#things never turn out right when I start drawing at midnight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cosmicanakin · 8 months

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𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 ⟢ | vinnie hacker.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⟣ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. vinnie hacker x female reader.

⟣ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. helping vinnie in the garage, your knowledge, and skills with cars over the years come to surface, unveiling a secret you'd kept hidden.

⟣ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). fluff ┆︎ explicit language ┆︎ smut ┆︎ thigh riding ┆︎ fingering ┆︎ breeding kink ┆︎ no use of y/n.

kari's corner ⟢ ݁⋆ while i was scrolling through pinterest, i fell down a rabbit hole of photos of vinnie working on cars.

the soft clanking and muttered curses drifting from the garage pull you away from your mindless scrolling on your phone. you glance at the clock, noticing it's past midnight already. vinnie told you he'd be done working on his car by now but it seems he's hit another snag in repairs.

sighing, you slide off the couch and pad down the hallway. vinnie's bent over the open hood distractedly turning a wrench, smears of grease decorating his gray tank top and forearms in a way that makes your heart flutter. you admire his toned physique for a moment, always loving when he gets hands on.

"any luck, babe?" you ask softly, not wanting to startle him. vinnie jerks up with a grimace, rubbing the back of his neck. "ah, no not yet. this damn fuel pump is being a real pain in my ass. i've replaced every other part but it just won't prime right."

he kicks the tire in frustration earning a soft chuckle from you. striding over, you stand on your tiptoes to peer into the engine compartment. years spent helping your dad under the hoods of countless vehicles have given you more than a casual understanding.

"mind if i take a look?" you inquire, already sliding some gloves from the table beside you. vinnie gapes at you in disbelief. "i had no idea you knew about cars, babe," disbelief colors his tone but you can also detect a hint of thrill at discovering another layer to you.

"my dad always said it's a good skill for any woman to have. now scoot over, let me see what's going on." vinnie readily obliges, interest overtaking his previous annoyance as you step into his place. running an analytical eye, you soon spot the issue.

"ah, there's your problem. the fuel filter is badly clogged, no wonder it can't draw fuel properly. just needs a replacement, should clear it right up." you declare confidently, removing the filter to examine. vinnie peers over your shoulder in amazement.

"damn baby, you never cease to surprise me. i'm seriously so impressed right now, you've got me feeling all kinds of things." he purrs against your ear, hands sliding around your waist from behind. a shiver runs down your spine at his breath on your skin but you maintain focus, humming thoughtfully.

"flattery will get you everywhere mister, now hand me the socket wrench so i can get this fixed," you demand gently, holding a hand back expectantly. vinnie hurriedly passes you the tool, enthralled by your take-charge demeanor. within minutes the new filter is installed and you're reassembling the compartment.

flicking your gloves away, you turn to face vinnie's adoring gaze with a smile. "alright big man, give her a start, and let's see if that did the trick." he grins, pressing a swift kiss to your lips in thanks before jumping into the driver's seat.

the cars roars to life on the first try, rumbling smoothly without any hiccups. vinnie whoops loudly, leaning out the window with glee. "fuck baby, you're amazing! that was the perfect fix. come here, i gotta give you a proper reward."

giggling, you allow vinnie to tug you into his lap as he's sat in the driver's seat. his mouth latches onto your neck desperately, hands roaming your sides. "i'm so turned on by how smart and skilled you are. drives me crazy knowing you could probably rebuild this engine from scratch if you wanted," he growls between kisses.

heat pools low in your belly at his adoring praise. you slide his hands up under your shirt, craving his touch. "mhm, maybe i will someday just to watch you swoon. but for now..." twisting, you capture vinnie's lips hungrily.

he sighs into the kiss, deepening it instantly as his tongue delves between your parted lips. you rock against his firm thigh. vinnie groans, hands gripping your hips to guide your movements.

"fuck, i need you so bad. let's take this inside, i wanna worship your perfect body properly." he breathes heavily, pupils blown wide with want. you nod eagerly, already scrambling from his lap toward the house. vinnie follows, hastily towing you the rest of the way by your wrist.

as soon as the bedroom door clicks shut he's pinning you against it feverishly. your shirt disappears followed by his as he assaults your collarbone with rough kisses and nips. a gasp escapes your throat, grabbing handfuls of his hair to encourage the delicious treatment.

vinnie hikes your legs around his waist, lifting as if you weigh nothing at all. the hard line of his erection presses relentlessly against your core through the multiple layers still separating you, seeking friction. you grind down needily, desperate for more contact.

"slow down, baby, 'm not going anywhere," he pants, carrying you to the bed and laying you out like a feast. vinnie quickly divests the rest of your clothing, gazing in awe at your naked form beneath him.

"so perfect, and all mine." his worshipping words steal your breath, stomach clenching deliciously. when his mouth latches onto a pert nipple to suckle, you cry out loudly at the exquisite sensation.

vinnie takes his time lavishing each breast and curve of your body with wet kisses and love bites, mapping every sensitive spot until you're writhing and begging for more. finally his fingers dip to your dripping core, circling your swollen clit teasingly.

"fuck vinnie!" you babble, back arching off the mattress at his feather light touches. he chuckles darkly, sinking two digits into your core. "you take my fingers so well baby. bet you'll feel even better wrapped around my cock though, what do you think?"

a choked moan is your only response, eyes rolling back as he pumps his fingers leisurely. vinnie slowly adds a third, stretching your entrance deliciously full. his thumb rolls firm circles over your clit in time, driving you to the edge at an agonizing pace.

just as your orgasm begins to crest, he removes his hand entirely leaving you keening. vinnie stands to remove the last of his clothing, hard length jutting proudly from his slender hips. the sight alone could make you cum but he hasn't given permission yet.

crawling back over you, vinnie slots his cock against your dripping entrance and leans down to claim your mouth in a filthy kiss. "gonna make you feel so good, fuck you senseless until you can't remember your name. that's what you want isn't it?"

you whimper desperately, nodding fervently against his lips. "please, i want to feel you so deep inside me. use me as rough as you like, i'm all yours baby." his restraint snaps, and with one powerful thrust, he's fully seated to the hilt within your clenching heat.

you cry out loudly at the relentless stretch, walls spasming deliciously around his girth. vinnie groans deeply, staying locked in place to adjust before beginning a punishing rhythm of hard, deep strokes. his hips snap violently, balls slapping your swollen flesh with each impact.

all you can do is hold on for dear life, nails raking down his sweat slicked back as he fucks you into oblivion. vinnie pistons his hips with animalistic drives, pounding directly into your most sensitive spots unerringly. a constant litany of filthy praises tumble from his pretty lips, only spurring you nearer the edge.

"fuck you look gorgeous taking my cock sweet girl, your pussy was made for me i swear. gonna fill you up, have your belly swollen with my babies, you want that, baby? want me to come inside you while i fuck my name out of that beautiful mouth?"

the depraved imagery plunges you over at last, walls constricting vinnie's member in a vice grip. your orgasm tears through you with ruthless intensity, eyes rolling back as you scream his name. he chases his own release, fucking you through the aftershocks until spilling deep within your quivering channel with a guttural groan.

collapsing together in a sweaty heap, you trade sloppy kisses and whispered 'i love you's' while coming down from ecstasy. vinnie curls around your sated form protectively, pressing sweet affection into any skin he can reach.

"you never cease to amaze me, sweetheart. i love how full of surprises you are, constantly keeping me on my toes. and damn do i love when you take charge like that, so fucking hot." he sighs contentedly, nuzzling your hair.

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lnfours · 6 months

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* ✰. — supernatural | l.n

summary: this love’s possessing me, but i don’t mind at all ; a new year with the same boy, but in a different way.

warnings: fluff, another friends to lovers!au brought to you by yours truly, based off ‘supernatural’ by ariana grande, pining so damn hard, a hint of language, not proofread bc i can’t sleep and i have this on my mind

masterlist | listen

✧˖°.🪐⋆｡°✩

you weren’t really sure when things changed with lando. how the once platonic touches turned into lingering ones that left a fire burning beneath his fingertips. how quick glances turned into longing stares before the other would notice and a quick shift of vision. everything suddenly meant something.

of course, everyone had put money on it years ago. they all had a gut feeling that at some point, things would come clear to the both of you that you were meant to be all along. how all those past relationships, situationships and failed first dates never worked out because no one could compare. and as always, the two of you would always shut it down. quick to reassure your other friends that if it ever were to happen, it’d ruin a life long friendship which was far more important.

they didn’t want to hear it though. always giving a slight nod, a ‘sure’ or a ‘we’ll see about that’. and boy were they right. they were onto the both of you before you even started. assumptions slowly coming to life as they all watched how the two of you acted around the other all of a sudden. how he’d always have an arm around you, not in a protective way, but in a ‘i need you right here with me’ kind of way. they all noticed how you never backed away, how you’d simply melt into him as the night progressed. your head leaning back on his shoulder as you talked. or how you would slip a hand around his back, occasionally drawing shapes onto the thin material of his shirts. a simple giveaway to them about something you didn’t even know was happening yet.

but now it was new years, the house party buzzing with people and music and everything in between. a celebration of the end of another year and into a new one with new beginnings. manifestations of good things in the air as the music played through the speakers of the house.

you were sat on the couch, drink in hand as you laughed with some of your mutual friends. lando couldn’t help but keep glancing over at you, eyes dancing over the way your eyes sparkled in the dim lighting. how your eyes creased when you laughed and smiled, how suddenly you were all he could see in a room full of people.

