likelihood he’ll do anything rash. At a certain point, he finds the whole thing kinda cool, like a secret base only you two know about. 

Mista used to pray for days like these. He’s thanking all the saints (that he can remember) for this gracious opportunity. Still, he’s mindful of your boundaries, doing his best not to intrude on your space. He will be inhaling your perfume, though. In copious amounts. While escape should be a high priority, seeing as neither of you are dying, he’s rather chill about the entire ordeal. You’re his favorite person to goof around with. He jokes about offering himself up if you’re stuck here long enough for starvation to kick in. You don’t get why his mind always ends up in a Hannibal-Lecter-esque place, but it’s a nice (?) sentiment. The Stand’s ability ends far too fast for his liking. 

Abbacchio is secretly grateful it’s you he’s stuck with and not some other schmuck. He might give you a hard time, but your presence is tolerable, even if you have a proclivity for yapping. The fact that you’re nice on the eyes is an added bonus. Considering his height, it’s impossible for you to have absolutely zero contact. Abbacchio’s always been tough on himself — he wouldn’t blame you if you were repulsed by him. So for you not to shrink away when your hands touch… it warms his heart in a way he hadn’t thought possible. He’ll humor your musings, adding his own dry wit on the occasion until you’re both freed. 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Max arrives at the wrong time and everything goes to hell. Warnings: 18+ only, angst WC: 2.3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

The door opening might as well have been a punch to your gut. You had seen Lando lose, you had seen him cry, but you had never seen him defeated.

“Lan,” you whispered in the silence as you rose from the couch where you had been curled up in Charles’ arms, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, it was an accident.”

The backpack hanging from his sagging shoulders slipped and thudded to the floor as he saw the suitcase waiting beside the door. “So this is how it is, go public and kick me out?”

“Lando, no.” You closed the distance and crashed into his chest but his arms didn’t return the embrace as you looked up to see the tears in his eyes.

“They’re mine, mon cher,” Charles said as he wrapped his arms around the both of you and kissed Lando’s temple. Lando closed his eyes at the soft touch of Charles’ lips and a tear squeezed free, squeezing your heart at the same time. “I thought you might want the night together after what happened.”

Lando fisted his hand in Charles' shirt to stop him from stepping any further away and tugged him back. Their lips collided with desperate need and you melted at the sight of their tongues fighting for dominance until Lando won. Charles sank into his embrace and moaned when Lando combed his fingers through his hair before they parted breathless. “You’re not leaving right now are you?”

Charles chuckled softly and shrugged. “I’m sure I can be convinced to stay for a little while.”

You would usually try to go to bed early before a race but this wasn’t a normal night. It was already late by the time Charles left for the empty room booked in his name down the hall, next to the empty one of Lando’s, for appearances sake. There was still no chance of sleep yet, not while Lando lay awake and staring at the patterns on the ceiling.

He had been a little rougher as his emotions got the better of him, not enough to hurt you or Charles, but enough to know there was a discussion needed about the new situation. Since Charles left he had been quiet, retreating back into himself the longer he lay there.

“Babe, we need to talk.”

His rising chest stopped as his eyes darted your way. “I hate those words. They are never followed by anything good.”

“They’re just words, not good or bad,” you pointed out but he just looked away with a huff of air through his nostrils. “What do you think we should do?”

“About what?” He turned and propped himself up on his elbow as he traced a fingertip along your curves. “About how my boyfriend and my girlfriend get to have a normal relationship in public, go out on dates, hold hands, kiss? About how I have to play third wheel, a friend tagging along?” He flopped back down and slung an arm across his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“There are other options. We could say we went on a date but it’s nothing serious, no label, be more careful and let the heat die down. Not everyone who kisses has to be in a relationship.”

“If you say you aren’t dating him then the tabloids will call you a slut, that’s how they work,” he muttered.

“I don’t care what they call me, they’ve called me a bitch for most of my career.”

“But I care! I hate how you are treated by the male reporters, how everyone holds you to different standards.”

“It wasn’t all that long ago when you were one of those people too,” you reminded him. “You treated me differently to your guy friends.”

“Not because you were a girl,” he groaned as he pinched your hip. “That was because I was in love with you.”

You quirked an eyebrow up and poked him in the chest. “Was?”

“Am, always,” he corrected with a laugh before he sighed. “I feel like I’ll be forgotten.”

“Oh, Lando…” You pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. “This only works because of the three of us. Without you, we wouldn’t be complete. I wouldn’t be complete.”

His face softened at the reassuring words and his hands ran up your body to cup your face, pulling you down to meet his. “Promise me,” he whispered against your lips.

Taking one of his hands you held his forefinger and crossed it over your heart. “I promise. You won’t ever be forgotten.”

Cradling you to his chest, he wrapped his arms around you and yawned as the exhausting day came to a close. “What do you think Charles is doing?”

You snorted a laugh. “Probably sitting on an ice pack.”

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” Lando asked as he bit his lip.

“I don’t think our Charles has ever really been spanked, he might feel it in the morning,” you giggled. “He knows you would have stopped the moment he asked to, but he didn’t, so it wasn’t too much for him.”

He relaxed under you and after a few minutes his breathing evened out as he fell asleep. You started to climb off him so you could lay on his arm but the moment you moved he woke up.

“You make a terrible weighted blanket,” he grumbled. “Stay still.”

Chuckling, you laid back down and made yourself comfortable, pulling the blankets up to settle in for the night. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

His sleepy mumblings were almost incoherent but you caught his reply with a smile as you drifted off too.

“Max?” You frowned as you opened the door expecting to find Charles returning for breakfast. “What do you want?”

“To talk,” he replied as he pushed the door open and walked in without an invitation.

You pulled the hotel robe tighter around your body and crossed your arms defensively. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“He’s one of my best mates and you lied to me.”

“I never lied, I just didn’t tell you - because it’s none of your business what I do. And, it obviously didn’t affect your friendship.”

“Secrets are bad,” he stated like he was talking to Penelope and you felt your temper rise.

“I was a secret!” you hissed sharply. “I was a secret for ten fucking years, Max. Does that make me bad?”

“Why are you whispering?” Max narrowed his eyes at the bedroom door that was almost closed. “Is that bastard here? I'm going to kill him.”

“Max, don’t go in there.” He ignored your protest as he shoved the door open and tore the bedding away. “Max!”

Confusion hit Max like a slap to the face as he saw who it was asleep naked facedown in your bed. “Lando?”

Lando came awake suddenly, after managing to sleep through the noise it was the cold air that woke him. “Woah, what the…?”

“You’re fucking him too?” Max growled, turning away from Lando to look down his nose at you. Disappointed was set deep in his features as he shook his head. “You’re a whore, just like your mother.”

You didn’t even feel your fingers closing around the vase, you didn’t feel anything but the explosive need to make him regret his words. Max managed to dodge the vase as it flew across the room at him but porcelain shattered against the wall that your scream echoed off.

“Apologise now,” you demanded as you started to stalk your half brother around the bed. “My mother did nothing wrong! Jos may have cheated on your mum, but he royally fucked mine over.”

You didn’t hear the footsteps coming in, and you barely registered the arms that wrapped around you, the red sleeves bright against your white robe. All your focus was on Max and the sneer on his face that you wanted to slap right off. 

“Guess you’re more like Jos than you thought then,” Max snickered. “Let her go, Charles, prove once and for all that you are a Verstappen.”

“What the hell is going on?” Charles growled as he struggled to hold you back. “Lando…a little…help.”

Max frowned as he watched Lando rush to help keep you from reaching him, after tripping over the pair of boxers he was trying to pull on. “You’re not even going to ask why Lando was in her bed?”

“I would be more worried if he wasn’t, it’s where I left them,” Charles snapped impatiently. “Now get the fuck out of our room.”

Max swallowed as he digested the news and an array of emotions flitted across his face. “Where you left them…”

Lando cupped your face as he positioned himself between you and Max, talking softly as he tried to get your attention, “Look at me, love. Forget what he said, he’s wrong.”

“You’re nothing like Jos,” Charles reminded quietly in your ear, his lips brushing your neck as he spoke. 

You finally dragged your eyes away from Max and met Lando’s only to see the rage you showed outwardly suppressed deep in his blue eyes. Closing your eyes, you sagged in their arms and nodded as the fight left you as quickly as it came. It was only then that you realised the shaking wasn’t coming from you but Charles and Lando. They were using you as an anchor as much as you were clinging to them like a lifesaver.

“Go away,” you said to Max as Lando buried his face in the crook of your neck, his quiet murmurings promising you their friendship was over for what he called you. “Leave us alone.”

“But-”

“As far as I am concerned, I don’t have a father, and I don’t have a brother.” Your voice was steadier than you expected it to be but it was empty, cold and dead. “I have everything I need right here.”

Max could see there was no arguing with you, your mind was set and you were stubborn. Making his way out of the room he paused beside Lando, looking at his closest friends to see they were just as disappointed as he was, only theirs was aimed at him. “You’re throwing away a decade of friendship for her?”

