#the socks one the other night surprised me myself

[lululawrence]

I love your tagging! it's always interesting to see what you focus on in a pic

aljkgfhads;kjfsda oh bless you, nonnie. thank you haha

what's funny is for so long i defo thought people picked out the same things to kind of focus on in a photo because... we're looking at the same person doing the same thing etc you know? but over the last ten years i've defo learned that not everyone pays attention to like... their socks. lmaoooo which, ya know. fair. sometimes i don't even know why i've focused on their socks or whatever in the photos, but it just happens. lol so i'm glad that i'm not only amusing myself and hopefully making it easy to find specific photos i might need to find in the future, but i'm keeping others entertained as well haha!

[reidrum]

i can do a lot with fifteen minutes

note: short n sweet deluxe dropped halfway through writing this and basically she wrote fifteen minutes for this fic specifically. user reidrum is feeling festive so we are pink today, happy valentine's day friends <3

summary: in which you and spencer don't make it out the door on date night

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, p in v sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), mirror usage, switch!spencer (shocking for me too), reader wears a dress and lingerie, fluff, hot losers in love, this is pure filth actually

wc: 3.8k

The green satin dress held against you in front of the mirror is beautiful, flattering. The modest length with light ruching accentuates your figure like an ethereal being. Fairy like, angel like as Spencer loves to liken you to. 

The red silk dress is dangerous. With a slit leaving little to imagination, the deep hue reflects off your skin like a siren waiting to trick the sorry sailor into submitting. It’s a weapon almost, and you’re not sure if you’re willing to wield it tonight on a small dinner date.

The question was whether you wanted to look dangerously alluring or divinely beautiful. Your head turns at the sound of footsteps and your breath hitches as you catch a glimpse of Spencer walking past the door dressed in dark slacks and a dark maroon button up, tie undone around his neck. Mismatched socks, of course. 

You go with the red one.

You remove it from the hanger and gently slip it over your body, sliding the straps over your shoulders and reaching back to pull the zipper up. Realizing the zipper is too high for you to do it on your own, you call in reinforcements.

“Spencer!” you call out, “Can you come help me zip up please?”

“Sure baby, give me one second!” he calls back from down the hall.

You cross an arm over your chest to hold the dress in place while you grab the necklace Spencer had gifted you earlier that day, twisting awkwardly to put it on but eventually successful. You bend back down to look for the matching earrings, digging through your drawers and jewelry dishes. Your fingers rummage through the mess and you finally find them, grinning at your small win before gasping in surprise at the hands that encircle your waist.

“Shit, Spence. You scared me.” you chuckle, straightening up to press against his chest with your back.

His hands roam around your lower waist while pressing and gripping in the places he knows so intimately, a chaste kiss to your shoulder, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. You want me to zip it up now?”

You gently part from his arms and walk over to the mirror again, “Let me just adjust it first and then you can.” He nods and follows you, standing a few steps behind you as he watches you fix the straps and lay of the dress. Spencer can never get used to this part, he might never for as long as you allow him the grace of being in your life. You meet his eyes again in the mirror and smile softly, “Okay, can you?”

He returns your smile with pure affection and steps to be only an inch behind you, his proximity giving leeway to invasion by your perfume. The sweet smell surrounds every fiber of him and threatens to render him useless, but he perseveres and clears his throat in hopes of him tethering himself back down. He raises his fingers to your shoulders and ghosts along the curve until he reaches the nape of your neck. Your shiver doesn’t go unnoticed when Spencer tenderly brushes your hair to the side giving him clear access to the zipper.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You meet his eyes again through the mirror, one of his hands on your waist while the other is brushing your hair to one side. Your heart is beating rapidly, sensing the intense intimacy and energy radiating from the moment. With a shaky exhale you reply, “Yeah just, felt a breeze.”

He hums in acknowledgment and the corners of his lips twitch up in a knowing manner from behind you, completely aware you’re not able to see it. He moves his hand from his waist to hover at the base of the zipper near your lower back, his breath hitching as he spots your lace panties peeking out of the opening. His finger grazes the fabric unintentionally as he grips the zipper and begins to slowly pull it up. The small jump you give makes his hand return to your waist, holding you harder so you don’t move around.

The sound of the zipper winding up fills the silence in the room, the accidental brushes of his fingers against your bare skin sending electric shocks throughout your body. By the time he reaches the top his shaky breaths are hitting warm on your nape, making no move to back away. 

You smile, “Thank you.”

His hands don’t leave you, they return back to their rightful place encircled around you. “Is this a new dress?” he murmurs.

You wrap your own arms on top of his and lean back into him, a small smirk gracing your face as you sense the intention of your dress choice starting to settle. “Yeah, just got it on a whim. You like it?”

Spencer swallows, “I love it, I’ll buy you one of these in every color. It can be the only thing you ever wear.”

A giggle escapes you, and Spencer smiles widely. He looks at you again through the mirror and takes in your whole appearance. You’ve always had a natural beauty to you that Spencer admired and marveled at constantly, but when you got all dressed up? For him? There aren’t enough neurons in his brain that will ever make him understand how the Aphrodite reincarnate is in love with him. He thanks any and every god watching for blessing him in this way.

“You smell so good,” he groans, “You wash your hair? It’s so soft, I could nap in it. The necklace looks pretty on you, ‘m glad you like it. God, I love you so much.”

You laugh softly, tilting your head back into his neck and pressing a kiss to his lower jaw, “I love you too.” He returns a kiss to your cheek and lets his lips travel about your body like a map.

His lips trail the open skin of your shoulders, “You look,” kiss, “so beautiful,” kiss, “This color,” kiss, kiss, “Didn’t think I’d like red this much.” Kiss. Hold. Release.

“You should see what I have underneath.” your voice holds a teasing lilt.

Spencer freezes behind you, his resolve breaking and crumbling by the second. “Sweetheart, don’t tease me. We won’t make it out the door if you do.”

A few moments pause, then you speak barely above a whisper, “And what if I want that?”

He locks eyes with you again through the mirror, the silent communication between you both confirming you’re on the same page. The mischief floods his eyes. “Then you’ll get it.”

It was an unconscious decision to place the mirror in front of the bed—the only place where it fit logistically. But Spencer likes to think it was a subconscious decision in that you hoped one day it would serve its purpose in the way you wanted.

Which secretly may have been the way he wanted, but it’s a mutualistic win either way.

He releases you from his arm and walks back to sit on the edge of the bed. Before you can mourn the loss of his warmth he speaks with a low rasp, “Come here.”

You stare at him doe eyed, stunned into paralysis somehow. His smirk only grows wider when he realizes he’s slowly rendering you defenseless. He holds a hand out for you, “Just come here, baby. Want to show you something.”

The autopilot finally kicks in and you take a few steps closer to stand in front of him. Once you’re within reach he slides his hands up the sides of your waist, gently nudging you, “Turn around.”

Satisfied when you listen, his hands pull your hips down to perch you in his lap facing the mirror. He secures your waist with an arm and rubs the other over the expanse of your bare thighs. Your eyes flutter shut with the warm contact flushing through your skin, head falling to rest atop his given your slight height advantage whilst sat on his lap. The position gives him perfect access to the crevice of your neck allowing him to lean up and attach to the sensitive skin there, delicately suckling before moving up to the crest of your ear.

“You know, studies have shown that watching yourself be pleasured through a mirror has proven to be a more intense experience than normal.” 

He hooks his legs around your ankles and parts them open. You gasp at the sudden rush of cold air between your thighs, finding yourself unable to close them even if you tried. He gently grips your jaw and slowly turns your face to meet the mirror again.

“Look how pretty you are sitting on my lap, baby.” he coos, “All pliant and perfect. I could do whatever I want with you,” a soft whine leaves you, he chuckles, “Would you like that? Watch me let me have my way with you?”

“Spence,” you whisper, “I…”

His lips ghost your ear, “What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?”

You whimper as his fingers start to trace tantalizing circles up your legs into your upper thigh. 

“Can’t do anything if you don’t tell me. Be a good girl and use your words.”

You curse softly, “Fuck, W—Want you…to touch me…please.”

Spencer wickedly grins, “Such good manners,” His hand delves between your thighs and lightly traces the outline of your panties, “Want you to watch yourself while I touch you, okay?”

You nod, he stops. You panic, “Y—Yes, okay.”

He finally applies pressure to your core and you let out a shuddered breath, his finger dragging up and down and circling at the top creating a beautifully addicting friction. You moan softly and tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder and he tuts, “Eyes up, sweetheart.”

You’re about to protest when his finger hooks onto the side of your panties and settles between your folds, dipping down to swipe at your entrance and spreading the wetness all over you. A languish moan breaks from your throat as your eyes are fixated on the mirror, watching his hand work in between your legs. Spencer hasn’t taken his eyes off you either, though does he ever, equally entranced at the way you react to his ministrations.

He prods at your hole as you attempt to buck your hips up, his arm clamping you down and closer to him, “It’s okay, shh I got you. Always got you, yeah?” His finger finally slides inside you and you let out a deep groan feeling the motion of him slipping in and out of you so easily, “So wet, baby. Doesn’t take too much to get you like this, huh?”

“Spence…” you whine, “More,,,please.”

“I know, patience, pretty girl.” slyly slipping in a second finger, “Doing so good f’me, look how beautiful you are.”

You force your eyes back to the mirror and a fresh wave of intoxication invades you as you clock the heavy rise and fall of your chest, the lewd sound of his fingers working you to your peak. He was right, you looked hot. It’s like you’ve unlocked a new level of sensuality that you didn’t even know existed and seeing yourself in this way only adds to the building tension.

He speeds up ever so slightly and feels you clench irregularly around his fingers, he lets his thumb drag up to your clit and rub lazy circles around it. The moans fall out of you with no control anymore as you feel your peak approaching fast. Spencer whispers praises, coaxing you closer to the edge, “Look at yourself when you come.”

The dam breaks and gratification floods throughout your body, you watch yourself as you see it take a hold of you so carnally. His fingers don’t stop inside you, slowly working you through your orgasm watching alongside you in the mirror with awe. Eventually he removes himself from your core not breaking eye contact with you as he raises his fingers to your mouth, you opening up without hesitation and swirling your tongue around them. His breath stutters, he’s so in love with you it hurts.

You’re still deep in the haze of coming down from your high, waiting for your senses to calibrate and remember where you even are when the sound of a zipper pulls you back down instead.

“Spence?” you ask breathlessly.

He hums, “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Said I should see what you have underneath, just taking up your offer baby. That okay?” The zipper hits the base of your dress just at the crest of your panties, the rush of air invading your back.

It’s like a click goes off in your head as soon as you’ve fully calmed down and you remember what your initial plan for the night was. A slow grin crawls onto your face.

“More than okay, in fact let me show you.” You stand up slowly making a point to jut your hips back to him as you make a show of sliding the dress down your body.

Now, Spencer is very much used to feeling breathless around you. It’s basically a default setting for him at this point. But as you turn around to face him with the smugly innocent smile on your face and slowly sink to your knees before him clad in the lace set he so bravely thought he could handle with conviction, his heart makes a mockery of him by stopping in protest of the nerve he had.

The clinking of his belt draws his focus back to the moment as he watches you undo it with the button and zipper, nudging him to lift his hips so you can pull them down. He listens blindly like he’s trapped under a spell. The siren effect, the zealous sailor who believes himself to be strong enough to brave the seas for so long only to succumb to the temptations of the siren song.

He never stood a chance.

Your hand comes up to palm him through his boxers, licking your lips with a smirk as you trace over the wet patch. The alternating pressure causes Spencer’s breath to huff deeper, impatiently. He has to suppress a whine when your fingers finally reach his waistband and painstakingly peel it back to take him out.

It’s your turn to tut at him, “You were so talkative just now, don’t stop on my account.” Your thumb and pointer form a ring around him and you slowly drag it up and down his length, tightening around him at different points.

“Baby, don’t tease me please.” he begs.

“What, like you did? I’d never be so cruel, my love.” you say innocently. You lean down and lick a stripe on him from base to tip, letting your tongue swirl around the head. Choked gasps and curses fall from his lips as you sink your mouth down on him, taking him as far back as you can. He tries to feel a little bad as his hand flies to your hair, your beautifully done hair, but he can’t bring himself to care when he hits the back of your throat and you gag a little before pulling back slightly. His hands gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail and watches with bated breath as you bob your head up and down on him. His eyes wander up behind you, remembering the mirror and the sight staring back at him is so pornographically obscene the loud whimper leaves him without warning.

Much to his soft protests you remove your mouth from and continue to lazily stroke him. He pouts down at you, “Wh–Why’d you stop?”

With another kiss to his tip you rise to your full height and push him back to lie flat on the bed, his legs bent at the edge with the backs of his calves flush with the bed. “Because I want you to come inside me, is that okay?” you say with such blunt honesty it goes straight to his groin.

He swallows hard, “God, yeah sweet girl that’s okay. Come here.”

You move your hands to your back to remove your bra before Spencer protests again, “Wait, keep it on.” 

You raise your eyebrows before grinning widely, “Any other requests?”

“Kiss?”

Your eyes soften, climbing atop him to straddle him on each side of his hips. You cup his jaw gently and lean down pressing your lips gingerly to his, whispering a low “Love you” before pulling back all the way. Spencer gazes up at you like you hold the answers to everything in the universe, like you are the answer to everything in the universe. He would gladly spend the rest of his life searching for the unknown if it meant reaching you at the end of it all.

“Love you too.”

You hook a finger over your panties and drag it to the side and position yourself over him, teasing yourself with his tip before slowly starting to sink down on him. The joint whine from you both rings about the room as you bottom out above him, his hands flying to your hips to hold you in place. He breathes out heavily, trying to think about literally anything else besides how tight you feel wrapped around him, how hard he’s refraining from bucking his hips up into you, how the blissed out look on your face is enough to make him come on sight and he hasn’t even moved at all.

“Feel so full, Spence,” you raise your hips tentatively, “Need to move, please,”

Like he’d ever say no to you. “Okay baby, I got you,”

You start to move with fervor, Spencer’s hand glued to your waist guiding you as you set the pace. You place your hands on his chest to give yourself leverage as you bounce on his cock, lewd moans and curses mixing with the sounds of your bodies meeting and him moving in and out of you.

Spencer feels delirious, meeting your hips as they clamp down on him with his own thrusts. You attempt to quicken your pace, but your wobbly legs cause your hips to stutter irregularly. He senses your struggle and plants his feet on the bed and tugs you to lay on his chest.

“Hold on, okay?”

You hazily nod and let Spencer take over as he ruts up into you at a pace you can barely comprehend. His hands are pressed into your hips so hard you know it’s going to leave beautiful imprints. He groans when you clench around him tightly again, and it’s then you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching fast, “Spence… ‘m close.”

“It’s okay baby, I got you. You can let go.” he whispers.

The second wave of your climax hits you hard, effectively sending your mind in reeling circles before you land back down in his arms. He continues to chase his own high and spills into you a few seconds later, lazily thrusting you both as you ascend back down to this realm.

You lay limp over his body making no intention to move and Spencer going soft inside you. He smooths your hair back while pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

“You look like an angel,” he murmurs with a soft kiss to your nose, “You are an angel.”

A soft smile spreads on your face pressing into his neck with a laugh, “You always say that after.”

“Because it’s always true.”

You lift your head up a little to look into his hazel brown eyes and pepper kisses all over his face before landing soundly on his mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you, angel.”

“I don’t think we’re going to make our reservation anymore.” you sigh out and wrap your arms around his body, making yourself comfortable atop Spencer. He breathes out, “I already canceled it, don’t worry.”

“What? When did you do that?”

“When I realized you were wearing this dress I called them before I came in to help you.” he admits sheepishly.

You chuckle, “Lost before we even started, think that’s a new record for me.”

He flips you over with a yelp, “Think I need to redeem myself, don’t you think?”

“How do you suppose we do that?”

“I have a couple ideas.”

[little-jana]

"Not A Secret Anymore"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: light teasing, use of Y/N

Words: 1.3k

Summary: Spencer Reid’s carefully hidden relationship with his girlfriend is exposed when the BAU accidentally meets her.

I always knew Spencer Reid was a man of secrets—worn-out book covers hiding chapters of untold stories. From the moment we started dating, nearly a year ago, he’d made one thing clear: our relationship needed to remain private. Not because he was ashamed, or unsure about us—he wasn’t. No, it was because of his job, his team, the life he led with the BAU.

“I’ve seen what can happen to people we love,” he’d told me one night as we lay tangled together in the sheets, his voice soft but heavy with a weight I couldn’t fully understand. “If they knew about you… if someone used you against me, I couldn’t—” He’d stopped mid-sentence, his throat tight with emotion. I didn’t push. I knew enough to know his fears were justified.

And so, we stayed our little secret. A quiet life in the small apartment we shared, where we read books late into the night, cooked terrible meals together, and danced to old records in our socks. He loved me here—behind locked doors, between whispered I-love-you’s, and in stolen glances that made my heart pound.

I loved him too, so much so that I never questioned it.

But secrets don’t stay secrets forever.

---

The day started like any other. I’d woken up to find the bed empty, the scent of Spencer’s coffee lingering in the air. He’d already left for work, as usual, leaving behind a scribbled note on the kitchen counter.

“Case came in early. I’ll call you when I can. I love you. – S.”

My heart swelled. He always did little things like that, never forgetting to remind me that I was loved, even when he was miles away chasing monsters. I kissed the note like a fool and went about my day, deciding to treat myself to a trip downtown for some shopping and a coffee.

I’d just stepped into my favorite café when it happened.

I noticed him before he noticed me. Spencer, standing just inside the entrance, wearing his FBI badge and a crisp suit that should’ve made him look unapproachable, but didn’t. The rest of his team flanked him, men and women I recognized only through Spencer’s stories. There was the confident Agent Morgan, the effortlessly glamorous Agent Prentiss, and the intimidating figure of Hotch. I didn’t need an introduction to know who they were.

Spencer was talking to one of the baristas, probably asking questions for the case they were working. For a brief moment, I thought I might slip past him unnoticed, ducking out through the side door before he could see me. But as I turned, coffee in hand, fate had other plans.

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice froze me in place. I turned back slowly, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. Spencer’s wide eyes landed on mine, and I watched as a mixture of surprise, panic, and something softer flickered across his face.

“Hi, Spence,” I said sheepishly, as though running into my secret FBI-agent boyfriend was the most normal thing in the world.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted out, his voice a little higher than usual.

“Buying coffee?” I offered, raising the cup in my hand for emphasis.

The team was watching now, their eyes bouncing between me and Spencer with obvious curiosity. Agent Morgan was the first to speak, a sly grin creeping across his face.

“Wait, wait, wait. Reid, you *know* her?”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. I bit my lip, suppressing a laugh. My poor genius. Utterly out of his element.

“Um,” he started, fidgeting with his tie in that adorable way he always did when he was nervous. “This is… uh… Y/N.”

“That explains absolutely nothing,” Prentiss teased, crossing her arms over her chest.

I decided to help him out. “I’m Spencer’s girlfriend,” I said matter-of-factly, taking a small sip of my coffee. The room seemed to freeze.

“Girlfriend?” Morgan echoed, his grin widening. “Reid, *you* have a girlfriend? You’ve been holding out on us!”

Hotch gave Spencer a look that was somewhere between amused and stern. “Reid, how long has this been going on?”

Spencer swallowed hard, his face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. I’d never seen him so flustered. “Uh… about a year,” he admitted, barely audible.

Prentiss whistled under her breath. “A year? Reid, are you kidding me? And we’re only just now finding out?”

Spencer looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. I took pity on him, stepping closer and slipping my hand into his. I felt his fingers relax slightly in mine, though his entire body was still tense. “He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want me to get caught up in… well, the dangers of his job,” I explained softly, glancing up at him. “He just wanted to keep me safe.”

His eyes met mine then, softening as he squeezed my hand. For a moment, it was like we were the only two people in the room. “I just couldn’t risk anything happening to you,” he murmured, his voice low so only I could hear. “You’re everything to me.”

My heart melted. God, I loved this man.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Spencer Reid,” I whispered back, smiling.

Morgan groaned playfully. “Okay, okay, that’s enough of the lovey-dovey stuff. I still can’t believe Reid had a girlfriend this whole time.”

“Believe it,” I said with a smirk, leaning into Spencer’s side. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Spencer looked down at me then, his eyes shining with a mixture of affection and relief. I could see the tension leaving his shoulders, the weight of the secret finally lifted. Maybe this wasn’t how he’d planned for his team to find out, but I knew it didn’t matter anymore.

Because now, we didn’t have to hide.

As the team ribbed Spencer and made jokes about meeting me sooner, I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, feeling his skin burn under my lips. He shot me a look, a mixture of affection and exasperation, but he was smiling.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” he muttered.

“Never,” I replied, grinning.

And as Spencer Reid’s team finally welcomed me into the fold, teasing him relentlessly while secretly happy that their beloved genius had found someone, he squeezed my hand and smiled at me in that way only he could.

I was his secret for a while, but now everyone knew. And as Spencer looked at me like I was his whole world, I realized that I didn’t mind. Because to him, I was.

[honey-tongued-devil]

i Beg you i mean BEG YOU to do more chubby person x jinx or vi or something BECAUSE IM LITERALLY FATTT and i love the hcs

DROP ANOTHER ONE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙇🏽‍♀️

[Arcane preference] with a chubby s/o pt.2- cuddle time

The second request of the week. Honestly, as someone who isn't exactly slim, I write these headcanons for those who ask me but primarily for myself. Requests are open, as usual, I ask for your patience because English is not my first language. I'll leave you the link if you'd like to follow me on Bluesky (I'll be posting Arcane content there soon as well, i want to build a 'public' meanwhile).

| Tip jar |

Jayce:

- Starting with the fact that this man is built like a wardrobe, and his clothes are already pretty roomy, he’s started buying even bigger shirts just to make sure you can borrow them, they’ll be oversized on you, and you’ll be happy.

- So when you’re at home watching a movie or cuddling in bed, he strokes your belly with a smile, pretending to be surprised.

- “Is that my shirt?”

- This himbo, who handles a hammer that weighs as much as a horse, means no arguments when it comes to cuddles: you’re sitting in his lap.

- And when things get a bit heated, he’ll hoist you up with your knees on his shoulders, pressing you against the wall just to flex his strength and remind you that it’s absolutely no problem for him.

- After the dirty deeds, expect him to bring you something to eat (and especially drink) in bed, and don’t expect to be able to say no. 

Viktor:

- When you’re relaxing on the couch, it takes a moment to find a position that’s comfortable for both of you: usually, he sits upright with one leg stretched out, the other (his weaker one) draped over yours, and you either facing him or lying on your side with your head on his shoulder.

- The focus here isn’t on clothes, but blankets. They’re all queen-size, so the two of you can wrap yourselves up as comfortably as possible during cuddles without anyone getting cold.

- And when you stand up with one draped around you like a cape, he can’t help but chuckle and call you “Your Majesty.”

- As for clothes, you’d never think he’s clued in to your needs, but then you see the socks he buys for you both: to avoid any circulation issues, he only buys soft cotton and wool socks without elastic, so even at home, you always have cozy socks that match the season, like festive holiday ones.

- His secret move? Sliding his hands between your thighs when they’re cold, and playing with the little rolls there, pinching them when you’re cuddling.

- In your most intimate moments, he stops to kiss and nip at your thighs, leaving little constellations of marks that he traces over with his fingertips in the days that follow.

Ekko:

- Cuddle time is sacred.

- If he walks into the room and sees you sprawled comfortably on the bed waiting for him, a bomb alert goes off in his head: he shuts the door and runs to gather everything he might need.

- Water, snacks, extra blankets, anything he can think of.

- When he gets back and shuts the door behind him, he has a ridiculous grin on his face, warning you that he’s about to pounce with a playful growl, as if to show you just how much he wants to nibble you.

- Ekko is a huge fan of having your knees on his shoulders while you lie down, rubbing his cheek against your calf, and kissing it while you’re busy squirming.

- His favorite hobby? Getting his head caught between your thighs and becoming “deaf.”

- He’s always the big spoon because he has to protect you, hug you, and nestle his arms and hands into every soft spot.

- After any wild night, expect breakfast in bed and a hot bath waiting for you.

Vander:

- Zaun has a dreadful climate because the smog creates a thick layer of heat, but being underground and surrounded by cold materials, temperatures can drop sharply. So sometimes he shows up with a blanket, hands you a corner, and asks you to hold it for a moment.

- As soon as you take it, he calmly wraps it around you, picks you up, and carries you over to the fireplace, keeping you wrapped like a burrito on his lap while he enjoys his pipe for half an hour.

- Because of the cold, intimacy often happens right there in the living room, in front of the fire. Sometimes, he’ll give you the armchair and kneel in front of you, or you’ll both find yourselves on the rug.