“mate,” max’s voice brought him back to earth, “did you hear what i said or were you too busy eye-fucking y/n?”

lando turned to his best friend, eyebrows pulled together, “what?”

he was trying not to get defensive. trying so hard not to tell his best friend that he wasn’t eye-fucking you, but rather looking over at you lovingly. looking at you as his heart went a mile a minute, scanning over all the features of your face for the millionth time, but all of a sudden taking this time, right here, right now, to try to memorize it. memorize everything little thing that made you perfect to him.

“c’mon, mate,” max sighed, almost as if he was tired of the same story, “you’ve been staring at her for the past five minutes. when are you going to go tell her you love her?”

lando swallowed the sip of his drink, rolling his eyes at his friend, “i don’t know what you’re on about.”

“please,” pietra joined the conversation now, arm linked on max’s, “you’re a terrible liar. you both are.”

he looked at the blonde with curiosity in his eyes. you both are? what was that supposed to mean? could it be-

he was about to ask before she spoke, “listen, you’re both single. clearly you’re into each other, just go talk to her!”

and with that, the couple was gone. off to join the circle of people in the living room who were counting down to midnight. he looked at the time on his phone, twenty minutes to the new year. to the new chapter he had desperately been craving.

he took another sip of his drink before he felt a hand on his shoulder, a soft ‘excuse me’ echoing in his ears. he looked up, a smile on your face as you squeezed past the person next to him to stand beside lando. he was quick to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him in the crowded area.

you smiled, tucking a strand of hair from your face, with your free hand as the other wrapped around his neck, “hey,”

“hey,” he smiled right back at you, “feeling okay?”

you nodded, “i am now, yeah.”

oh if his heart wasn’t already flying out of his chest, it sure was now. your smile alone could send him over the moon. your fingers absentmindedly reaching towards the curls at the nape of his neck, twisting them lightly between your fingers. you loved when he kept his hair a little longer than normal so you could do this.

little did you know, he kept it a little longer just for you to do it.

“want something to drink? i can go grab you something,”

you shook your head, “i’m okay, thank you,”

he nodded back at you, “so, find your new years kiss yet?”

you scrunched your nose, looking around the house, “have you seen the people here? i don’t think i’ll have much luck. you?”

he shrugged, “haven’t had much luck either, but i also haven’t even really been looking.”

you laughed softly, “you haven’t?”

he shook his head, looking past you to look at the clock. ten minutes.

“i mean,” he started, “there’s one girl but i don’t know if she’s into me.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying not to let your face fall as your heart went to your feet, “well, what’s she look like?”

he swallowed a sip from his drink, “she’s gorgeous, even when she thinks she isn’t, she is. she’s really smart, possibly the smartest in the room right now. and she likes to go out, but she’d much rather curl up on the couch and put a movie on or read a book or something. and she keeps me in line, knows when to bring my ego back to earth.”

you smiled softly, “she sounds great.”

“she is,” he scanned your facial features, “she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

you sucked in a breath, “is she here?”

“yeah,” he smiled softly, “she’s right in front of me.”

suddenly the world stopped. it felt like time stood still as you stood in front of him. it was like you two were the only ones in the room.

“lando,” you breathed out, unsure of what to say. every birthday wish, every shooting star, you had used for this very moment. and now it was unfolding in front of you, and nothing has made you feel so many things at once quite like this has.

five minutes to the new year.

he smiled back at you, the toothy grin you had learned to fall in love with no matter how much he picked it apart whenever he would take pictures. you loved the little gap between his teeth, the way the moles and freckles charted his skin like constellations. constellations just for you. it was right here in this moment that everything everyone has ever said started to make you realize it has been him all along.

“i know it’s scary and new and every thing we always thought was something that was going to ruin our friendship,” he said, “but i can’t help it. i’m falling in love with you.”

the people around you started counting down, “59, 58, 57…”

“i’m falling in love with you, too,” you said, eyes scanning over his, green with specks of blue and oh so pretty, “i’ve been in love with you since the moment we met.”

he stood now, pulling you closer to him. 30, 29, 28…

“i want this,” he said, “i want you. i always have, and im sorry it took me this long to finally admit it.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck as his snaked around your middle. he was holding you as close as possible, and although it wasn’t a new experience to be this close, to take in the smell of his cologne, the smell of his shampoo and the cream he used to style his stupidly perfect curls. it wasn’t new to experience everything that made him ten times more irresistible, but right now, your heart was about to fly out of your chest at the feeling of him being this close before. a step into uncharted territory and you were growing impatient by the second. wanting nothing more than to just call him yours already. to let the world know that he was yours and yours only. to let your friends know that they were right all along, ready to hear the ‘i told you so’s as long as it kept him right here.

“i’m sorry, too.” you said. and you meant it. you had wished this had happened sooner, you couldn’t help but wonder that if it had, where you two would be now. what your little life would’ve looked like right about now.

with ten seconds left on the clock, he smiled and mumbled to you softly, “be my new years kiss,”

you smiled back at the curly haired boy you’ve loved your whole life, “i wouldn’t want you to kiss anyone else.”

five, four, three, two, one…

there were yells of celebration in the air, the echo of the fireworks on the tv. everyone either toasting to the new years or ringing in a new year with their loved by celebrating with a kiss. but you paid no mind to any of it, to any of the noise circling around you as you took in the way his lips slotted against yours. how his lips tasted like the cherry lip balm you had lent him earlier on in the night with a hint of the whiskey he had been nursing. his hands holding you in place in front of him, yours wrapping around his neck as he took it a step further and licked against your bottom lip.

everything about it sent butterflies straight to your stomach because after all this time, all the dreaming about this moment, it finally happened. you two had managed to crack, let down the facade. and truthfully, it felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders and it made you question why neither of you came clean sooner.

his nose pressed against yours and you laughed softly, meeting his eyes. he was smiling back at you, wrapping a strand of your hair around his finger before slotting it back behind your ear.

he licked his lips, the both of you basking in each other after years and years of pining, “wanna get out of here?”

“please,” you sighed, and with that he led you through the crowd around you. led you to the door of the house party, nodding and bidding his few goodbyes before heading out. you held onto his arm the whole way, until he was unlocking the doors to the mclaren parked down the street. he opened the door for you, just like he always had, and you slid in. this time as he closed the door, you couldn’t help but notice the shift of energy. the way everything was unfolding was nothing less than exciting.

he climbed in on the drivers side, starting the car before slotting his hand with yours.

“mine or yours?”

you shrugged, looking over at him with a smile, “doesn’t matter,”

he nodded, pressing your hand to his lips as he pulled away from the curb. and really, it didn’t matter to you. because you would follow him anywhere. even to the ends of the earth and back.

which, of course he knew that. because he’d do the same for you.

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beyondthesefourwalls · 9 months

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Cowboy Resolutions

Summary: New Year’s Eve at the Hard Deck with all of your friends was a tradition, one that you loved and held close to your heart. When you and your husband decide to slip away from the crowd for a late night stroll on the beach right before midnight, you realize that neither of you had the purest of intentions when it came to wanting to get away.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.8K Warnings: Smut with a dash of fluff, including shenanigans in public. Language.

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You feel his arms wrap around you right before you hear his voice in your ear, low and husky and trying too hard to be sexy to actually be sexy.

“Hey there darlin. How about we be naughty together and save Santa a trip next year?”

You can’t help the snort you let out as you start laughing. Jake kisses your neck playfully before you turn in his arms to face him, chest pressed to his. You’re careful not to spill the drink you had just gotten. “If that’s how it works, I’m pretty sure we secured our spot on the naughty list on Christmas day a week ago, pretty boy.”

He wags his eyebrows dramatically, drawing another giggle out of you. “I think you’re right, beautiful. Several times, if I remember correctly.”

“On that note, I’m going to play pool before I vomit everywhere.”

You ignore Nat’s gag and loud proclamation; you don’t need to look at her to know that she rolled her eyes as she walked away from where the two of you had been chatting at the bar before your husband had interrupted.

“Well they say you’re supposed to bring in the year the way you want to spend it,” you tell him, and he hums thoughtfully.

“A year of amazing sex with my absolutely smokin’ wife? Screw the good list, where do I sign?”

His voice gets lower the closer he brings his face to yours, and by the last word, you can feel him speak against your lips. You grin into it when he finally kisses you. Despite the fact that every regular in the bar should be used to seeing your public displays of affection after years of it, cat calls still ring out over the sound of chatter and the jukebox. You roll your eyes while you pull away, but Jake’s shameless smirk is enough to soften your smile.

“Jealous fuckers,” he mutters, and you’ve gone through this enough to know he’s only joking. His eyebrows raise again and he lets his hand drift to slide over your butt, squeezing once through the material of your skirt. “Maybe we should really give them something to gawk out.”

You laugh at his familiar antics and shake your head. “Down, Cowboy.”