Charles' arms tightened around you as his back stiffened at the question and you peeked up over your shoulder to see the sadness in his eyes. “You did that, mate, the moment you disrespected the woman we love.”

“Charles, you love every woman you date. My sister is just going to be another girl you get bored with and dump at the end of the season.” Max shook his head and made his way to the door only to stop as he reached for the doorknob. “I hope you really thought this through, zusje. What happens when one of them crashes, are you going to throw away a win just to check they are alright?”

“Yes.” It was an easy question to answer. “Some things are more important than winning, which just goes to show…I’m not a Verstappen.”

You left the circuit without taking the usual team celebration photo. You left the moment the podium celebration was finished. 

There had been no flood of excitement or adrenaline as you stood at the centre between Max and Lewis. You hadn’t even been able to shake your bottle of champagne to more than a fizz before taking a seat on the step and overlooking the crowd that cheered. You deserved the win, you worked hard for it, so why did you feel like shit? 

You had pushed recklessly, taking corners needlessly fast so you could stay ahead of Max. You had degraded the tires uncharacteristically quick with poor management. It wasn’t a clean win. It wasn’t won for the right reasons. You had wanted to humiliate Max and a 20 second lead was the only way you could do that. 

Spotting a disappointed Jos in the crowd, you lifted the bottle up to salute him before tipping it back with both hands and swallowing as much of the bubbly as you could before Calum intervened. He already had his hands full after collecting the Constructors trophy on behalf of Red Bull but he made room to take your bottle as well.

“Come on, Spitfire,” he said as he hooked an arm under yours and pulled you to your feet. “Another one for the collection.”

You forced a smile and traded your trophy for the bottle. “Can you take that down to the garage for me?”

“Sure. Where are you going?”

“Home.” Your eyes drifted to Max who was busy wiping away the confetti stuck to his hair. You had half expected him to tell everyone the truth but as the day wore on there was no breaking news or anything more than the photo of you and Charles kissing. 

“Wait, hold up, wait…” he called after you but you were already descending the stairs and weaving your way out the back of the motorhomes. You stopped by the empty Red Bull space just long enough to change your clothes and grab your bag but by the time you opened the door Charles and Lando were waiting outside your driver room.

“Need an escape, love?” Lando asked as he held up the key to the McLaren sports car he had been given for the weekend. “We can beat the traffic to the airport if we leave now. Anywhere you want in the world, baby.”

You pulled your phone out of your bag and turned it on to see all the unread messages but there was one you had been waiting for and you smiled when you found a reply had come in during the race. 

Of course, honey, you are always welcome home x

“Anywhere?” you asked as you put your phone away. You met their curious faces as they nodded and waited for your destination. “How would you like to meet my mum?”

Click here for part six.

[shinjisdone]

*sigh* that time of the year again where I brielfy obsess over Alucard from hellsing ah shit here we go again

Random Alucard thoughts (also he is totally yandere)

TW: Huge yandere behavior, mentions of murder, torture, vampirism, blood, extreme possessiveness, obsession, crossing boundaries, belittling, mind games, Alucard fully sees himself as your monster, hints at Alucard's true identity and past, everything is in random order according to my brainrot

Vlad "Alucard" Tepeş is 100%, absolutely, with zero doubt a Yandere. It's proven, it's real, he is one, do not argue with me look at him from any angle, it is yandere.

He had long embraced the title and flesh of a monster. He is selfish, twisted and full of bloodlust. His life as a true vampire consists of short bursts of pleasure, of getting that kick of almost being killed. Battling with a "man" who can kill a "monster". Yet he is so powerful that no one can come close to put him in his well-deserving grave. A shame.

Besides Integra and Seras, its the only thing he lives for. To meet the end by the hands of a human.

Hence why he, ironically, is very drawn to humans and humanity in general.

He respects bravery, wit and the want to be human and stay so no matter what. A steadfast knowledge of who you are. So you'd have to have all that for him to pay positive attention to you.

He has seen and lived through the worst of it. Not once a taste of love or kindness but only the wretched side of humanity that it can offer.

He can offer it all back...but not love. For love is pure and good and he is not and never was. Love is for humans. Monsters can only "love" in much darker ways...

And if you are the one thing that intruiges him so much, he might smother you in his twisted love.

Of course, you do not need to be a mortal to become his obsession. But for the sake of diving into his psyche, to really see how....unhinged this creature is, let us go with that 👀

A creature of the night is always interested in humans. How one particurarly thinks and acts, what they believe in, whether they have cowardice or courage in their hearts. Many are the same but a lot of them prove themselves to be more and worthy of his attention.

You'd have to have something to begin that spark of interest. Power, knowledge, strength of character whatever it is, it should be enough to interest a vampire but not deter him away from you from striving away from your humanity. Casting it aside makes you a fool in his eyes.

Then - there has to be that humanity inside you. Not the ugly and candid one he knew all his life as a count but this...fleeing beauty. The seldom joy and kindness. Love for another being all because you simply chose to.

Not because this person fought for your love, sacrificed for your love, impaled your enemies - but because you chose to share love.

How human.

Interesting yet...perhaps weak. Or is it strength? Can you cast it all aside when you do gain enemies that want your head?

Besides, when you are in Hellsing, you do tend to be messed up. Integra, Seras and Walter are no different in their own way and how can you still carry an ounce of selflessness in a place like this with how you are? Can you be selfless when you fight?

A part of him wants you to succumb to the rage, this oh so human rage but...once you cave, it is hard to get back up. Alucard would rather have you stay the way you are.

The beginning is slow but already startling...

The longer he watches, the more intriguied he becomes. And once this humanity of yours touches him, it is all over.

With Integra, he is loyal. With Seras, he is patient. Both women have gained his respect through their courage and boldness, as well as their will power for what they believe in.

But you? You have nothing to gain from the Hellsing hound. If he wanted you dead, you'd be so long ago. You are already protected from his power (as long as Integra says so and Seras is not endangered) so what do you think you are doing, little human, sharing an ounce of love with him?

Don't you know that monsters cannot love?

Yet still, he feels a tightness in his chest. There, deep within where his heart is supposed to reside, is a dark yet darker, deep yet deeper black hole, an abyss of all that he is now as Alucard - still, the tightness is there and slowly spreads through his limbs as warmth.

It is different than the bolts of bloodlust that spark and jolt within him. It is slower and graduate. Calm like the sea in the morning fog. It is so interesting that he allows himself to indulge in more.

You foolish human.

You will see the error of your ways. Will see how this creature of the night's darkness will twist and turn into an admiration that is sick, an infatuation that looks down on you yet worhsips you at the same time, an adoration that is deadly. Love does not exist within the being that is called Alucard. It is too pure and good for a monster like him.

Know that it will take a long and enduring time for something like that to blossom. But if your actions are consistent, it will certainly happen - your doom.

It begins mellowly.

His constant presence when allowed to have some free time, the unblinking gaze and the everlasting smile. Alucard always smiles around you.

He tends to talk a lot more with you. Asking you questions of your views to gain more and more knowledge about you, to understand you as a human and how you tick. He greedily sucks in any kind of information that makes you, you. The mortal he fell for.

For you are simply too fascinating not to know more of.

It happens through interrupting your own free time, your privacy (he just goes through the walls) and your boundaries. He doesn't mean any harm, quite the opposite, so why do you become so hostile?

Are you not on the same side as Hellsing?

In battle, he enjoys protecting you. As if it was a hard task or would get in the way of the objective - putting a bullet through a threat or biting their head off is easy and fun. He's keeping you, his favorite and most interesting mortal, safe. He can't have you killed, for who else is as unique as you and could ever replace you?

It's gruesome and he shows no remorse in how you feel on such a vile display. He will not ever admit it but his actions speak louder than words and you will notice, very soon, that he focuses a lot on your safety - while gleefully slaughtering so-called "dogs".

Any kind of acts of love are your doom...

It is only when you act so humanely even further with him that things go down.

Alucard watches you in your sleep but dares not touch you. His grotesque hands do not know how to caress and care. It's unfamiliar, too unfamiliar for him to simply begin. He stares and watches, observes and grins and comments, bows and gestures and overdoes everything but he does not touch you. He does not know how.

Yet one night, when you are not asleep but admiring the moon, he comes to you.

Makes it seem like a coincidence even when it is part of his nightly routine to see you. You talk but not dare bring up his odd behaviour towards you. Instead, he listens before Alucard slowly gets lost at the sight of you and his hand gently lowers to your head.

It does not matter if you show no fear or maybe jump and whimper at his touch - all that matters is that you let him touch you. Him, Alucard, the true, great vampire and nightwalker. A creature of the night so great that nothing can harm him but he certainly can bring torment to you - yet you let him touch you.

It is the first in millennia that he ever found himself putting a hand on something he does not wish to kill. His hand engulfs your head, fingers run through your hair and his thumb caressing the underline of your eyes. A hand that could crush your skull, fingers and thumb that could dug into your eyesocket and you let it all happen. It serves as some kind of evidence, at least to him, that he can...do something he did not ever think he could.