- He’s a good lover, but don’t expect him to do much after expending all that energy at his age. On a good day, he’ll be a gentleman and carry you to bed; then it will your turn to cuddle and soothe him with gentle strokes as he enjoys them with his eyes closed.

- If it’s not a good day, he’ll pull the blanket over both of you and set the guard in front of the fire, resigning himself to the fact that you’ll be sleeping cuddled up either on the chair, the sofa, or even on the rug.

- In exchange, the next day, he’ll make it up to you with a long, hot bath and a massage.

Silco:

- This man has money, and he knows how to use it well.

- When the cold sets in Zaun, your bedroom becomes a place you’d never want to leave. Fur rugs are laid out on either side of the bed, soft, warm robes in matching colors appear in the closet, and if you want to stay in your den waiting for him while he works without freezing, you can even light the in-room fireplace.

- After he finishes his work, he washes up, dons his robe, and heads straight to bed, sometimes he doesn't even waiting, and begins going over his paperwork under the blankets while he absently strokes your shoulder or hair.

- If you complain enough, he’ll carefully gather up the papers, set them aside, and hover over you to kiss your neck and collarbones, sliding your robe aside so his lean, wiry body can press against yours.

- He’s incredibly gentle in everything he does, from how he touches to how he kisses or nibbles. Every movement makes you shiver, but he remains composed. Occasionally, between kisses, the cold tip of his nose brushes your skin, making you giggle; he then returns to your lips, asking for forgiveness before continuing his slow exploration.

- He’s the type for wine and a cozy dinner under the covers, a break for cuddles, and then back to work.

- If you protest that you’re eating too much, he’ll feed you himself—no time for nonsense (but always with a touch of tenderness).

Jinx:

- The most chaotic thing Jinx does is cross out or draw over posters that show people who are too skinny. They can’t make you insecure if you don’t see them, and any excuse for vandalism is a good one.

- With the cold setting in, her hideout transforms into a true nest: a heap of clothes and fabrics covered in blankets and throws to make everything softer and warmer.

- Jinx has cold feet, but it’s not her problem—it’s yours. She’ll press them against your stomach, your back, and if you react, it’ll only get worse.

- She’ll start laughing, and it’ll become personal. The only way to fight back is with tickling, but that would be a declaration of war.

- When you both finally calm down, she’ll wrap herself around you, clinging with her whole body, inhaling your scent deeply, and digging her fingers into your side.

- Don’t expect too much delicacy in intimate moments; if she needs you to move, she’ll grab and pull you into whatever position is most comfortable for her. She holds your legs up, and handles you like you’re her personal doll.

- For her, this is princess treatment; and the effort she’s putting in is what counts.

Vi:

- She buries her face in your chest, first and foremost. Feeling sad? Face in your chest. Happy? Face in your chest. Deep in thought? You guessed it—face in your chest.

- Her go-to stress reliever is squeezing your thighs and hips.

- During cuddles, she rests your head on her shoulder, strokes your back, kisses your forehead, and speaks softly.

- She always plays with your hair, and if it’s long enough, you’ll find small braids everywhere.

- When you’re cuddling in bed, she’ll either hold you close or be the little spoon herself, with one hand in yours and fingers intertwined.

- When things get more intimate, she becomes completely dependent on you, pressing her fingers so deeply into your skin that they leave marks, as if even that isn’t enough and she wants to be inside you, to reach into your very core.

- She never imposes anything; if you don’t feel like washing up, she’ll clean you up with a warm cloth, and if you don’t feel like getting up, she’ll carry you. Whatever you want, she’ll go along with it unconditionally.

- Occasionally, she’ll climb over you, propping herself on her arms, just to steal a flurry of kisses.

Caitlyn:

- Caitlyn can cook, and she will.

- Her way of cuddling starts at the table, with an evening set up like a royal banquet. Anything you like will be there, along with sweet and savory snacks, which, if there are leftovers, she’ll take to the coffee table or the bedroom so you can enjoy them later.

- There’s no rush; if you want to go for a walk or relax after eating, it’s fine by her—she just wants to be with you. She might ask a housekeeper for a bit of help, or she’ll clean up on her own while you get ready.

- If you lie down in bed, she’ll absolutely take the chance to gently knead your stomach like a cat, making you laugh but also helping you fall asleep rather quickly.

- She’s the ultimate big spoon, nestling her face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly.

- When things get more intimate, she loves to look you in the eyes while she touches you, so she can savor every reaction, every shiver, watching your body melt with every move she makes.

- She becomes mesmerized by the way your body ripples under her touch, like there’s an ocean beneath your skin.

Mel:

- The real issue with Mel is that the rich never have anything better to do, so morning, noon, and night, they’re constantly organizing events. Breakfast at a noble’s home, brunch with the councilors, and of course, everyone must dine together. Tea at five with the Kirammans is absolutely sacred, and dinner is a moment for sharing ideas.

- Intimacy is this strange, almost absurd thing, as though everything is designed to give you no second of solitude.

- But when she does find a moment, she sits down and signals you to come into her lap or rest against her, cuddling you, playing with your earlobes, and winding her fingers through your hair until your eyes cross.

- She prefers giving affection to receiving it, simply because it feels like the only way she truly knows how to show love.

- Only in the deepest intimacy does she allow herself to do less, to enjoy your presence lying with her, to let go of control.

- She adores the way your body moves artistically, like it follows lines painted in oil, and these are the few moments where she can fully admire you.

- She’s quite strict afterward. You must drink those two glasses of water, and as you get up, she’ll call for someone to change the sheets and make the bed, so by the time you’re done showering, everything is ready and perfect.

Sevika:

- Bluntly put? She works with the chem barons, who are mostly old, misogynistic men with monocles embedded in their skulls, grotesquely altered rats with spider-like mechanical limbs, a very interesting gang of women in latex with disturbing port attachments, people with mechanical noses that pump in toxic stuff directly, and other highly modified, not-so-pleasant characters.

- I mean, sure, you have every right to feel insecure, but when she tells you you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her, she’s being quite literal.

- Her delight in the fact that not only are you entirely flesh and blood but actually soft flesh is beyond words—she feels like she’s hit the jackpot with a premium relationship.

- There’s hardly a moment when she’s not touching you, holding your arms or cheeks in her hands, or kissing your skin.

- During cuddles, she prefers you on top of her, and if she’s calm and has enough time, she’ll even remove her arm.

- It’s a controversial choice, but she doesn’t want to be around you while wearing a weapon, and she doesn’t want you to see her the way she sees the chem barons. It’s almost a moral decision on her part.

- In bed, she can hold you easily with just one arm; she’s strong, it’s not an issue for her. But first and foremost, she wants to lie down with you, feel your soft arms, your chest, your waist where she can let herself sink in, and when you laugh because she’s tickling you, she kisses you.

- For her, the hardest part isn’t functioning with one less limb but letting herself appear calm, not on the defensive, even vulnerable.

- But she doesn’t regret it for a single second.

[kannouo]

Cold hands/feet

fandom: obey me pairing: demon bros & dateables x gn!reader warnings: none prompt by anon: stumbled upon your blog and just read your hcs about the obey me guys and halloween, your writing is lovely and fun<3 ! i was thinking, how do you think the obey me bros + dateables would react with a mc whose hands and feet get easily cold? like 'dawg who let this corpse out the morgue 💀' typa cold. and even if they wear socks or gloves, it never seems to help much. instead, it turns into cold sweat so now it just feels like touching a defrosting chicken (projecting on this one) anyways, hope you're having a lovely day/night. enjoy your next 24 hours :] A/N: ty for the request and the kind words <33 this was funny to write for as i actually have the opposite problem myself, i run really warm. some of these are considerably shorter than others, sorry.

LUCIFER

• Lucifer isn't a very touchy person. That and he usually wears gloves, so he'll take a much longer time to notice how cold your hands get than you might expect. The first time he notices would have to be when you initiate affection yourself, and he's in the right mood to just sit back and let you touch him.

• You're sat facing him on his lap and move your hand up to gently caress his face. It was just meant to be a sweet gesture, and it certainly wasn't anything to provoke him to jerk his head away in momentary surprise.

• "Lucifer?" You say his name, a little concerned at his reaction. He was just staring at your hands.

• "You're freezing," he stated, then met your eyes again. "Is the fireplace not warm enough for you?"

• Until you explain it's just naturally how your hands feel, he will assume that the House of Lamentation is somehow still too cold for a human, and that you, for some reason, neglected to tell him this whole time. Even when he understands the situation, he's still likely to bump up the temperature on the thermostat just in case.

• You might have felt hurt by his initial reaction to literally move away from your touch, but he reassures you he was just surprised. He doesn't actually mind it, he just wasn't sure if that was how human hands were supposed to feel.

• That, and Lucifer runs cold too. Even colder than you. You're unlikely to notice early in your relationship due to the gloves, but he perpetually feels like he's been out in the cold for far too long. You ask if it's "a demon thing" and he gives you a strange look.

• For all I've said about him not minding, do not put your cold ass feet on him if you're in bed together. You'll lose your Lucifer's bed privileges until you can prove to him you've learned from your actions and promise not to do it again.

It's a surprisingly peaceful evening in the House of Lamentation. You sit with your DDD in hand in front of the fireplace, mindlessly scrolling through your socials when you suddenly feel something freezing touch the back of your neck. You lurch forward in shock, rubbing the afflicted area as you spin your head around to catch the culprit. There stands Lucifer, a pleased smirk on his face as he casually fits his glove back on his right hand. "Lucifer!" In a split-second decision, you jump up from the couch and begin to chase after him, hand outstretched. If it's a war he wants, then it's a war he'll get.

MAMMON

• Notices pretty early on. If he still hadn't developed feelings for you by the time he noticed, he'd likely react a little too dramatically and make some sort of comment about how your hands feel like ice and will threaten you not to touch him again.

• He deeply regrets that choice of words later on though. Even if you are cold enough to make a weirdly convincing dead body, that doesn't mean he wants your affection and attention any less, but it's not like he'll tell you that straight up. He'll try to get you to start touching him again with vague (or what he thinks are vague) hints and just hope you catch on and give him what he wants.

• If you don't, he'll frustrated eventually. Will literally grab your hands and place them on his face so you're cupping his cheeks, grumbling the whole time about how stupid you are and how he has to do everything for you.

• "I thought you didn't want me to touch you again." You smile, running your fingers through his hair. He sputtered.

• "W—well, that—" He huffed and bit the inside of his cheek, shooting you a half-hearted glare. "—Whatever! That was a long time ago. Things change! And— I mean, I'm sure you've been wantin' to touch me this whole time, right? I'm just... bein' considerate."

• It's best not to call his bluff. He'll get embarrassed and pouty.

• Like Lucifer, is also lowkey concerned for your health, and isn't sure if it's normal or okay for humans to be so freezing all the time. He'll still complain all the same when the thermostat is turned up and tries his best to find a workaround, like buying you fuzzy socks and gloves to keep you warm instead so the temperature can go back down.

• Obviously, this doesn't work and just makes your hands and feet cold and sweaty. He concedes that he'll just have to deal with it.

• A perfect target for pranks using this. Suddenly shove your hands up his shirt or place your feet on his bare legs. He has such dramatic and whiny reactions but ultimately won't do anything about it — denying you affection is far more of a punishment for him than it is for you.

You sit, confused, as Mammon holds both of your hands in his. He cups them together and breathes into them, then rubs them against each other like you would do to keep yourself warm in a freezing climate. The only problem is, you're in a room with several functioning heaters. "...What are you doing?" You finally ask. He glances up at you, then goes right back to what he was doing. "I'm tryin' to help you," he says. "This'll warm ya right up, won't it? Then Lucifer can turn the thermostat back down. I'm basically boilin' alive in here!" That definitely isn't how this technique works, but... he seems too determined to stop now.

LEVIATHAN

• Same.

• Levi's hands are usually pretty clammy, but they're also always cold. If Lucifer's hands are "been outside for too long" cold, then Levi's are "freezing death-grip" cold. He doesn't even really notice it, as the rest of his body runs equally as chilly.

• It's an understatement to say Levi isn't all that into touch. It makes him extremely nervous, and the most he'll ever be able to muster without panicking internally is resting his head on your shoulder or intertwining your pinkie fingers together. Because of that, he either takes a very long time to realise or just doesn't at all.

• It's also pretty difficult for him to discern how cold your hands are when they're against his skin, which is just as frigid.

• He's unlikely to notice on his own. He'd only really figure it out if one of his brothers made a comment about your hands being freezing cold that he happened to overhear. Afterwards, he'd ask you if it was true, and would just nod and be like "huh" when you explain. Overall he doesn't care, because he can't even tell.

• Since you don't run cold in the same way he does, it still startles you whenever he puts an unexpected hand on your shoulder. It'll take some time for him to believe you when you say you only react like that because of the shock, and at first he ends up feeling bad and locking himself in his room whenever you jump away from his touch.

"Levi..." You frown, kneeling down in front of the Avatar of Envy, who is curled up and hiding his face from you. "You just surprised me, that's all..." You really hadn't intended to upset him. He tapped you on the arm to get your attention and the sudden chill made you flinch a little, that's all. But he seems to have taken it in the worst possible way. "N—no, I get it..." Levi says with that same defeated tone you were so used to from his self-deprecating monologues. "O—of course you wouldn't want to be touched by an ugly, yucky otaku like me..." "Levi, come on..."

SATAN

• Satan realised by pure chance. In the library together, you walked alongside him as he chattered away about any books he thought you might enjoy. Pulling one out from the nearest shelf, he handed it to you, telling you to read the blurb and tell him what you thought. You unintentionally brushed your hand against his as you did so.

• He didn't react immediately, waiting for you to finish skimming over the back of the book. Only then did he bring it up. "Are you cold?"

• Confused, you replied. "What?"

• "Your hands feel cold," he said. "If you are, I could lend you my jacket? I don't want you getting sick."

• As tempting and sweet as that offer was, you shook your head and explained your hands were just like that. To that, he nodded his head, apologised for assuming anything, and then proceeded to insist you take his jacket anyway. It's a romantic fantasy of his.

• He absolutely tries to buy you gloves, thicker socks and/or shoes. He's confused but understanding when you say they don't really work, and honestly doesn't mind as long as you reassure him the coldness of your hands and feet doesn't really bother you. He just doesn't want your hands to be achy and stiff all the time.

• Otherwise, he doesn't mind it. He'll hold your hand, kiss the back of your palm and allow you to be affectionate with him all the same. He might try to encourage you to shove your hands up Lucifer's shirt though. Just once.

• Don't do it to him though. Demon form instantly.

• Surprisingly, Satan usually doesn't care much about feeling your cold feet on him if you're cuddling together either, but it might irritate him if he feels it in the middle of the night when he's too tired to be fully logical.

"Satan, there's no way I'm doing that," you say as you stare down the demon in front of you, unimpressed. "He'll kill me." "He'd kill me, not you." You roll your eyes as you realise Satan clearly isn't giving up on trying to convince you to 'prank' Lucifer by shoving your hands up his shirt. With the amount of layers the first-born has, you aren't even sure if you'd be able to if you tried. "...If you do it, I'll take you to that cat cafe you liked." You eye him suspiciously. "...The one with Luna?" "The one with Luna."

ASMODEUS

• Asmo runs pretty warm. He has to, with how he spends hours out clubbing in the cold climate of the Devildom wearing as close to nothing as he can possibly get without being accused of public indecency. So you being cold to the touch is a bit of a shock to him.

• He had been begging you to let him do your nails all day until you finally caved. But just as he took your hand in his, he hesitated. "Darling, you're freezing. Why is that? My windows are all closed."

• "Oh... no, my hands are always like that."

• He pouted. "Poor thing. Well, once I'm done with your nails, how about you spend the rest of the day holding hands with dear old Asmo, hm? That should warm you right up! ♡"

• Insist all you want that it doesn't bother you or that you can't even feel it, he'll just act like he doesn't hear so he can continue to use it as an excuse to be all over you.

• It actually isn't that bad though. Being naturally warm, pressing your hold hands against his skin actually feels super nice, and he's always the one initiating it. He's impossible to scare by randomly putting your hands on him, too. He'll just react with a smile and a dirty comment.

• He'll buy or fashion fingerless gloves for you to try in the hopes it might be a little less suffocating than ones that cover your whole hand. They do work a little better, but you may or may not find them uncomfortable depending on your preferences.

• He keeps asking you to touch his back because he likes how your cold fingers feel against his skin, but only do so if you're prepared for him to let out a very exaggerated moan to embarrass you. Can and will do that shit in public.

You lean against Asmo, one hand under his shirt and resting against his side and the other clasped in his own. Every now and again he ducks his head down to place a kiss against your knuckles before resting his head back on your shoulder. The quiet added to the rare peaceful and serene moment, but just as you let your body relax... "Asmo!" You snatch your hand away when you felt him start to move your wrist further down his body. He giggles as you shove at his shoulder. "Honestly! You're insatiable! I'm leaving!" "No, no! Baby I'm sorryyy!~"

BEELZEBUB

• When Beel feels your cold hands brush up against him for the first time, he doesn't even ask questions in the moment. He straight-up drops his jacket on you right away and apologises when you nearly tumble to the ground from the weight of it.

• Beel is another one who will be very concerned. From what he's heard, humans emit natural body heat, and he's only ever heard humans be described as "cold to the touch" when they've been out in bad weather for too long or if they're dead. And he knows for a fact you've been inside all day, so... Are you dying, MC?

• He tries to believe you when you say it's natural and nothing to be so worried about, but he just can't help it. His hands are calloused and rough from centuries of playing sports, so he's hardly bothered by the chill of yours and will just hold them whenever he can to try and "warm you up".

• Is convinced that eating warm food and drinking hot beverages will help. Even if you don't actually feel cold, he might still insist you drink the hot chocolate because he's uneasy.

• He's overprotective by nature. If you can get him to loosen up and stop fretting, he'll apologise for having worried so much. He doesn't want you to be annoyed with him for overreacting about something you're so used to and consider totally normal.

�� Is totally fine with you placing your hands or feet on him. He doesn't even react most of the time. You're convinced he can't feel it.

"Beel, honestly, I'm fine..." "But..." He glances between you and the cup of tea in his hands. He can't look at the drink for too long though, or he starts to feel the urge to chug it himself. He can't do that — it's supposed to be for you. "Please? A hot drink is always best on a cold day." "We're in a heatwave..." You sigh, unable to argue any further. Giving in, you take the cup from his hands. "Fine, I'll drink it. But I'm telling you, there really is nothing wrong."

BELPHEGOR

• To be blunt, he isn't a fan.

• He's been right on the cusp of falling asleep only to be startled awake by your freezing hands and feet touching him as you crawl into bed way too many times. He isn't against you cuddling him completely — you're still a good cuddle-buddy, in a "cold side of the pillow" way — but he would like you to keep your hands above his clothes and your feet to yourself. Thanks.

• Aside from Mammon, he's also likely to complain about the thermostat temperature being turned up by Lucifer, which in turn causes Beel to complain on his behalf. He keeps waking up after long naps all sweaty and hot... eugh.

• On the bright side, him being too warm means he'll suddenly switch up on your cold hands. Suddenly, he loves the feeling of them against his skin, and needs you by his side to cool him down while he sleeps.

• Joins Satan in encouraging you to shove your hands up Lucifer's shirt. Do it. Just once. Unfortunately for Satan however, Belphie is a little traitor, and will also go behind his back to tell you to do it to him right after.

• A complete hypocrite. If you pull the same stunt on him he'll make the most exaggerated pouting face you've ever seen and go complain to Beel about you. If you look at him while he's doing so, he'll give you a shit-eating smirk when Beel isn't looking.

• Gets you matching fuzzy socks. He knows they don't really work in keeping your feet warm throughout the day, but asks you to at least keep them on when you two cuddle, so you can match with him and he can avoid any rude awakenings.

The fourth-born had been absent for not five seconds when Belphie scoots over on the couch to whisper in your ear. "When Satan comes back," he pauses, stifling a yawn. "Shove your hands up his shirt. Like you're going to do to Lucifer." You give him a look. "Why would I do that?— And I never agreed to do it to Lucifer." "It'll be funny," he grins lazily. "Look, he's coming back. If you don't do it, I'll grab your wrists and do it for you, you know..."

DIAVOLO

• Diavolo doesn't just run warm, he runs hot. Almost uncomfortably so. Never expect to be able to cuddle with this guy without getting sweaty.

• When he first feels your cold hands, he either assumes humans are just naturally so frigid or goes the Lucifer route and does everything he can to increase the temperature of RAD and the palace to prevent you from being so cold. After one absolutely sweltering day at RAD, you asked Diavolo what was going on and why it was suddenly so blisteringly hot.

• "I raised the temperature as much as I could to make it more comfortable for you!" He flashed you a big, proud smile. "Come now, let me feel your hands. It should be better for you now, yes?"

• "Ah... why are they still cold?"

• He means well, really, but he's very confused. He becomes more understanding once it's explained to him and thankfully turns the temperature back down. You swore all of your classmates were seconds away from murdering one another just from the humidity alone.

• It's not like you have the guts to do it anyway — and if you did, Barbatos would stop you — but in case you were curious, he also doesn't react to the feeling of you suddenly putting your hands on him. Like Asmo, he actually thinks the chill of your fingers is quite nice.

• He might offer to hold your hands in his whenever you're sat next to him because he's fully aware of how warm he is in comparison to you. It warms you up and feels pretty good.

RAD student council meetings are usually quite dull. Unless they were in preparation for some kind of event, in which case you could expect the opposite problem — all the brothers would be bickering amongst themselves so loudly that it felt like all the energy had been drained out of you by the time you returned home. Today, however, was on the quiet end of things, and you were just waiting for it to be over. You sit next to Diavolo, cheek resting on your hand as you idly tap the table with the eraser end of your pencil. "MC." He nudges you a little. Your head shoots up, momentarily afraid he had realised you were zoning out, but he meets you with a smile and offers you his hand. Wordlessly, you place your free hand in his and he gently clasps his fist around it. Student council meetings are dull, but at least you have Diavolo to share little moments like these with.

BARBATOS

• Another man with gloves here. He knew about your cold hands from listening to the others or observing the jokes you'd play on them using it, but he's unlikely to have any personal experiences with them until much later.

• He honestly doesn't care that much. However, if you feel your hands starting to ache or go stiff, he'll hold them in his own and breathe into them to warm them up. Either that or he'll give you his own gloves for a period of time. They're already warm from him using them, so it's actually pretty nice.

• Is one of the only demons to be reasonable about it. Everybody thank Barbatos.

• Won't interfere with you suddenly putting your hands on anyone or shoving your hands up their shirt, unless it's Diavolo, obviously. He thinks their reactions are amusing. It isn't even worth trying to do to him though, he's impossible to catch off-guard. That, and his hands are also pretty cold, so he can and will do it right back.

• Encourages you to do it to Solomon and will protect you from the sorcerer's wrath afterwards.

• Not to repeat myself, but once you two further your relationship a little more, you'll discover he also quite likes the feeling of your hands on him. He isn't one to show it physically, but he'll let you know how pleasant he finds it if he's in an affectionate mood.

• Not a very cuddly person — mostly because he just never has time for it — but on the rare instance you two cuddle, he won't care much about you placing your feet on him but will pretend like he's mad about it to tease you. He'll get up and refuse to return until you literally beg for forgiveness, at which point he smiles and tells you he never truly minded, but since you asked so nicely he'll come back to the couch with you.

Spotting Barbatos in the kitchen completely focused on his baking would usually be a sign to leave him alone as to not distract him. But for you? No, it was the perfect opportunity to strike. He didn't look up as you enter the kitchen and sneak up behind him, and just when you think you may finally have the upper hand— —He grabs your wrists before you can land your hands on his skin and meets you with a smile. "Ah, MC." You pout, but he isn't moved. "How nice of you to join. Since you clearly aren't up to anything important, how about you lend a hand by fetching me some ingredients?" ...Mission failed.

SIMEON

• I have to imagine that Simeon knows a little more about the human body than most of the demons. So when he holds your hand for the first time, his first thought isn't "they could be hypothermic," it's just "oh, they have cold hands."

• He honestly doesn't mind or even really say anything about it. The most he'll do is lend you his coat on a colder day and tell you to hide your hands inside the sleeves to keep them warm — but then he's just left in that revealing body-suit thing he has, so he gets freezing instead.

• Simeon is a pretty affectionate person, so if you try to stop yourself from directly touching him too much because you know your hands are freezing, he won't be pleased.

• He places your hands back on his face, tilting his head to plant a kiss on your palm. "How much will it take to convince you I enjoy your touch?"

• To be honest, that's a pretty dangerous question to leave entirely up to you, but do what you will with it.

• You know how his shoulders and hips are completely bare for some reason? If you walk up behind him and trace a finger along his shoulder or just grab onto his hips, he jumps and does this cute shiver. He won't scold you for it, but he does get embarrassed and quiet if you do it in front of other people.