But you know that Jake's playful nature, one that not many people get to see, is one of the things you love most about him. His ability to make even the simplest moments feel special and exciting is what keeps the flame alive in your relationship, even after all this time.

“Aww, darlin. You’re no fun.”

“Careful now,” you tell him, linking your fingers through his and starting to make your way through the crowd to where your friends have gathered by the pool tables. You grin at him playfully over your shoulder, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Or you won’t get any kisses at midnight.”

The sound of Jake’s laughter was one of your favorite sounds in the whole world, and you let it surround you as you greet the group you considered family. New Year’s Eve at the Hard Deck was something you had done the last two years, and with this third occurrence, you thought it was a solidified tradition amongst you all. It’s nice, being able to have those now. You and Jake have moved around a handful of times in your relationship, never in one spot for long, but San Diego is somewhere you’re so glad to actually call home now. It’s something you were unbelievably grateful for - that, and these people who continuously brought so much joy into your life.

As the night wears on, the bar becomes increasingly crowded and lively. The music thumps through the speakers, blending with the laughter and conversations that filled the air. It’s when Bradley unplugs the jukebox and settles in at the old, worn piano by the bar that your husband links his fingers through yours, tugging lightly. You look over at him to see him tilt his head toward the general direction of the back door. You smile lightly, knowing what he’s asking without him having to utter a word, and you nod.

As you take a break from the crowded bar and step outside into the crisp night air, Jake wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Take a walk with me?” he asks, and you murmur your assent. You know that the heeled boots you’re wearing won’t mix well with the sand, so using him as an anchor, you bend to take them off. You sigh in relief once your toes hit the sand, feeling cool and refreshing through the barrier of your socks.

“Lead the way,” you smile.

The moon hangs low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the ocean. He keeps you tucked into his side as you walk along the empty beach, the music and lights from the bar fading with every step. The chilly wind bites at your cheeks, but the warmth of the alcohol you had consumed and Jake's body keeps you cozy. If you weren’t always so in tune with his touch, you may have missed the way his hand progressively slid lower and lower on your back.

“I feel like you didn’t have the purest intentions with this walk,” you murmur. A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with the breeze and everything to do with the sound of his low, deep laughter. It rumbles through his chest, vibrating against your side.

“Well, darlin’, you know me too well.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "Maybe I had a little ulterior motive," he admits, his voice laced with something. “What do you say?”

You giggle as he kisses down the side of your face, featherlight and intoxicating, and tugs lightly on your ear. “Here?”

“No,” he says, “there.”

He points, and through the darkness, you see the old lifeguard stand, unmanned this late at night, especially this far down the beach. His suggestion hangs in the air, thick with appeal and eagerness.

“Well,” you say after a brief moment of contemplation that really didn’t take long at all. You take a step away from him, your body automatically missing his warmth even as it thrummed with excitement. You shoot him a look that you know he recognizes by how his smile transforms. “I did say you should bring in the year the way you want to spend it, didn’t I?”

You take off in a run at the same moment he reaches for you, and you squeal with laughter as he chases you right to where he pointed earlier - right to where you want him now.

He presses you against the wooden structure once you both reach it, and without breaking stride, his lips are on yours. The kiss is slow and tantalizing at first, but soon enough, it deepens, and his tongue sweeps into your mouth in a familiar dance that leaves you breathless. He tastes like whiskey and the leftover mini candy canes you kept in your purse and your heart races. The sounds of the crashing waves and distant partying from the bar fade away as you sink into his embrace. You feel his other hand slide up your thigh, tracing slow circles on your skin. His touch is electric, making your body hum. Even the cool breeze nipping at your exposed skin isn’t enough to cool you down.

As he pulls back, breathing heavily, you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness of it between them. His breath comes out hot against your lips as he whispers, "I love how responsive you are to me."

His mouth descends upon yours again. His hand moves higher, cupping your breast through your sweater, his fingers teasing your nipple through the fabric. Your response is instantaneous; you arch your back and groan, completely caught up in the moment. "How do you want it?" he asks, kisses trailing down your neck. You tilt your head to allow easier access to your throat.

"Jake," you moan. You clutch at him, one hand in his hair and the other wrinkling the material of his flannel shirt.

"Tell me, darlin'," he requests, commands, and you whimper as it's accompanied by a bite of your skin. "How do you want it? You want to climb up in the chair? Or you want me to take you right here against it?"

It was hard to think with the way he was touching you and the feel of his lips on yours. But you suddenly had the undeniable urge to ride him. The added bonus of being elevated off the ground like you would be, all the while being safe in your husband’s arms, sent a chill of excitement through you. “Up,” you breathe, pushing him away just slightly.

You’re both clumsy as you eagerly climb up onto the raised, wide seat. You hiss at the cold of the wood as your knees settle on either side of his thighs, but his touch distracts you immediately as he tugs your short skirt up to bunch at your waist, allowing you to sit on his lap more comfortably and without risk of stretching the material. You smirk for just a second before a groan tears from his throat when his fingers meets nothing but skin.

“You forget to put something on, baby?” he husks, and you shake your head. You don’t even try to look innocent.

“You weren’t the only one with ulterior motives, Cowboy.”

Your hands move to his belt buckle, undoing it with practiced ease. He watches you intently as you move on to the button and zip of his jeans. He's hard under your hands and god, you want him. But you know you're not the only one. Jake groans, his hips thrusting instinctively into your touch. Your eyes flash to his and you see him biting his lip as he watches you intently, his green eyes dark with desire. You feel powerful like this, seeing the hunger there.

You pull his erection from the denim keeping him confined. He's hard and thick, the head glistening with a bead of pre-cum. You can't resist running your hand over the smooth, velvety skin, stroking him gently. Jake's breath hitches, his eyes fluttering shut as you continue to stroke him. He keeps a hand steady on your back, ensuring your balance, but lets the other reach down between your legs. His touch brushes against your own as he goes, stroking through the liquid heat he finds. You moan softly as his fingers find their way inside you, matching the rhythm of your hand on him. His thumb swipes across your sensitive clit, sending a jolt of need through you. You gasp, your other hand pulling at the back of his head, drawing him closer.

"Jake, please," you beg, arching into his touch. He pulls his hand away from you just long enough to position himself at your entrance. He drags his cock through your wetness, coating himself. He's hard and ready, and you can't wait any longer. "Please."

He doesn't need any further encouragement as he slowly enters you, stretching you open in the best way. You cry out in pleasure, your head falling back as you feel him deep inside you.

"God, you feel so good," he whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin. Like you want to prove to him that you can be even better, you lift yourself off of him slowly, sinking back down as he moans. "That's my girl."

His muscles tense under your touch, urging you on, and you oblige without hesitation. His hands keep a firm grip on your waist as you set a steady rhythm. Your thighs burn deliciously from the exertion, but you don’t mind, leaning forward to capture his lips. It's a frenzied tangle of tongues and teeth, while his hips buck upward into yours. The feel of him inside you is exhilarating, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Your hands twine in his hair, pulling his head back just enough so you can look into his eyes. They're lust-filled and dark, mirroring the emotions swirling within you.

"Harder," you pant.

"Fuck, baby," he growls as he speeds up his pace. He thrusts into you harder, each hit sending ripples of pleasure through you. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you press closer to him. He hits that spot inside of you that only he can reach and the stars that dot your vision aren't from the sky above you.

"Yes, oh, fuck. Jake!" He finds it again and your muscles clench. "I'm going to come," you gasp, and Jake's answering groan lets you know that he's close, too.

"Come for me, darlin'," he chants, his voice low and raspy, commanding you to give in to the feeling.

His words send you over the edge, and your scream of his name is cut off with his mouth surging to meet yours - you had nearly forgotten that you were outside. Your orgasm ripples through you, your body trembling under the waves of pleasure. You feel him give one, two, three more thrusts before he’s falling over, too. His cum is hot as it fills you and you can’t help but moan into his kiss at the sensation - there was nothing quite like it.

He pulls back once breathing becomes an issue. You're both panting and breathless. He takes your face in his hands, the roughness of his fingertips a long-formed comfort. You just stare for a few moments, letting your heart rates settle.

"Hell of a way to end the year," he finally murmurs, voice filled with warm affection.

You can't pass up the opportunity he's given you considering the current circumstances, raising an eyebrow playfully. "With your cum inside of me?"

He huffs out a laugh, but you feel his cock twitch inside of you nonetheless. “The best way to do it.”

You hum in response and grab his wrist, twisting it to get a look at his watch. 11:52.

"If we hurry we can probably make it back to the Hard Deck in time for midnight," you tell him, though you're in no rush to move. Jake shrugs a shoulder, and it's enough to tell you that he isn't, either. You smile at him softly, leaning forward for another kiss. After another minute or two, you gently disentangle yourself from each other. Jake tucks himself back into his pants as you pull your skirt down. The raised wooden structure is really not comfortable for either of you now that you weren't completely caught up in your lust. He climbs down from the chair first and keeps a protective hand on you as you make your way down after him.

Instead of moving to walk back to the bar, though, you settle together in the sand. Your back is to his chest and his arms are wrapped firmly around you. His chin is tucked into your shoulder and you watch the waves gently lapping in the ocean as you sit in a peaceful, comforting silence.