It would bring even more meaning to it (or perhaps mockery to the injury) when you accept his touch by putting your hand over his. You can say whatever you want, feel whatever you want but actions speak louder than words and here, right now, you allow a monster to caress you and do not reject it by taking its hand.

You...beautiful human.

You...foolish human.

What are you doing? What have you done?

How can you expect Alucard to forget this and you?

He did not forget the armies, the ottomen, the vampires and ghouls, or Integra's father because all they did was inflict unforgettable pain.

And now, he cannot ever forget you because you touched him with love - whether you liked it or not.

Whether you see it like him or not.

It doesn't matter.

Alucard won't forget. Won't cast aside the new light he now sees you in.

Brave. Steadfast. Aware. Kind. Fragile. Naive. Weak. Loving.

What a truly beautiful night it is indeed.

Blood spills for you...

The damage is done and tenfold at that, too.

Alucard won't try to hide these...emotions he bears no longer and will not care what Integra and Seras will have to say. For how could they fight against a monster's nature?

He endears you with new names. He does so with many in an rather ironic way to describe them in a way he knows them best. But you get many pet names.

'My Dear' is a classic and most used. 'My Darling', ' my beloved' and even 'my little human'. There will always be that possessiveness that he bears oddly proudly. Of course you are his in a way. He cannot really claim you as his but maybe he can let himself be yours in a twisted way. No matter how you feel about him though, you will always be close to his non-existend heart - and in his non-existend heart you do belong to him. His dear, his darling, his beloved, his little human.

Though he will also mostly use a nickname that either describe your appeareance or personality at best - something that encaptures the you.

Any kind of physical appeareance will be endearing to him and called out in a rather...mocking way. Just to get a rise out of you. Alucard does love to see your reactions.

But how he really feels is shown through his nicknames for you based on your personality. Your actions and quality of character.

It would be...rather painfully ironic that would stir him to guffaw like a madman if any nicknames were somewhat...connected to his past life. Like to seek the sight of an angel.

How absurd. The one thing he has fought for and then abandonded at the fear of dying...and now, an angel appears before him.

How maddening.

Names like angel or queen would be highly amusing to him in his own mind (its an inside joke, u wouldnt get it) and Alucard would call you these things with a chuckle or two to the point where you wonder if he is mocking you. However, that is far from the truth. The irony makes him laugh but that never undermines how he truly feels about you. An angel that deserves to be treated like a queen - that also should be besides him, the no life king.

Alucard is also very verbal of his..."affection" for you. Often compliments but also belittles you, during and outside of battle.

"You think this meager weapon will help you? How adorable."

"What a wonderful night to meet you here, my dear. It's always a pleasure to see you."

"No, I do not mock. I am simply enjoying your little human naivete. It is so precious that I just have to indulge in it. Please, go on, and never let anyone take that quality of yours away."

"Why, how could I ever say no to such a beautiful human? The scent of your blood lured me in, like a sweet lullaby."

With enemies he is especially possessive if you are there/are spoken of.

Any filth and maggot that dares speak your name deserves to die. They think they know you, they think they are better and stronger than you just because they have turned themselves inhuman.

They couldn't be more wrong.

"My darling is a braver and far superior being than your pathetic selves could ever be. So don't you dare speak so foolishly of them or its off with your tongue."

"Oh? You think you can talk to my dear like that and live? Hehehe...a dog like you needs to be pummeled! That human belongs to me!"

He will not mind you hearing all this let alone witness the torment he brings onto these fools. In fact, he enjoys it.

Watch him tear down all those that mock and hurt you, mere insects that are nothing! Nothing compared to you!

Alucard loves to be verbal and scream out for them to beg for mercy that he will never show. He loves torturing them in your name. It is what a monster does. Somewhere in the back of his twisted mind it is a sign of devotion to you that he would slaughter all those that dare proclaim themselves to be your enemies. And if they do, it just gives him the excuse to he more brutal than he is usually.

He also gets a kick in having you watch. Watch, watch, watch! Watch, how a monster tears down the flesh and skin of an weakling all for you! This is what a monster is, dear! See it, hear it, have the stench of blood be ingrained into your mind and senses! See if you can still be human around a monster like him! If you would still show love and kindness to a monster like him!

It's a weird game to test you on one hand, merely because he is curious. Would you still show some kindness to him after all this? He wonders as he thrusts his arm into the enemy's heart.

Nevertheless, he mostly does it because he enjoys killing for you. It's what monsters do.

Love does not exist...

The man and his intentions are obvious. To his master, his fledgling and you.

When approached by any of the three, Alucard chuckles, eerily, and nonchalantly admits his infatuation.

Why, yes, master, the human of this mansion has caught his eye and dead heart. Truly something special they are, wouldn't you agree?

Of course, police girl, will he make sure nothing happens to his darling human. Did you ever think otherwise? Ridiculous.

And when you finally talk to him, Alucard sits there on his throne, quiet before he chuckles again. It grows into cold laughter as he rather indirectly admits it. Why, don't you like the attention he gives you? Him, the no life king? Hellsing's hound? A monster?

Don't you appreciate all that he has done for you? He does so gladly, you know. Anything to make his little human safe and sound, showered in his affection and his alone.

No matter if his strokes are cold and his breath reeks. If his presence is unwanted and you are unaware of his watching eye.

The Vampire feels free to tell you all that he thinks of you - your strength, your character, your beauty, your quirks, weaknesses that are endearing, your humanity.

Yes, dear! Darling! Beloved! Angel! Royalty! Liege!

Yes, this monster adores you! Worships you! Is infatuated with you! You have his dead heart in your hands! His power!

However...not ever will and can Alucard say that he loves you. A monster can be obsessed. A monster can be infatuated. Worship that he cannot have, admire and adore the thing he looks down upon. But a monster does not know "love". It has no soul, no heart. Nothing to sacrifice and be selfless with. Alucard is the complete opposite.

Whatever his emotions may be, they are selfish.

He may admit that, too. That he cannot love. It's simply something impossible, he believes.

He agrees with you, that what he feels is not love. Love...he never knew it. Only the good and the pure can love. He never was either.

But know that this will never stop him.

Whatever you may feel...it doesn't matter in the end. Alucard will continue to be selfish and "love" you in the only way he knows how.

Whatever will you do, human?

On that note, Alucard fully does not expect you to accept him let alone love him.

It's understandable. Just as a monster cannot love in general, a human cannot ever grow to love a true monster.

Parts of him will never change. His desire to destroy and for power, as well as his bloodlust. The regret he feels. He can change but those parts can never be lovable enough to be...normal.

He is aware of it all so he's also fine with this one-sided obsession. He is content with being your freak of nature.

Additionally, the man...enjoys the whole ordeal of you two being the Beauty and the Beast. A twisted version of it. You, a pure, beautiful human cursed and haunted by your bloodthirsty beast. The protection, the loving gestures, gifts left for you to find (all flowers with thorns), the ghostly arms wrapping around you in the dead of the night, the sweet nothings that are incantations of curses, the many eyes watching you, the over-the-top exclamations of adoration...all from your filthy, filthy beast.

All because you showed it an ounce of humanity that it couldn't have.

Now, you are all his.

[tcfactory]

Since my brain has been full of SVSSS brainrot lately:

I want a fic where the transmigration mostly fails and Shen Jiu wakes up from his qi deviation as User002 with the goddamn System treating him like he is Shen Yuan. Trashy yellow book what??? No, he doesn't need stats on his fellow peak lords, if he is supposed to follow a plot then he wants to see the script! You wretched floating rectangle, how is he supposed to play along if he doesn't know the source material?!

The stress of having what feels like a very pushy curse or an insanely weird demon inflicted upon him makes him deviate from some minor plot points and he gets punished for being OOC a couple of times until the System takes pity on him and directs him to Airplane bro, with the very clear suggestion that if he can't remember the early arcs of the story - System understands, User! It's very long after all. UwU - he should go and discuss it with the author.

He basically kicks down Shang Qinghua's door in desperation for some clarity and maybe an explanation, right now before he works himself into a stress-induced qi deviation, Shang-shidi. Shang hamster looks at his miserable scum villain, takes a deep breath, brings out all of Shen Qingqiu's favorite snacks that nobody should know about, makes a pot of calming tea and tells him everything.

Shang Qinghua expects Shen Qingqiu to be angry, to rip into him for writing him into this wretched life. And Shen Jiu is angry, but not at Qinghua. His anxious, mousy little shidi who lives his entire life under the looming threat of a horrible, seemingly unchangeable future doesn't look like a god. Shang Qinghua, who does his best to run his peak well and look out for his disciples despite his admittance that in the story the original Qinghua did a shoddy job - he doesn't look like someone who would have put pen to paper and written a tragedy if he knew it would become someone's reality.

And how could Shen Jiu, who has seen people sell their bodies and their very dignity for a cup of stale water, judge someone for writing a very bad yellow book so he can eat? Please. Peak Lord Shen might have developed a very discerning taste in literature over the years, but you can't fill your stomach with artistic integrity, Shang-shidi. Shen Jiu understands.