"Simeon?" You tap the back of his head. It's still early in the morning, yes, but you have to get up soon. Lucifer would have your head if you two miss a day of RAD, but your angel seems particularly sleepy this morning, as nothing seems to be waking him at all. He was the last person you would expect to have this sort of problem with... "Simeon..." You lower your hand and place your palm on his shoulder, watching him shudder from the cold. "Get up." Finally, you see him blink. He looks up at you, a yawn on his lips as he speaks. "Good morning..."

SOLOMON

• He has a spell for that.

• No, I'm serious, he does.

• It's up to you whether or not you trust this mystery concoction he gives you and tells you to drink because it will, somehow, make your body run warmer. He reassures you it's supposed to be a dark purple. It's nothing to worry about. Believe me.

• For the sake of these headcanons, I'm going to assume you have any sense of self-preservation and don't take drinks from strange wizards.

• Solomon's hands are very cold as well, but he insists they used to be warm when he was younger. You think, perhaps it's symbolic of him slowly leaving his humanity behind as the centuries go on? Either way, you both are menaces.

• If the brothers thought you were bad with shoving your hands up their shirt, wait until Solomon gets in the mix. He'll use magic to somehow enhance the freezing cold of his hands and make them shriek because it's so cold it stings. At least they love you enough to let you get away with it, though. I cannot say the same about Solomon.

• He's banned from the House of Lamentation because he had the bright idea of trying to do it to Lucifer. Any chance of making a pact with him is thrown out the window. Good job.

• It's a bad idea to try doing it to Solomon for the sole reason he will not stop until he gets his revenge — and like I said, he'll make his hands so freezing they hurt to have against your skin. Your best bet is to go to Barbatos for protection because, again, he thinks it's amusing, and his millennium-long grudge on Solomon has still not fully dissipated.

"...What happened?" You blink up at the sorcerer in front of you, who is dangling upside-down from a tree just outside the House of Lamentation. From the ropes hanging him there by his legs, you guess it must have been Lucifer's doing. He gives you a sheepish smile. "Well, since you were hesitant to do Satan and Belphie's prank on Lucifer..." Your eyes widen as you realise what he's talking about. Surely he didn't— "So, I did it instead." "..." "My lovely apprentice will let me down, won't you? Ah�� w-wait, hold on! Don't leave me here!"

[prentissluvr]

hold me, it's enough — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, descriptions of physical assault, small injuries, blood, pet names (baby, honey), barely edited, 1.6K words. requested !

prompt : "who did this to you?"

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

the cruelest part about tonight is the way you have to call sam to come pick you up, like you’re some child who’s gotten sick at school. it’s embarrassing and makes you feel guilty because your call woke him up. he’d gone back to the motel early to sleep after a long hunt; took the impala after dean disappeared with a girl, leaving you alone in the bar with your own car in the parking lot.

he answers after four rings, voice a little husky from sleep as he says your name questioningly into the speaker.

“hey, sam,” you respond, sighing quietly to yourself, “sorry to wake you, but i– i can’t drive myself back to the motel… any chance you could pick me up?”

you hear the rustle of sheets from the other end of the line, and you assume it’s sam sitting up. “yeah, of course,” he agrees easily, already up and looking for socks to put on. you can’t see the light frown on his face as he picks up on all of the little nuances in your voice. “you don’t sound drunk. baby, is everything alright?”

you figured he’d ask, but the expectation doesn’t remedy your hesitation to answer. “i… sort of got into a fight. hit my head real hard and i don’t think i should be driving.”

the split second after your answer is enough to show you sam’s surprise. “jesus, honey, are you okay?” he asks, worry making his voice thick.

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. promise,” you reassure him. he takes a moment to consider your words; whether you’re lying for his sake or if you’re actually okay. your voice is clear and, though a little tired, sounds like you’re just fine. you don’t seem dizzy or out of sorts, and sam takes that as a good sign considering it was your head that you hit. so, he relaxes just a touch as he climbs into the impala. you hear the car door opening and shutting through the phone speaker.

“so, you got into a bar fight?” he asks, a touch of amusement in his voice. he’s still worried about you, but that wasn’t news he expected to hear tonight, or really any night at all. sure, you never back down from a fight, but you’re certainly not the type to start one either.

you roll your eyes a little at his tone. “sort of. the guy deserved it. i elbowed him in the guts and he shoved me. he looked utterly terrified when i stood back up and he saw the look in my eyes,” you describe, humor finding its way into your voice at the end.

sam wants to give a little laugh at your joke, tell you that he can imagine the man running away with his tail between his legs just from the look in your eye, but he’s still stuck on the fact that he shoved you. on the fact that he did something that warranted you to resort to physical violence. 

he clenches his jaw before asking, “did he try to touch you?” his voice is low as he presses down on the gas harder.

wishing your comment about the man’s scared look would have been successful in distracting sam, you sigh. sometimes, sam is too damn smart and he thinks too damn much.

“he got a little handsy, but i took care of it,” you reassure him. “it’s okay. pretty sure i scared him off so bad he left the bar.”

sam grits his teeth, trying not to react too strongly in a way he knows you won’t like. “i’m gonna beat his sorry ass.” he settles for angry, but not too much, and not even possible since the fucker’s already gone.

“yeah, i know,” you sigh into the phone.

the bar’s only ten minutes from the hotel, and sam gets there faster than that. he walks into the establishment, eyes scanning the crowded place to find your familiar silhouette seated at the bar, your left elbow resting on the counter and holding a rag and plastic bag filled with ice to your head. he rushes towards you, swiftly maneuvering between tables and moving bodies.

he says your name a few steps before he reaches you, as to not startle you, placing a worried hand on your shoulder blade when you turn to look at him. he sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your face. there’s drying blood streaking down the side of your face, and your eyes betray that you’re much more shaken by the incident than you were letting on over the phone. he curses your talent in sounding much more okay than you really are. his jaw clenches and his eyes are worried and angry.

“who did this to you?” his voice is rough, the words forced out through gritted teeth as he fights to stay gentle. you sigh at his words, able to tell immediately how angry he’s feeling.

“he’s gone now,” you say gently, secretly relishing in how protective he is of you. you instantly feel safer, much more secure with him in front of you. “i’m okay,” you say, knowing he needs to hear those words. “i promise. you know that head wounds always look worse than they are. and i wasn’t lying when i said that my glare scared him completely off.”

sam wants to tell you that he’s going to find this sorry excuse of a man, that he’s going to yell at him and hurt him and show him how horrible of a mistake he made by messing with you, but he won’t say all of that. though he’ll certainly think it. he is thinking it. but he knows that’s not what you care to hear, knows that anger is not the face you wish for him to wear.

“i believe that,” he finally settles on saying, voice softening just a little. “let’s get out of here. clean you up. there’s blood all over your face.”

you nod. another time you might quip ‘i know. it’s my face, i can feel it.’ today, you just let him place his hand on the small of your back and lead you out to the familiar black car. neither of you have to say anything to agree that you’ll come back for your own car in the morning.

sam’s silence is large, and yours is heavy. they stretch alongside each other, running out on the road with the spinning tires and escaping through the half open windows so that when sam sits you down on the edge of your shared bed, they’ve almost run out. each silence lasts until he sits next to you, first aid kit in hand, and he gently cups your face to turn it towards him. your eyes are a little shiny, and his face softens.

“i’m sorry this happened,” he whispers. “i shouldn’t have left you alone.” that’s when it hits you how guilty he’s been feeling this whole time, thinking about how nothing would’ve happened if he stayed.

“no,” you shake your head. “no, sam, this wasn’t your fault.” your voice is full of conviction as you say this, because it’s true. “you couldn’t have known this would happen. you only left because you know that i can take care of myself, and i did. i took care of it, and it’s over now. and i’m okay.”

“honey,” he chides, wishing you’d admit to him how you really feel. though he might start crying himself if he has to keep looking at you with so much blood on your face, so he takes the wet cloth he prepared in the bathroom and begins to gently wipe at your bloodied skin. the redness comes off easily, but he still hates the sight of it on the white cloth. “just because we deal with monsters and demons and horrible shit all the time doesn’t mean that creepy, pushy men are any less gross and scary than they really are. just because you can deal with it, doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.”

you purse your lips, then swallow against tears. the feeling of that man’s hand grabbing your wrist hard is still so visceral, and the way that you’d been so taken by surprise that his strength sent you sprawling to the floor still makes you feel sort of embarrassed. and sam’s soft hands and gentle reassurances are so contrasting, so good to you that it makes you a little emotional. 

unconsciously, your own hand drifts to the opposite wrist where the man grabbed you, the sleeve of your dress shirt wrinkled and skin tender from how strong his grip was. the movement catches sam’s eye, and his gaze darkens once again when he realizes how you were grabbed. you see the anger and guilt resurface on his features and you gently grab his wrist instead.

with confidence, you guide his hand to yours and hold it there, looking him right in the eye. your eyes swim with faith and sincerity as you wordlessly tell him that you trust his hands on you, on the places where you’re bruised and bloody.

“it’s okay,” you say, voice hushed and assured. “this… it’s enough, sam. it’s all i need.” just these few words tell him that you don’t care that he wasn’t there when it happened, that his care and comfort in this moment are enough to make it better. that his understanding and worry and protectiveness still mean so much. that things happen, but you’ll be okay so long as he’s there to hold you in the aftermath.

so he does just that. he cleans and dresses your wound, and holds you close on the edge of the bed until you ask to go to sleep. then he holds you under the covers, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and whispering sweet things, until there’s nothing but soft darkness and his touch left, and you’re asleep.

[2hightocare]

IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN

Synopsis: in which jungkook makes you realize a perfect man may exist…

Pairings: nonidol!jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship!

Warnings: pure on fluff, Jungkook being a gentleman, oc crying, gguks love language ‘gift giving’

Jungkook has always been a gentleman, following the sidewalk rule, opening doors, assisting his mom with groceries, and even pulling out chairs. He considers these actions the bare minimum.

When Jungkook met you, he found himself doing everything possible to make you happy. He started buying you flowers every other week after learning about your love for them and how your dad used to surprise you with bouquets as a little girl. Jungkook would research the meaning of each flower before showing up at your door with them, sometimes accompanied by your favorite coffee or snack.

The pink tulips Jungkook got you two days ago now sit beautifully in a vase on your vanity. "Care and good wishes, baby," he whispers the meaning of the flowers against your mouth, making you break into a big smile.

…

As an avid reader of romantic books, you would often find yourself on Jungkook's couch in your pajamas and fuzzy socks while he either slept or watched television with his head on your lap. He would playfully toy with your socks as you read, and your black-framed reading glasses would rest on your nose. "My glasses are so dirty, yuck," you scrunch your nose, cringing at their fogginess before taking them off.

“Give 'em to me," Jungkook says, raising his hand. You place the glasses in his open hand, and he uses the back of his shirt to carefully wipe them down.

These unasked-for gestures release a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, making your cheeks hurt from smiling. Most times, Jungkook doesn't even notice he's doing these things; they happen subconsciously. Like when he drops to his knees immediately upon noticing your untied shoes, tying them with bunny ears before creating a bow perfectly, not too tight or too loose, just as you like them. He then stands up, acting like nothing just happened.

You'd express gratitude often for everything he does, but he would consistently shut you up with a kiss, saying, "It's the bare minimum, baby. I wish I could do more."

During your girls' nights, your friends occasionally felt a twinge of envy as you recounted Jungkook's thoughtful gestures. You'd share how he bought all the books you had saved in your Barnes and Noble cart, leaving them outside your door along with a box of chocolate-covered strawberries.

Your sister, overwhelmed by jealousy, almost cried out, "Oh my god, when will I get myself a Jungkook!" she groaned into her hands, eliciting giggles from you and your mom. "No, seriously, like what the heck!" She continued, making you laugh even harder while recording her tiny tantrum on the phone you held in front of your face.

"Can I at least have one strawberry?" your sister muttered, creating a small window with her hands covering her face as she peeked through. Your mom burst into laughter, trying not to choke on the water she had just been drinking.

You quickly sent the video to Jungkook before admiring the stack of books wrapped in brown kraft paper, neatly held together by a pink ribbon. The thoughtfully arranged packaging made you reluctant to even open.

Jungkook had always claimed that his love language was gift-giving, using it as an excuse every time you told him to stop spending so much money on you. While he shook his head, saying, "I have the money," your boyfriend justified his actions, making you roll your eyes and then leave a big, fat kiss on his lips.

Reflecting on all the things Jungkook has done and continues to do for you warms your tummy and brings a smile to your face. Jungkook genuinely enjoyed performing these acts, from carrying you or swapping shoes when your feet hurt from your heels to taking off your makeup after you fell asleep with it on, and putting your phone to charge whenever you would forget to.

Your heart races every time you see him, a reminder of how effortlessly you fell in love with Jungkook. His encouraging words during testing week or on days when everything seemed to go wrong.

“What’s wrong, baby? Tell me, I’ll fix it,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks as tears continue to flow down your face.

His words only intensify your tears, causing Jungkook to panic. Not sure what to do, he holds onto you tightly, feeling the pain in his chest grow with each sniffle that escapes you.

“It’s so stupid—” you start to explain, flapping your hands around, only for Jungkook to gently cage them with his own.

“Hey, anything that makes you this upset is not stupid, baby,” Jungkook reassures, kissing your tear-stained cheek. Your hair and makeup are disheveled from crying, and your hand rubs your chest, hoping to take away the ache.

Jungkook watches your movements, sighing as he realizes he can't do anything to take away all your pain. God, how he wishes he could.

Since that day, you find solace in clinging onto Jungkook at every opportunity. His comforting touches, from light caresses to small kisses on your cheek or forehead, become your source of comfort. Each gesture makes you want to shower him with kisses.

…

“Do you want pasta and pizza?” he asks, reaching for a loose strand of your hair and securing it behind your ear before returning his attention to the menu. Leaving you looking at him with hearts in your eyes.

"Hmm," you hum as your head nestles into his shoulder, inhaling his scent. "Sleepy?" he asks, smiling down at you. "Nah," you giggle as he squeezes your thigh, your hand resting on top of his, barely covering half of it. "You should’ve brought jeans; you're freezing," Jungkook suggests, moving his hand up and down your bare thighs. "The skirt was too cute not to wear," you mumble into his shoulder.

"Super cute," he agrees, looking down at your black skirt before attempting to pull it down. "Too short, though," he continues, making you burst into laughter and swat his shoulder.

Jungkook watches your profile as you slurp on the pasta, a rush of love overwhelming him. He'd give you the stars and the moon you love so much without a second thought. He used to roll his eyes to the thought of love back then now, he found himself captivated by the girl with a white headband beside him, chuckling at every 'mmm' you let out when taking a bite.

"I love you," Jungkook says suddenly, making you look up with a mouth full of food. You tease, "Are you dying?" His smile widens, "No, I just wanted to tell you." Jungkook leans down, leaving a quick peck on your lips. Your eyes soften, "I love you."

Moments like this make you wonder: what were you doing without him in your life?

[mattsobvimyfav]

unknown

Y/N has always played it safe—balancing her job as a pediatric nurse, and her careful lifestyle. But one night out with her friend, Jordan, changes everything. When she meets Matt and Chris—two dangerous, enigmatic brothers—she’s drawn into a world she doesn’t belong in. But the more she resists, the harder they pulls her in.

pt 1. pt 2.

chapter 3

I blink awake, the sunlight spilling through my blinds making me groan. My head isn’t pounding, but there’s a heavy kind of exhaustion still lingering in my body. Last night was… a lot.

I roll over, grabbing my phone off the nightstand. No new texts.

After a moment of hesitation, I open my messages and type out a text.

Y/N: You two wanna come over for lunch?

I stare at the message for half a second before hitting send, then stretch my arms over my head.

A minute later, my phone vibrates.

Chris: Since when do you invite us over?

Matt: What’s for lunch, sweetheart?

I roll my eyes but grin as I type back.

Y/N: Figure it out when you get here. Be here by 12:30.

Neither of them argues, which surprises me, but I don’t question it. Instead, I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom.

The hot water does wonders, washing away the haze of sleep and waking me up completely. I take my time, lathering up in vanilla-scented body wash, letting the heat soothe my muscles.

Once I step out, I wrap my hair in a towel and slip into my outfit— brandy boy-shorts, a white cropped tank, and an oversized gray hoodie left unzipped. The knee-high cabin socks are a last-minute decision, but my feet are cold, so it works.

By the time 12:30 rolls around, there’s a knock at my door.

I pull it open to see Matt and Chris standing there, looking effortlessly cool in their usual dark clothes and hoodies. Chris has his hands in his pockets, and Matt is chewing gum, his signature smirk already in place.

Chris looks me up and down, arching a brow. “Damn, we get the pajama treatment? Must be special.”

I snort, stepping aside to let them in. “Or I just didn’t feel like getting dressed.”

Matt leans against the counter, eyeing me lazily. “So, what’s on the agenda, sweetheart?”

I shrug. “Baking. Watching movies.”

There’s a beat of silence before they both burst out laughing.

Chris shakes his head, amused. “Yeah, because that’s what we do. Just casually bake cookies in between, you know, running our business.”

Matt nudges my hip with his. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

I cross my arms, grinning. “If you don’t want cookies, you can leave.”

Matt smirks. “Didn’t say that.”

Chris sighs, dramatically. “Guess we’re baking today.”

I grin, leaning against the counter. “Good. Now, can we just order pizza?”

Chris and Matt exchange a look before Matt chuckles, shaking his head.

Chris smirks. “So, all that talk about baking, and you’re already tapping out?”

I shrug, unapologetic. “We will, I just want pizza now.”

Matt pulls out his phone. “Fine, we’ll get pizza. But we’re paying.”

I start to argue about how I invited them so it was my treat, but Chris gives me a look. “Don’t even start, princess.”

I huff but don’t push it, letting them handle the order while I flop onto the couch.

“What are we watching?” Chris asks, dropping down next to me.

A slow smile spreads across my face. “Stranger Things.”

Matt groans, flopping onto the other side of me. “Never seen it.”

I grab the remote and hit play. “That’s unacceptable.”

Chris grumbles, but they don’t fight it. Soon enough, the show is playing, and we’re all settled in comfortably—Chris stretched out with his feet on the coffee table, Matt half-slouched with his arm draped over the back of the couch behind me.

The pizza arrives not long after, and we all grab slices, eating straight from the box on the coffee table. It’s surprisingly easy, sitting here with them, laughing at the show and arguing over plot points.

Just as I take another bite, my phone starts vibrating on the couch cushion next to me.

Jordan. FaceTime.

Before I can grab it, Matt snatches it up, smirking as he answers.

“Hey, Jord,” he says smoothly, flipping the camera to his face.

I swat at him, but he dodges, holding the phone out of my reach.

Jordan’s eyes narrow immediately. “Matt? Why the hell do you have Y/N’s phone?”

Matt grins, then turns the camera, panning across the couch. “Oh, you know, just hanging out. Thought you’d wanna say hi.”

The screen shifts, revealing Chris, looking unbothered as he takes another bite of pizza.

“Sup, Jordan,” he mutters through a mouthful.

Then the camera lands on me, sitting between them, hoodie falling off one shoulder, socks pulled up over my bare legs, looking entirely too comfortable.

Jordan’s expression darkens. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I finally snatch the phone from Matt’s grip, shooting him a glare before turning my attention back to Jordan. “Relax.”

“Relax?!” She scoffs. “I specifically told you to stay away from them!”

Chris leans in, smirking at the screen. “Well, that didn’t really work out, did it?”

Jordan glares. “Shut up, Chris.” Then, she focuses back on me. “Y/N, I swear to God—”

Before she can finish, Matt smirks and casually ends the call, tossing my phone to the other side of him on the couch.

“Oops,” he says, feigning innocence. “Guess that conversation’s over.”

I gasp, reaching for my phone, but he stretches out, blocking me.

“Nope,” he grins, shaking his head. “Phones are off-limits for the rest of the day.”

I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes. “You can’t just take my phone hostage.”

Chris, already reaching for another slice of pizza, shrugs. “Seems like he just did.”

I huff but drop it, realizing there’s no winning this battle.

We settle back into the couch, watching a few more episodes of Stranger Things. Matt and Chris, despite their earlier reluctance, actually seem to get into it, making snarky comments and arguing about theories. At one point, Matt throws a piece of crust at Chris for talking through a tense scene, and I can’t help but laugh at how normal it all feels.

After a while, I stretch, feeling the need to move around.

“Alright,” I announce, standing up. “Movie time is over. Come on.”

Chris groans. “Why? This is the best part.”

I grab his wrist, tugging him up. “Because I’m teaching you two how to bake.”

Matt laughs, standing up too. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” I say, dragging them into the kitchen.

Once we’re there, I start pulling out ingredients, setting them on the counter. Flour, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla… all the basics.

Chris leans against the counter, watching me with an amused expression. “You’re really about to make us do this?”

“Yes,” I say, tying my hoodie around my waist. “And you’re gonna love it.”

Matt grins, rolling up his sleeves. “Alright, sweetheart. Show us what you got.”

I hand them each a mixing bowl. “First things first, measure out the flour.”

Chris immediately dumps way too much into his bowl, sending a puff of white powder into the air.

Matt laughs, stepping back. “Jesus, Chris. We’re making cookies, not cement.”

Chris coughs, swiping at his hoodie. “This is why I don’t bake.”

I shake my head, biting back a laugh. “Alright, I’ll handle the flour. You two can crack the eggs.”

Matt takes one, cracking it perfectly into the bowl. Chris, however, completely smashes his egg against the counter, making a mess.

I stare at him, speechless. “What… what was that?”

Chris shrugs. “I don’t know, I panicked.”

Matt grins, watching me. “Still think this was a good idea?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes. Now, mix the sugar in while I clean this up.”

It’s chaotic, but somehow, we make it through the process. By the time the cookie dough is ready, there’s flour on my hoodie, chocolate smeared across Chris’s cheek, and Matt has decided to eat more dough than actually bake it.

But when the cookies finally come out of the oven, golden brown and smelling like heaven, Chris takes a bite and nods in approval.

“Okay, fine,” he says, mouth full. “This was worth it.”

Matt smirks, leaning against the counter. “Don’t get used to it, princess. This is a one-time thing.”

I grin, taking a bite of my own cookie. “We’ll see about that.”

A couple of hours pass, filled with light conversation, laughter, and way too many cookies. The guys make themselves at home, stretched out on my couch like they’ve been here a million times before.

I’m mid-bite into another cookie when Chris suddenly sits up, stretching his arms over his head.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says, glancing at me with a smirk. “Go get dressed.”

I pause mid-chew, blinking. “For what?”

Matt, leaning against the arm of the couch, watches me with an unreadable expression.

Chris tilts his head. “We’re going on a drive.”

My stomach flutters with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“A drive?” I ask slowly, placing my cookie down.

Matt finally speaks, his voice low but firm. “You don’t have to come.”

Chris grins, clearly amused. “But she wants to.”

I bite my lip, my heartbeat picking up. Jordan’s voice rings in my head, warning me over and over again to stay away from them.

But the way Chris is looking at me, like he’s daring me to say yes, and the way Matt is watching me carefully, like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do… I already know my answer.

I push off the couch, standing up.

“Give me ten minutes.”

I rush upstairs, my pulse quick with anticipation. I don’t know what exactly I’m getting myself into, but I do know that I don’t want to back out.

Digging through my dresser, I pull out a pair of black biker shorts and slip them on, pairing them with my white Hokas. I grab a simple black sports bra and throw it on, then shrug my unzipped gray hoodie back over my shoulders.

Catching my reflection in the mirror, I pull my hair up into a high ponytail, letting a few loose strands frame my face. Simple, comfortable—ready for whatever this “run” actually is.

I take a deep breath before heading back downstairs.

The moment I step into the living room, Chris lets out a low whistle.

“Well, damn,” he grins, eyes shamelessly raking over me. 

Matt, leaning against the counter, smirks. “You look good, sweetheart.”

I roll my eyes, pretending to ignore the way my stomach flips at their attention.

“Alright,” I say, crossing my arms. “Are we going or what?”

Chris grins, pushing off the couch. “Oh, we’re going.”

Matt grabs his keys, his smirk lingering as he nods toward the door. “Let’s go, angel.”

As we step outside, the cool evening air wraps around me, and my eyes immediately land on Matt’s car.

A blacked-out Audi. Sleek, tinted windows, low to the ground—it looks as dangerous as the guy driving it.

“Damn,” I mumble under my breath.

Matt just shakes his head, unlocking the doors.

I climb into the backseat, sinking into the plush leather as Matt starts the car. He shuffles his music, and the opening chords of "Roommates" by Malcolm Todd fill the car.

Without thinking, I start singing along.

I don’t notice at first, but when I glance up, Matt is watching me in the rearview mirror. His knuckles tighten around the wheel, his gaze locked on me like he’s seeing something he wasn’t expecting.