“Any resolutions this year?” he eventually asks. You feel his breath against your neck and goosebumps erupt over your skin. You hope you never stop reacting to him this way.

“Hmmm. None yet. You?”

“Already did it,” he says nonchalantly. Your eyebrows furrow and your twist your neck to look at him.

“What?”

His smirk grows and his green eyes twinkle with mischief. “Guarantee myself on the naughty list for Santa next year, obviously.”

You smack his arm right as the fireworks start going off, and his laughter is masked by the sound. There are bursts of every color you could imagine appearing in the sky, and you let yourself get distracted by the display until your husband nudges you gently.

When your eyes meet his this time, the look on his face is softer. It’s a look he only ever has for you, full of love and adoration, and despite how long you’ve been together, you feel butterflies erupt in your tummy as it washes over you. He tilts your chin up with a gentle hand. It’s the sweetest kiss you had exchanged all night, nothing more than a light brush of his lips against yours. Your nose brushes against his as, for a moment, you just breathe the other in.

“Happy New Year, darlin’,” Jake finally whispers, and his words taste sweet against your lips.

“Happy New Year, Jake.”

-------

Notes: Happy (almost) New Year everyone! Finishing off the trifecta of holiday fics with The Blonde One™️ just felt right. Thanks for reading! Likes/comments/reblogs are the kindest.

Special thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 for all of their help as always, and for Mak for making the dreamiest banners.

Main Masterlist

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chatsukimi · 4 months

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ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ

featuring: jujutsusorcerer!nanami, curse!reader, angst, breaking up. synopsis: life is too short to hold yourself back. you force a certain uptight sorcerer to learn the hard way. masterlist

nanami likes to think he has no regrets. he tells the students that he'd never had a lover, not one that lasted very long anyway. he tells anyone who asked that he is too busy in his job to date.

too busy to date a normal person outside his job, he means.

in other words, nanami likes to forget he likes a curse.

you're sitting on his couch, folding his shirts fresh from the laundry. "kento-kun!"

nanami likes to think he turns away. likes to think he goes to the kitchen to prepare his dull blade to kill you, but, recently, he's learnt that he's a liar.

you tiptoe over, examining how he runs his knife under tap water to clean off the curse residue. you had reacted better than he thought you would when you learnt he exorcised curses, probably because you were a mediocre curse yourself, not involved in the grand scheme of things.

you peer curiously over his shoulder. "that's your weapon?"

he lifts it up purposefully close to show you, but instead of shrinking away, your hands attach to its sides, gracing the cloth gently.

"woah..."

he stills. when he begins chopping up the vegetables, you're right by his side, helping him cook with rapid skill.

"careful. don't add too much salt in," he says, an uneasy monotone gracing your ears.

he doesn't look at you.

you pause on the salt, staring at him. "is something wrong?"

a flashback zips through his head, of a dying colleague, of a growing curse. mostly holding himself back, nanami lets out a long exhale. he shakes his head.

"no. i'm alright."

the atmosphere is tense under your scrutiny, probably because, for you, he would taste better than any human dish might. truthfully speaking, you only eat his food out of politesse.

'liar,' you whisper into his ear, glaring at him with an infinite amount of human hurt. "don't lie to me."

you know as well as he does.

nanami likes to think his heart doesn't clench when you reach out to hold his hand, your skin that reminiscent of that terrifying rubber feel he's constantly associated with death. you pause when he flinches away.

"nanami?"

kill them. that's your job, it's what you must do. kill them.

he murmurs lowly, "i think it's time for you to leave."

you take a step back. he doesn't move. you wait for him to chase after you while receding from him, two steps at a time.

nanami likes to think he's a serious man. likes to think he knows what's right for him and others at the most important incidences. but strip away the guise of having it all together and he realises what's most human about him is slipping through between his fingers: you.

watching you, nanami cannot think.

he's stalking towards you towards the exit. you've turned your back on him. his heartbeat tremors.

"wait-"

your voice is empty when you respond- is this what he'll remember you by?

"what, nanami?"

would nanami force you to stay? he's always been selfish in keeping you at his place, treasuring the heartfelt words, midnight slow dances, pretending the outside world didn't exist. the world which draws a distinct line between humans and curses. good and evil. but now, now nanami has to choose.

"don't go." he croaks. pathetic.

you stand there, head lowered. "why? what even am i to you?"

curse or human?

the words taste bitter in his mouth, crawling to the tip of his tongue. speak! kento, what are you doing?! speak! and in the ideal world, he says them, right there, held in your molten gaze. those three words would have you rushing back into his arms, ready to start anew. it would read like a fairy-tale.

he would be happy.

yet earth is a hell that confines him. he cannot force himself to take another step forward. you cannot force yourself to take another step back.

this is what would've always happened.

in a split second decision, you put on your shoes.

"forget me, kento," you breathe. let's pretend this never happened. "i know you hate curses getting stronger."

you cross the threshold of his door. the fantasy dissipates.

when he opens the door again, nanami looks down the corridor of his apartment complex and sees no one.

not even the curse of regret.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #nanami #kento nanami

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bless-my-demons · 1 year

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Redamancy: Chapter Eight

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None except for like one cuss word

Notes: Hot off the press - I just spent my day packing my house up to move tomorrow and I’m up past midnight to get this out... You guys have been so freaking supportive and I’m excited for this story to pick up!

Word Count: 3158

Series Masterlist

• March 11th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

“Emotions.” Jasper says by way of greeting, placing his backpack on the picnic table that no doubtibly contains his art supplies.

“Everyone has them, yes?” I reply, my forehead wrinkling in confusion at his peculiar single-word statement.

“I can control them.” He answers, visibly nervous as if he were afraid he just opened a can of worms.

I watch him pull out his well-worn sketchbook and pencils as I decide how to respond to this new bit of information.

“Say something, doll.” Jasper looks almost pleading, worry setting in on his face.

“How does it work?” I question him, I’m in shock that he volunteered such important information in the middle of a school day at lunch as if it were a typical topic to talk about.

“Well, it started off as just being able to sense the emotions of humans and vampires in my vicinity,” he lets out a sigh as he begins shading whatever it is he’s working on. “Then I quickly figured out I can influence them. I can either enhance what someone is already feeling, take away their emotions altogether, or replace them entirely and give them something completely different.”

“W-wow,” I stutter, “that’s honestly impressive.” I raise my eyebrows as his eyes meet mine.

“I can also do small things since I’ve had time to hone my power, like it’s easy to find people I’m familiar with in a crowded area, within a reasonable distance. As long as I can get to know the person, orient myself with their emotions, it’s quite easy.” He glances down at his drawing as he finishes his explanation.

“That has to be rough, feeling everything everyone else is feeling all the time. You can turn it off though, right?” I muse out loud, I can’t imagine having a power that doesn’t come with an ‘off’ switch.

“Unfortunately I can’t, my family is usually pretty good at regulating the intensity of their emotions when we’re gathered at home. At school though… Sitting out here alone with you during lunch is a welcome reprieve.” Jasper turns back to his sketch as he admits that last tidbit of information.

“Do any of your other siblings have super powers like you?” I tease him, not ready to dive into that nugget of information about how spending time with me makes him feel.

“Rosalie and Emmett don’t, neither do Carlisle and Esme. Unless you want to count the staggeringly strong self-control my adoptive father possesses.” Jasper pauses, “Alice can see the future, subjectively though - she has to be searching for that person’s intent and as long as they make a decision, she can see it and the immediate effects. Edward on the other hand, can-“ but he’s interrupted by the bell signaling the end of the lunch period.

“You’re not off the hook now that you’ve enlightened me, I expect to finish this conversation.” I tell him as I stand and meet him on the sidewalk leading towards the school building.

“I would never leave business unfinished with a lady.” He says rather cheekily, trying to get a rise from me, but all it earns him is a huff of a laugh as we walk in a comfortable silence.

“Thank you for sharing that information with me, I promise not to tell anyone.” I vow soberly, meeting his eyes as we stand outside of my next class.

“I was never worried.” Jasper replies, backing away as students finish milling about in the hallway. “See you in History, darlin’.”

I could feel his eyes on me as I stood in front of my open locker, quickly shuffling through the books I needed for my last class of the day. It’s almost like his gaze seemed to burn me alive as I felt it travel across my skin, the hair on the back of my neck rose due to my heightened state of awareness I had towards this gorgeous man. Does he know the effect he has? Is he even aware that I am utterly at his mercy? I hate to fall in line with all the other girls that must throw themselves at his feet, most of them much prettier than I, so why me? Why does he want to take me on a date?

I glance over my shoulder in the direction I know his own locker is in and sure enough, liquid gold is locked onto its target. A steady unwavering gaze stares back, so solid and intense that it constricts my chest for a moment with the pure force of it.

I turn back to my locker and grab a pen before slamming the door shut, the warning bell signaling one minute before everyone still occupying the hallway is tardy. As I turn to hurry my way to History, Jasper has made his way to stand right behind me.

“Do you like baseball?” He blurts out quickly, as if to not lose his nerve.

“It’s probably the only sport I understand, so yeah. Why?” I counter, tilting my head in question.