So they sit and for that first evening, Shen Qingqiu listens to all the differences creeping into the story, Shang Qinghua's retelling of the drafts he abandoned due to peer pressure, the long rambling tangents of the research he's done, even if they never made it into the story. Qinghua is so caught up in having someone to talk to that he doesn't realize that Shen Qingqiu put everything that happened to Qi-ge together, somewhere between the musings about how a sword inspired by kintsugi would be so cool looking, shame that nobody ever sees the thing, and the griping about how much one of his patrons complained about Yue Qingyuan dying without ever drawing his sword.

Later, when the snacks are gone and the tea is replaced with something stronger, he tells Shen Qingqiu about the stories he really wanted to write. About how he shamefully sneaked his dream man into PIDW, just so he could have some small part to himself, and oh, Shen Qingqiu will have to remind him about demon courting practices when they are both sober again, because it sounds like that Mobei prince is down bad for him.

He leaves that night with a newfound determination. Shang Qinghua might be resigned to the whims of his System and the shackles of the Plot, but Shen Jiu didn't burn the Qiu manor down and break his chains to give up so easily. This is his world, his sect, his Qi-ge on the line, and he would sooner wrest control from the System and become custodian of the world himself than let something take away and ruin what is his. He is the strategist of Cang Qiong Sect, there is no situation he can't think a way out of and he has had enough of tragedies.

Before any of that, however, he needs to go and have a good yell at his Qi-ge, smack his stupid face and then curl up in his arms for a good night's sleep. It's long overdue.

[howtofightwrite]

In writing a fighting scene how many sentences need to be it is always said it needs to have a variety of how long? Technical jargon better be ditched, or sometimes needs to be written? Is there any advice on how to do this, I still trying to get an idea of how to write fighting scenes? from tournaments, corridor battles (narrow and wide), room battles, field battles, war battles, or even hit-and-run battles?

So, there are multiple questions here, but some of these are going to be kind of quick.

How many sentences do you need? Enough, but no more. You need to be able to communicate to the reader what's happening in the fight. Or, at least, be able to communicate what your PoV character experiences from the fight. The more you add to it, the longer it will take your average reader to read the scene, and (to an extent) the slower they will perceive the fight.

This creates an awkward situation for a writer. If you have some, “really cool visual,” but you can't convey that quickly and efficiently, it might need to go. Especially if it's the kind of thing you'd see in a film, or comic, but that your character wouldn't be directly aware of. For example, a character isn't going to know that a blade narrowly missed their head, shaving off several locks of hair in the process, because they're probably not looking in the direction of their hair when it happens, and they're probably not going to feel it. In attempting to completely articulate that moment, you're going to slow down the fight.

Now, there is an application for this. The better a character's reflexes (really, the faster they are at processing information, which isn't technically reflexes), the more ability they'll have to actually perceive these kinds of moments as they happen, and the slow the fight will be, for them.

Technical jargon is characterization. A character who doesn't know how to fight, and has no prior aptitude for violence, probably won't have a particularly extensive vocabulary for violence. So, if that's you PoV for a fight, they don't know what they're seeing, and they might not have a vocabulary that extends much beyond hitting, punching, and kicking. This applies both to the attacks they can (intentionally) make, and what they can see and understand when other characters are attacking.

A character who is a combat veteran, with extensive training will have a much wider range of options open to them, and also a much greater capacity to accurately articulate the violence they see. They're likely to use and recognize things like stances, parries, restraints, holds, and throws.

This can lead to a specific situation that's counter-intuitive (at least in comparison to what I said at the beginning), but also very real. An inexperienced fighter, can find themselves quickly losing to a skilled opponent without really being able to understand what just happened to them. In this specific case, accurately communicating the details to the audience can be to the detriment.

So, this is all for limited narration. If you're using omniscient narration, then you'll need to make decisions on how to describe the combat. This is one situation where it's really difficult to avoid characterizing your narrator. Though, this should help make that characterization a conscious choice, rather than an accident.

Beyond that, asking about the different venues, that's a little to vague to really give any coherent answer beyond simply pointing to the earlier paragraphs. For example, when you're looking at armies clashing in a massive battle, the PoV is still the most important factor to assessing how it should be written. A general, commanding the troops from a hill behind the front lines is going to be far more interested in the overall strategic state of the battle. They'll be directing troops, trying to get orders through, watching the enemy, and trying to anticipate what they'll do. A soldier down in the melee will have a radically different experience. They may not even have the tactical background to fully appreciate the way the battle is progressing, beyond simply that there are still people trying to kill them, and they're preemptively returning the favor.

At a grander scale, a footsoldier in a war might not even have the frame of reference to really understand the state of the world beyond the scope of their orders and the battles they find themselves in. They may know who they are fighting, but, not really understand why. And, if they encounter enemy forces unexpectedly, they may have no idea what that really means for the war as a whole, where a general or commander would likely be able to understand and explain how that happened. In fact, a diplomat or spy, with extensive experience from before the war, may have entirely different understandings for how and why the enemy is maneuvering than even a general would.

Again, violence, whether it's on a personal, or a mass scale, is a venue for characterization. Who your characters are will dictate how they perceive, understand, and interact with the world around them. There isn't one way that a fight in a corridor will occur, because there isn't one kind of person who will walk into a corridor with violent intent.

If it sounds like I'm thinking of Glen Cook's Black Company novels, I am. I'm also thinking of Sandy Mitchell's Caiaphas Cain novels, and a few other stray examples.

Ultimately, this is all about characterization of your narrator, regardless whether that narrator is also a character in the story or not.

-Starke

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[razorblade180]

Together again

Carmine:Mom? Can I ask an odd question?

Ruby:If an odd question is asked by an odd girl to her odd daughter, isn’t it just normal? *flips pancakes* All ears.

Carmine:Hypothetically, if I met you at my age, who would win in a fight?

Ruby:Hmmm good question. You’re fifteen so, you kick my ass. Even if I’m thinking about me in Beacon.

Carmine:Really?

Ruby:I was scrappy but very kick-able unfortunately. Your birthday is close so if we’re entertaining this seriously then I think my journey to Haven still wouldn’t be enough.

Carmine:And Atlas?

Ruby:I fear I kick your ass. I was really hitting my stride at that point. Plus I was pretty temperamental then. We might punch the spit out of each other for a bit.

Carmine:That’s interesting. Guess I’m not as far behind as I imagined.

Ruby:I wouldn’t compare your progress to mine. Life is pretty different from when I was your age.

Carmine:I can’t compare myself to my peers since they all suck! You might’ve saved the world a little too hard. Not many cream in the crop anymore.

Ruby:Ha! You overestimate me. Sure, I killed Salem in a pretty fantastic way, but I don’t think i curved the skill level of the world. There are plenty huntsmen that were underwhelming growing up. Then some of them are late bloomers.

Carmine:Do late bloomers survive?

Jaune:*walks in* I did. For the most part.

Carmine:You were a late bloomer?

Jaune:Yeah I sucked.

Ruby:*scrambling eggs* Don’t listen to him. Your father did not suck. He was painfully average for quite a while.

Jaune:That doesn’t sound any better.

Ruby:You were starting from scratch; it’s only natural. I’m not a fan of trail by fire but your father made every experience that for himself. Paid off in in the end.

Carmine:How did you keep up before that?

Jaune:Your mother was in love with me so she stuck to my side.

Ruby:*red* That is not the reason!

Jaune:I mean it kinda is.

Ruby:Carmine, as a leader and someone who influenced others to go with her, I wouldn’t leave them behind. That’s bad leadership and a recipe for disaster.

Jaune:She was mostly worried about something happening to me and being too far ahead meant potentially losing me, the person she loved.

Ruby:….*flips pancakes* It was a valid fear.

Jaune:*kisses her head* It was.

Carmine:Hmm, that makes sense. You would be more effective together.

Ruby:Am I sensing a bit of longing to have a team?

Carmine:Nah. Not really. They’d definitely make things more of a hassle. Although, I will admit aimless chatter around a campfire and meals makes me a little envious. The past two years at Beacon were pretty dull solo.

Ruby:Friendship feeds the soul. There’s people here in Vacou I know that will be happy to see your face around. Even of the conversations are awkward, make sure to greet them. I know Aero probably misses you~

Carmine:Heh, is that so? Guess that should be more first stop. *stands up* I’m heading out.

Ruby:Huh!? But breakfast! It’s almost all done.

Carmine:Yeah, but….it’s not dad’s breakfast soooooo.

Ruby:What’s wrong with my pancakes! They’re awesome!

Carmine:I never said they were bad. It’s just that compared to dad’s, I fear they’re painfully average.

The girl smiled as she slowly grabbed one anyways and held it with her mouth as she waved goodbye before leaving out the front door with an apple.

Ruby:…..

Jaune:And just like her mother, she is my number one defender.

Ruby:I put so much love into these!

Carmine, in the distance: I CAN TASTE IT!

Ruby:*squints* I don’t think that makes me feel better.