The song plays on, but I start feeling a little self-conscious under his stare.

“What?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Matt just shakes his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothing, angel..”

We drive through the city, and before long, we pull up to the same rundown house from the other night.

The trap.

Chris doesn’t waste time—he hops out, disappearing inside while Matt stays put.

There’s a moment of silence before Matt turns slightly in his seat, meeting my eyes.

“Listen, angel,” he says, his voice lower, more serious. “While we’re out, just keep your pretty mouth shut, yeah?”

I swallow, nodding. The weight of Matt’s words settles over me like a heavy blanket, thick with unspoken meaning.

Before I can even form a response, Chris jogs back out, a black backpack slung casually over his shoulder. He slides into the passenger seat, his grin as carefree as if we’d just stopped for coffee.

“All right,” he says, slapping the bag onto his lap. “Let’s roll.”

But before Matt pulls off, Chris unzips the backpack halfway, rummaging around for a second before pulling out something small and dark.

A gun, My breath catches.

Without a word, Chris hands it over to Matt, who takes it like it’s nothing more than a set of car keys. His fingers are sure and practiced as he slides the gun into the waistband of his jeans, pulling his hoodie down over it.

I can’t stop myself. “What’s that for?” My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to.

Chris glances back at me, his grin fading slightly.

“Things get dangerous sometimes,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s just part of the job.”

Matt doesn’t even look at me. His focus is back on the road, his jaw tense, hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as he pulls away from the curb.

The drive grows heavier with silence, the kind that wraps around you, making the air feel thick. I stare out the window, watching the city blur past, but my mind won’t stop racing.

Eventually, we pull into an industrial area, rows of warehouses stacked like forgotten giants under dim streetlights. Matt kills the engine, the car humming into silence.

Chris hops out first, slinging the black backpack over his shoulder like it’s no big deal. Matt follows, and after a second’s hesitation, I climb out too, the cool air hitting me like a slap.

The warehouse ahead looks run-down, graffiti sprayed across rusting metal doors. A group of guys is already waiting—all sharp edges, quick glances, and low voices.

Matt and Chris approach them, slipping into their roles with ease. They’re not the guys who made cookies with me earlier. They’re colder now, all business.

I hang back near the car, trying not to look out of place.

But that’s when it happens.

A guy standing near the warehouse spots me.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice oily as he steps closer. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here? Lose your way, baby?”

I freeze, my heart skipping. I don’t respond, not sure if I should.

But Matt hears him.

His head snaps around, eyes narrowing, “Back the fuck up,” Matt growls, his voice low but dangerous. “You talk to her again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The guy raises his hands, backing off with a sneer. “Chill, man. Just making conversation.”

But Matt isn’t having it. His glare could cut steel.

Chris shoots a sharp look at the guy. “Keep it moving, man. You don’t want that smoke.”

Matt doesn’t take his eyes off the guy until he’s a good distance away. Then he turns to me, his jaw tight.

“You stay by me,” he mutters, his voice softer now but still sharp around the edges.

I nod, swallowing hard, the adrenaline still buzzing under my skin.

The tension from earlier lingers in the air, sharp and electric as Matt turns away from me, his expression snapping back to something cold.

Chris is already in motion, unzipping the black backpack and pulling out tightly packed, vacuum-sealed bricks of different substances—some white, some a dull green, others shades I don’t recognize. Pounds of it.

The men they’re meeting aren’t casual dealers. They’re soldiers in this operation, middlemen who answer to Matt and Chris. And it’s clear—they’re the ones in charge.

One of the guys approaches with a thick wad of cash in his hand. He doesn’t speak right away, just waits.

Matt finally steps forward, his posture relaxed but his presence commanding the space.

“Where’s the rest?” Matt’s voice is calm but edged with steel.

The guy hesitates, then nods to someone leaning against a car. A second bag of cash is brought over, heavier this time. Chris grabs it, flipping through the bills with practiced ease.

“Count’s short,” Chris mutters without even looking up.

The guy shifts uncomfortably, mumbling something about last week’s front.

Matt’s expression darkens. He steps closer, not needing to raise his voice to make his threat clear. “We don’t front. You know that. And if you’re short again, we’re done here—permanently.”

The guy quickly scrambles to pull more money from his pocket, his face tight with nervousness.

Matt gives a subtle nod when he’s satisfied, and Chris hands over the drugs. The exchange is smooth but charged, like a storm could crack open at any second.

Throughout it all, I stand back, my heart pounding, watching the effortless way they control the room. This isn’t just some side hustle.

Matt and Chris are the top of the chain.

As we pull away from the warehouse, the tension slowly dissipates, replaced by a strange, comfortable silence. Matt’s one hand rests lazily on the steering wheel, his other draped over his lap, fingers tapping to the beat of whatever song’s playing low through the speakers. Chris adjusts his seat, glancing back at me with a grin.

“You hungry?” he asks, breaking the quiet.

I nod without hesitation. “Starving.”

Matt smirks, a sideways glance thrown my way through the rearview mirror. “Alright angel, what do ya want?”

Chris chuckles, pulling out his phone. “Let’s hit somewhere decent. No more greasy fast food today.”

Matt agrees, turning the car onto the main road. They settle on a small spot tucked into the edge of downtown.

Inside, it’s dimly lit, with cozy booths and low chatter humming around us. They don’t wait for a hostess, just walk straight to a booth in the corner like they own the place.

Matt slides in first, Chris following, leaving me squeezed between them.

The waiter doesn’t even ask for their order; he just nods like he knows them well, disappearing after jotting down my choice.

“You good?” Matt asks quietly, leaning in slightly, his dark eyes scanning my face like he’s looking for signs of something.

I nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. Just never been to something like that before.”

Chris laughs under his breath. “Yeah, it’s a lot. You’ll get used to it.”

The food comes quickly—steaming plates of pasta, garlic bread, and drinks. The conversation shifts to lighter things, teasing jokes and casual banter.

I glance at the steaming pasta in front of me, my stomach growling in anticipation.

Chris doesn’t waste time, he digs in immediately, twirling a forkful of spaghetti like he hasn’t eaten in days. “God, I swear this place hits every time,” he mumbles around a mouthful.

Matt, on the other hand, eats with more control. He leans back slightly, his fork lazily moving through the food, his eyes flickering toward me every few bites.

“You’re quiet,” Matt says, his voice low, but it cuts through the background noise.

I glance up from my plate, swallowing a bite of pasta. “Just tired, I guess.”

Chris smirks. “Nah, you’re thinking about earlier, huh?” He chuckles.

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my face. “Maybe a little.”

Matt leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze locking with mine. “You handled it fine. Didn’t flinch once.”

The compliment catches me off guard. I feel heat rise to my cheeks, and I quickly look down, pretending to focus on my food.

Chris catches the shift and grins like he’s in on some inside joke. “She’s tougher than she looks, huh?”

Matt doesn’t respond, but the faint curve of his lips says enough.

We fall into an easy rhythm after that—Chris cracking jokes, Matt tossing in dry comments that somehow make everything funnier, and me laughing more than I have in a while.

At some point, Chris pulls out his phone to show me some ridiculous meme, and I laugh so hard I nearly choke on my drink.

Matt reaches over instinctively, his hand brushing my back. “Don’t die, sweetheart. We just got you.”

The warmth of his touch lingers longer than it should.

By the time we finish eating, the plates are nearly licked clean. The drive back to my apartment is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. I stare out the window, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and red as we pass. 

Matt pulls up to the curb in front of my place, shifting the car into park. "Home sweet home," Chris says, stretching his arms over his head with a dramatic sigh.

I hesitate, my fingers playing with the hem of my hoodie. I don’t want the night to end just yet. The warmth of their presence feels like a buffer against the emptiness of my apartment.

I clear my throat, glancing between them. "Hey, if you guys don’t have anything going on, you could crash here. I’ve got a spare room."

Chris’s face lights up immediately. "Oh, hell yeah. Way better than driving all the way back." He’s already unbuckling his seatbelt before I finish speaking.

Matt doesn’t react as quickly, his eyes flickering to me with a subtle arch of his brow, like he’s trying to read between the lines. Then he nods, casual as ever. "Yeah. Why not."

We settle into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind us. The space feels warmer with them here, filled with an easy energy that lingers even after we kick off our shoes.

Chris drops onto the couch like he owns the place, stretching out with a dramatic sigh. "So, are we just gonna sleep, or…" he trails off, already fishing into his hoodie pocket.

Matt smirks, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You really can’t go a night without it, huh?"

Chris shrugs, pulling out a blunt. "What can I say?" He flicks his lighter, the small flame casting shadows across his face as he lights the blunt and takes a slow drag.

He holds it out toward me, eyebrow raised. "You in?"

I hesitate for a second, then grin. "Sure."

Matt chuckles low under his breath, sliding onto the couch beside me. "Look at you," he says, his voice teasing. "Little miss innocent, huh?"

I roll my eyes, taking the blunt from Chris. "Not anymore, apparently."

I inhale, feeling the familiar burn in my chest. The tension melts away almost instantly, replaced by a light, airy feeling that makes me sink deeper into the cushions. The boys take turns, the room filling with lazy clouds of smoke and soft laughter.

The conversation flows easily, random stories, dumb jokes, and sarcastic comments. Chris tells a ridiculous story about a failed deal that had both Matt and me laughing so hard, my cheeks hurt.

At one point, Matt leans back, his head resting against the couch, eyes half-lidded. "This is nice," he mutters, his voice low and rough from the smoke.

"Yeah," I whisper, surprising myself with how true it feels.

The clock ticks past 2 AM before we finally decide to call it a night. Chris stretches with a groan. "Goodnight, trouble."

I head to my room, heart racing a little too fast for someone who’s supposed to be high and relaxed. 

I change into an oversized t-shirt, the soft fabric falling to mid-thigh, and crawl into bed. The apartment is quiet now, the faint hum of the city outside my window the only sound. I shift under the covers, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing despite the haze from earlier.

A soft knock taps against my door, barely audible. Before I can respond, it creaks open, and Matt steps inside. He’s in sweatpants and a fitted black t-shirt, his usual confidence dimmed into something quieter.

"Couldn’t sleep," he says simply, his voice low and rough, 

I sit up slightly, my heart picking up pace. "You okay?"

He shrugs, leaning against the doorframe. "Yeah. Just couldn’t stop thinking." His eyes meet mine in the dim light. "Mind if I stay for a bit?"

I nod, scooting over without a word.

Matt closes the door gently behind him, crossing the room with slow, easy steps. He slides under the covers beside me, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. We’re both silent for a minute, the space charged with something I can’t quite name.

"This is weird, right?" I whisper with a small laugh, trying to ease the tension.

Matt chuckles softly. "Yeah. But not in a bad way."

I glance over at him. He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest. After a moment, he turns his head to look at me, his eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them.

"You’re different," he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself.

"Different how?"

"Just not like the people I’m used to." He pauses, his gaze dropping to my lips for a split second before meeting my eyes again. "It’s a good thing."

My chest feels tight, but in the best way. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t. Instead, I shift closer, just enough that our arms brush.

Matt’s breathing is slow and steady, his eyes closed like he’s finally relaxed. But I can’t look away from him. There’s something magnetic about the way the soft glow from the streetlights outside casts faint shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips.

I shift slightly, trying to settle, but the movement makes his eyes flutter open. For a second, we just stare at each other, the space between us feeling smaller than it is. 

Matt leans in slowly, as if giving me time to pull away. But I don’t. I meet him halfway, our lips brushing softly at first, tentative and testing. 

His hand comes up, fingers grazing my jaw with a gentleness that contradicts everything I thought I knew about him. The kiss deepens, his lips firmer now, more certain, and it sends a rush of warmth through me.

His other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. My heart races, matching the quickening pace of his breaths. I thread my fingers through his hair, soft and slightly messy from the day. 

His touch is warm, grounding, yet there’s an edge to it, like he’s holding back more than he’s letting show.

We break apart for just a second, foreheads resting together, breathing heavily. His thumb brushes over my cheekbone, and I can feel the faintest tremor in his touch.

“You…” he starts, his voice low and rough, but he doesn’t finish the thought. Instead, he kisses me again, this time with more urgency, as if words aren’t enough.

I slowly pulled away from Matt, our lips lingering for just a moment before we finally separated. I could feel his breath on my skin, soft and warm, as we rested our foreheads together. 

"Goodnight, angel," Matt whispered, his voice so gentle it felt like a caress.

I nodded, my hand finding his, fingers intertwining. I shifted closer, the space between us feeling empty without him there. As his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me in tight, I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace wash over me.

The blankets around us felt like a cocoon, soft and comforting, but it was the steady rhythm of Matt’s breathing and the steady beat of his heart against mine that made everything feel perfect. The world outside seemed distant, quiet, as if nothing else mattered but this moment, with him.

I let out a contented sigh, my head resting against his chest as sleep began to take over. Matt’s arm held me close, everything was right, and I drifted off into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in the safety and warmth of the night.

I woke up the next morning to the soft warmth of Matt still wrapped around me, his arm draped lazily over my waist. I shift slightly, and his eyes flutter open, hazy with sleep. For a moment, there's just silence, the quiet intimacy hanging between us.

“Morning,” he murmurs,

“Morning,” I reply softly, my heart skipping at how natural this feels.

He stretches slightly, his arm tightening around me before he sighs. “Last night was nice,” he admits, his gaze searching mine, “but we can’t do it again.”

His words sting, unexpected and sharp. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re too good for me,” he says quietly, looking away like it hurts to admit. 

I sit up slightly, turning to face him. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Matt. I know who you are, and if I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here.”

His jaw clenches, a flicker of conflict in his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” I counter, my voice steady. “I’m not fragile. And maybe you’re not perfect, but neither am I.”

He lets out a sharp breath, frustration evident. “You don’t get it, Y/N. I deal with things, people, that you shouldn’t be anywhere near.”

I snap back, my temper flaring. “I’m not afraid of you, Matt.”

His eyes darken, his frustration matching mine. “You should be.”

I lean closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “But I’m not.”

We stare at each other, tension thick in the space between us. His defenses slowly crumble, the vulnerability in his eyes replacing the anger.

“You… drive me crazy,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly.

“Good,” I whisper, my heart racing.

And then he gives in, pulling me back into his arms, his lips finding mine with a desperation that feels like both a surrender and a promise.

tag-

(divider by @cafekitsune) @tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @emely9274 @sturnslutz @secret-sturniolo @vickytaa @matteatmeout @pair-of-pantaloons @ananskanansbsnwbensb @theboredknightcat-blog @sturniolostuff @dariellemccaul

[samsblades]

hold me, it’s enough — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, descriptions of physical assault, small injuries, blood, pet names (baby, honey), barely edited, 1.6K words. requested !

prompt : “who did this to you?”

the cruelest part about tonight is the way you have to call sam to come pick you up, like you’re some child who’s gotten sick at school. it’s embarrassing and makes you feel guilty because your call woke him up. he’d gone back to the motel early to sleep after a long hunt; took the impala after dean disappeared with a girl, leaving you alone in the bar with your own car in the parking lot.

he answers after four rings, voice a little husky from sleep as he says your name questioningly into the speaker.

“hey, sam,” you respond, sighing quietly to yourself, “sorry to wake you, but i– i can’t drive myself back to the motel… any chance you could pick me up?”

you hear the rustle of sheets from the other end of the line, and you assume it’s sam sitting up. “yeah, of course,” he agrees easily, already up and looking for socks to put on. you can’t see the light frown on his face as he picks up on all of the little nuances in your voice. “you don’t sound drunk. baby, is everything alright?”

you figured he’d ask, but the expectation doesn’t remedy your hesitation to answer. “i… sort of got into a fight. hit my head real hard and i don’t think i should be driving.”

the split second after your answer is enough to show you sam’s surprise. “jesus, honey, are you okay?” he asks, worry making his voice thick.

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. promise,” you reassure him. he takes a moment to consider your words; whether you’re lying for his sake or if you’re actually okay. your voice is clear and, though a little tired, sounds like you’re just fine. you don’t seem dizzy or out of sorts, and sam takes that as a good sign considering it was your head that you hit. so, he relaxes just a touch as he climbs into the impala. you hear the car door opening and shutting through the phone speaker.

“so, you got into a bar fight?” he asks, a touch of amusement in his voice. he’s still worried about you, but that wasn’t news he expected to hear tonight, or really any night at all. sure, you never back down from a fight, but you’re certainly not the type to start one either.

you roll your eyes a little at his tone. “sort of. the guy deserved it. i elbowed him in the guts and he shoved me. he looked utterly terrified when i stood back up and he saw the look in my eyes,” you describe, humor finding its way into your voice at the end.

sam wants to give a little laugh at your joke, tell you that he can imagine the man running away with his tail between his legs just from the look in your eye, but he’s still stuck on the fact that he shoved you. on the fact that he did something that warranted you to resort to physical violence. 

he clenches his jaw before asking, “did he try to touch you?” his voice is low as he presses down on the gas harder.

wishing your comment about the man’s scared look would have been successful in distracting sam, you sigh. sometimes, sam is too damn smart and he thinks too damn much.

“he got a little handsy, but i took care of it,” you reassure him. “it’s okay. pretty sure i scared him off so bad he left the bar.”

sam grits his teeth, trying not to react too strongly in a way he knows you won’t like. “i’m gonna beat his sorry ass.” he settles for angry, but not too much, and not even possible since the fucker’s already gone.

“yeah, i know,” you sigh into the phone.

the bar’s only ten minutes from the hotel, and sam gets there faster than that. he walks into the establishment, eyes scanning the crowded place to find your familiar silhouette seated at the bar, your left elbow resting on the counter and holding a rag and plastic bag filled with ice to your head. he rushes towards you, swiftly maneuvering between tables and moving bodies.

he says your name a few steps before he reaches you, as to not startle you, placing a worried hand on your shoulder blade when you turn to look at him. he sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your face. there’s drying blood streaking down the side of your face, and your eyes betray that you’re much more shaken by the incident than you were letting on over the phone. he curses your talent in sounding much more okay than you really are. his jaw clenches and his eyes are worried and angry.

“who did this to you?” his voice is rough, the words forced out through gritted teeth as he fights to stay gentle. you sigh at his words, able to tell immediately how angry he’s feeling.

“he’s gone now,” you say gently, secretly relishing in how protective he is of you. you instantly feel safer, much more secure with him in front of you. “i’m okay,” you say, knowing he needs to hear those words. “i promise. you know that head wounds always look worse than they are. and i wasn’t lying when i said that my glare scared him completely off.”

sam wants to tell you that he’s going to find this sorry excuse of a man, that he’s going to yell at him and hurt him and show him how horrible of a mistake he made by messing with you, but he won’t say all of that. though he’ll certainly think it. he is thinking it. but he knows that’s not what you care to hear, knows that anger is not the face you wish for him to wear.

“i believe that,” he finally settles on saying, voice softening just a little. “let’s get out of here. clean you up. there’s blood all over your face.”

you nod. another time you might quip ‘i know. it’s my face, i can feel it.’ today, you just let him place his hand on the small of your back and lead you out to the familiar black car. neither of you have to say anything to agree that you’ll come back for your own car in the morning.

sam’s silence is large, and yours is heavy. they stretch alongside each other, running out on the road with the spinning tires and escaping through the half open windows so that when sam sits you down on the edge of your shared bed, they’ve almost run out. each silence lasts until he sits next to you, first aid kit in hand, and he gently cups your face to turn it towards him. your eyes are a little shiny, and his face softens.

“i’m sorry this happened,” he whispers. “i shouldn’t have left you alone.” that’s when it hits you how guilty he’s been feeling this whole time, thinking about how nothing would’ve happened if he stayed.

“no,” you shake your head. “no, sam, this wasn’t your fault.” your voice is full of conviction as you say this, because it’s true. “you couldn’t have known this would happen. you only left because you know that i can take care of myself, and i did. i took care of it, and it’s over now. and i’m okay.”

“honey,” he chides, wishing you’d admit to him how you really feel. though he might start crying himself if he has to keep looking at you with so much blood on your face, so he takes the wet cloth he prepared in the bathroom and begins to gently wipe at your bloodied skin. the redness comes off easily, but he still hates the sight of it on the white cloth. “just because we deal with monsters and demons and horrible shit all the time doesn’t mean that creepy, pushy men are any less gross and scary than they really are. just because you can deal with it, doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.”

you purse your lips, then swallow against tears. the feeling of that man’s hand grabbing your wrist hard is still so visceral, and the way that you’d been so taken by surprise that his strength sent you sprawling to the floor still makes you feel sort of embarrassed. and sam’s soft hands and gentle reassurances are so contrasting, so good to you that it makes you a little emotional. 

unconsciously, your own hand drifts to the opposite wrist where the man grabbed you, the sleeve of your dress shirt wrinkled and skin tender from how strong his grip was. the movement catches sam’s eye, and his gaze darkens once again when he realizes how you were grabbed. you see the anger and guilt resurface on his features and you gently grab his wrist instead.

with confidence, you guide his hand to yours and hold it there, looking him right in the eye. your eyes swim with faith and sincerity as you wordlessly tell him that you trust his hands on you, on the places where you’re bruised and bloody.

“it’s okay,” you say, voice hushed and assured. “this… it’s enough, sam. it’s all i need.” just these few words tell him that you don’t care that he wasn’t there when it happened, that his care and comfort in this moment are enough to make it better. that his understanding and worry and protectiveness still mean so much. that things happen, but you’ll be okay so long as he’s there to hold you in the aftermath.

so he does just that. he cleans and dresses your wound, and holds you close on the edge of the bed until you ask to go to sleep. then he holds you under the covers, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and whispering sweet things, until there’s nothing but soft darkness and his touch left, and you’re asleep.

[ageingfangirl2]

Tell Me Your Fantasy! Mihawk (OPLA)

SMUT! After a few glasses of wine Mihawk asks you what your fantasy is. You Jokingly tell him mirror sex not thinking much about it, until he surprises you and makes your fantasy a reality. SMUT! Mihawk x Reader (Female)

After a long day of training, you relax in the kitchen, sitting at the counter and watching Mihawk prepare dinner. Your body was sore from the intense regime he was putting you through, but slowly you were seeing improvement. The hefty amount of wine you'd consumed helped numb the pain. You were a new bounty hunter who'd crossed paths with the warlord two months ago on a random island, he saw potential and decided to help improve your stamina, agility, stealth and swordsmanship. That's how you ended up on his island being trained by him.

'I was impressed with your nimbleness, now you're thinking more of your surroundings and how to use them to get an advantage on your target instead of running head-on into a fight,' Mihawk comments casually in his usual monotone voice.

You smile into your wine glass, 'I still need to work on my stamina though when going against bigger opponents. Any ideas?'

Mihawk hums and flips something in the pan in front of him, 'I have a few ideas. I have a question for you and I want an honest answer.'

You sip your wine, 'ask away.'

He takes the pan off the stove and turns to face you. Without his hat and jacket he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt looking more casual but still intimidating, 'what's a fantasy of yours? I believe in rewarding a good job.'

You spit the wine in your mouth back into the glass, earning you a disgusted look from Mihawk, 'err...are you joking?'

His pupils darken, 'I don't joke about this kind of thing. I want to reward you and its clear we need to break the obvious sexual tension between us.'

You didn't want to bring up your impure thoughts about the man in front of you. You thought the tension was one-sided but you were shocked he felt the same. Of course, he was blunt in confronting you but you didn't actually believe he would follow through with your request.

You bite your lip, 'Hmm...watching myself get fucked in front of a mirror. Does that count?'

'Interesting,' Mihawk states, tapping his fingers on the counter behind him, 'now let us eat dinner.'

TWO DAYS LATER

You were getting ready for bed, slipping on an oversized night shirt when someone knocked on your bedroom door.

'Coming,' you call out, walking barefoot across the cold stone floor wishing you'd put socks on.

Opening the door you see Mihawk on the other side wearing his usual leather pants and white shirt, 'come with me!' he demands and walks away down the hallway.

'What the hell...' you mumble and quickly follow after the man confused.

He enters a room and you pause at the threshold realising it was his bedroom. You take a deep breath and step inside, feeling excited, nervous and a little scared, 'what's going on Mihawk?'

The room was gothic, and lavish but also simply furnished, kind of what you expected. Mihawk motions for you to close the door behind you, and you jump seeing yourself reflecting in a full length mirror on the back of the door.

'Beautiful, isn't it darling? It will be an even more beautiful sight with your naked,' Mihawk chuckles behind you, and over your shoulder in the mirror he stalks towards you something dark and hungry behind his eyes, 'strip for me!' he growls.

You hastily unbutton the shirt and let it fall to the floor leaving you naked, feeling very much like prey and putty in Mihawk's hands. All you can do is hold your breath as you watch him tie your hair up with a black ribbon before leaning close to your ear and smirking.