“My family and I were thinking of playing a game Sunday. Would you like to tag along and spectate? Bella Swan will be there, I’m sure she would love your company.” Jasper tacked on the last part as if I needed more reason to go than just spending time with him.

“As if I could say no to you and your family.” I tell him with a smile.

“Good, so you’ll want to meet them tomorrow?” He asks with more confidence than the last request, slowly taking steps backwards down the empty hall and I gravitate with him.

My mind blanks, not prepared to be sprung with such a big step in… whatever is happening between us. First he tells me he wants to take me out on a date, now I’m meeting his family? Is this some lucky alternate universe where the insanely attractive boy falls for the incredibly average girl?

No-no way, friends bring their friends over to meet their entire family before a family outing, right?

“I-I-uh-“

“Noon tomorrow, they’ll love you.” Disappearing around the corner of the hallway with a smirk in place, probably because I was gaping at him in the middle of an empty hall.

I glance around - an empty hallway! I’m late for class! I can’t even be mad, Jasper Hale has effectively monopolized my weekend and I’m more than happy about it.

• March 11th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

“Hey, mom?” I ask, poking my head in her open bedroom door.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Putting down the book she was reading and pushing up her reading glasses, my mother sits up in bed to give me her full attention.

“So,” I take a seat at the end of her bed, “Jasper Hale invited me to his house tomorrow, to have dinner with his family and just hang out I guess.”

“Oh?” My mother sounds intrigued, eyebrows raising. “A date with a cute boy?”

“Not a date!” I immediately correct her, “it’s just dinner, or whatever.”

She laughs as I pick at her bedspread. “Honey, of course you can go, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?” She questions.

“He also asked if I wanted to play baseball Sunday with his fa-“

“You? Play baseball?” She blurts out, incredulously.

“Mom!” I draw out the word. “He’s invited me to hang out with his family this weekend - you’ll be cool, right? When he picks me up? No interrogating?”

“Me? Interrogate the cute boy stealing my daughter for a weekend? I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you.” She teases me with a wink.

I stand and begin to leave, “You are insufferable, woman.”

“I love you, sweetheart!” She yells after me as I round the corner to my room. Flopping onto my bed with a smile, I’m both giddy and equally nervous for the next two days.

• March 12th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

“This is my adoptive father Carlisle and his wife Esme.” Gesturing to the two beautiful adults patiently waiting in the foyer as we walk in their home.

Thankfully my mom was at work when Jasper picked me up, giving me another day to prepare myself for the potential train wreck of them meeting tomorrow.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen.” I give them a smile as I shake their hands.

“Trust me dear, the pleasure is all ours!” Esme responds excitedly, her smile wide and beaming.

“The others are in the living room, beware of what you’re throwing her into.” Carlisle warns Jasper with a smile.

Throwing me into? I glance up at Jasper with my brows furrowed, a little concerned.

“C’mon, I’ll protect you.” He jokes with me, I must be missing the punchline.

As he leads me to the living room in his house, I gape at the beautiful artwork spaced throughout. “This is gorgeous, Jasper.”

“Esme is pleased you like it.”

Not having heard his mom speak, I turn from where I was ogling a painting that appeared to be ancient. “But she-“

“Can hear you from her study and I can feel her emotions, remember?” He winks at me, show off.

Finally we walk into the space where his siblings are and I realize what Carlisle meant: Mario Kart.

Alice and Emmett are sitting on the edge of the couch, deep in concentration while Rosalie seems bored from her perch in the corner by her significant other.

“You’re fucking cheating!” Emmett bellows, frantically mashing buttons on his controller.

“It’s not cheating if you’re playing someone that sucks.” Alice taunts him, a wicked grin on her face.

“You can see the future Alice, cut him some slack.” Jasper chides his sister as he leads me to an empty section of the couch.

My eyes widen in amusement as I observe the small dark haired girl, “That’s right! You can-“

“See everything I try to do!” Emmett yells, frustration setting in as his character is hit with a shell.

It’s almost laughable, Emmett’s character Bowser and Alice as Princess Peach. I sit down next to Jasper, a few inches between us as I cross my legs and he lays an arm behind me on the back of the couch. I try to keep my breathing even as I sit here, but the excitement to be spending time with him is almost overwhelming.

I watch as Princess Peach zaps the other players into miniature size and Rose reminds Emmett not to throw yet another remote at the ground, when Jasper leans in close.

“Want a tour of the house?” He asks in a whisper, creating goosebumps down my arms.

“Yes.” I respond, probably sounding breathless, but he’s standing and offering his hand before I have the chance to feel embarrassed.

“And this is my room.” His tour coming to an almost close, since I’m still patiently waiting for a peak at all their cars.

I walk in the doorway he pointed to, stopping just inside. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bookshelves lining the wall opposite of the floor-to-ceiling windows that seemed to be a theme throughout the house. His room was much darker than all the others, warm and inviting with the shades of black and dark wood tones. Stepping closer and skirting the immaculately made king size bed, my eyes close in on some familiar titles on the shelves.

“I always see you reading and since I have quite a bit of free time, I thought I’d pick up a few.”

I turn to look at him with my mouth parted in surprise at his thoughtfulness, his hands are clasped behind his back like he’s bashful for getting found out.

“Jasper-“ but he interrupts me.

“The garage is next.” I watch him turn on his heel and disappear down the hallway.

I look down and brush my fingers on his black comforter as I smile to myself before following him, so Jasper Hale isn’t immune to his own feelings - he just doesn’t like to show them.

Walking into the garage, my eyes skip over the beautiful cars and land on a sleek little thing in the back. A Ducati 848 to be exact, it draws me in like a magnet. Immediately I knew it had to belong to Jasper, no one else seemed like the type. Rose had her red convertible, Emmett had his Jeep, and Edward had his mom-car. Alice and Esme didn’t bother with vehicles and Carlisle had a reasonable, albeit expensive, commuter.

“Wow,” my voice quiet as my fingers brushed the gas tank, “I’m impressed, Hale.”

“You know bikes?” Jasper asks with a hint of curiosity.

“Not really, but I know enough to know that this Ducati is basically a rocket and that it must’ve cost you a pretty penny.” I replied, eyes still glued to the beautiful machinery. “Why didn’t you tell me you drove a motorcycle?”

“Not many parents let their ‘teenager’ drive death traps around.”

“Touché.” I pause, “Take me for a ride?” Swinging my leg over to straddle the beast, I lean over the tank and glance at Jasper.

I know I’ve successfully distracted him by the amount of time it takes for him to respond. Grinning, I sit back and look at him expectantly.

“Absolutely not, darlin’. No way I’m risking-“

“You have safety gear, don’t you?” I tease him as I get off and walk behind him to snag the helmet placed on the counter along the back wall.

Jasper groans and tilts his head back in mock-frustration as he fishes the keys from his pocket. I squeal as I pull the helmet on and hop excitedly towards the bike.

“You’re wearing my protective gear or no deal, sweetheart.” He lays down the law as he stalks over to a cabinet, retrieving a thick coat and gloves.

I almost protest, but he’s pulling the jacket over my arms and zipping it up my chest leaving me breathless before I know what’s happening. Even with the helmet covering my face, I’m sure he senses the heat in my cheeks as he finishes checking me over.

“You sure about this?” Jasper asks, finding my eyes under the visor with his supernatural vision.

“Are you sure about this?” I counter, the unease floating around is practically choking me in this enclosed space before it vanishes in a snap.

He flips up my visor, “Riding with someone requires trust-“

“I trust you, Jasper Hale. Completely and without any reservations or doubt in your abilities to keep me safe.” I swear my words stunned him, his mouth parted slightly as I blurted the confession. As if he realized the doubt that was flowing earlier was from him and not me.

“You are…”, he mutters his response low enough that I can’t hear as he swings a leg over the motorcycle and turns to me seriously. “Number one rule, don’t let go of me. Lean with me on turns and stay tucked in. If you need to stop, tap on my chest. Any questions, doll?” Jasper asks.

“Where are we going?” I climb on behind him and scoot close enough to wrap my arms around his waist lightly, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to be this close to him and it’s amazing. I let out a small gasp when he grabs the backs of both knees to tug me closer, bracketing my hips around his to tuck me in close. He then grabs my arms and places them over his chest, the side of my helmeted head coming to rest on his large back.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, ready?” I feel a teasing chuckle rumble in his chest, so I simply nod, excitement tingling all over from where my body touches his.

The Ducati roars to life in the enclosed space and I feel it lean to the right as Jasper taps the garage door button on the wall to open our exit. My arms squeeze him a little tighter as we launch forward down the driveway, I’m tempted to wave to Esme smiling from the porch, but I decide against it remembering his number one rule of not letting go.

This is single-handedly the best idea I’ve ever had.

Jasper

This girl will be the death of me, I know it for certain.

She could ask me to bring her the moon and I would have it in her hands in a heartbeat. Taking her out on my motorcycle? Easy in theory, extremely difficult in practice. I’ve never felt as I do right now with her arms around me, her completely pressed against my back and squeezing me at every jolt and turn I make.

Heaven and Hell, having my greatest temptation in such close proximity.