Jaune:There’s always lunchtime.

[felixcloud6288]

It's Hurricane Season so I'd like to share some advice as a life-long Floridian who's experienced a few things. This is going to be directed primarily to people living in areas at risk of blackouts which could last several days.

Preparations

Aside from food, water, and gas, some things you'll want to make sure you have are flashlights and batteries. Make sure to refill any medications you might need.

From @dea-certe: Fill up all vehicles and maybe a few gas containers now. Firstly because it will be more expensive in the storm aftermath, but also because it will be harder to find. I went to five different gas stations to find fuel at one point and was kicking myself because I had used so much has keeping the phones charged and keeping the heat going.

Get raincoats in case you need to go outside cause the wind will destroy any umbrellas.. If you can't get one, take a garbage bag and tear a face hole into it and use that.

Also, get bug repellent, especially mosquito repellent. Mosquitos breed around still water and there will be a lot of still water.

And if you have an infant, make sure to stock up on diapers, baby wipes, etc. Even if you don't have an infant, baby wipes can be useful to help keep yourself clean.

You might want to buy some gardening gloves as well to make the post-storm cleanup safer.

SUPER IMPORTANT FOR SANITY AND SANITATION: get caught up on laundry and dishes. No power means no running water. Don't make things worse by not having clean dishes or clean clothes to use. While you're cleaning, change your bed sheets as well. Once you have power, change your sheets again.

Also, download any games, ebooks, shows, etc you can onto any battery-charged electronic devices you have. It will help your sanity when all you can do is wait.

From @metadata-uber-alles: My recommendation re: radio is to make sure you have an actual AM/FM radio, one that can run on batteries. You can probably thrift it if you don't have one already. Most radio stations stream online too, but if the power goes out you'll be rationing your phone battery and may not have internet.

Finally, while you should ideally board up your windows to protect them from debris, make sure at the minimum that all your windows are closed. Wind pressures are going to suck air out of any openings in your home.

Food and Water

First and most important: DO NOT BE A HOARDER!!

Even if your home has no power, that doesn't mean your local grocery store has no power. You can expect some reduced supply due to damaged supply lines and a spike in demand, but you shouldn't be worrying about empty shelves. At worst, have the amount of supplies you might need for 10 days. If you normally go to the grocery store every 2 weeks or longer, just stock up the amount you normally would.

Buy more items that are less likely to spoil and don't need refrigeration. When you have no power, prioritize eating anything which requires refrigeration (milk, cheese, meats) or has a short shelf life (bread).

Demand will be higher in preparation, and supply will be diminished for a bit, but supply issues only become unbearable when people start hoarding.

As for water, you'll need a surplus since you need water for so much. I cannot stress this particular part enough:

You need water to flush your toilet.

If there's somewhere with running water you can go when you need to poop, use that whenever possible, but you need water available at home to refill your toilet's cistern if you don't have that option (either time, distance, etc).

Make sure you have a supply of drinking water. Don't go buying every water bottle you can find (See the bit about hoarding), but you should buy more than you might normally use. Instead, gather water through things like your sink or from a hose into any sealable containers you might have . If you have a bathtub, fill it up just before the hurricane. If you have a pool, that's another source of water. If no debris got in the pool, you can use it for bathing. If you have empty buckets, you can get some additional water during the hurricane by filling them with large rocks or bricks and leaving them out in the open to collect the rain water.

Different water sources will be used for different purposes:

bottled, canned, or other store-bought water: Drinking, cooking, and refrigeration (explained later)

Water in unsealed containers: refill the toilet cistern

Water in a sealed containers: bathing and cleaning (Can also be used for the toilet)

As mentioned with food, supplies at your grocer will be reduced but not necessarily empty. You should be able to buy enough additional drinking water and be able to also use it for cleaning, giving you more water for the toilet. The tip about gathering rain water will only work once. There will likely be no rain for at least a week afterward.

In case you need to evacuate

Keep tabs on whatever emergency alerts are available. Check what your local radio channel is or what sites to check online. Make sure you know how to get to your local shelter, including alternate paths in case a road is inaccessible.

Load your vehicle with anything you might need to bring with you before the storm so you don't have to spend time looking for them and double checking when every minute could count. Pack some pillows, blankets, and extra clothes just in case. Also include anything you cannot risk losing for school or work like laptops.

Refrigeration

Without power, your fridge is now just a giant cooler and a ticking bomb to being a biohazard. Fill it up as much as possible. Cold air escapes easily when you open it and heat disperses fastest throw the air. Remember how I said you should buy extra water? A fridge filled with cold water will stay cooler longer. Any liquid will do. Fill your fridge with water bottles, soda cans, beer, fruit juice, whatever. As long as it doesn't spoil at room temperature. Milk can technically help too, but since it spoils you shouldn't keep much of it and should use it quickly.

Additional things like fruits and veggies will also help. What matters is you want to reduce the amount of empty space and fill it with anything which can keep the temperature down. Put a frozen block of iron in for all I care. Just don't have a super empty fridge.

If you have a generator

Good for you. You're not completely without power now. But you need to set priorities on what to use it for. Generators can only supply so much power at a time so you can't just hook everything to it and expect things to work out.

Top priority is the fridge. Twice a day, morning and evening, plug the fridge to the generator and let it run for two hours to cool things down. Don't hook up the fridge when you don't expect to open it (like when everyone is asleep).

Second priority should be charging cell phones, laptops, and anything else like that. Depending on your circumstances, you can charge them at work, from your car, etc so only hook them up when batteries are low.

Third, comfort. I understand this will be stressful, but hooking up your tv and gaming computer isn't the best idea. If you've done what I suggested earlier, you'll at least have something to watch or do without needing to hook it to your generator. Like with the above electronics, you might be able to find other ways to charge them, but only attach them to your generator when you don't need to worry about necessities.

Finally for the love of god, DO NOT HOOK AN AC TO THE GENERATOR!!. Air conditioners draw a lot of power, especially once the room is hot. But your generator can only do so much. The AC will kill your power supply really quickly. Use a fan or the AC in your vehicle if you need to cool down.

Also worth noting, if you have an electric vehicle, that could potentially be used as well. I don't know specifics, but look into that if you own one.

Final notes

This is not comprehensive and I may be wrong about some things.

Please refer to actual expert sources for comprehensive help.

This is just suggestions from someone who has to deal with this every year and has figured out how to deal with the aftermath. Your living conditions may be different so please check how to handle any concerns unique to you.

Stay safe and do not give up hope.

[volturiprincess]

From the other side

Demetri Volturi x F newborn vampire

Warnings: Foul language, death, mentions of a Emetophobia, I bash on the Cullens here A/N: This was a request by @kpopgirlbtssvt, I got to say I enjoyed working on this. Its been a while since I worked on an actual long one-shot request but I hope the wait was worth it, and I might of changed some ideas on the request slightly (but still stayed on topic). Enjoy💙 Word Count: 4k+ (wow)

_____________________________

(He's just so gorgeous🥰)

“I think she’s waking up”

“How do you know?”

“Well you can see her eyeball moving Emmett, I'm no doctor but I think that is a sign she is waking up”

“Oh well sorry Mister Smartypants, didn't know I was in the presences of an expert”

“Focus, should we fetch Carlisle? He said he would be back soon but what if he’s already here?”

“I'll check, you stay here incase she starts moving around, wouldn't want her newborn instincts to kill Nessie”

“Fairpoint”

Why do I feel so strange? Where the hell am I? Maybe I should wake up, maybe the one with the southern accent could give me answers. I force myself to wake up and when I do everything seems so different. Everything seems so focused, enhanced, so…perfect. When has my vision ever been this good? I know I've been neglecting my glasses quite often but even with my glasses on I never had such good eyesight, I always thought I never needed them. I sit up slowly to check my surroundings. Crap! Where am I? What even happened to me? 

Flashback….

Just left my final class of the day, Anatomy is such a pain in the ass really. Why did I decide to take both Anatomy 1 and Genetics in the same semester? But I mean it's worth it, get the harder classes out of the way and then I can maybe squeeze in other classes I am interested in before graduating. I clinged my heavy textbooks to my chest tighter as I tiredly made my way to my small apartment. I got lucky that this place was cheap compared to living on campus, and the bonus to it is that my place is about 5 minutes away from campus. I heard the school bell ring signaling some class has ended, instantly I'm surrounded by a swarm of students like me. All of them either off to  their next class, or home, or even getting a late lunch. I was slightly pushed around until I managed to find an opening but not everything can go to plan. As I was trying to get to the opening someone shoved me a bit too hard and the books I was clutching flew out of my arms, I went along with them.

I heard a simple “My bad” and then I was met with silence. I hurriedly picked up my stuff and saw how people just looked but didn't help or offer a hand. Situations like this makes me want to just disappear. Just be able to get to point A to B without any mishaps. I composed myself mentally and continued my walk to my apartment. Considering it's only 5, it's already pitch black. I don't like walking alone at night, sure I’m a night owl, but I like to be alone in a safe space. As I'm walking I felt that weird feeling of being watched, it's like a sixth sense to me at this point, please tell me it's just my paranoia and not real. I do a quick scan and I'm met with no one but silence that makes an exception to the far off train horn. I hurried off trying to shake off that paranoia until I bumped into what I thought was a wall (ended up being a ‘human’)and then I was met with darkness.