'I like to have something to hold onto, and to make sure you actually watch yourself get fucked in the mirror by me,' he whispers, breath hot against your skin compared to the cold temperature in the room which made your whole body shiver and tense.

You hear him unzip his trousers, but before you can turn your head to look one of his hands comes down on your ass hard, 'keep your eyes on the mirror darling,' he tuts.

You stare at yourself as you clearly hear him rubbing his dick, and without thinking you bring one of your hands down and start to finger your clit, letting out the breath you'd been holding, 'fuck--' you gasp.

'Stunning,' Mihawk compliments, 'so eager.'

His other arm snakes around your waist while he nudges your legs further apart with his knee, stopping rubbing himself to bring his other hand up to your breasts which he kneads and pinches your hardened nipples pulling moans and gasps from you as you watch yourself come undone in the mirror, 'please Mihawk...fuck me...' you beg.

His eyes trail down your body lustfully, 'since you asked so nicely darling. Let's practice your stamina.'

You didn't know what to expect size-wise as he bent you over, forcing you to put your hands on the mirror to steady yourself as he grasped the ponytail roughly.

'SHIT!' you scream, as his tip pressed against your folds already knowing he was larger than you expected or had taken in the past.

He slaps your ass again before pushing himself inside you, 'be a good girl and take all of me,' he coos.

Before you can adjust he starts to pound in and out of you, your eyes rolling a little in your head but still managing to watch yourself in the mirror, watching how your body reacted and how turned on it made you, 'hmm...yes...' you gasp.

Mihawk was watching you, and when you locked eyes and moaned his name, he started to finger you, 'I want to see you dripping darling, dripping for me,' he taunts.

Pleasure and pain wash over you at the same time, as your walls clench around him and you feel yourself coming undone, 'please...I want to cum...'

'Just this once because you asked nicely,' he laughs, mocking your lack of control, and relishing how quickly he got you off.

It was exhilarating watching yourself cum and buck your hips against his moaning and gasping. Maybe you should have tried mirror sex a long time ago, 'mmm...thank you...'

Mihawk removes his finger from your clit and while still pounding into you slaps your ass a couple more times, 'I'm not even close yet darling, we still have the whole night ahead of us and you haven't experienced the mirror above the bed yet,' he grunts.

You quickly lose track of time as he continues his assault, eventually cumming inside you, and in turn, it pulled another orgasm from you watching the cum run down your thighs and legs just like he said would happen. You lose track of how many times the two of you got off, your stamina being tested and it was safe to say the sexual tension had vanished. You wondered what other fantasies the swordsman could make a reality.

[w2soneshots]

Cramps -W2S

words: 0.6k+

warnings: none.

summary: Harry takes care of you while you’re on your period.

notes: hi babes! Here’s the request. Who doesn’t love some good old fluff?🫶🏼 I hope you enjoy!!😚💞

I woke up to the feeling of wet between my thighs. My eyes widened as I became fully conscious. I sat up abruptly then pulled the duvet back. "Oh no." I whispered to myself. I heard shuffling next to me. "You okay love?" Harry asked sleepily, placing his hand on my back and rubbing soft circles. "I uh- I'm really sorry- I-" he sat up, his eyes quickly meeting the blood stained sheets. I was nervous and wasn't sure how he was going to react. We only started dating last month and this was the third time I'd stayed at his apartment.

"Oh. Don't worry about it. Go take a shower. I'll clean it up." He smiled lightly at me. I instantly calmed. "Are you sure? You don't have to-" he stopped me, "I'm sure. I've got it." I nodded, slowly getting up from the bed and rushing to the bathroom. I stood in the warm water for a little while before there was a light knock at the door. "I ran to the shop across the road to get you some stuff! I'll leave the bag outside the door!" Harry called from the other side. "Have I really been standing here that long?" I thought. I finished up then got out.

After wrapping myself in a towel I opened the door to see Harry changing the bed sheets. I smiled at his back then picked up the bag along with the clothes he had left on top of it. The bag contained some different sanitary products. Thankfully I had brought a spare pair of underwear and some socks so I got changed into them, along with some of Harry's sweatpants and an oversized shirt. Once I was cleaned up and comfortable I left the bathroom.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked as I stepped towards him. "Yeah. Thank you Haz," I sat next to him on the now freshly made bed. "I'm sorry about your sheets, I'll buy you some more." He turned to me. "No. You don't have to. They were years old anyway, probably should've chucked them out ages ago." He reassured me. I nodded but I would still be buying him some new sheets, since he was being so sweet.

The next day the cramps hit me. I woke up to the most excruciating pain. I left Harry's apartment late last night and so I was now in my own bed. I took some painkillers and tried to relax. "Hey. How are you feeling?xx" Harry asked me through text. "Not great x" I replied. He didn't respond so I assumed something came up, until there was a knock on my door. I slid out of my bed to answer it.

To my surprise Harry stood in front of me, holding a bouquet of roses and a paper bag. "What are you doing here?" I asked him, tilting my head to the side. "You said you didn't feel well so I thought I'd come round to cheer you up. Sorry I should've called first-" "no no, I'm really glad you're here! Come in." I stepped aside. He smiled wildly at me as he walked into my apartment. I took the flowers from him and thanked him with a peck to the lips. "These are my favs." "I know." He looked at me lovingly as I sniffed the roses.

We sat down on the couch and I snuggled into him. Silence filled the room as I slowly breathed in and out. His hand rested on my stomach and I let out a soft, content sigh as he eased the pain slightly. I've definitely found the one.

[lemoncrushh]

Dressing For Revenge 2

I had a few requests for a continuation of this story, so here it is!

Summary: A week after your night with Harry, he calls and invites you to a work-related event which his ex also attends.

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), all the good stuff. MUST BE 18+ TO READ.

Word Count: 7.6k+

Read part 1 here

The microwave beeped offensively loud as you changed into your favorite pajamas. Slipping into a pair of fuzzy socks, you sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed a large bowl from the cabinet. Movies and popcorn sounded like a great plan for a night in. After the debacle the previous weekend, you’d scheduled this Friday evening for yourself. No parties, no nightclubs, no friends. Just you and a chick flick. And maybe some wine.

Deciding to pour a glass, you grabbed it and the popcorn and made yourself comfortable on the sofa. While laughing at Jennifer Lopez hiding from Matthew McConaughey, you felt your phone buzz. Expecting it to be Kelsie or one of your friends from work texting you, you were surprised to see a different name on the screen.

Hi Y/N. How are you?

Your stomach unexpectedly flipped just seeing your name in print underneath his. You hadn’t heard from Harry since he’d called you that night to make sure you’d gotten home okay. Not that you’d expected to. It had only been a week after all. And of course it was a two-way street. You could have texted him. But you hadn’t. But that didn’t mean you hadn’t thought of him.

Hi, Harry. You texted back. I’m fine. You?

Oh hey. I didn’t expect you to reply right away. Are you at home?

You bit your lip. Was he fishing for an invite? Shaking your head, you typed, Yes.

Mind if I call?

With a half squeal, half groan, you replied, Not at all.

Although you had literally just been texting with him, feeling the vibration in your hand and seeing his name again on the screen as your phone rang sent a new rush through your veins.

“Hi,” you answered nonchalantly.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?”

You chuckled. “You asked me that already.”

“Right. So I did. Um…didn’t expect you to be home on a Friday night,” said Harry.

“That’s because I have a date.”

“Oh?”

“With myself,” you finished, reaching for your glass and taking another sip of wine.

“Oh,” he let out a breathy laugh. He sounded relieved, which only made your heart beat faster. “And how’s that going so far?”

“Not bad. I figure at this rate I’ll be taking myself to bed by midnight.”

Harry snickered harder at your joke. You smiled, happy that you could make him laugh.

“What are you up to tonight, Harry?” you asked.

“Pretty much the same thing, although I’m not sure I’m quite as compatible.”

“No?”

“Mmm,” he sounded. “Am I allowed to say I’m a little jealous?”

You chuckled, though you didn’t really give an answer.

“Which brings me to the reason I called,” Harry continued. “I have something to ask you. A favor, if you will.”

“Oh?”

“You can say no, and I’ll completely understand if you do. I know I said you could call me if you wanted to get together again…”

“Harry, what is it?” you persisted.

You half expected him to say he was horny and lonely, that he wanted you to come over for a quick fix. But you were surprised when he had a different proposition.

“I have a…a thing tomorrow night. A real estate thing. It’s like a corporate dinner where we meet up with the management companies and investors, announce the top brokers and give awards and such. And I was…wondering if you’d come as my date.”

“Oh…” you mused. “You’re allowed to bring a date?”

“Of course. In fact, it’s almost mandatory.” You heard Harry do the breathy laugh again and wondered if he made that part up, or if it was meant to be a joke.

“I see. And…you’re inviting me?”

“I am. I know we don’t know each other well. And you’ll probably be bored out of your mind, and I wouldn’t blame you one bit. It’s just…”

“Just what?” you asked when his words trailed off.

“I didn’t tell you this before because there was no reason to. But my ex is in real estate as well. That’s how we…you know…met.”

“Ah, so she’ll be there.”

“Correct,” Harry sighed.

“And you want me to make her jealous,” I added in a half question.

“Not jealous, really,” replied Harry. “More like revenge. To show her I’m better off without her. Like we did to your ex last weekend.”

“I see,” you said again.

You heard Harry sigh again, then groan. “I’m sorry, Y/N. It sounded better in my head.”

“I didn’t say no.”

“Well, no, but you’re probably thinking it. I swear, I don’t want this to seem like I’m using you. I genuinely like you, Y/N. And I’m very much attracted to you.”

You started to giggle, setting your glass back down on the coffee table.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asked solemnly.

“I used you, Harry. Last weekend. In fact, you wanted me to. And now you’re saying you’re not wanting to use me? For the exact same reason?”

“I reckon you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now. Let’s just call a spade a spade. What time is this event tomorrow?”

“So you’re going?”

“Of course, I am. You did me a solid, and now I can do one back. Besides, it might be a little fun.”

“Alright,” said Harry, a smile in his voice. “It starts at eight. I can pick you up around seven thirty, if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfect. How formal is this, like black tie, or business casual?”

“Somewhere in between. A cocktail dress should be fine.”

“Sounds good. I look forward to it, Harry,” you announced honestly.

“Good. Me too. Thanks for doing this, love.”

After hanging up the phone, you rushed to your closet to pick out something to wear for the event. Even though you hadn’t wanted to let on over the phone, you were beyond excited to see Harry again. This time, you got to be his arm candy and not Luke’s. And unlike with Luke, you had a feeling Harry would only have eyes for you.

As long as his heart didn’t still belong to his ex.

You’d just dabbed on some lipgloss when you heard the buzzer. Pressing the intercom button, you instructed Harry to come on up to your apartment. But when the knock sounded and you swung the door open, you nearly had to hold on to the knob to keep your balance.

“Shit,” you muttered at the same time Harry exclaimed “God damn!”

With a nervous laugh, you caught the twinkle in Harry’s eyes as he leaned against the door jam, his gaze raking over your body.

He looked delicious. Similar to the previous weekend, he wore a silk shirt, unbuttoned plenty to catch peeks at his tattoos and pecks. Over it was a black suit with the jacket open, the slacks fitting him well in all the right places.

“Fuck me, kitten, you look stunning,” said Harry, expressing your thoughts before your mouth could.

You blushed, your hands self-consciously running down your waist and hips. You must have chosen the right dress for the evening. It was a short, fitted, black lace dress with a high neck and long sleeves. You felt like it was tasteful, yet sexy. Harry seemed to agree as he stepped over the threshold and reached for your waist, pulling you to him.

“Wow,” he breathed in your ear. “How lucky am I?”

“Hmm, I guess we’ll see,” you teased, inhaling his intoxicating cologne.

Harry chuckled low. “Is that how it’s gonna be, then, kitten?” You felt his hands travel down to your butt. And you didn’t stop him when he lowered his mouth to your neck.

“Yes,” you whispered as he sucked on your delicate flesh.

“Maybe we should just ditch this party all together and stay here instead.”

“Now, Harry,” you tsked, pushing his shoulders away. “I thought this was important.”

His laugh vibrated in his chest as he nodded. “Indeed. Thanks so much again for doing this.”

Pursing your lips, you winked at him. Then grabbing your clutch, you followed him out the door and downstairs to his car. When he opened it for you, you immediately got a whiff of the expensive leather, an aroma you’d found pleasant and comforting the last time. It reminded you of the smell of his bedroom, and you quickly clamped your thighs together when you climbed into the front seat, the memory of that night in his bed arousing you.

The drive to the venue was quick, for which you were grateful since you couldn’t manage to keep your eyes off of Harry’s hands on the wheel and gear shift, and the way his thighs looked in those pants. He made some small talk, but your mind was elsewhere, almost wishing you’d taken him up on the offer to stay at your place.

When he parked the car in front of a fancy hotel, you gasped. “It’s in here?”

You recognized the place. Well, obviously anyone would. But you’d been there before. Luke had taken you there once when you-

“Well, it only seemed natural,” replied Harry as he turned off the engine, “seeing as the company owns this property.”

Jerking your head, you stared at Harry with wide eyes, astonished. “Oh my God! I knew you were rich, but…oh my God!”

With a chuckle and a gleam in his eye, Harry opened his car door and rounded to your side where you still sat with your mouth agape. You eventually smiled, taking Harry’s awaiting hand and letting him lead you to the entrance and through the hotel lobby to the elevators. A cluster of people were gathered nearby and Harry slowed and whispered in your ear.

“Some of my colleagues,” he explained. “Shall I introduce you?”

“Of course,” you grinned. “As long as you’re not ashamed to be seen with me.”

“Are you kidding?” he smirked, giving your butt a pat before quickly guiding you toward the men.

“Gentlemen!” he greeted boisterously.

“Harry, my good man, how are you?” one of the men broke from the pack to offer his hand.

“Can’t complain,” Harry replied, shaking hands. “How about yourself?”

“Same here,” the man nodded, though his eyes seemed to wander to you eagerly. “And who is this gorgeous angel you brought with you?”

You felt Harry’s hand glide down your back. “Greg, I’d like you to meet Y/N, Y/N this is Greg Hawthorne, Chairman of the Board.”

“How do you do, sweetheart,” said Greg.

“Lovely to meet you,” you smiled, taking his hand though you had no idea what a Chairman of the Board was.

Just then, you were saved by the ding that the awaiting elevator announced, and you and Harry followed the rest of the group up to another floor. More groups of people were gathered there, and down the hall. Harry stopped a couple more times to introduce you to more colleagues. You knew for certain you would never be able to remember their names, but you figured that wasn’t the reason for the pleasantries.

When you came to a large, open, double doorway, you were greeted by another man and woman who welcomed you both to the event. Stepping inside the massive room, you took in the view of what appeared to be a ballroom, filled with cloth-covered tables with fancy centerpieces. At the far end was a stage, a podium erected in the center and a large screen next to it. The chandeliers were enough to take your breath away, and when Harry guided you toward one of the tables, you noticed the gold-leafed placards.

“This is nicer than most weddings I’ve been to,” you whispered to Harry, lifting the placard in front of you that held his name.

Your date only grinned, but you quickly felt a hand on your knee underneath the table. He gave it a nice squeeze, and you giggled.

“None of that, Mr. Styles,” you warned. “We’re in public.”

“Oh, so I can’t even touch you?”

“I didn’t say that. Just be careful. I’m very ticklish. People may get the wrong idea.”

“I see,” he smirked with sexy eyes. “I’ll try to be discreet, then.”

The room started to fill up, and Harry was greeted so many times that you just remained standing. You had to admit, it felt good to be the companion of someone so popular. Luke’s popularity was nothing compared to this. And everyone seemed to be very fond of Harry.

However, after a quick chat with one of Harry’s friends, you felt his hand twist the back of your dress. Taking a step back to keep your balance, you looked at him and noticed how much the expression on his face had instantly changed.

“What happened?” you inquired. “Is something wrong?”

“She’s here,” he said, his voice low but clear.

“Oh,” you whispered. “Where?”

Harry loosened his jaw, then cleared his throat, looked down and scratched his nose. “Right there. Blue dress.”

Scanning the entrance, you picked out the woman. While she was attractive, she was not what you had pictured. Not that you had any point of reference, but she just didn’t seem like someone you would have thought Harry would have been in a relationship with.

“Oh, I see,” you commented, unsure of what else to say.

A waiter came around with a tray of champagne, blocking your view of Harry’s ex. You graciously accepted a glass, and Harry suggested you both take a seat.

“Hello, Harry,” you heard behind you just as you’d turned.

Harry exhaled through his nose before addressing her. “Good evening, Toni. You’re looking well.”

Toni flipped her hair from her shoulder and grinned triumphantly. Then her eyes fell on you.

“Antoinette Bloom, how do you do?” she said, offering her hand to you.

“Y/N Y/LN, nice to meet you.” You tried your best to give the most nonchalant, yet genuine greeting, hoping Harry was pleased. The corners of your mouth began to curve upwards when you felt his hand on your back once again.

“I hear you closed on the MacHouser deal, Harry,” Toni turned her attention back to her ex. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he half-bowed, “it was a team effort.”

“Of course.”

Just then, another tall man appeared, his hand on Toni’s shoulder. “Darling, I found our table over there. I think it’s about to get started.”

“Oh, yes,” she grinned. “Good to see you, Harry.” She merely nodded at you, and didn’t even bother introducing the man who was already guiding her to the right side of the ballroom. You felt Harry let out a long breath.

“That wasn’t so bad,” you assured with a smile.

“Wasn’t so great either,” he frowned.

You slid your hand up his arm, squeezing his bicep. “Could have been worse.”

Finally looking at you, Harry’s frown turned into a grin. Your insides flipped when his dimples appeared and he pulled you close to him.

“She’s got nothing on you, you know.”

“Except history,” you remarked.

Harry chuckled. “C’mon, love. Let’s sit and enjoy this evening. Together.”

“Sounds good,” you agreed as Harry helped push in your chair. “By the way, did you know him?”

“Who?”

“The man she was with. She didn’t introduce him.”

“Oh. Yeah. He’s the uh…”

When Harry paused, your eyes widened in astonishment. “Him? She left you for that guy?”

“Well, no, she didn’t leave me, I kicked her out.”

“Because she was cheating on you. With him!”

Harry covered your hand with his. “Let’s not get into it, babe. Not now.”

With a huff, you sat back in your chair, crossing your arms. What an idiot this woman was! Fucking moron!

Harry chuckled low, making you look over at him. “What?”

“You look like a defiant child sat there like that, kitten.”

With a snort, you sat up straight. “Sorry. I just don’t think she knew how good she had it.”

“And how good is that?” Harry leaned closer, his hand sliding up your thigh under the table.

“Harry…” you mouthed, barely able to get out a breath as his fingers played with the hem of your dress.

“Oh, good evening Harry!” a plump man announced, grabbing the chair on the other side of him. “Looks like Marla and I are at your table.”

“Hi, Tom, how are things?” Harry quickly rose from his chair to shake hands with the man, then with the woman he was with.

“Well, as they say…same shit, different day!” Tom cackled.

Harry laughed, “Yes, indeed.” Then he introduced you to Tom and his wife, Marla, who both already seemed like very nice people.

Two more couples arrived shortly after, rounding out your table. Soon enough, the waiters came around with plates of food. You gawked at the presentation of the scrumptious looking chicken dish in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered in your ear. “I forgot to tell you I ordered the food weeks ago. I hope chicken is okay.”

“Of course, no problem,” you replied.

“Obviously I knew I wouldn’t be here with Toni, but I reckoned chicken was a safe bet.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” you insisted.

“So, how did you two meet?” Marla asked after Tom had made a toast.

Harry looked over at you and you felt your face flush.

“Um…the traditional way,” replied Harry. “At a nightclub.”

“Oh!” Marla giggled when Harry winked, putting you at ease.

Once again, you felt Harry’s hand on you underneath the table. Instead of squeezing your knee, he slid his palm up dangerously, allowing his fingers to rest just inside your thigh. You gasped out a breath, swiftly grabbing your champagne, hoping no one noticed.

Chatter and small talk filled the room until the lights dimmed slightly and the man from the elevator stepped up to the podium. He announced himself as Greg Hawthorne and welcomed you all to tonight’s gala. Then the television monitor came to life and displayed a quick introduction to the firm. While most of it was over your head, you were once again impressed by the company and what real estate it owned. After another quick spiel, Greg introduced the CEO who joined him at the podium, gave a short speech and sat back down at his table. Then Greg proceeded with the awards ceremony, starting with one for another man you’d met earlier.

Having finished your delicious chicken, you placed your fork down on your plate, and dabbed your lips with a napkin. When everyone clapped, you joined in.

Harry leaned over and whispered in your ear. “Bored yet?”

“No,” you smiled. “I’m having a lovely time.”

“Liar.”

“No, I’m not,” you insisted with a laugh.

You reached for his hand then, pulling it underneath the tablecloth, setting it in your lap. You covered it with your other hand for reassurance. Harry beamed at you, then kissed your temple.

Just then, a name you hadn’t wished to hear was announced. Antoinette Bloom stepped up on stage to receive her award, though you’d missed what she’d earned it for. You felt Harry’s body go still next to you.

“You okay?” you whispered.

“Um, yeah. Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m fine.”

“It’s still hard to see her, isn’t it?”

“No, no…it’s…it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Harry, it’s okay,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I get it. Remember?”

His green eyes stared at you and you thought you saw them water, but he blinked quickly. Then he pulled his hand from your grasp and reached for his champagne, gulping it down. You looked around your table and saw more sets of eyes, either on Harry or trying to divert their gaze. They all knew. They had probably known them when they were a couple. Suddenly, you felt like a duck out of water, and just as Toni was finishing her speech, you excused yourself to the ladies’ room.

When you made it to the stall, and took several deep breaths, you started talking to yourself. Reminding yourself that you were doing Harry a favor. You were his plus one because he wanted some sort of revenge, or proof for his ex to see he didn’t need her anymore - just as Harry had done for you the weekend before with Luke.

This isn’t about you, you stupid bitch. After tonight you’ll probably never see him again.

After washing up and touching up your lip gloss, you opened the door to see Harry standing in the hallway.

“Hey. What are you doing out here?” you asked.

“Checking on you. You rushed out so quickly.”

“Sorry. Must have been the champagne.”

Harry took two steps closer, enough to reach out and finger a curl on your shoulder. “Liar,” he muttered.

With a sigh, you shook your head. “Harry…”

“Y/N. I’m the one who should apologize. I made a fool of myself, trying to act like I didn’t care she was here. You were right.”

“I was?” you gulped.

“It’s still hard,” he nodded. “I mean…it’s not like I want her back. I don’t really want anything to do with her. Just…seeing her reminds me, you know?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I really am.” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, and you took that as your cue.

“It’s okay. Shall I get an Uber, or…”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Well…um…,” you stumbled. “Don’t you want me to?”

“Oh, God, honey, no! No! I didn’t mean to imply that at all!”

You fiddled with the clutch in your hands as you stared at him incredulously. “I’m confused.”

Reaching for your waist, Harry pulled you even closer. “Baby, I want you to stay. Please. I enjoy your company. And even though this is probably boring you to tears, you look so fucking sexy, I want...”

“What?” you asked when his words trailed off.

“I…” Harry searched down either end of the hallway, making sure no one was within earshot. Then he guided you backwards against the wall. “I wanna eat you up,” he growled.

“Oh!” you squeaked just before his mouth collided with yours.

His kisses were rough and urgent. His stubble scratched against your delicate skin. And you loved it. Gasping for a breath, you grabbed hold of his jacket lapels.

“Harry…”

“I want you so bad, kitten,” he whined. God, that sounded hot. “Been thinking about you all fucking week. Took everything I had in me not to call sooner.”

“Really?”

Just then, two other women started down the hall toward you. Harry straightened up and you pretended to be looking for something in your bag. When they passed and entered the restroom, you raised your head. Harry was staring at you like a tiger about to pounce its prey. When he blinked slowly, you could hear him swallow hard.

“I got a room,” he finally said.

Your jaw dropped. “A roo-, here?”

“Yeah. I know it’s presumptuous of me. But I was hoping…you might…wanna stay with me tonight.”

As he said those words, he moved closer to you, slowly like a dream. Chills erupted down your body, and you found yourself eagerly allowing him into your embrace. His lips met yours again, this time sweet and wet.

“I-I thought…” you breathed between kisses, “when you froze next to me…when she got her award…that you…”

“Shh,” Harry sounded, silencing you with more kisses. “Baby girl…let me make it clear. I don’t want her. I want you.”

You thought you saw the shadows of the women returning from the bathroom, but neither you nor Harry moved an inch. His gaze pierced through you, you melted, and you may have even let out a moan.

“I want you, too. So bad.”

“Good,” he growled, sliding his hand around your neck. Then kissing you one more time, he stood up straight and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Taking your hand, you were halfway down the hall when Tom emerged from the ballroom.