She trusts me. Completely and without doubt - her fucking words. I’m positively speechless, I’ve never had someone to myself that trusted me so wholly without needing any kind of explanation or-or proof-

And her leaning over my bike in the garage? I nearly swerve us right off the road thinking about the arch in her back, the way her chest pressed against the tank, her toes barely able to touch the ground… it took nearly every ounce of control to remain rooted while she was seated atop my motorcycle.

My only regret is not showing her the garage sooner, that image of her will forever be seared into my mind. On second thought, I’m sure my mental images were extremely loud and clear in the garage - it’s a mystery how Edward can manage to be around the couples in our family. For me at least, the emotions get too much sometimes and I need breaks.

I’ve noticed that I’ve needed them less and less since Y/n literally slammed her way into my life - breaks from everyone else that is. She not only elicits a physical reaction that no one else has ever managed to coax out of me, but she has also become a mental safe-haven. Being around her energy is as easy and mindless as breathing, if only I could breathe around her without inhaling molten lava. Everything about her completely consumes me, tears me apart and builds me back up, unmakes and makes me over and over, infinite bliss and unending torture. My singer, her blood is a symphony and I am her rapt audience hanging on to every beautiful note and praying for an encore.

My singer.

The revelation clangs through my soul and grants my body with a new purpose; her. She is mine to protect, from this day onward. My left hand reaches up to anchor myself where Y/n’s hands rest on my chest, her arms not quite long enough for her fingers to meet in the middle. I smile to myself, maybe I can allow myself this one bit of happiness, to let her in.

#twilight #bless-my-demons #jasper hale x reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale #redamancy series #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #female reader insert #jasper hale twilight #jasper hale x female!reader #slow burn #romance

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cranberryjuice-posts · 7 months

Text

- New York romantic -

Pairings - College! Gwen Stacy x Fem! Reader

Synopsis - secrete relationship with the one and only Spiderwoman

TW! - honestly probably OCC gwen

An - this is based more on her comic book age (I wanna preface this by saying I’ve only read one ghost spider comic and I’ve watched the ITSV and ATSV movies plus the other Spiderman movies multiple times) // (Gwen is like 19-20 in this)

— also yes this is kinda based off the Eros and Psyche myth

You looked down at the busy streets bellow you. Letting out a deep breath the smoke from your lungs left your body.

“You know That’s bad for you right?” A sweet voice spoke behind you. Turning your head to the side you playfully rolled your eyes at seeing Spider-woman.

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking over the city for a crime?” You tested the waters while taking another drag from the cigarette.

The stronger woman walked over to you taking the cig from your hand. “Dropping your cigarette ash counts as littering and hate to break it to ya but that’s a crime”

“Shut up” You laughed lifting up her mask slightly, placing a kiss on her Rosy lips. She wrapped her arms around your waist helping to deepen the kiss.

Pulling back you traced her chapped lips with your finger. “Your blushing”

“No I’m not”

“Your nose does that scrunching thing when you are”

Her sigh of defeat only made your pride grow. You’ve been secretly dating New Yorks one and only Spiderwoman for the past nine months. One thing that plagued your mind however was how secret she was being about her identity.

Whenever she would stay the night you could never face her when cuddling. Dates were rare, only happening at midnight and a picnic at the top of some building. Whenever you both were spending time together She would keep her mask on. Did you like the secretiveness of it all, no not really.

Making your way down the fire escape and entering through your window you helped your lover in. She immediately stripped out of her hero suit and into her standard sports bra and sweats. “So much better” she complained while flopping down onto your bed.

You chuckled softly walking over to her. Sitting down beside the masked woman you started to draw circles on her back. “Everything ok spider bite?”

“Peachy” she grumbled.

“My poor baby” bending down you kissed her cheek, the only part of her face you ever got to saw was bellow the nose and even then it was only for a kiss. “I’ll go make you some tea—“

As you tried to get up she grabbed you by the hips forcing you to lay down beside her. “Don’t.. it’s late can we just rest” her tone practically begging.

You gave her a soft smile, it’d be cruel to not agree. You turned off the lamp beside your bed enveloping the entire room in darkness. With your phone on your vanity face down, the only sound was The heroine taking her mask off.

Letting out a tired sigh she kissed your lips. “Night babe”

“Night” You mumbled. She quickly cuddled up to you, falling asleep almost instantly.

———

You felt like you were choking. Waking up from a nightmare you sat up gasping trying to regain your breath. Once you calmed down your eyes drifted over to the sleeping form of your lover. Reaching out you gently pushed her hair to the side.

Guilt took over your body. You wanted no needed to see what she looked like. Nobody could understand what it was like, being the woman you love but not allowed to see her face. All you wanted was to love her for all her beauty not just her body and personality.

Debating for a while you sucked it up, grabbing your phone you opened the screen, using the dim light to aluminate her face.

You almost dropped your phone. What you saw was Gwen—- Gwen fucking Stacy. The Chemistry major at your college as well as a local Legenden for being in the MaryJanes. The sweet confident yet shy woman, the same woman who you hung out with on a daily basis. Every time you invited Gwen over for a hangout you had been in reality inviting your girlfriend over.

The phone finally slipped from your grasp. Before you could grab it it slammed into Gwen’s face. She sat up annoyed rubbing her cheek. Spewing out an apology you turned on the lamp without realizing trying to make sure she was ok. You touched her face hoping a bruise wouldn’t form.

The gig was up. You knew Gwen knew you had secretly looked at her face. You expected to Gwen have a look of anger instead you faced a look of disappointment. She didn’t say anything only quickly getting out of the bed and putting her long discarded suit back on.

“Gwen pl—“

“Don’t” she turned around. Standing close she held a finger out. “How many times did you go behind my back and look at me.”

“Only this once you have to believe me” with a tone of desperation you grabbed her hand.

Gwen just pulled her hand from you, continuing to dress herself.

“Well what was I supposed to do” you asked. “Do you understand how painful it is to not ever see the face of the woman I love?! I’ve seen every inch of your goddamn body but your face! I love you Gwen it broke me knowing I would never know what you looked like”

She still didn’t respond, her silence was supposed to punish you. “We’re done, and if you know better you’ll keep your mouth shut about who I am”

Before you could argue Back she lept out of the window, swinging off to god knows where.

Of all the stupid decisions you made this took the list. Practically running to your bed you grabbed your phone calling Gwen.

Voicemail

For fucks sake. Calling her repeatedly each time going to voicemail after the first ring. Laying back down on the now empty and cold bed you felt yourself starting to cry, the hot tears staining your face and pillow.

———

The following week was like torture. Gwen avoided you at every turn and the classes you shared she skipped.

Once you went to the MaryJanes practice and Gwen forced MJ to kick you out. She could try to avoid you all she wanted but you knew deep down she still loved you. The same heroine you fell fore still wanted to be with you.

You left the corner store with a bag of Gwen’s favorite snacks. The only place that had her favorite candy was in the crime district. Over looking them you mentally thought out a plan for an apology basket to take to her tonight. If you hadn��t fucked up it would of been your ten month anniversary..

Being distracted wasn’t something you wanted in downtown New York Especially not at night. Before you realized it you were harshly grabbed and thrown into an alleyway.

You fell to the dirty ground, rolling over some you winced in pain at your bruising arm. You turned your head quickly to face your attacker who wore a cheesy Super hero plastic mask and hoodie.

He reached out pinning grabbing and pinning you against the wall. “Your Spiderwomans Lil bitch huh?! Yeah Ive Seen You Both” He sadistically laughed with a knife pressed to your throat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about I’m sor—“

“Bullshit!” He pressed the knife deeper to your neck. “Now your gonna be a good girl and tell me her fuckin identity ok, my boss would really appreciate it” You felt your body start to go frozen you couldn’t speak let alone move— the only thing in your mind was getting free, and Gwen. The world paused. The only was to describe it was your life flashed before your eyes.

Coming back to reality you realized nothing happened. The man who tried to assault you was laying on the ground bloodied with an angry looking woman standing over him. Yelling curses at him as he crawled away.

Facing you Spiderwoman or as you knew now Gwen dropped down beside you pulling you into a hug. “Are You ok?! What did he do” she urgently asked while holding your face

In that moment very moment everything snapped. You broke down in your Ex’s arms, pulling her close into you. She didn’t saw anything only tightening the hug so you wouldn’t feel alone.

Gwen brought you back to your apartment. Going in through the usual window, like the thousands of times before. She sat you down onto your bed still searching your face and body for physical wounds.

Making the decision that the only injury was the stress to your throat she grabbed a first aid kit and began to wrap you up.

As she placed the bandaid on your neck you slowly reached out cupping her face. Both of you stopped, just looking at each other. You slid off her mask tossing it aside, you could tell by her puffy eyes and reddened cheeks she had been crying to.

“I’m.. so so sorry please I need you to understand that I love you Gwen, all of you. I just couldn’t stand being in the dark anymore though” you felt your eyes starting to tear up.

Gwen just placed her hands on your thighs comfortingly rubbing them. She took a moment of silence before leaning up and kissing your cheek. “I know” was all she mumbled.