Present…

I felt my eyes fill with tears but I soon noticed they would not fall, I tried blinking but nothing happened. I went to wipe my eyes with my hand instead but felt my hand move abnormally faster. Okay what the heck? I know I sometimes have my days where my reflexes kick in or not but I have never been able to move that fast. And as if on cue my throat felt so dry, I felt like I could drain the pacific and yet that would not be enough to satisfy the level of thirst I have. I tried swallowing but noticed that it didn't even help or even do anything.

“Carlisle should be here soon with something to subdue the thirst”

My gaze snaps to the man who is casually keeping guard at the door. The way he stood made me think he was maybe in the military or something. Why is he beautiful? His blonde locks styled perfectly and his eyes… Are they gold? I have never seen that type of eye color on someone before, I mean I have read a book where one of the characters had pirate gold eyes but in person that’s strange.

“Wh-wha- where am I?”

The way his gaze slowly met mine gave me the creeps, it was like from a scene of a horror movie, where if you spot something from a distance and then you blink, they are right in front of you, killing you.

“Carlisle will answer your questions”

“Why can't you?”

“I'm not in a position to be telling you stuff, all I'm here is to keep you calm since you are a newborn”

“A newborn?”

And then I was met with silence, he turned away from me so he was back to facing the wall like he was previously. 

“Could I at least get your name?”

“Jasper Whitlock, ma’am”

What feels like ages, another man walks in with a big guy. The first one seems like he is the one in charge around here, he seemed nice. He had a calm presence within, but the other guy seemed like he was ready to pick up a fight, probably the muscles around here. Now that I'm thinking about it more, am I in some sort of mafia? But these guys don't seem all that scary, maybe the big one and the Jasper guy. The calm one got closer to me and offered me a cup.

“Here drink this, it should help with the thirst”

I crabbed the cup hesitantly, hoping it wouldn't kill me, and drank it desperately. Finishing it in milliseconds, I did feel a small relief but I still had that feeling of an intense thirst. 

“We will give you more later but I think you deserve an explanation”

“You think”

He smiled gently but nodded “Well to start of you are not human anymore, you might of picked that up slightly since you have woken up”

Not human anymore? But what could I possibly be then? What have they done to me? Am I a monster now?

“You are now a newborn, a vampire to be exact”

That right there was the biggest mick drop of my life. What does he mean i'm a-a vampire? Those exist? I thought they were just myths, that they are just some made up thing that people build up over the years. But now I'm somehow one now? This shit can't be real, he probably has me on some drugs on something. Yeah that's right, probably drugged me and I'm trapped in some dream or something.

“I can see your in denial, there’s really no way to really explain it but you really are a vampire, that cup you drank from was filled with blood, deer blood to be exact”

Oh heck no. I drank blood? I never had a problem with blood, I mean I have a major in the medical field for a reason. Just can't get over vomiting, that's just a big phobia of mine, someone throws up and I'm literally about to faint. But enough of that.

“You gotta be joking here, vampires do not exist, there just myths”

“Well with all honesty here, I assure you I'm not joking, not with the times we are facing now”

“And what is that?”

“Well my family and I are in a bit of a dilemma, you see we have engaged another coven of vampires, and they are threatening to kill our family over a misunderstanding”

“Pardon my language, but what the fuck? What do you mean ‘another coven of vampires’ and a supposed death threat, there's more of you guys out there?”

The big guy chuckled slightly at my foul language and I heard him mumble a “Oh I like her, she’s way more funny than Bella”

“Yes well you see, our kind if basically spread out around the world, this other coven of vampires are living in Italy, but this coven is basically like our government, royalty you can say even, there more dangerous than us, they feed on human blood and they have gifts that can wipe out humanity in an instant”

Ok this other coven sounds scary, wipe out humanity? What the hell did this guy and his family do to anger them anyways, must be pretty serious.

“So let me guess this straight, you and your family have angered this powerful coven of vampires who can in your words wipe out humanity and…are doing what now?”

“Well we been gathering witness to help us avoid a fight with this coven”

“I see but what exactly did you do to anger this coven of powerful vampires then?”

“My son and his new wife had a baby”

“A baby? I'm sorry I don't see a problem here”

“Vampires cannot recreate, that's what I thought until my then human daughter-in-law got pregnant”

“Ok? Still not seeing a problem here”

“I guess an easier way to explain is as I said vampires cannot recreate, we are biologically not able to do such thing between two vampires, but between a vampire male and female human, it's possible but the problem here is the Volturi believe we have created an immortal child, which we didn't”

“I see so then why do they believe you created an immortal child? And also what is an immortal child?”

“An immortal child is a child what was turned into a vampire, there stuck as a child for eternity and cannot control their thirst or be calmed or even age, they are in modern terminology are illegal, and to answer the other question, apparently hybrids are not common and they did not know about them existing”

 The more he answers my questions, the more I think I am definitely dreaming, no way in hell is all of this real. Why am I even being roped into this? I was just some human who was just trying to be a Physician and now that dream is out the window because I'm apparently a vampire now. I need to wake up, this cannot be my life right now, I have so much to live for still. Sure I was quiet and not in some relationship but I still liked the life I had. 

“Now the real question here is, why or how am I even part of this?”

They were all quiet instantly and none of them were making eye contact with me. Ok weird… I mean even the big guys amused look was gone and that guy answering my questions with a small smile was also gone. Something here does not feel right. Someone burst into the room, which freaked me out a bit because this guy along with his buddy looked intimidating with all their leather and the intense red eyes. I felt a weird current roll down my body and then I heard gasps. The Jasper dude looked at me with wide eyes, well everyone was looking at me with the same wide eyes. 

“She’s gone!”

“No I don't think so Emmett, she’s gifted”

“What are the odds of finding one that is gifted”

“Not very likely”

Why are they all talking about me as if I wasn't there?

“Um i'm right here”

The ‘nice’ one spoke up first “Well it seems you have a gift miss, your invisible currently”

“Seriously?” I looked down and as he said I am indeed invisible. Maybe that weird current I felt earlier was me triggering this. Should I tell him this?

“How were you able to do that?”

“I don't know, I um felt a weird feeling run through me after those two over there came in”

“Vladimir and Stefan triggered it? Hmm it seems it came from fear then, interesting”

So those are their names, I wonder who is who. My wild guess is the platinum blonde is Vladimir and the dark haired one is Stefan. 

As if he knew I was talking about him, the platinum started to speak “So you were desperate enough for witnesses that you created a newborn? That’s low even for you Carlisle. At least she’s gifted but even then she probably has no combat skills so she won't be able to tear heads off if the time comes”

Ok y/n, let's think about becoming visible, I don't like how they're just staring at me like that, and also speaking smack about me either. Smoke started to surround me for a minute and when I looked at my hands to see I was now visible. Again I heard the gasp. 

“How did you do that?”

“I was just thinking about wanting to be visible”

“Well that’s good to know how your gift works”

“I guess”

Carlisle, it took him like thirty minutes to tell me his name, started to explain the situation more and even introduced me to the other members of his family. Jasper along with his friend taught me some basic combat skills in case a fight broke out with the confrontation. But the weird thing I discovered was when I met the infamous son, Edward, I was able to read his mind when he was reading mine, he gave me a funky look each time and tried to reduce his thoughts as much as he could. 

Funny enough but also traumatizing, he was always thinking about his honeymoon with his wife. I do not need to know how his child was conceived. When I met Alice a similar thing happened, she spaced out (which I found out she does when she has a vision) and I saw me with another figure, a man to be exact. The man in the vision was gorgeous, I never knew such a person could exist, he looked like a greek god. I think I might have another gift but I'm not sure I should tell Carlisle, there's just something off about why he won't tell me about how I became a vampire or what happened to me that night. 

—-------------------------------

Today is the day of the confrontation. Just last night I found out about vampires and now I might face death himself. And just today I found out werewolves or shifters exist, is everything in the books true then? I can feel my chest curl into itself and I feel myself internally hyperventilating. Can vampires do that? Well if they can that is exactly what is happening to me. I was placed between Vladimir and Stefan because apparently I should blend in and be more in the background then in front with the others. The Cullens think if the Volturi find out about me they might face a punishment of some sort.

But these two vampires are freaking me out slightly, they had an eye on me constantly, as if I were some criminal or something. With the confrontation I am fighting the urge to just disappear, I don't want part in this. It's not like I could be of help anyways, I can't really turn invisible on command, it just happens and turning visible doesn't always work when I want it to. The other gift I have, I still have no idea how it works or what it is exactly. 