“Harry!,” he said. “They need you in here!”

“What for?”

“Your award!”

Harry cursed under his breath, and you chuckled as he tugged on your hand and led you back into the ballroom.

“There he is!” shouted Greg from the podium. “C’mon Harry, everyone who’s awarded has to get up here.”

Harry snorted, then gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before heading up to the stage. With a cheesy grin on your face, you made it back to your table and joined everyone in clapping as Harry accepted his award. You hadn’t even heard what it was for, but it didn’t matter. You were proud of him regardless, and you planned on showing him just how proud you were later in the room he’d said he’d gotten.

You watched your handsome date as he gave his acceptance speech, the glow on his face. When he was finished, he gave a quick nod and thank you, then began to make his way between the tables. You noticed Toni staring at him, but your grin spread when Harry paid her no mind, and instead beamed at you with his dimpled smile.

“Congrats, Harry!” exclaimed Tom when Harry reached your table. “I was worried you’d either gone or didn’t care about receiving an award. But I see I was wrong on both accounts. Well-deserved, my friend.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

Although Harry’s words were addressed to the man on his left, his eyes hadn’t left yours.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Now?” you half-chuckled, half-gasped.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice suddenly an octave lower.

“Oh, don’t leave yet, you two!” Marla whisper-shouted. “You’ll miss the best part!”

“Best part?” you inquired, eyeing both Marla and Harry.

Harry smirked. “There’s usually some sort of dessert, and they serve more cocktails.”

“Oh. I think I can pass.”

Not missing the tone in your confession, Harry rose from his chair and held his hand out for you. You eagerly took it, giving hasty goodbyes to your table mates, then you followed him back into the hallway just as Greg was giving his final speech, announcing the imminent dessert.

“I have my own sweet, tasty treat,” remarked Harry, patting your ass.

You were mid-giggle, starting to get handsy yourself when you heard a female voice behind you.

“Congratulations, Harry.”

Oh, goddammit, what did she want?

“Thank you,” Harry turned and nodded sharply.

“I always knew you’d make top broker,” Toni continued. “I know I voiced it many times.”

Her tone was sultry as she stepped closer to Harry. Then she placed her hand on his bicep and gave an adoring smile. Your stomach turned and your mouth felt sour as you watched her try to seduce her ex right in front of you.

“Um, no, actually you didn’t,” said Harry.

“Pardon me?”

“You never said that to me, Antoinette. Not once. In fact, if I remember correctly, you used to provoke and torment me by claiming you’d beat me.”

“Oh, that,” Toni dismissed Harry’s accusation with a wave of her hand. “That was just a little game. You enjoyed it, didn’t you baby? You liked trying to rival me. It only made you better.”

Your eyes wide, you nearly smacked her, but you held back your hands and your tongue.

“No, I didn’t enjoy it. And it didn’t make me better. I’m better now because you’re out of my life, Toni.”

Turning away from her, Harry grabbed your hand again and began walking faster. You tried your best to keep up as he led you to the elevators.

“Aw, little Harry is heartbroken so he needed to find a little trollop to mend his ego,” Toni mocked with a sneer.

At that you turned around swiftly. “You’re a horrible person! No wonder he kicked you out!”

“Y/N, please baby-”

“What the hell do you know?” Toni rolled her eyes.

“I know that this man is amazing and sweet and sexy as hell, and you lost out.”

Toni’s jaw dropped open as Harry pulled you toward the open elevator doors.

“I also know that nobody has used the word trollop since the sixties,” you called out just before the doors closed. “The term is slut now, honey.”

When the elevator stopped, and the doors opened, you followed Harry down the hall, your hand still in his until he stopped at the end of the hallway. Then he pulled a key card out of his jacket pocket and slipped it into the lock.

He had been quiet on the lift, his jaw set. You knew he was angry, and maybe even a little embarrassed. You felt for him, seeing just how vile his ex was. You wanted to make him feel better, but only if he wanted the same.

Stepping into the room, however, you nearly forgot what had just happened when you saw the exquisite view.

“Wow…” you breathed as Harry headed for the bar.

“Nice, yeah?” he wiggled his brows. When he poured two glasses of brandy, however, his expression returned solemn.

“Harry…” you began, walking toward him. “We don’t have to do this.”

“What?”

“If you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Who says I’m not?” he asked, handing you a glass.

“Well, I can tell you’re upset.”

“I’m not. I mean…yeah, she’s…a piece of work,” Harry half-chuckled, shaking his head. Then he looked at you. “But she has nothing to do with us.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” he sounded, reaching for your waist with his other hand. “I’m just sorry you had to see that. Cheers?”

You clinked your glass against Harry’s and took a sip, setting your clutch on the bar. He looked over his glass at you and winked. Slowly lowering yours, you grinned.

“So your award was for top broker? What does that mean, you sold the most houses?”

Harry chuckled low. “Houses, hotels, commercial properties...”

“Wow,” you said. “I’m proud of you, Harry.”

“Are you?” he smiled wider.

“Of course, I am. And I wanna show you.”

“Oh. You do.” Taking your glass, Harry set it on the bar next to his. “And how do you wanna do that?”

“Like this…” you said, reaching for his jacket and tugging it off his shoulders.

With a smirk, he shook his arms out of it and tossed it on a nearby chair. Then his eyes sparkled as you ran your hands down his chest and began to unfasten the remaining buttons of his shirt.

Slipping his fingers underneath your jaw, he pulled you into a deep kiss. You moaned against him, letting him know just how badly you wanted to please him. When your own fingers met his waistband, you felt him shudder, a sexy tremble of anticipation as he threw off his shirt. You played with him a bit, letting your fingertips linger along his tattoos after you’d unbuttoned his trousers. Then with a loud sounding of the zipper, you dropped to your knees along with his pants. You heard him gasp out a breath, a tiny one, but audible nonetheless.

You kissed his inner thighs, sweet, tender kisses. Moving up slowly, you reached for his underwear. A low, sexy exhale escaped his throat then, followed by a chuckle.

“Oh, kitten.”

“What?”

“Is this what you want?”

You nodded and licked your lips as his erection sprung from his briefs, meeting you in the face. Harry’s breath hitched in his throat when you took hold of it and wet the tip with your tongue. You looked up at him long enough to see his jaw drop as you enveloped your lips around his hard cock. Then he quickly shut his eyes and inhaled through his nose.

He was big. You knew this already, of course, but having him in your mouth for the first time took a little extra work and finesse. You didn’t think you’d be able to deep throat him, so you did your best with what you had to work with. Lubricating him up with your own saliva, you moaned against his cock while your hand met your lips halfway. Harry’s fingers raked through your hair until they had a good grip. His breaths quickened as he bucked his hips against you, urging you to suck him deeper and harder, your hand to move faster. You obliged to his physical requests until you felt him quiver, then tug harder on your hair.

“Easy, kitten,” he gasped. “Fuck, you’re so good, but I don’t wanna come so fast.”

Clipping your chin with his finger, he gazed down at you.

“Jesus, baby, look at you. So eager and willing to please.”

You nodded, running your hands up his thighs. “Yes, Harry. I wanna please you so bad. Wanna make you feel good.”

Stepping out of his shoes and pants, Harry lifted you from the floor. With his hands cradling your face he pulled you into a deep, wet kiss that nearly sent you back into a pool at his feet. Then slipping his fingers behind your neck, he found the zipper of your dress and tugged it open. Stepping out of it, you let him lead you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I wanna make you feel good too, kitten,” Harry promised as he removed your black lacy bra.

“But it’s my turn, Harry,” you argued, climbing onto the bed and sitting on your knees. “You made me feel better last time.”

“Did I? Is that why you left in such a hurry?”

“I told you why I left,” you frowned.

“I know. I’m sorry.” His hands cupped your breasts as he snuck a kiss onto your collarbone.

“Anyway, tonight is about you,” you continued. “And I wanna show you how proud I am of you. How worthy you are.”

“Yeah?” he smirked, sliding his hand down the front of your panties. “Am I worthy of this sweet pussy?”

“Fuck yes,” you hissed.

Harry laughed, “God, you’re so wet already, kitten. I haven’t hardly touched you.”

“That’s the effect you have on me.”

“Good to know. I am lucky.”

He continued to stroke you, his fingertip pressing gently on your already throbbing clit. Still on your knees, they began to give out just from his touch. You grabbed hold of his arms to keep your balance, a tiny cry escaping your lips.

“Oh, sweetheart, you sure this is about me?” Harry raised a brow, teasing you.

“Yes, Harry. I promise. You just…get me worked up.”

“What do you think you do to me, hmm? Sat there next to me in that tiny little dress, your thighs begging to be stroked underneath the table. Your fuckable ass just waiting to be grabbed by my hands. Your fuck-me eyes batting their lashes at me as if I don’t know what that means.”

“I didn’t know they do that,” you mewled as you continued to ride his fingers.

“Oh, yes you do. And you love it. Just like you love how you’re dripping on me right now.”

“But you love it, too,” you said, trying to turn the tables. “You love how hot and wet I am for you.”

“Goddammit, yes I do. C’mere, kitten.”

The air suddenly felt cooler when he removed his hand from your panties. But the warmth was returned quickly as you watched him lay down on the bed and stroke himself.

“Harry,” you pouted. “I’m supposed to do that.”

“Well then hurry up, baby. We may have all night, but I get impatient too.”

You gave him a smirk, knowing he was mocking your impatience from last weekend.

“Just for that, I may just take my time,” you teased, slowly sliding your panties down your hips.

“Please don’t.”

“What would you do if I did?”

“Make myself come,” he replied cheekily, his hand still on his cock.

“Aw, c’mon Harry, play nice.”

He chuckled low, sending another thrill down your spine. Kicking your panties off of your ankle, you let them hit the floor as you crawled cat-like over his naked body.

“Kitten, you are,” he grinned, reaching for your hips. “Looks like I picked the right pet name.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “And now kitty wants a ride.”

Harry growled as you nibbled on his neck. “Condom’s in my jacket, babe,” he whispered. “Forgot to grab it.”

With a tiny pout, you slid off the bed and retrieved his jacket from the chair, and found the condom in the inside picket. Opening it swiftly, you returned to the bed where you eagerly slipped it on his awaiting cock. Lifting your hips, you eased yourself down slowly with a high-pitched groan.

“Gently, kitten,” instructed Harry. “You sure you’re wet enough?”

“Yes,” you sighed. “You just fill me so well.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Go slowly though, alright. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can handle it, baby. Question is, can you handle me?”

Harry’s chest shook as he laughed, and you slowly began to ride him. When you began to pick up a little speed, however, Harry started to blink, his head tilting back into the pillow.

“Fuck, kitten, you feel so good.”

“I do? You like how my cunt feels dripping on you?”

“Mmm yeah. So fucking warm and wet.”

“You deserve to feel this good, baby. Every night,” you moaned.

“Yeah? You would fuck me like this every night?” he asked, his hips bucking up against you.

“Mmhmm. Anything you want. You’re such a fucking hot and sexy man. You deserve to be fucked any way you want.”

“Ah yes, fuck me, kitten.”

“She didn’t fuck you like this, did she?” you purred as you rode him faster.

Harry shook his head and gulped. “No.”

“You deserve so much better, baby. You deserve a woman who knows your needs. Who worships your cock.”

Though Harry moaned and let out an expletive, he grabbed your waist and tried to hold you still. “Wait…baby…wait, stop,” he gasped.

“What’s wrong?” you blinked.

“I don’t wanna fuck like this.”

“Like what?”

“Revenge sex, angry sex, whatever this is. I’m done with that, aren’t you?”

You stared at him, confused. “But, I thought-”

“I know, babe,” he interrupted with a nod. “But I don’t want this to be about her. Or him. Just us.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you?”

“I…yeah, I guess so.”

Harry’s green eyes stared at you, and though they were still filled with lust, a softer look in them also appeared that you hadn’t seen before. “Just you and me, yeah? I think it could be great.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Good girl,” he grinned. “Now fuck me.”

You slowly resumed your thrusts, your eyes still locked with his. While you tried to continue the little game you’d been playing, the point seemed moot. Something came over you that you couldn’t describe, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were feeling emotional, overwhelmed. But you couldn’t, could you? This was just a hookup, a mutual agreement. There were no feelings involved. Finally, you stopped all movement.

“What’s wrong, babe?” asked Harry, a bewildered look on his face. “You tired?”

“No. It just…it feels different now.”

“Different…good?”

You shook your head, unable to find the words. “I don’t know. I just…I feel vulnerable.”

Harry’s face softened as he sat up and ran his hands up your back. “I know, baby. But it’s okay. I’m here, yeah? I’ll make you feel good.”

“But I wanted to make you feel good,” you said.

“Then we’ll make each other feel good,” Harry smirked. “C’mon love, it’s alright. We don’t need revenge sex. Those two other people…they mean nothing. We don’t have to use each other anymore. Let’s just…live in the moment.”

Taking in a deep breath, you let it out slowly. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? His arms around you, Harry kissed your lips softly. Then he continued down your jaw and to your neck. Inch by inch, you let the tension fall until his soft, pillowy lips lightly touched your shoulder.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” you breathed before you realized it.

“Doesn’t it?” Harry murmured before looking into your eyes. “I want you, Y/N. I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t. I wouldn’t have gotten this room. For us. You and me, honey. You’re the one I wanna be with.”

Though he didn’t finish the sentence with tonight, you took it as implied.

“Let’s make each other feel good, yeah?” he continued, pecking your mouth again. “I wanna make you come so hard.”

A low moan sounded from deep within your throat before you started to giggle.

“Does that sound good?” Harry wiggled his brows.

��Yeah,” you nodded. “Sounds amazing.”

“Then get that ass up, baby, and turn around for me,” he demanded, patting your behind.

Once on your knees facing away from him, you braced yourself for a quick thrust. But Harry seemed to have other ideas. Instead, he grabbed your hips and pulled you back so that you sat on his lap. Pushing your hair off your shoulder, he kissed your neck just underneath your ear. Then his other hand found your right breast, cupping it and pinching the nipple between his fingertips.

“That feel good, kitten?” he whispered, his breath tickling your flesh.

“Mmm, yes.”

“Good. Now lift up just a bit and bounce on me.”

Doing as you were told had Harry slipping inside you easily just before you bounced back onto his lap, his cock filling you completely.

“Ohhhh,” you gasped. “Fuck.”

“Mmm yeah, babe, do that again.”

With a deep breath, you exhaled as you lifted up to your knees again. This time, however, Harry met you halfway, thrusting up against you as you came down. When you let out another gasp, Harry groaned in your ear.

“Fuck, princess, just like that. Keep going.”

Though your knees were already starting to shake, it was nothing like the nearly exploding feeling in your core. You could feel him fully, all of him in your pussy. And you couldn’t get enough.

You repeated the movements over and over, each time making your toes curl more and more. Finally, you noticed the thrusts weren’t quite as long, as Harry was practically holding you against him, his arm around your waist as he panted in your ear, giving you continuous words of encouragement.

“Oh, kitten you feel so good,” he whined, sliding his free hand down your belly. “I’m so close already. But I want you to come first, alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you close, too?”

“Yes!”

His fingertips slipped through your folds and pinched your clit. Your knees buckled and you almost fell forward until Harry pulled you up. You could feel his wet, sticky chest against your back as he guided you to your climax.

“Easy, kitten,” he cooed. “I got you. Come for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel that sweet little cunt dripping all over me.”

“Aaaaaa…” you exclaimed, though it was far from an actual word. “Oh, God! Ohhh Haaarrryy….baaaabyyyyy!!!!”

“That’s it, kitten,” he urged, his finger still circling your swollen nub as he continued his thrusts. “Such a good girl. I love making you feel good, baby.”

With a few more whines and pants, you came down from your high, taking deep breaths and hard swallows.

“Mmm,” Harry growled, then kissed your neck. “It’s not over yet, love.”

You chuckled, placing your hand on his thigh. “I know. Shall I stay here, or you want me somewhere else?”

“I’ll let you pick,” he replied.

“Really?” Lifting yourself up, you turned around to face him. “Cause I’d really like to watch you when you come.”

“You got it, babe,” he grinned. Taking your face in his hands, he kissed you with fervor. Then he rolled you onto your back.

“Are you sore, love?” he asked as he resumed his thrusts.

“Not really,” you gulped. “Only in a good way.”

Harry chuckled, “Alright, good. Cause I want you legs up here.” Grabbing hold of your thighs, he lifted them over his shoulders. “That’s it, kitten. Now, keep your pretty eyes on me.”

You had no problem with that request. His arms around you with your knees next to your ears, you couldn’t do much more than stare at him. And he was a sight to behold. A curl had fallen from his forehead, and he already looked fucked out of his mind. Your entire body was on fire, inside and out. You couldn’t look away if you tried.

Because of his close proximity, his thrusts were short and quick, his cock hitting you in just the right spot every time. You tried your best to keep breathing, though you could already feel yourself teetering close to the edge. And Harry’s grunts didn’t help. He was so sexy, and it turned you on knowing you felt good around him.

“So fucking wet baby, god damn,” he panted. “Can I fuck you like this every night?”

You blinked in surprise until you remembered your words from earlier. With a gentle smile, you nodded. “Yes.”

“Promise? Cause I don’t think I can go another week, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you swore to him, and as you wrapped your arms around his neck, you knew that it wasn’t a lie.

Harry’s breaths quickened, and with a deep groan, he shut his eyes tight. Then with two more thrusts, his body trembled and he gasped in your ear.

“Fuck. Oh, kitten, you’re amazing.”

Your fingers played in his hair as he laid on your chest. You listened to his breaths for a moment until he looked up at you.

“Please don’t leave,” he said.

“What?”

“Tonight. Don’t leave like last time, please. Stay with me.”

After a pause, you allowed your fingertips to draw shapes across his back. Then with a sigh you said his name.

“Hmm?” he sounded, rolling onto his side next to you.

You turned and looked at him, giving him a smile. “I have no intention of leaving.”

With a grin of his own, Harry pulled you close and kissed you, no other words needed.

Hope you enjoyed! Please like, reblog and comment (or even better send me a message) if you did.

tagging: @kathb59, @kahluamystery97, @triski73, @lovebittenbyevans, @chibijusstuff, @angywritesstuff, @indierockgirrl, @i-dont-want-your-sympathy (you are all ones who commented on part 1 so I hope that's okay.)

[mentally-gone002]

is it too early to love you? - part 4

(moodboard made by moi)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

summary: readers ex boyfriend is an asshole… so much so that he makes readers night a little harder. but reader calls spencer, and he makes it alright.

warnings: blood

a/n: ehehehehehe this is my fav part!!!!! also this was all written in one go (part 1, pt 2, pt 3 and pt 4) so gimme like a few hours, a monster energy drink and some sour patch kids and i’ll pump another part out😜😜😜

————————————————————————

when the case ended i went back home. james was kind enough to return my key, which surprised me, but im glad he wasn’t petty enough to steal it. 

or at least i thought he wasn’t petty.

he might not have been petty enough to lock me out of my apartment but he was petty enough to trash the place.

when i got home my dishes were smashed on the floor, a few of my paperback books were torn up and my tv was gone. 

“jesus.” i murmured through an exhausted sigh. 

i decided to call him. 

“why are you calling me?” 

“i just got home and my place is a mess. disaster would be a better word actually.” i told him. 

he laughed lightly on the other end. “what the hell are you talking about?” 

i scoffed, crossing one arm over my chest. “you know damn right what i’m talking about, so don’t play dumb.” i stepped carefully over the glass pieces that used to be my dishes. i stared at one of my books on the floor, the cover of it was torn in half. “why’d you do this? i haven’t given you a reason to be this much of an asshole.” 

james said something to someone on his end of the phone. “i have my own reasons.”

“what reason is that?” 

“why do you want to know?” 

“so that i can determine weather or not to call the police on you for vandalism.” 

james sputtered out a laugh. “vandalism? please! you wouldn’t call the cops on me.” i swallowed thickly because he was right. “i got you.” he said in a sing-song tone i hated.

i hung up on him. he didn’t deserve a goodbye, or to be able to contact me again. i blocked his number and deleted it. 

i took some time to breathe and process my surroundings before my phone was once again pressed to my ear. 

“hello?” spencer sounded cheerful. and i hated to be calling about this, because i knew he wasn’t going to stay happy. “you there?”

“yeah, i’m here.” i nodded. i had no idea why i called him if i’m being honest. 

“you okay?” he already knew. his tone changed. 

i closed my eyes and sighed. “i’m great spencer.” i almost said it through my teeth, walking back to my kitchen to find a broom. “i’m just- ow, shit!” my food came down on a large piece of what used to be a drinking glass. 

“what happened?” spencer’s voice was faint as i tried to balance on one foot in the middle of a floor filled with glass.

i looked around for a safe path away from the mess. “i stepped in a piece of glass.” i answered him, carefully limping over to my couch and flipped over the back to lay against the cushions. i whimpered when i bumped my injured foot with my unharmed one. 

spencer shuffled around on his end of the phone. i heard keys jingling and his door opening. “i’ll be over in twenty minutes.” 

“spence, no, im fine, it’s just…” i looked at my foot from where its propped up on my knee and pulled a face. “it’s fine, i’ll be fine.” i assured him though it was meant more for myself. 

“i’m still coming over.” he replied. “don’t touch the glass.” 

the line went quiet and i knew he hung up. 

i groaned in pain, watching my blood soak through my sock and drip onto my light grey rug. “shit.” i leaned back into the cushions in pain and exhaustion. 

i can replace the rug. 

spencer got to my place is record time, coming in the already open door because i forgot to close it. 

“what happened?” his voice had me sitting up in shock, whipping my head around to look at him. i shot him a look, silently asking ‘why ask if you already know?’ spencer frowned as he carefully walked across the apartment to me. when he saw the glass in my food he pulled a face similar to the one i did when i first saw it. 

“before you ask if i was watching where i was going, i wasn’t.” i laughed with pain laced in my voice. he didn’t laugh. “it’s not that bad.” 

he sat beside me carefully and leaned toward my foot to look at it better. “do you have a medical kit?” his eyes studied how the glass stabbed into me as he asked. 

“surprisingly yes.” i gestured back to my bedroom. “i have one under the bathroom sink, it’s in the back on the left.” 

spencer stood up to retrieve the kit in less than thirty seconds. he set the contents of the kit on the coffee table before looking at me. “i’m gonna have to pull it out.” 

i nodded, already knowing that. i sat up a little. “okay. let’s get it over with.” i breathed heavily in and out while spencer put on latex gloves that were in the kit. he barely touched the glass and i winced. 

“sorry.” he muttered softly while grabbing the glass between his index and thumb. i screwed my eyes shut and squeezed the couch cushions in my hands. “i’m gonna count-“

“don’t fucking count, just do it.” i laughed due to anxiety, eyes still closed. 

spencer breathed deeply and then there was a sharp pain that made me lurch forward, humming in pain. 

i opened my eyes to watch as spencer quickly grabbed a piece of gauze to press it against my foot. he held it there with one hand as he met my eyes, sighing deeply. “thanks for taking care of me, doc.” i joked. 

he smiled at me, shaking his head. “don’t thank me yet, i’m not done.” 

“do you think i’ll need stitches?” i nodded at my foot. i leaned forward once the pain went down a little. 

spencer shrugged and reached for the shard that used to be in my foot. he held it up for me to see. half of it was covered in blood and the other half was a pretty shade of light green. 

i frowned. “i really liked that cup.” 

spencer laughed slightly, setting the glass back down. “you might need stitches.” he answered my initial question. “but i can do that for you. i know you don’t like hospitals.” 

i smiled at his words, surprised that he remembered that. but, he remembers everything. 

“thank you.” 

“i told you not to thank me.” he reminded. 

my eyes rolled. “too bad, i’m thanking you anyway. get over it.” 

he laughed again, just a short huff of air through his nose as he pulled the gauze away from my foot. 

he took some scissors and cut my sock off my foot, which i protested because i really like these socks, but he told me he’d replace them. when he saw the extent of the damage he determined stitches would be best prior to disinfecting the wound and getting some thread and a needle. 

“this is gonna hurt.”

“well no shit.” i sunk into my couch, just ready for this to be over. i looked at spencer while he held the needle in one hand while looking at me in confusion. “sorry… i’m ready to not be doing this anymore.” 

“i’ll be done really quick, i promise.” he nodded at me. “it’s only a half inch long and a quarter inch deep-“ 

“stop talking, i love you, but stop talking.” i dropped my head back with closed eyes. 

spencer cleared his throat, processing my words as best he could before starting with the stitches. it really didn’t take that long but it did hurt like hell. 

“okay, i’m done.” spencer wrapped gauze around my foot before taking off his latex gloves, gathering everything with my blood on it and threw it away in my garbage can. 