You pushed back a strand of her blonde hair wanting to see her face even if it was for the last time. “This is my fault” Gwen started, her voice cracking. “I wasn’t careful enough, I didn’t take into consideration people would see me come into your window, I didn’t think someone would stalk and attack you.”

“And You don’t have to” You dropped her before she could continue. “Nobody knows anything about us, people who ask I tell them their seeing shit” “Gwen I want to be with you no matter what happens, i want to be allowed to love you like this than when your masked up” the entire time you spoke not once did you break eye contact.

She nodded looking down for a moment. Pulling you to the edge of the bed she kissed you gently, letting the kiss repeat a few times before breaking it. There was a sense of hesitation in the air.

Your eyes traced over each others features only for a moment before you started to kiss her once again. Both your heads tilted to give one another an easier way to kiss. Pulling back for some air Gwen stood up, changing out of her suit and into a pair of pajamas she had at your place.

She crawled into bed and brought you close to her. Both just looking in one another’s eyes. “I love you”

“I love you too”

#lesbian #wlw #gwen stacy #spider gwen #spider gwen x reader #gwen stacy x reader #spider woman #gwen stacy x you #spiderman #across the spiderverse

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section-chief-prentiss · 19 days

Text

Watercolors

Summary: Emily is pregnant and you decide to draw her.

Word Count: 1288

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Reader

A/N: Minors DNI

Ao3

You were blocked.

None of your art for the past few weeks had turned out the way you envisioned it, and it was driving you crazy. It was like your ideas were getting lost in translation between your brain and your paintbrush, and by the time your paints hit the canvas, you didn’t recognize the result at all.

You groaned, slamming your paintbrush down, which sent a splatter of colors flying around you.

“How’s it going in here?” Your wife, Emily, leaned her head against the doorframe of your studio, a sympathetic expression on her face.

“It’s official,” you sighed. “I suck.”

Emily chuckled, striding toward you. “You could never suck.”

Your wife was a vision, and it didn’t help your art block that all you wanted to do was look at her. Touch her. Pleasure her.

You’d never seen Emily in a dress before she became pregnant. But ever since she started showing, when she wasn’t in the office, she solely wore oversized t-shirts and flowy dresses, claiming it was the only thing that she was comfortable in.

Today, she wore a knee-length, white sundress with flutter sleeves. Her feet were bare—her ankles had started to swell a few months ago, and now she avoided wearing shoes whenever she could. Her black hair hung just above her shoulders—she’d cut it after finding out she was pregnant and had kept it short since, and her bangs were brushing against her eyelashes. You would need to cut them for her soon.

Emily wrapped an arm under her bump, and you smiled. Your wife was seven months along with your daughter, and there was a permanent glow to her features, even when she was scowling in discomfort.

You closed the gap between you, resting a paint-covered hand on her belly. Your daughter shifted beneath your wife’s skin in response.

“I’ll never get tired of that,” you mumbled.

“You try carrying her around 24/7 and see how you feel then,” Emily teased.

“Turn around,” you said, knowing just what she needed.

She assumed the position, her back leaning against you. You brushed a kiss on her neck, and she shuddered.

Emily’s head leaned back, her raven hair spilling across your shoulder, and you interlaced your fingers beneath her belly.

When you were sure your grip was steady, you lifted up, relieving your wife of the pressure of carrying your daughter.

Your arms shook from the effort, but the little moan Emily let out each time you did this was all you needed.

“I love you,” Emily sighed.

“I love you,” you said.

When your arms couldn’t hold much longer, you gently returned the weight to your wife. When she turned to face you, there were multi-color handprints on her dress around her bump.

“I might’ve ruined your dress,” you said, blushing.

But your wife only shrugged. “I don’t know; I think it could use a little more color.”

You should’ve known your wife would be the key you needed to remedy your artist’s block.

“Lay on that couch,” you said, nodding to the thrifted furniture on the other side of the room.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” she said, making her way over and carefully swinging her legs up. She turned to face you, one arm on the armrest, the other wrapped around her bump.

You knew you couldn’t ask her to hold that position for long, so you picked up your paintbrush and began painting furiously.

Each brushstroke was like a careful caress of her skin. You captured her midnight hair against her ivory skin, the stark paint colors against her white dress, the way her stomach bulged. Her pink, rosy lips, her chocolate eyes—each color had to be just right.

You took a step back to admire your work and couldn’t fight back the growing smile on your face. Finally you had painted what you’d pictured.

“Can I see?” Emily asked shyly.

You turned the easel so the painting faced your wife, and her face lit up at the sight of it.

“I can’t believe that’s me,” she marveled. “I look so much more… regal than I feel.”

You made your way across the room to join her on the couch, and she swung her legs down to make room for you.

“You are a goddess,” you said, leaning in to kiss her.

Her touch was electric, and immediately, you were hungry for more. Emily laid back and you positioned yourself above her, planting kisses from her lips, to her neck, and down her bump.

“Paint me,” Emily said. When you looked up at her, her eyes were hungry.

You giggled, placing another kiss on her belly. “I think I just did.”

“No,” she said, taking your paint-covered hand and running it across her skin, leaving a trail of pink and white in its wake. “Paint me.”

A thrill ran through you. You hurried across the studio to grab the first paint cans you could find before rejoining your wife. You submerged one hand in pink and the other in white and got to work.

You pressed your palms against her breasts, squeezing gently. Emily moaned with pleasure, and you slid one hand under her dress to feel her skin against yours.

You ran your hands up her neck and to her cheeks, so you could press another passionate kiss against her lips. When you pulled away, she pouted, so you pressed a finger against her nose, leaving a circle of pink behind, which made her giggle.

Emily pulled at her white dress, and as soon as you understood what she was doing, you helped her lift it over her head and toss it on the floor behind you.

Her naked body was its own masterpiece. Stretch marks danced across her belly—something she was self-conscious about, but you could stare at forever, the perfect pattern they created against her skin. Her belly button popped out, and you ran your hands over her bump, taking in the smooth skin and your dancing daughter beneath it.

Her breasts were peaked, and you palmed them once more, marveling how perfect her skin felt against yours.

You braced a knee between her legs, and your wife hungrily ground herself against it, already slick with anticipation.

Your wife’s increased sex drive had been another perk of this pregnancy. You couldn’t get enough of her, either.

Your mouth met hers once more as she searched for her pleasure. You were desperate to be more hands-on, but the wet paint posed its own issue, and you weren’t about to leave her to go wash it off.

She moved faster and faster, panting in between kisses, until she let out a shuddered moan and released. Not wanting to overwhelm her, you pulled back, leaving only your hand on her belly. You couldn’t sit this close to your wife and not touch her.

Emily’s cheeks were flushed, and she bit her lip, her bare chest rising and falling quickly as she caught her breath.

“Wow,” she breathed. “I can’t believe we didn’t think of this sooner.”

You threw your head back in a laugh. “Believe me, if I’d known painting you would have this result, I’d never leave the studio.”

Emily struggled to sit up, so you leaned forward to put an arm around her to help her up.

“I think… we need to take this to the bedroom,” she said. “It’s your turn.”

You leapt to your feet, not needing to be told twice.

Over her shoulder, Emily glanced back at the paint and nodded to it. “Bring that.”

You picked up the pink paint bucket, already shedding your clothes with your other hand.

Emily Prentiss. Your soulmate. Your wife. Your muse.

Tag List:

@yena-reyna, @propertyofemilyprentiss, @chaekhan, @obsessedwjill, @mrs-prentiss, @i-lovefandom, @tireddeadgirl, @lez-talk1, @emilyprentiss-ily, @sxekhaos, @Confidant._.Thoughts, @ssablackbird

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#criminal minds #emily prentiss #fanfiction #paget brewster #pagetbrewster #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #emily prentiss x reader #comfort #fluff #pregnant emily prentiss #pregnancy

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the-marshals-wife · 3 months

Text

Restless (Raylan Givens x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: More than a little inspired by the Lady A song "Need You Now", here's an impromptu Raylan fic because this gif also inspired me and it's past time I wrote something for my marshal man. ✪

Description: Raylan Givens x Fem!Reader, moody fluff | Warnings: kissing, guns and alcohol mentioned | Setting: before Primeval | Word count: 1,064 | Gif credit: user vincenzides

Imagine being unable to sleep and finding Raylan on your porch keeping watch

It was another sleepless night for you. There seemed to be million things to worry about lately, and not enough daylight hours to do it in. You'd spent the last two staring up at the ceiling before giving up hope for a restful night. You rub at your eyes as you make your way down the stairs, each creaking step ringing throughout the old farmhouse. If you were being honest, the house being paid off was the only thing not making you lose sleep.

You'd gone the route of warm milk and hot tea before, but you found the only thing that truly helped in times like these was curling up in your grandfather's rocking chair. Even just a few minutes there never failed to soothe your troubled mind and bring back the peace of simpler days.

You flip the lock on front door, pull it open as it squalls on the hinges, and switch on the flickering porch light.

"Still need to change that," you remind yourself, adding to your already exhaustive mental list.

With it well past midnight, it was almost unsettling how still and silent it was outside. You push open the screen door and step onto the weathered porch boards in your slippers. In the summer months, at least you had the comfort of the crickets chirping. But on a damp spring night like tonight, the abundant life of the hollows had yet to sing its song.