Everyone is standing on guard waiting for the Volturi to arrive. I think the longer we wait the longer I feel my anxiety rise. I saw Vladimir move slightly, I followed his gaze to see a whole army of cloaked figures, they all moved in sync and let a smaller group move forward, those are definitely the kings with their guards. When they all stopped walking, they removed their cloaks and my eyes widened in shock. Why are they all really good looking? The big guy looks even more scary than Emmett, he’s basically towering over everyone. The other two I see are what I can assume are twins, they look alike except for the girl having blonde hair and the guy having brown hair. I heard the others say they are the most dangerous ones. I look at the kings, the only one who looks like he would kill everyone is the blonde one, he seems like the anger issues type of guy- err vampire. 

It seems I forgot to analyze another guard, he was slightly out of my view but how can anyone ignore his presence. I think this was the guy from Alice vision, in person he's more gorgeous. His lovely blonde hair styled to look like spikes, how his face is so symmetrical, he was indeed handcrafted by the gods.

I saw his gaze shift to meet mine, and oh dear gosh, a strong feeling overcame me. I don't even know what this feeling is, it's like an invisible string is trying to pull me toward him. I want to give in but I'm scared of what this is and I'm also scared that I might die right here. His focus was on me the whole time as the others spoke, there was even a point where he turned to the bored looking vampire to ask something which concluded with a nod from him. 

I don't even know what to center my fear right now, the fear from what is happening or the fear of this strange feeling I have with the breathtaking vampire. My attention on him was paused as I saw the blonde twin try to do something but that Bella girl used her shield, the blonde girl even looked at me but something odd happened. She clutched herself as if she was in agonizing pain and fell to her knees, my eyes widened slightly as her twin brother was at her side trying to somewhat resolve her pain.

Even the other Volturi members were shocked, the same twin boy turned his gaze to us and the anger that reflected his eyes was the most terrifying thing to witness. Out of his pure instincts he released a black smoke that also came out of my hands. I started to panic and the witnesses around me were also panicking, a bunch of them hissed for me to stop but I didn't know how or what was even happening.

A loud stop from the Volturi's side made everything go back to normal, the smoke was gone, the girl who was in pain stopped clutching herself and the boy's face was back to its resting form. Even the smoke I somehow had coming out of my hands had vanished. The king in the middle was the one who shouted stop from what I can tell.

“And who is this? She seems to have a very similar ability to one of my guards”

Carlisle who still had a confused looked form the earlier actions done by me “She’s part of Vladimir’s and Stefan’s coven”

The way the two vampires looked at Carlisle at the mention of their name would have left him buried six feet under. I could tell whatever plan the doctor had in mind was not planned. I mean even I was not aware of the plan to start off with, I was just told to stay quiet in the back and not turn invisible until they commanded me to. Vladimir not wanting to be thrown under the bridge or face any death just like me didn't let his voice be unheard 

“Still low of you Carlisle, he’s lying to you”

The look on the vampire king's face can be best described as if someone stabbed him in the back.

“Oh? Please do tell”

“She’s a newborn that Carlisle himself turned just recently”

“Oh my, bring her forward now”

I looked around the witness who was just staring at me as if I grew a second head. Carlisle gave me a look to go to them, so I walked toward the other coven, twiddling my fingers to try to calm my nerves down. So this is it then? This is how I die? As I got closer the elegant vampire kept his gaze on me, it almost looked like he was forcing himself to not go to me, like he was chained down. When I was a good ten feet away from them the tall muscular vampire one grabbed me. He had a strong hold on me, if I were human, painful bruises would indeed be forming at that instant. Again that handsome vampire looked like he was about to go to me but he stood his ground. The raven one came to me closer to introduce himself

“Hello dear, what is your name?”

“Y/n”

“Now do you mind offering me your hand?”

“My hand?”

He looked a bit impatient but smiled, a creepy smile but smiled nevertheless. “Well you see I have gift of being able to look at every thought and memory with just a touch”

“Oh, I see”

I offered my hand and was instantly reliving my every thought and memory as he said but as for my incidents with Edward, Alice, and the twins I could see his every thought and memory. I saw that he wanted Alice to be part of his coven, he was thinking of just forgiving the Cullens, I even saw memories of the handsome guard who I found out his name is Demetri. It just rolls out so naturally, it's as if I was born to say his name. Aro let go of my hand after a while with a bewildered look

“Interessante, I’m sorry for the troubles you been through, but it appears you have two gifts–”

Before he could continue, the sad looking vampire rested a hand on Aro’s shoulder and he turned to him to grab his hand like he did with me. With this case when I looked at the emotionless vampire I was able to see a red string that was connecting me and Demetri. It was the richests of red I have ever seen, come to think about it, it looks like his eyes. When he let go, Aro made one of the creepiest laughs I have ever heard to humankind, straight from a horror film. 

“It appears our own Demetri has found his mate”

If I could I would shiver at the mention of Demetri’s name. The mentioned name looked at the kings with anticipation, I mean I for sure wanted answers of what is going to happen.

“Felix you can let her go now, she’s no danger to us, on the contrary she’s going to join us”

I was let go by Felix “Join you? Why?”

“Well you see dear you are the mate to one of our guards, and we would hate for him to be miserable or lack on his missions if his mate is not kept safe, maybe with time you could join him in missions”

If I'm getting this straight, if I don't join then my ‘mate’, that’s a strong word to use, will be sad and won't be able to do his job correctly. Or I stay with the people who basically kidnapped me from the life I had, turned me into this bloodthirsty monster –currently I am still thirsty– and just threw me into a situation that I was nowhere prepared for. But again I don't even know Demetri, what if he’s cruel, what if he treats me like the Cullens? My thoughts started to spiral at a point where I was one with my mind and nothing around me existed anymore. If it weren't for the husky addicting voice I would have gone mental.

“Master? May I have a word with her?”

“Go ahead, she’s your mate after all”

I felt the warmth of his soft yet rough hands. I looked into his eyes and he gave me a small hesitant smile, oh I can get used to that. I need to see his real smile now.

“Hello cariño, I am Demetri, I am aware you know nothing about me neither do I about you, but I can promise you if you come with me and my coven, I will give you anything you want, give you a life humans can never come close to having, I will promise you an eternity of love and happiness”

So this is love? The way he speaks is straight from a romance novel. And the way his face glows makes it all more sincere and truthful, heck I just want to run away with him. I was about to say something to him when I heard them. The Cullens along with their witnesses whispering about me.

“A traitor”

“All that hard work to get her here for her just to abandon us”

“I knew there was something off about her”

“Carlisle do something”

“She can’t go”

“If she goes with them, then the Volturi have more power”

“She would be stupid to go with them”

“Indeed”

“She was a mistake”

I wanted to use that gift to disappear at that moment, I didn't ask to be placed in this situation to start off with. I was forced and manipulated. 

“You promise”

His hesitant smile turned genuine “I promise amore, forever and always”

Aro literally was beaming with anticipation for my decision, reminding me of a child waiting for the final decision of their parents to let them go to a sleepover at a friend's house. I nodded which caused Aro to clap with joy 

“Magnifico my dear” His attention turned to the vampires behind me “She will be coming with us, if you dare interfere, we will wipe you out without hesitation”

Ok that’s scary but I can tell he’s serious. I could see the blonde king with a proud smirk but Demetri pulled me into his side.

“Nobody will ever take you away from me from now on”

I gave him a weak smile as we walked off the snowy battleground. I didn't ask for this new life, but maybe it won't be so bad with him. 

[brainddeadd]

jack dating a zegras sister and trevor finding out (happy ending )

Jack Hughes had been dating you, Trevor Zegras' little sister, for a few months now. Everything about the relationship felt right, like you had been meant for each other. But the one thing hanging over Jack’s head like a cloud was the fact that his best friend didn’t know. He wasn’t afraid of Trevor’s reaction necessarily, but the idea of hiding something from him weighed heavily.

One afternoon, after a solid game of pond hockey, Jack and Trevor were lounging on Trevor’s couch, tossing a puck between them. That’s when Trevor brought it up casually.

“You know, my sister’s been seeing someone,” Trevor said, raising an eyebrow as if daring Jack to offer any thoughts. “She keeps disappearing, always on her phone. It’s suspicious.”

Jack felt his stomach flip. The puck nearly slipped from his hand.

“Oh yeah?” Jack tried to sound casual, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Yeah,” Trevor continued, sitting up now. “I’m gonna figure out who it is and make sure this guy knows not to mess with her.”

Jack swallowed hard, knowing he couldn’t keep this from Trevor much longer. He cared about you too much to keep hiding it, and Trevor deserved to know the truth, no matter how awkward the conversation might be.

“Trevor,” Jack started, sitting up straight. “I think we need to talk.”

Trevor’s eyes narrowed, immediately suspicious of Jack’s tone. “What’s going on?”

Jack ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I’m the guy she’s been seeing.”

For a moment, there was silence. Trevor blinked at Jack, his expression unreadable. The seconds ticked by painfully until Trevor finally spoke.

“You?” he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and disbelief.