“thank god.” i sighed, standing up to limp into the kitchen behind him, careful to avoid every fragment of glass on the floor this time. 

spencer watched me pull a broom out of the space between my fridge and the wall. “let me sweep.” he held out a hand for me to give up the broom. i glared at him. “don’t fight me on this.” he had a warning tone. 

i gave it up and decided to clean all my destroyed books. i carefully picked up all the pages that were ripped out so harshly.

“this one was my favorite.” i was just talking to myself but spencer stopped what he was doing to look at me. i felt his eyes on me so i smiled up at him before flipping through the worn book. i looked for the page in the front with the author’s signature on it but that was missing. my eyes scanned the floor frantically for the missing page, looking for the signature in deep blue ink i’ve looked at so many times. 

“what’re you looking for?” spencer stopped sweeping again. 

i glanced at him briefly, crawling over the floor, flipping pages over and looking through the stack of them i’d made, just in case i skipped over it. “i’m looking for a page.” 

“what page?” spencer joined me on the floor. 

i shook my head. “the autographed page from this one.” i tapped the halved cover of the book. “it’s a front page, one of the blank ones.” i explained. 

“he ripped up an autographed copy?” 

i nodded, hearing the hurt in his voice. “yeah.” 

spencer helped me look. the room went quiet apart from the occasional rustling of paper. 

“found it.” spencer called to me from where he was kneeling between the couch and coffee table. he held up the page and i sighed in relief, walking on my knees across the floor to him and taking the page into my hands. “it has your blood on it.” he noted. 

i stared at the handwriting and then at a small red soaked part of a corner. i didn’t care that it had my blood on it, i cared that it wasn’t destroyed. “i don’t think he knew this was my favorite book, or he would’ve done way worse.” i muttered, again just thinking out loud. 

“can i say something?” spencer asked. i nodded at him, studying his facial expression before he said, “i never liked him.” i laughed slightly. “im serious. the way he acted with you in public, not really paying attention to you. you’d tell me about things he’d do or say and i’d just feel mad… or upset at him.” i pursed my lips. “he didn’t deserve you.”

that feeling of heartache swelled in my chest as i smoothed my thumbs over the book page in my hands. i couldn’t look at him. not after he said that. he was right, like always. “we should keep cleaning.” i stood up, being mindful of my foot as i did. i placed the book page on my coffee table and went back to picking up all of my ruined books, taking mental notes of which ones i had to replace. spencer stood up off the floor and finished sweeping up the glass on the floor. he’d look at me every few minutes, i could feel it. his eyes made my skin prickle sometimes. he was the only person who’s eyes made me react like that. 

“are all of your dishes broken?” 

i hummed in unknowing, gently placing my trashed books into the garbage and then went to my cabinets, opening them to stare at a few dishes that survived james’s wrath. “thankfully, no.” i looked back at him with a relieved smile. “i am gonna go get new sets anyway though. i need a refresh for the whole place.” 

spencer hummed in response while putting the broom back from where he watched me grab it from earlier. “want me to help?” 

i shrugged. “if you want to hang out with me in ikea for like four hours then sure.” 

he smiled. “you know me, i never have plans.” 

“i do know you.” i smiled back, now facing him with my back to the near empty cabinets.

[joelalorian]

Wonder in Winterland - Part IV

Hallmark!Joel x f!reader | wc: 3913 | masterlist

Series Summary: You, a city girl on a cross-country road trip a week before Christmas, find yourself stranded in a whimsical Christmas town. You soon discover there is more to life than big city dreams. Based on the Hallmark movie Love You Like Christmas.

Warnings: None (although the rest of this blog is 18+ mdni). This is utter fluff and whimsy, with a occasional foul language and lots of banter in the AU style of a Hallmark Christmas movie. Matchmaker!Sarah. Limited descriptions of reader and no use of y/n. Enjoy it with a cuppa hot cocoa and a warm blankie.

AN: This is it, my friends. The finale to this little mini series. I wanted to have this out by Christmas Eve, but my hubs surprised me with a PS5 and a zombie apocalypse game (Days Gone) that I haven't played before. Had to pry myself away to finish this lol. Hope you enjoy and Happy New Year's to you all!

Part IV

The fire burned out overnight, leaving you chilled despite the pile of blankets covering the bed. With hurried motions, you added kindling and wood, stoking the fire until it burned steadily. Back under the covers, feet snuggled in a wonderful pair of cabin socks you picked up at the general store yesterday, you gazed at the fire, recalling the moments you shared with Joel the night before.

The moon hung high above the mountaintops, its silver glow illuminating the snow-covered fields and casting shadows on the inn’s wraparound porch. It was quiet save for the occasional creak of the wooden boards beneath your boots and the distant hoots of a Great Horned Owl. The air was crisp, but you barely noticed with Joel sitting beside you on the porch swing, the heat of his body like a furnace where it touched yours.

“I’ve been thinking about it, you know,” you said with a wistfulness to your voice, breath visible in the frosty air.

Joel’s dark eyes flicked to you, the moonlight catching the warmth pooling in those rich brown irises. “What’s that?”

“About staying,” you admitted, shifting your body to face him more fully. “I want to, more than anything.”

“So, what’s stopping you,” Joel responded with an unreadable expression.

You glanced down, twisting your fingers in your lap. “I don’t know. An over-inflated sense of responsibility, maybe. Self-inflicted expectations. My life, everything I’ve worked so hard for, is back in the city.”

He eyed you for several long moments. “Is it?” Joel’s voice was gruff and tight, the question hanging in the air between you.

Your eyes darted upwards, breath catching at the intensity in the gaze that met your own. “What are you trying to say, Joel?”

Shrugging, he glanced down at his boots. “I’m just saying,” he began, voice softening to a near rasp, “maybe your life’s wherever you decide it is. Doesn’t have to be one place or another, one thing or another.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, comforting but too thick to fully wrap your head around. “You make it sound so simple,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, it ain’t, darlin’,” Joel replied, leaning in with an earnest expression on his handsome face. “But sometimes the hardest decisions are the ones worth makin’.”

The swing slowed to a stop as the two of you sat there, the night air thick with more than the chilly temperature. Joel’s hand rested on the edge of the swing right next to yours and you both stared as his pinky reached out, tangling with your own.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in slightly, his unique scent brushing against your senses. Joel’s eyes flicked to your lips; his breath warm against your cool skin the closer he got.

“I probably shouldn’t do this,” he murmured, yet he didn’t pull away.

“Why not?” you murmured with a trembling voice. His large hand gripped yours fully now, other fingers tangled along with your pinkies.

“Because if I do,” he said, his lips curved into a faint smile as they almost brushed yours, “I might not let you leave.”

Your eyelids just fluttered closed when the sound of the door creaking open broke the moment, and the two of you pulled back as Maria’s voice called from inside. “Joel! Are you out here? Sarah’s ready for bed.”

Joel’s eyes lingered on you as he sighed. “Guess the universe has other plans tonight.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly as you stood and led the way inside. “Goodnight, Joel.”

“Night, darlin’,” he replied with a soft smile, watching as you climbed the stairs to your room.

Heart fluttering madly at the memory of a mere almost-kiss made you wonder how it would feel to actually kiss Joel. With his pouty lips and the bristles of his scruffy beard, you imagined kissing him would be akin to satisfying a long-held craving. You lost yourself in daydreams for a few minutes before forcing yourself from bed and down to the dining room for breakfast.

The morning sun filtered through the inn’s frosted windows, creating a soft glow in the cozy common room. You sat on the couch in front of the hearth, letting the heat from the fire lick your toes until they were nice and toasty. The other guests were still asleep while Maria hummed in the kitchen, and Tommy shuffled through the door with a sleepy greeting, his hair askew and a bundle of firewood in his arms.

You phone buzzed loudly against the wooden end table, the screen lighting up with the absolute last person you wanted to talk to – your boss. A sense of dread settled in your chest as you answered the call.

“Hi,” you said, forcing a neutral tone.

“Good morning,” your boss replied, his no-nonsense tone immediately setting you on edge. “Nice work on revamping the campaign.”

“Thanks. Is that all you called to say?” You stood from the couch, restless, glancing toward the window. A fresh layer of snow made everything seem softer, kinder, pulling once again at your heart.

Your boss scoffed. “Are you on the road yet?” he snapped, his impatience slipping through any pretense at pleasantries.

Dread flooded your gut. “Uh, not yet. My truck should be ready this morning though.”

“The owner of our largest account getting married and personally inviting you to the wedding is a big fucking deal and we cannot afford for you to miss it. Why you didn’t just get a rental car and go instead of staying in that Podunk town is beyond me—"

“Hey!” you interrupted, not caring if you cut him off. “I love that truck. My dead father left me that truck and you damn well know what it means to me.”

He caved a little, shifting to a placating tone as he said your name. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… I need you back on track, your focus where it should be.”

With a heavy sigh, you gripped the phone tighter. Silence hung in the air as you prayed for patience, before you finally huffed a defeated, “Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll expect an update from the road later today. You’ll barely make it as it is,” your boss replied before the line went dead.

The temperature dropped mid-morning, the cold more biting than ever with the wind cutting through the layers you’d bundled yourself in to pick up your truck from Jimmy’s garage. The old hunk of metal, held together by little more than the blood, sweat, tears, and unending love poured into over the years, rumbled to life as Jimmy went over the repairs made.

With a heavy heart you drove back to the inn, feeling like your choice was made for you, parking the truck in the driveway to make it easier to load up your belongings. Snow started falling again, rubbing salt in the wound of having to leave. You left the truck running, wanting to make your goodbyes quick in fear that you’d cave to any pleas to say.

Maria stood by the door, her arms crossed tightly and your packed luggage at her feet. “You’re sure you want to do this?” she asked, her voice tinged with reluctance.

You nodded, barely able to meet her eyes and voice tight. “I’ve got to make it to San Francisco. My boss is already breathing down my neck and has made it clear what will happen if I don’t make it to this wedding.”

Tommy leaned against the porch railing, grinning despite the melancholy air. “You’ll be missed, sweetheart. You certainly left your mark, especially on that brother of mine.”

Before you could respond, Joel’s truck pulled to a stop in front of the inn and Sarah burst out of the backseat like a whirlwind. Her red beanie sat askew atop her head, and her arms clutched tightly to something as she ran toward you, “Wait! You can’t leave yet!”

You knelt to meet her as she barreled into you, holding up a small bundle of pinecone ornaments tied with a ribbon. “I made these special for you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, a sheen of tears in her eyes. “So you’ll always remember us.”

Heart clenching painfully, you clutched the young girl to you and sniffled, careful not to break the thoughtful gift. “Thank you, little bug. I could never forget you, but I will treasure these always.”

“Will we ever see you again?” she asked through a debilitating sob. “I sure hope so, bug,” you replied fighting back tears of your own. Oh, how you hoped so.

When you pulled back, Joel stood a few feet away, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. Wide, coffee-colored eyes held yours, both of your gazes filled with a potent cocktail of emotions. “Mind if I walk you to your truck?” he asked softly. “I’ll load up your bags.”

Words failed you and you nodded, following him down the path while the others lingered on the porch pretending not to watch while they gave you the illusion of privacy. The crunch of snow underfoot was the only sound for the too-short walk to the truck. Joel turned toward you, a guarded expression marred his brow, yet his eyes gave everything away – the longing, the thought of what could have been, all of it.

“You sure about this?” he asked in a low, mournful voice.

No. No, not at all.

You looked away, the ache in your chest making it hard to breathe when you looked at him. Once again reminded of all the things you have given up for sake of this damned career – this loss would be worst of them all, you knew it. “I must – you know that. I can’t just…”

Joel nodded slowly, his jaw tightening at the words you didn’t say. “I get it, I really do. But I wish—”

“Don’t say it,” you whispered, the tears brimming in your eyes spilling over. It was all too much.

He stepped closer, his presence a warm haven against the cold. The world went still, disappearing until it was only you and him under the falling snow as he took your hands in his larger, calloused ones. Your breath caught as he leaned in, dark eyes peering into your soul as he kissed the tear tracks scattered across your face.

The press of his chapped, warm lips against your cool skin made you weak in the knees. You turned your head suddenly, catching his lips with your own in a searing first kiss, one you would never forget. Forgetting yourselves, the kiss deepened, his tongue dancing along the seam of your lips until you gasped, and he licked into your mouth.

The sparks flew like nothing you ever experienced.

How could you walk away from this?

How could you afford not to?

A whoop startled the pair of you apart, chests heaving from the heady mix of want and lack of oxygen. When you peeked past Joel’s shoulder, you saw Sarah dancing across the porch, cheering and signing out your name followed by, “and Daddy sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g…”

Laughter bubbled from deep within, a watery smile spreading across your well-kissed lips as you met Joel’s amused yet bittersweet gaze.

Clearing his throat, Joel pressed his lips against your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and your lips once more before stepping back to help you into the truck. Once settled, he handed you a slip of paper with his phone number and address written in block print. “Please, drive safe. And don’t forget us because we will never forget you, darlin’.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you breathed, “for everything. You and your family made an impression, I could never forget you. I’ll call, I promise.”

He shut your door with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, patting the hood of the truck as you threw it into reverse. Your vision swam as you backed out of the driveway, rear tires slipping a bit in the fresh powder. You couldn’t look back, tapping the horn twice as you drove off, tears cascading down your face.

The winding snow-covered road stretched for miles ahead, flanked by towering evergreens that seemed to close in on you the further you drove away from the Millers. The ornaments Sarah made for you sat on the passenger seat, a bittersweet reminder of what you were leaving behind. The town’s charm and warmth that once loomed large, now grew smaller in the rearview mirror, and with it, your spirits. A bittersweet ache built up with every mile that separated you from the life and people you didn’t want to leave behind.

What the hell were you doing?

You thought it was the right thing, to get to that wedding, to return to your life back in NYC. So, why did it feel so wrong to leave Winterland and all it offered behind? The pit of your stomach ached.

Your phone buzzed with a text notification – your boss sending another sharp reminder of the importance of what awaited you in both San Francisco and New York City. You glanced at the screen only long enough to read the first few words, your blood pressure already spiking from the stress of everything weighing down on you. When your eyes returned to the road, a massive shape appeared in the middle of the road in front of you.

A moose, more massive than you thought any North American four-legged animal had a right to be, stood stock still in the road, enormous body taking up both lanes, dark form stark against the white snow.

“Holy shit!”

You pumped the brakes like your father taught you, the old truck not equipped with antilock brakes, your mind racing in the milliseconds that passed. There was no way around the moose, and you hoped you could stop the truck in time, the thought of hitting the breathtaking creature shattering your already fractured heart. The brakes locked up after all, the truck skidding on the icy road.

The moose bolted into the trees as you fought valiantly to regain control and the vehicle fishtailed, but it was a lost cause. Every movement of your hands on the steering wheel an over-correction, the truck spun sideways before slamming into a snowbank with a sickening crunch. Your head whipped to the side, striking the driver’s side window hard enough to make stars explode behind your eyes.

The truck shuddered before dying, and for a moment, everything went silent except for the faint hiss of the hot engine against the cold precipitation. Pain pulsed through your head, sharp and disorienting, as you struggled to regain your bearings.

Shaky hands searched the cab for your phone, finding it wedged in the bench seat, as the adrenaline drained from your system. You fumbled to unlock it, pulling the slip of paper Joel handed you earlier to type in his phone number, the numbers blurring. You had just enough signal to call for help.

“’Lo?” Joel’s crisp, deep voice rumbled through the phone, and you were both relieved and pained to hear it. Your head hurt so damn much, competing with the pain in your heart.

“Joel?” You fought to keep the tears from falling, but the effort strained your throat, clouding your voice.

“Darlin’? What’s wrong?” The urgency in his voice steadied you somehow. Sucking in a deep, rattling breath, you replied, “I need help.”

You needn’t say any more, already hearing Joel unlock his truck as he demanded, “Where are you? I’ll be right there.”

You gave him the closest approximation of your location, out by the highway. You hadn’t gotten too far in your failed attempt to leave Winterland.

“Stay put, sweetheart. I’m on my way.”

“Shit! Tommy!” Joel yelled frantically for his brother as his truck pulled up behind yours with a spray of snow and ice. The two men jumped out, boots crunching against the ice as they ran to you.

“Darlin’?” he called, his voice urgent yet strong as he wrenched the driver’s side door open. Tommy fetched your belongings while Joel helped you, stowing them away in Joel’s truck.

You blinked at Joel with slightly blurred vision. “I’m okay,” you mumbled, though the knot on your forehead and the associated throbbing suggested otherwise.

Wide, dark eyes scanned your face, his expression tightening when he noticed the bump, a small gash visible in the center. “You hit your head,” he replied, voice low and soft like he was handling a hurt puppy. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“Joel, I’m fine—”

“Can you stand? Walk?” he questioned doubtfully. Joel helped you out of the truck, large hand steadying you with a warm and reassuring grip. You wobbled, head spinning, proving his point that you needed to go to the hospital. “No arguments, darlin’. We’re going to the ER.”

Tommy climbed into the backseat with your luggage as Joel helped you into the front passenger seat. You were shaking, half from the cold and half from the dissipation of adrenaline, and Joel reached over to turn your seat warmer on and covered you with his warm coat after buckling you in.

“The hospital is in the next town over. Shouldn’t take long to get there though,” Tommy assured while Joel worked his way around the truck to climb behind the wheel.

The ride was quiet except for Joel occasionally checking on you and the soft rumble of Tommy’s voice as he updated Maria. Joel’s grip on the steering was tight, knuckles white and jaw set as if holding back a storm of worry as he navigated the icy roads with precious cargo.

The small-town ER was surprisingly empty when Joel pulled up, rushing inside to get a wheelchair for you as Tommy helped you out of the truck. Once inside, the staff whisked you into an exam room, collecting information along with your vitals.

The sterile brightness of the hospital room felt jarring, and you scrunched your eyes against the harsh light. A nurse held an ice pack to your head with gentle pressure while Joel hovered nearby. His concerned smiles were a constant, grounding force.

“Looks like you have a mild concussion,” the doctor diagnosed after some assessment. “I’d like to keep you overnight for observation.”

Opening your mouth to protest, Joel jumped in. “She’ll stay,” he said firmly, holding your gaze as he spoke to the doctor. To you, he added, “No arguments this time.”

You fell back against the reclined hospital bed with a sigh. “Fine,” you muttered, the edges of your irritation softening when Joel pulled up a chair and sat beside you.

After receiving some medicine for the pain, you were allowed to doze off for short periods of time. The nurse came in at various intervals to check vitals as the day turned to late afternoon, Joel never leaving your side.

The buzzing of your phone stirred you from a light doze and you grumbled. It felt like you just fell asleep, dammit. Joel picked the phone up, scowling at the screen. “It’s your boss,” his deep voice a rumbling whisper as he handed you the phone.

Dread coiled in your stomach as you answered, turning the volume down to ease the lingering headache.

“You didn’t check-in,” your boss snapped in lieu of a greeting. “How far along are you?”

Teeth clenched, you spat back, “I was in a car accident. Didn’t get very far. I’m still in the hospital.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said under his breath, though you heard every word. “That’s unfortunate. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve let me – and our biggest client, I might add – down. If you would have gotten back on the road when I told you to, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Silence settled for several long moments as you fought back tears and wracked your staticky brain for a suitable response. When nothing came, your boss heaved a frustrated sigh.

“If you can’t handle your responsibilities, maybe this isn’t the job for you,” he said with finality.

His words cold and detached, they struck harder than the crash. You sat there, phone pressed to your ear and staring into Joel’s kind eyes, as the weight of everything pressed down until something finally snapped.

“You know what?” you replied, voice calm yet firm. “You’re right. This isn’t the job for me.”

“What?”

“I quit,” you said simply, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders even as the words left your mouth. “Consider it one less thing to worry about.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, and though he tried to hide it, a small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“This is ridiculous—” your boss began, but you cut him off. “Oh, go fuck yourself, Brad,” you spat, ending the call before he could respond.

Joel stared at you, eyes sparkling with barely concealed joy, the worry that clouded them earlier giving way to something brighter. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and sweet, the weight of unspoken relief slipping through in his tone.

“Never better,” you said, the realization dawning even as the words left your lips. “I think this accident was a sign that I shouldn’t leave. And him calling to scold me over it just sealed the deal. I’ve wanted to tell Brad to fuck off for so very long.”

Joel’s laugh was low and warm, his hand reaching out to brush yours in a gesture so simple yet full of meaning that your breath hitched. “Good,” he said, smile growing until the corners of his eyes crinkled. “That guy sounded like a real horse’s ass.”

A surprised burst of laughter filled the room, the sound breaking the tension that had been building in your chest for days. “He really is,” you admitted, your fingers curling slightly against his.

Joel’s hand tightened around yours, his expression turning serious, yet the warmth of his gaze never wavered. “So, you’re really going to stay?”

“I am,” you smiled at the warm, certain feeling in your stomach. “I just need to find a job and somewhere to live and move all my stuff from New York and…”

Joel didn’t let you finish. He moved with purpose, slipping into the hospital bed with you. His broad form barely fit, but neither of you cared. His lips met yours in a kiss that was soft yet full of promise, sending warmth cascading through you.

When he pulled back, his voice was low and steady. “We’ll figure all that out after the holidays, darlin’. Until then, you can stay with me and Sarah to celebrate Christmas and New Year’s the way you’re supposed to – with family”

The mention of Sarah made your chest tighten with joy. “She’s going to be over the moon,” you murmured, the thought of her bright smile filling your heart with a new kind of warmth.

Joel smiled, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “So am I.”

Hope bloomed in your chest, mingling with the beginning flutters of something a lot like love. You clung to it with every fiber of your being, realizing that maybe this was the moment your heart had been waiting for all along.

What else, other than the magic of Christmas, could be responsible for turning a simple traffic delay and breakdown on a snowy highway into something so special?

the end

tag list (i included anyone who previously commented, requested, or I thought might like to be added, but please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @abirdsnest @brittmb115 @harrysrosetatto @carolineesnell @tuquoquebrute @inept-the-magnificent @lovely-vamp-princess @kyberblade @bluestar22x

[skunkes]

ok detailed surgery experience

i made this schedule (?) of the major events as soon as I left while I cld still remember (and still kinda forgot!) i like knowing the Times of stuff so I asked my dad to take note of Times for me, and tried to ask for the time where i could

surgery I got was a laproscopic bilateral salpingectomy, full removal of the fallopian tubes only!

Misc details off of dis, obviously TMI territory as its a medical procedure.

The second blood draw (they took blood from me yesterday tooooo) hurt less and more somehow. Nasty nasty bruise forming.

IV really was the worst part of it ! I'd get weird throbs of frustrating pain long after it was in

I was given compression stockings that went right up to my crotch. Your toes stick out, and they put hospital socks over your feet. Some additional compress wraps were placed above my knees.

Pre op/prep didnt take too long at all. I know I have it listed as over an hour of waiting, which always made me nervous to read in other people's experiences, but it doesn't really feel like waiting. The TV helps pass the time, as do the people who are with you if any, and the nurses popping in with help or instructions or updates. The prep room was small and the bathroom was next door. The double doors open to wheel you out. Remote was given toe to control the TV and also call the nurses via a speaker.

The nurse who wheeled me in was nicest, she pronounced my name Correctly and was also really funny and friendly...

In general I knew this surgery was going to go well because I was actually able to fall asleep last night. I've stayed awake/tossed and turned for events far less stressful. Dis was also due to part of it kind of not feeling real for me! And being wheeled into surgery room added to that! It didnt feel real, it felt like watching one of many scenes from medical media of the same point of view.

I did start quaking and shaking once in the surgery room (also small, I did not look around much in fear of it making me panic last minute!)

They had me scoot from the prep bed to the surgery table. There was a pink foam headrest for me to slot the back of my head into. They strap you in with arms out like ur being crucified and thats when it became more Real for me so i started shaking a lot, but I can't tell how bad it was under the heavy blankets. I think I shook more and for longer when I went for my MRI (which also isnt/wasnt scary but the body freaks out for no reason). Im surprised at myself for being so Calm ykwim

Anyway, strapped in, had monitoring stuff stickered onto my body: my sternum, side of body under chest/armpits, and another pair I cant remember where. Hair was put up in hair net. My hospital gown was untied as the tie starts halfway across your body and goes under, but this was not done in an invasive-to-privacy way, and I was still fully covered by it (and then recovered by blankets)

(3 separate people asked me how many kids I had throughout this whole venture, and were Shocked at my response. This was the other most nerve wracking part as I started to get weirdly anxious that someone wouldn't like this and cancel my surgery or something. One of the Askers was the anesthesiologist.) Doctor/surgeon came in and asked if i was ready and talked about how he loved being under anesthesia LOL. Everybody was speaking about their opinions about childbirth and sterilization and parenthood, but amongst each other and not to influence my decision, along with telling each other to set up XYZ. Once again everybody is charmed by Cheye's usage of the word "yay"

Ive never had surgery before, so I was worried about anesthesia. In my mind i was imagining it to be being fully lucid and then your vision darkens and takes you, which was scary to me like i dont wanna be freaking out and then immediately KNOCKED out!