Jack nodded, keeping his gaze steady. “Yeah, we’ve been dating for a few months now. I didn’t want to keep it from you, but… I just wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

Trevor was quiet again, clearly processing the information. Jack braced himself for some kind of explosion—anger, frustration, anything—but it didn’t come. Instead, Trevor let out a long sigh and leaned back against the couch.

“Well, that explains why you’ve been acting weird,” Trevor muttered. “And why she’s been sneaking around.”

Jack looked at him cautiously. “Are you mad?”

Trevor stared at him for a second before cracking a small grin. “I should be, but I’m not. You’re my best friend, and if anyone’s gonna date my sister, I guess I’d rather it be someone I trust.”

Relief washed over Jack, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, man. I really care about her.”

Trevor groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Alright, alright, but don’t get all sappy on me. Just… treat her right, or I’ll kick your ass.”

Jack laughed, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

In the end, Trevor wasn’t as mad as Jack had feared. It took him a bit to adjust to the idea, but knowing his best friend was the guy treating his sister well made all the difference.

By the end of the night, the three of you were hanging out together, and the tension had melted away. Trevor even gave Jack a mock warning glare every now and then, but it was all in good fun.

[ghost-proofbaby]

i don't know if anyone else does this, but for summertime sweetness can i have a strawberry midsummer's night with taking a cold shower with eddie munson to cool down from the heat? those just hit different in th esummer

oh i absolutely do this, and so would eddie <3 sorry this got a bit long

cold showers

warnings: some brief mentions of st canon towards the end, but... eddie lives, obviously. this would be set around summer of '87. also, brief mention of steve harrington's parents being shitty (one line literally)

wc: 1.6k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

You and Eddie had had plenty of bad ideas together. 99% of the time, whenever the two of you had been within vicinity of each other, chaos would follow. Things that wouldn’t go to plan, ideas that had been wonderful on paper but terrible in execution – over the years, most of the time, you two had had your fair share of mistakes.

But this? This was not a mistake. 

You’d almost thought it had been for a brief second when he’d first turned on the shower. Wisps of steam had momentarily snaked their way out of the drain as the first pelting of water had swirled down it, the mirror had begun to get a foggy image, and the warm moisture in the air had begun to mingle with the sweat on the back of your neck. You almost thought his previously genius idea had fallen through. You almost thought the entire cool-down solution had been a bust. 

And then, the steam had vanished. The mirror cleared. All the humidity of your own creation lightened, and you realized your boyfriend was, in fact, a genius. 

“Oh,” he practically moans as the two of you step into the tub, tilting his head back as it begins to soak his curls, “Oh, yeah. This was a great fucking idea.”

You roll your eyes as you give him a gentle shove, trying to make it where at least some of the water might hit you, “Yeah, yeah. Bask in all your glory without hogging all the water.” 

The heatwave had been intense. It was always intense, though, every summer in Hawkins. An unforgiving sun, drowning heat that sent both of your hair into frizzy messes, overcrowded pools. It’s never like the movies – there are no lake days with friends without complaints, and beer will always run warm within minutes of pulling it from the ice chest. 

One thing that had never changed, and had always served as a saving grace for the most miserable months of the year, was Eddie. Eddie, and all the unique ways the two of you would try to come up with just to survive till fall. 

As kids, it was cheap sprinkler sets bought at the Melvald’s. Soaking the technical front yard of the Munson trailer with luke-warm water as the two of you got caked in mud. Neither of you had ever really cared, thirteen year olds returning to a youthful oblivion just to spray each other with a hose and make ridiculous games out of jumping over the sprinkler attachments. Water balloon fights that had carried on well into your teens, eventually becoming so intense that there had been a time where both you and Eddie ended up bruised and battered on the Munson couch, getting lectured sternly by an exhausted Wayne Munson. You’re too old not to know better, Wayne had said to Eddie as he’d taken a look at the knot on the back of your shoulder that year. 

Eddie had felt bad enough before Wayne’s involvement, but he’d almost resembled a kicked puppy at that specifically scornful retort. 

Things had slowly changed the last few summers, though. You had changed, Eddie had changed, the entire dynamic had changed. Suddenly, after one little dare to kiss one another, ice cream dates had become a solution. ‘Tanning’ had become an excuse to see Eddie stare at you for far too long than any friend should, and plenty of nights ended with lathering each other up in aloe as your hands wandered farther than any friendly touches would. 

And then there had been Steve Harrington’s pool. God, you missed Harrington’s pool. 

You almost mentally curse your newest friend for having taken a family vacation that was lasting half the summer, denying the entire group of what had been the staple solution last summer, but he was probably more miserable than all of you combined based on what you knew of his parents. 

“You can’t even deny how smart this was, sweetheart,” your best-friend-turned-boyfriend  laughs, formally turning and offering you a proper place beneath the stream of water. As the cool water beats down on your warmed summer skin, you can’t even find it within you to be annoyed anymore, “Go ahead, say it – Eddie’s a goddamn genius.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you decide to lean your face into the sweet reprieve, not caring how your eyes stung just a little, “I am not inflating your ego right now, Munson. Fuck off.” 

“You wound me.” 

“You’ll live.” 

The pipes had clearly been cleared of all stagnant and heated water, and for the first time in two months, you almost shivered from the cold. 

When you finally stop letting the water splash across your cheeks, you open your eyes to find Eddie simply staring. Wide grin, sparkling eyes. It ignites all the nostalgia you should get from those summer nights the movies portray, a lifetime of good memories and better company right before you. 

“Have we ever even showered together before?” you ask randomly, already reaching for the shampoo on the small shelf behind Eddie before he has the chance to answer.

You hadn’t. Neither of you owned a bathroom that seemed big enough, practically, to attempt this. But desperate times had called for desperate measures. 

“Taken a cold shower together?” he scrunches his nose, hand flying out to cut through the water. Some splashes on your lips, and he goes wide-eyed, as if trying to appear innocent enough that you won’t react. It works. “Nah. Usually, it was me by my lonesome, and you sitting out there in the living room in the shortest shorts known to man-”

“Those pajamas were not that short.” 

“They were!” you finally retaliate and splash some of the water at him, making both of you giggle, “They really fuckin’ were. Been over here killin’ me since summer of ‘78, baby.” 

Twelve years old, new to town and petrified. You can still perfectly envision a younger version of you approaching a younger Eddie sporting a buzzcut, nerves choking you up as you stuttered through a question if he wanted to hang out. And you can still picture doe-eyes looking at you, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to become the latest punchline. 

The shoe never dropped. Instead, a friendship bloomed. Instead, the start of something refreshing had started, for both of you. 

Before you pop the top of the shampoo, you take a moment to look over Eddie’s nude torso. Recalling the first time you’d seen him shirtless as he’d answered the door unexpectedly for you after a movie night with girls you thought were your friends had fallen catastrophically through. The first time he’d been comfortable enough to take off his shirt around you during all your summer shenanigans, grabbing you by the waist and launching the two of you into the pool together. The first time he’d try to play you at your own game with the half-naked tanning plots, coming out in only swim trunks and with his own towel, gas station sunglasses perched on his nose to hide his lingering gaze as he’d situated himself beside you on your porch. 

You’d both been playing a losing game that day. You may have embarrassed yourself by tracing over the deep Vs in his hips blatantly, but his glasses hadn’t hidden the way he’d been trying to memorize all your own curves and dips. 

What holds your stare now are all the jagged lines that trace his sides. Pink and fleshy skin that has long since healed, following from his hip up his neck. A memory of a time that cuts you deeper than any summer. Scars of a time you wish you could erase from your history, just last spring. 

Maybe summer wasn’t your least favorite season. Maybe it was spring, because you’d almost lost everything in the spring. You’d almost lost Eddie.

“Shut up and turn around,” you smile, shaking your head at all the memories, reminding yourself that you didn’t lose him. He was here, and he was taking a cold shower with you, and that was what mattered most. “Might as well wash your hair while we're here.” 

Might as well. As if you wouldn’t thank the Universe for every time you had the privilege, as if you wouldn’t wash his hair a thousand times if he asked you for it. You’d do anything he asked of you. For the boy who had cheated death, and still found his way back home to you after it was all said and done. 

A thousand cold showers. A thousand summers. A thousand moments. You’ll take whatever you can get now – you’ve learned your lesson about taking time with Eddie for granted. 

“You’re gonna wash my hair?” he lights up a bit, shuffling his feet as he readies to face his back to you, “I suppose I’ll allow it. Who could say no to a little pampering?” 

You grab him by his shoulders, keeping up a faux show of annoyance, “You, apparently. Turn around before I change my mind.”

There would never be any changing your mind. 

He doesn’t call your bluff, though. He turns, just as you request, and lets you get to work. There’s no real rush, anyways. You may not take moments for granted anymore, but for now, the two of you had your own little infinity under the stream of a cold shower.

You both go quiet, and you almost quietly pray to whoever may be listening that the moment really can last forever. Just you, just your boy, and all the suds of the shampoo lathered into his curls and between your fingers. Small hums of approval and the occasional peck of your lips against his bare skin as the most silent of I love yous.

Yeah. The cold shower was an excellent idea.