But it was gradual which actually made it more calming for me...the funny nurse put the oxygen mask over me, I got very nervous bc she said to take deep breaths and honestly i couldnt even breath much at all in it, and breathing out also felt very restricting and like I was going to choke, but it wasn't Distressing. I just breathed slowly and it worked anyway.

In a few seconds I felt a cool tingle in my arm that then sort of burst into my torso, and my whole body felt really light and my eyelids draggggggged half closed, but it felt very mechanical and involuntarily (like slowly closing window blinds...or like how the brightness options on a 3DS are numbered buttons ykwim? Like, Closing 1, Closing 2, Closing 3, Closed Halfway, all pressed in quick succession). Heavy heavy heavy. I stayed in that half closed state for a while! (Probably not even a full minute, but it also wasn't instant...i still had time to think and Hear conversation etc, as well as feel that there was some mechanical thing tightening around my spread arms along with the hand adjusted straps)

The funny nurse was telling me to relax and have sweet dreams and that they wld take care of me and such. And then I was out. I do not remember my vision fully fading or eyes fully closing, in my mind they stayed in that half closed state.

Ive heard ppl say it feels like blinking and waking up, but it did feel like sleep to me!!!! I know dreaming under anesthesia isn't really a thing, but waking up felt like....i was really waking up like normal and trying to remember traces of a dream after several hours of sleep.

I always thought it was silly seeing ppl ask if the surgery was over when they come out of it, but I did that. But like i swear it came out involuntarily??? Like i knew it was over....i think it was because I couldnt really SEE anything when i woke up, I could only hear staff speaking to me, and I can barely remember what they said. Vision was VERY very blurred. So I guess that question came out as substitute for Where Am I, and Who's Here With Me? Speaking felt like when audio unsyncs from a video, with my voice trailing far behind my words. I also remember being really bewildered bc there was some sort of residue on my lips, like when they're chapped and dry and cracking. I learned later this was bc of the intubation but i Didnt Know That Yet so i was just scared and thirsty.

Adding another "pain was less bad than the average period which has one Doubled Over" statement to the pile. Pain was at 3/10 or 4/10, which is to say if period pain is a whole abdomen event, this pain was small little bruises occasionally being brushed up against, just small throbs of sore pain in the 3 incision spots. I got an incision inside my belly button and that was the most present sensation, but that might also be bc I hate anything having to do with that area in general 😭 always feels weird.

My throat felt very DRY. It wasn't pain yet, it felt like when you're thirsty + dehydrated and your lips stick together at any slight moisture, but in the throat. Kept trying to look around and wiggle my fingers and toes in hopes that'd help me Come Out Of It sooner bc not being able to see was really frustrating me. I could not make out the face of the person watching over me for some time. I really wanted water !

HORROR when the person looking over me said i had a catheter still in me. Nightmare I wasnt counting on actually happening and wasnt mentally prepared for. I was told I would have one placed (make sure to ask if this is a concern for you!) but i thought they'd take it out before I woke up... I cldnt even feel it in me when I was told this! Which is good.

The staff of course had to remove blankets and open my gown a bit to access the area. But I did not feel any distress about this at the time.

Had a very funny slow motion distress response bracing self for removal. It did not hurt or sting at all, it just felt like [something I cant describe here]. Just pressure! It was pulled out gently but quickly of course.

After 1 hr i was wheeled to a separate private recovery room. The nurse uncovered my lower area to check if incisions were doing good so far as well as to check if I had been provided with a pad/underwear, as some patients have blood or other fluids come out as a result of the surgery.

parents came in, was so grateful for juice but in dismay over my food item being orange (i dont like citrus flavor) jello (i dont like jello 😭) i consumed all of both.

I also worried I'd feel weird about throwing my body parts away. But I dont feel anything ^_^ just feels very awesome and natural

Sore throat started further developing. Nurse came in after some time here, taught me how to Get Up. Was scary! I was worried about it hurting, but it was just more soreness.

Was able to go to the bathroom, went a very little bit but it was enough. I was very scared about seeing my incisions and being disgusted by them....but I caught a glance and it was Okey Yey. They are covered in surgical Glue and dont look gnarly, swollen, red or anything they look very cool ^_^ got dressed in stages as there was nothing to set clothes down on and sat back down on the bed. The bathroom connected to another room where somebody else was preparing for surgery.

Nurse came in with final post op instructions, upon describing nausea to me my skin got cold, stomach activated and krusty krab exploded with it. She was just barely able to get me a bag to throw up in. This exacerbated the throat pain. She encouraged me to get it all out especially since I also expelled gas, which is a good thing.

IV removal didnt hurt! Same level of pain as the tape around it being yanked off. I couldn't even tell it was over. I was wheeled out of the hospital. ^_^ i wore an oversized dress my sister lent me, and cheap target sandals so I wouldnt have to bend to tie shoes. My dad pulled up the car right outside. I brought a pillow to be a barrier in between the seat belt and my stomach.

Its 6:48 neow and I am laying down, but the pain is (currently) the same. I had another nausea (and release. Also exacerbated throat pain.) spell (while in walmart picking up the pain meds), was boiling alive in my very hot room, and was a bit dehydrated which may have contributed to some misery and nausea but as of right now I'm ok, i changed into lighter clothes, drank water, ate a bit, and situated self in a room with ac....i worry about getting up and becoming nauseous again 😭 i hate throwing up.

People are right about it being more discomfort than pain! You have to walk around every few hours, and it doesnt hurt but every step feels like my bellybutton is kinda pinching inward. Being tugged at from the inside. Ive gotten to a point where even chuckling makes me feel this very Sour soreness (not regular dull soreness) so maybe ill start the meds soon if necessary.... Squatting to sit doesnt hurt in a debilitating way, neither does actually sitting or putting on/stepping into clothing.

I couldnt nap because laying on my side doesnt hurt the incisions or anything, BUT its just the strange discomfort again. The weight of gravity on the body makes the incision sites feel very very weird in an abstract way i cant describe. It isnt pain. It feels like a mismatched sensation of some sort. Like if you touched your nose and somehow felt the touch on your knee. Adjacent to this. A very specific sensation sits in all the incision sites and drags down through your mattress to the ground and it feels Weird.

If you get up properly it really doesn't hurt to do so! Use your leg to get yourself fully onto your side, then use your arm to push yourself up into a sitting position.

I am very nervous from when all the good strong hospital meds wear off t_t i heard the day after is a struggle because of dis. but ive got the prescribed pain management on hand (extra strength ibuprofen and tylenol with codeine!! O_O) neow at least ^_^;

OH, AND THE DOCTOR TOOK FOTOS OF MY INSIDES LIKE I ASKED! ^_^ 🫶 I have glossy printed souvenir now! I dont exactly know wtf im looking at but its awesum LOL maybe i will ask for details at the follow up!

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!x reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ minors LOOK THE OTHER WAY

Ch 007: Buckle Up, Baby

A night in the town with Eddie takes a spicy turn when an outfit on display catches your eyes. And what do ya know? It’s your exact measurement…

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 3.5k words

disclaimers & warnings — dialogue heavy, arguing, trauma dumping again, angst, yearning, shy girl yelling at eddie (as she should), sexual tension, grinding, thigh riding, car canoodling 🫣

“She’s a black magic woman, she’s trying to make a devil out of me.”

♡

Spellbinding is the best word you can think of to describe Nocturna, a town spookier than Hawkins just 20 minutes inland. It sure lives up to its name, with the average closing time for restaurants, bars, and shops being 3:30 AM.

“This city is so cute,” you beam. “Love the late night vibe it’s got going on.”

“Right?” Eddie agrees. “If Hawkins were a Spencer’s, ‘Turna would be the back of it.”

Eds takes you to El Diablo Bar & Grill where you settle for a ‘TURNA Tossed salad’ and beer. ‘The Eddie Special’ may have left you full, but there’s no way you’d ever pass up free food.

Your boss helps himself to a couple of beers as well, both of them way too hoppy for your liking. And just as you predicted, downing two of those bad boys after smoking a shit ton of weed has its repercussions.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing?”

Personal space is a foreign concept for Eddie whenever he’s under the influence. Not like that’s any new information. You just didn’t expect him to be so tender, affectionately fiddling with your hair, using it as a mustache, and then attempting to braid it. You’re surprised because he actually does pretty well.

“Where’d you learn how to braid?” you ask.

“Taught myself,” he replies. “That way if Nancy ever calls out, someone at Hellfire would at least know how to do hair. Luckily I haven’t ran into that problem yet.”

“That’s really thoughtful,” you swoon as Eddie goes to braid your other side.

“I’m also learning how to curl hair,” Eddie adds. “If I could get past burning myself with the iron, that’d be great. Until then, I’ll always vouch for a traditional sock bun.”

You watch has he loops your hair around itself to secure the braid, just as he did the first one. Then comes the unpredictable. Suddenly, you’re taken aback when Eddie gives your hair a tug. Aggressively.

“Eddie!” you cry out.

He spirals into an outrageous belly laugh.

You shove Eddie away from you in a playful form of disgust, his dramatics launching him right out of his seat. Customers start to look your way. You hide your face in embarrassment.

“I think you’ve flown off the handle,” you accuse.

“No,” he denies. “Just comfortable that’s all.”

“Yeah and a bully,” you hiss, undoing your braids out of spite. He knows you’re kidding around.

“What?” Eddie questions, reeling you in via bar stool, smirk growing more and more prominent the closer you get. “You don’t like that I pull hair?”

“That’s enough, you little freak.”

Eddie stops, jokingly wincing at your harsh words. "Thought you were into freaks."

"...Shut up,” is all you can think to say.

"Come on..." he taunts, giving your side a soft pinch. “You know I'm right."

He is right.

You poke his stomach with one of your pointy fingers.

"Okay, and what if I was? Does that get you off? Mr. Know-It-All?”

Eddie clears his throat and squirms in his seat.

"No, actually,” he shakes his head, leaning into your touch. “Cuz that's just not true.”

Your eyes find each other again.

An apology lingers in the air. Eddie bites his lower lip as he stares, closing the gap between you two with a slight turn of his knee. You explore his dark irises, his wide pupils. When fixated on you, they emit what appears to be sorrow, with just a pinch of regret.

"Sometimes I'm wrong. And I fuck up,” he admits. “Whether I like to admit it or not."

Eddie chugs the remainder of his pint before slamming it.

You shrug. “Yeah. Like when you told me to get off my phone today but stayed on yours the entire time.”

Eddie chuckles away from you.

“Playing music…” you persist, leaning into him a little more. “Texting people…”

“You jealous?” he questions, tongue rolling around in his cheek.

“In your dreams,” you lie.

You’re so close to him now you can practically smell the beer. He inches closer, the front portion of his curly locks tickling the side of your face.

“In your dreams.”

Your thighs clench. In your dreams, indeed. Eddie winks at you like he knows.

“Whatever you say,” you scoff. “Freak.”

———— 🌹————

After dinner, you and Eddie decide to walk around the shopping strip. Eddie walks closest to the street, leaving you on the innermost part of the sidewalk like a gentleman.

“So who’s Wayne? Heard you and Henry talking about him before we left.”

“He's my uncle,” Eddie answers. “Pretty much raised me since I was a kid. I owe a lot to him.”

You continue to walk. Somehow along the way, you and Eddie end up strolling with your arms around each other. He turns to ask,

“Who is Max?”

“Max?” you’re stunned to hear that name roll off his tongue. Despite him helping with her YMCA membership, you had always registered them as being worlds apart from each other. “She’s my sister.”

Eddie slowly nods in understanding.

“Her full name is Maxine,” you explain. “Max for short.”

“No wonder,” Eddie chuckles. “I always hear you mentioning a Max and have been wondering who that is.”

“You jealous?” you echo him.

He sneers, “You wish.”

You take this time to admire Eddie. His wanderlust eyes. His pronounced Cupid’s Bow. His thick, wavy locks. The tiny freckle at the crook of his neck that you were sure a lover left for him in a past life. The way his dark clothes always seem to hug him so nice. He’s breathtaking. The hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

"WHOA!" Eddie brings you back. "That's the hottest shit I've ever seen!"

There he goes again. You race after Eddie as he scampers across the street, leading you to what appears to be a lingerie-slash-sex shop. On display is a beautiful scarlet red two piece with fluffy wings behind it to match.

DEVIL WOMAN, is what the set is advertised as.

"Whew, lord," Eddie whistles, pressing his hands against the plexiglass.

He turns to you desperately.

"You can make SO many tips with this on," Eddie insists. "I'm telling you right now woman, you need to seize this opportunity."

"Are you gonna pay for it?" you joke, batting your lashes seductively.

"Sure!" Eddie exclaims. "A-anything you want tonight, you'll get."

It sounds too good to be true.

"Not you trying to spoil me..."

"Definitely me trying to spoil you,” a sneaky smirk forms across his face yet again. “Especially since I’ve been an asshole lately.”

It’s a fair bargain. Not like you can deny it either.

You two shake hands, deal, and make your merry way inside Madame Sédutrice’s Love Boutique.

Time to make his pockets — and heart — hurt.

————💋 ————

It fits you like a glove.

Everything is just right. There is no free space, but there is some real estate to breathe. The set is also squat and split proof. Perfect for a good show.

You strut in front of the mirror like a Victoria’s Secret Devil, relishing over how well the fiery red set accentuates your bust, hugs your hips, and highlights the cheekiest parts of your ass with just enough coverage to have the men wondering.

To leave Eddie wondering.

You’re parading around some more, taking selfies at all angles while Eddie talks to the cashier about guitars. Eventually he does circle back around, as you've been in here for a long period of time.

"Shy Girl," Eddie checks on you from outside. "Did you die in there?"

You put your phone away.

"No, but you're about to."

He laughs. "I love the confidence. Let me at her."

You pull the curtain over so that Eddie can see.

“Jesus fuck.”

Eddie sinks down to his knees, the tips of his fingers trailing from your hips to your thighs, down to your calves. He’s being dramatic again, you think, evident by the three bows of resignation he gives you as he continues to take in your beauty.

"What do you think?" you ask him.

"Simply out of this world," Eddie gasps. He stands to spin you around like he once did before. "You look... like an absolute fantasy. Destined for some alternate dimension."

His breathing heightens as his rough hands trail down to your birthmark. And soon, you’re up there with him.

“I can already see you on that stage,” Eddie gushes. “Doing your thing, stealing the show, driving customers wild. The spotlight soaking in all your beauty...”

“The version of me living in your head sounds pretty damn cool,” you giggle.

You snake your arms around the nape of his neck. Eddie blushes. “She’s a lot like the girl in front of me, actually.”

Either of you can let go now. But you both don't.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks.

"Mmm… I don't think I'm done just yet," you bat your eyes once more. "What’s a set like this without some accessories?"

You grab his hand and he watches in shock — almost starstruck by you — when you manually wrap his hand around your neck.

“Like a necklace of sorts,” you continue. “A choker, maybe?”

“A choker,” Eddie nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He gives you a teasing, gentle squeeze. You’re an absolute puddle.

He grins at you connivingly, playfully.

"Lead the way, m'lady. Anything you want tonight is yours.”

———— 🔥 ————

Satisfied is an understatement. You’re strutting back to Eddie’s van now as he trails closely behind, hauling shopping bags that belong to you in each hand.

“Thank you Eddie,” you say as he manages to open the door for you too.

“Anytime, Princess,” he insists.

You get settled on the passenger side while Eddie starts the van back up again. He waits for a while in his seat.

“You looked stunning in that piece,” Eddie raves, the image of you strutting around still living in his head. “I almost don’t want you to wear it anymore.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

“I wanna be the only one who gets to see you in it,” he explains.

“Gatekeeper much?”

“No, I’m just selfish,” he says. “Especially when you look like that.”

Eddie takes it upon himself to fasten your seatbelt for you.

Your eyes trail along as he clicks it in place, adjusting the seatbelt so that it laid perfectly and untangled, protecting your hips…shielding your chest…

“My eyes only, you know?”

“Just yours?”

“Mhm,” he strains. “Mine and only mine.”

His gentle eyes are begging, glued to your lips like bees to honey. His tongue pokes out again, and you watch as he licks his lips in lust. Fuck. You can’t help it anymore. You decide to lean into him and try again.

But hostile air stops you in your place. There's fear in that man's eyes the closer you get and he pulls away from you.

OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

You swat the rest of him away. “You’re doing it again.”

Eddie sighs in defeat.

"I know."

The fact that you didn’t have to elaborate is very telling. Eddie is not stupid. He knows the game he’s playing.

You watch with zero sympathy this time as Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He lifts a hand. You flinch. Then you relax again when you realize the man isn’t trying to hit you.

“I’m VERY aware of what I’m doing, Hargrove. Okay? That’s the worst part.”

“And you think it’s okay? You like stringing me along, is that it?”

“There’s MORE TO IT, alright?” he groans. “I just don’t know how to explain it to you just yet.”

Eddie starts up again.

“I…” he says, his haunted eyes sparkling. “I just. CAN’T. get. involved. with a coworker. Let alone someone who works under me. Think of all the legal issues that can rise up.”

Bullshit.

“That is a FUCKING LIE!” you scream. “A fucking LIE, Eddie and you know how I know that?”

He looks back over at you.

“It’s because you didn’t think twice about it when you were hooking up with Chrissy.”

You’ve had enough of his excuses. Startled, Eddie shies away from you, surprised that you knew of what he so desperately wanted to conceal.

“Who told you that?”

“Who else would know?”

“Everyone at Hellfire, basically,” Eddie laughs pettily. “I just hoped it wouldn’t get around to you.”

Frustrated, Eddie turns off his car. He tosses his keys onto the center console between you both.

“Chrissy and I happened like two or three times. Is that what you wanted to hear?” he asks you. “She was horny, I was horny. She never gave me the time of day in high school so I got all excited. One thing led to another. Thrill eventually wore off. Now she’s just one of my good friends.”

You cross your arms and glare out the window.

“But the reason I was soooo okay with the Chrissy thing is because I only saw her as a fling,” Eddie continues. “End of story.”

“Where exactly are you going with this?”

“The difference with you is that a part of me actually wanted this to go somewhere.”

Does he think you’re stupid? Surely Eddie can’t think you’re just going to fall for his words instead of his actions.

You scoff. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?”

You muster up the courage to look over at him again. And there he is, his big brown doe eyes glimmering under the full moon.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before, Hargrove,” he mumbles softly. “That shit’s terrifying. For the first time in an incredibly long time I feel like someone gets me.”

You attempt to look away again. Eddie cranes his neck over towards you to meet you where you’re at.

“Someone who gets what it’s like to have a shitty, absent father,” Eddie continues. “Someone who also had to learn how to navigate grief before getting a fucking learner’s permit.”

“You can stop,” you choke. “I get the picture.”

But Eddie continues.

“…Someone who also has to be the bread-winner of the family, not by choice, but by necessity. And someone whose now got a shit ton of trust issues cuz somebody else had to go and fuck ‘em up THAT badly.”

Your throat begins to burn. A soul cry marinates at the pit of your stomach.

"I'm so infatuated with you, Hargrove,” your boss insists. “Okay? You have no idea.”

You tsk.

“You’re infatuated with me,” it’s more of a statement than a question of yours. “Yet you push me away.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, like you don’t have trouble accepting things you so rightfully deserve?”

He reaches over to grab your hand. You let him.

"There's nothing scarier than falling for someone who is your literal mirror," Eddie whispers. "Especially when you don't like anything about yourself."

“I know.”

You two fall silent and end up staring ahead for quite some time.

Both of you observe a couple cross the street together. The smitten pair are taking a stroll on the sidewalk, hand in hand and falling into one another like missing puzzle pieces. The guy kisses the girl's forehead, his silhouette reminding you so much of Steve.

“I also didn’t wanna get in between you and Harrington," Eddie mumbles.

“I told you we’re just fuck buddies.”

“But he really, really likes you.”

“Yeah, but if he’s not over Nancy, then what’s the point?”

It’s been a decade since Steve and Nancy broke up and he’s still lovesick over her. When you realized that she couldn’t ever be replaced, you stopped trying to pursue Steve romantically. Eddie falls mute again.

"I'm just his lil pocket pussy for all I know," you break the ice with a laugh.

"Don't say that," Eddie disapproves. "You are more than your body, Shy Girl."

“Then tell me what I am, Eddie,” the wounded part of you speaks. “Since I don’t seem to know.”

His gaze softens. “Well, it’s easy.”

You look at him.

"Corn ball alert,” Eddie prefaces. “But you’re the conversations you have with your regulars, asking them about their day and if they have any updates for you… You're the friendships you make with girls that you don't see a need to compete with. And you're that silly little dance you do when Argyle makes you food. And you’re also the destructive parts of yourself that you keep hiding from but little do you know that even those parts of you tell a story."

The sound of police sirens divert your attention. You shudder at the noise. Eddie seemingly makes note of it and clears his throat as a placeholder.

"…I didn't think you paid attention to any of that, Eds."

"I'm more observant than you think."

You believe him. After all, there are instances when you catch him sneaking a glance at you, turning away too late because you’re caught by his eyes to do the same.

A sigh escapes your body. You interlock your fingers with his.

“I don’t know what... this… is,” you begin. “But all I know is that I really enjoy your company. And that I’ve had a crush on you since the day I met you. If it wasn't obvious already."

Eddie snorts. “Even when I was freaking out over kegs and ground chili?”

“Especially when you were freaking out over kegs and ground chili.”

And now forgiveness is in the air. Monkey see, monkey do, and soon both you and Eddie are grinning at each other from one side of your faces to the other.

“Please,” Eddie requests politely with a gulp. “Will you let me kiss you?”

“Yes.”

To your surprise, Eddie leaves a peck on your cheek out of all places. This fucker, still so polite. He doesn’t touch or graze anywhere else while he does.

“Thanks,” he says as he pulls away. “I guess.”

But you only want him closer now.

“Oh don’t be stupid,” you giggle grabbing his face with both your hands. “Just fucking kiss me.”

You rest your hands at his chin when you pull him closer. And with Eddie’s permission, you sink your lips onto his. His warm breath circles you as your lips attach to one another.

There’s no turning back now.

Eddie’s lips are as soft as a cloud, and they seem to know yours very well. When he’s latched on, Eddie synchronizes with your rhythm almost immediately, getting a few more kisses in before his tongue begs you for entrance. You deny him access and push him back.

“Oooh,” you taunt him, causing him to laugh. “Someone likes me.”

“Maybe,” Eddie blushes, cupping the side of your face with one of his rigid hands. He gives the back of your head an endearing little scratch.

“But you…can’t get involved huh?”

Eddie shakes his head, doing his very best to stand his ground. He’s back to staring at your lips. “No. Definitely can’t…get involved.”

Of course not.

“Not even if I do this?”

You swoop over to press down on the button of Eddie’s seat belt to unbuckle it. Click. He restrains himself, but there’s wonder in his eyes.

“Or this?”

Your hands travel to the side furthest from you as you lean to crank the lever, lowering the head of Eddie’s driver seat to a 30 degree angle.

Amused now, he furrows his brows together and rests his hands behind his head, manspreading as you play that agonizingly long game.

“You’re pushing it, Hargrove…”

Using his unavailable hands to your advantage, you climb over him and assert yourself on his lap. A low groan escapes Eddie’s nose. You make sure to strategically situate yourself right on his crotch. Eddie’s breath hitches, hand hovering over your birthmark as you sink those hips into him. He bucks his up in return, trying to keep up with you.

“What about this?”

“Oh, that’s not fair…”

His hands are back at your waist.

A protruding essence grows in size as you continue to ride Eddie’s thigh. Soft, low whimpers escape from his chest, his dark eyes now beseeching at his mercy. Eddie’s fingers curl, enclosing themselves tightly around the fabric of your baby tee. His available hand gnaws at the seat below him.

“I don’t like playing fair,” you whisper huskily. “I just like getting even.”

Both of yours eyes are glued to what you’re doing, where you’re grinding, and how.

“Why do you do this to me?” he whispers longingly.

“I think it’s safe to say that you’ve been edging me for quite some time, Munson,” you shrug angelically. “Now it’s my turn to give you a taste of—”

You squeal suddenly when Eddie’s hand flies to your throat. The grip he has on you tightens hastily, long before you can even process it.

Shock overpowers you as Eddie studies you eagerly, with flared nostrils and a hot chest. You peer down at him with glossy eyes and yearning lips.

“Back of the van,” Eddie orders. “Now.”

—————————————

tag list: @battymunson , @the-fairy-anon, @ali-r3n, @corrodedcoffincumslut, @bebe07011, @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerrr , @jxpsi , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @holabeans00, @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse

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author's note: i'd be lying if i told you guys i didn't play imaginary barbies in my head in order to map out the argument between eddie and shy girl dfsjklfdkgfgsg would you say I’m a puppet master?