Having just crawled out of your warm bed, the cool air hits your face and sends chills right through you. You cross your arms and shuffle towards the end of the porch.

You freeze in place, however, when you see a dark silhouette sitting motionless in the rocker. Fight or flight already kicking in, you're counting the steps backward to the shotgun just inside the door when the shadowy figure speaks.

"Don't shoot me," calls a familiar voice.

"Raylan Givens, you just about gave me a heart attack," you exhale as you clutch your chest.

"We wouldn't want that," he replies, peering up in the dim light, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to scare you."

As your heart starts beating again, you begin to find your words. You pull your robe tighter around yourself and tentatively approach him. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," he says, as if that were an explanation.

"Well I can see that. But what are you doing on my porch?"

He leans back in the rocker and turns his head towards the pitch black yard. "Had a feeling."

"Bad?" you question, watching him survey the darkness.

"Yeah."

You sigh. That's the way it was with Raylan. The quickest draw in the county with a witty comeback or sarcastic comment, but never one to waste words on the hard days.

"Guessing you don't want to talk about it," you venture, sitting down in the wicker chair beside him.

"Not really," he answers.

You nod, frowning. "Can I at least get you a drink?"

"No, thank you. Had plenty already," he says, finally looking over at you, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he sighs, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair.

"Raylan, should I be worried here? Is something coming? Do I need to put on my 'shooting shoes'?" you laugh a bit, hoping to ease the tension.

"No, it's not like that," he chuckles, leaning forward on his knees and staring down at his boots, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing here. There's nothing wrong. Just the whiskey talking, I guess."

You scoff. "You're many things, Raylan Givens, and a good liar is not one of them."

He glances up at you and smirks.

"Why are you really on this porch tonight?" you ask.

He leans back again, eyes fixed on the hat still in his hands. "This job gets you a lot of enemies. That I wouldn't mind so much, except it never ends with me. People I care about tend to get caught in the crossfire."

He turns to you, and even in the dark, you see in his eyes a vulnerability you'd scarcely seen before.

"I can live with a lot of things, but I won't live with you getting hurt. Least of all because of me. I'm not gonna let that happen."

You pause as you realize that not only was Raylan being honest about his feelings, but that he has them for you. You half-expected a hallelujah chorus to follow, but there was only the peaceful quiet of the evening. Maybe you were asleep, you wonder, for surely this was a dream.

"There's only one thing for it then," you begin, standing up.

You take the hat from his hands and place it in the chair you'd just left. Before he can protest, you sit down on his lap, and he stares at you completely stunned. Tucking your legs up, you lay your head on his shoulder and rest your hand on his chest.

"You'll just have to stay here," you declare softly.

Hesitating only a moment, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer.

"Guess I'll have to," he replies.

Several moments of him holding you in comforting silence go by before he speaks again, and you can hear him smile as he does.

"I should warn you, though. I've been told, by just a few people mind you, that I can be a pain in the ass."

You sit up, snickering, "Tell me something I don't know."

His gaze softens, weighing your challenging words.

"Alright, how about this. If I stay, I don't have plans to leave."

Just when you thought he couldn't surprise you any more, he goes and says a thing like that, looking at you the way he is.

"That's good. Because I don't have plans to let ya," you smirk.

You let your words and worries fall to the wayside as you lean in and kiss him. His hand slides up your neck and into your hair as he kisses you back hard, tasting like whiskey and longing. Many heartbeats of intoxicating embrace pass before you both remember to breathe.

He grins at you and chuckles.

"You're never getting rid of me now."

#raylan givens x reader #raylan x reader #raylan givens imagine #raylan givens x y/n #raylan givens x you #justified fanfic #justified imagine #justified #timothy olyphant #my writing

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erimeows · 8 months

Text

Knowing (NSFW)

The night that Vogler gets voted off the board, Wilson drives back up to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in the pouring rain to go celebrate with Chase, Foreman, and House in the latter’s office. Wilson, whose position was conveniently reinstated by Cuddy and the rest of the board, brings a bottle of whiskey in for the four of them to split between the shot glasses he knows House keeps in his desk drawer.

They stay there, making fun of Vogler and chatting away until half past midnight. Chase and Foreman excuse themselves around the same time.

“And then there were two,” Wilson chimes with a half smile as he screws the lid back onto the glass whiskey bottle and slides it under House’s desk. He doesn’t drink much- hardly drank any of it tonight- so he figures House will get more use out of it than he ever will. “How are you feeling?”

“Think they’re going home together?” House hums, totally ignoring Wilson’s question. House is shaken due to that day’s happenings and just refuses to admit it to anyone- even himself. It makes sense that he won’t acknowledge it. “I could’ve sworn there was some tension recently.”

“I think that has more to do with the fact that you had them at each other’s throats than it has to do with what you’re implying,” Wilson scoffs and shakes his head.

Wilson looks toward the window. House has the blinds open for once. Finally, even if it’s only for tonight, House isn’t closing off the rest of the world.

Wilson stands from where he’s sat in front of House’s desk so he can go to peer out the window. Rain continuously showers over the building and trickles down the window in big fat drops to shroud their already-foggy view of the city.

“Ah, you’re no fun,” House feigns a pout and lifts himself from his spinning chair so he can slip his big coat over his shoulders. A few awkward seconds pass. Wilson waits for House to inevitably make his exit with a sarcastic farewell, but the exit never comes. Instead, House uses his cane to walk until he’s standing next to Wilson. He leans against the window and stares out at the city rather than at Wilson himself. Meanwhile, all Wilson can stare at is House. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be going home to your wife? She might get lonely without you. Poor thing.”

Wilson rolls his eyes at that. He doesn’t want his wife- he wants House. His marriage has been over since it started and at this point, he’s just waiting for Julie to serve him with papers.

“I’m an oncologist, House, it’s not like she’s used to having me home at this time of night anyways. The only reason I’m not working right now is because I just got hired back.”

“But you could be home with her if you really wanted to,” House points out- ever so excited to correct someone, even if it’s Wilson- no, especially if it’s Wilson. The man is sadistic; always seizing the opportunity to point out somebody else’s flaws if it draws attention away from his own. By pointing out the fact that Wilson should be home with his wife right now, he draws the attention away from how he refused to keep his head down with Vogler and got Wilson fired. “And you could also be pounding that hot nurse you had lunch with if you really wanted to. I bet she’d light some candles at her apartment and put rose petals on the bed to make it real nice- a contrast from the dead bedroom you’re probably suffering from with Julie right now. So, why are you here with me when you could be with either of them? Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“You’re right,” Wilson shrugs. He knows better to engage with House by arguing. That’s exactly what House wants, so he refuses to play into it. He puts his own jacket on and shoots House a sharp glare. “If you’re going to be like this about it, though, I’m going home.”

Wilson goes to leave, only to feel a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head to see House standing there with an unreadable expression (because even after all these years, this man is still an enigma).

“But do you want to go home to her?”

Wilson gulps and looks down, avoiding House’s prying gaze.

House reaches up to grab Wilson’s chin- to make Wilson look at him. Wilson does what he knows House wants him to and makes eye contact. Icy blue burns into light brown at the same time that Wilson’s cheeks flush pink.

He’s had feelings for House since… Well, he doesn’t know when. One day, their friendship was just that, and the next, Wilson found himself with a notebook full of the man’s favorite things; found himself stealing glances and dreaming of things that he shouldn’t have been. Casual outings with his best friend turned into him spending his afternoons in preparation, trying on different outfits and mulling over which one would impress House the most. Peaceful nights with his wife- wives, over the years- turned into early mornings with him knelt on the floor of his bathroom, praying to God for House’s health, for House’s happiness, for House’s work, for House. Things changed so fast he couldn’t see it coming, let alone stop it.

Wilson remains lost in thought until House clears his throat, impatient. He recenters himself and meets House’s eyes again. Clearly, House reciprocates. Wilson isn’t oblivious to that. Wilson is the only person House spends time with, the only person House is interested in, the only person House has decided not to shut out. Wilson is the only person House has loved since Stacy.

But, whether or not House actually wants a relationship, Wilson has no idea. House isn’t the kind of man to hesitate. He would’ve made a move by now if he wanted it. Then again, he clearly returns Wilson’s feelings. So, if it’s not a relationship, what does House want? For them to stay in this limbo forever, wanting each other so desperately but never doing anything about it?

Wilson eyes House up and down. Still, his expression remains unreadable, but Wilson can tell that he’s tense with the way he taps his cane against the floor and purses his lips.

“You know Julie and I haven’t been doing well. Why would I want to go home to her right now? And why does it matter to you?”

At that, House’s face falls. Wilson has successfully backed him into a corner and it’s apparent he doesn’t like it.

“No reason.”

House backs away from Wilson like he’s on fire and retreats to his desk to gather his things. Wilson follows, unable to notice how House puts extra effort into facing away from him to hide his reddening cheeks.

“You never ask questions without a reason- you never do anything without a reason,” He argues.

“I can’t help but notice that you’re still here,” House grumbles and points up at the analogue clock on the wall. It’s almost one in the morning now. “You said you were going to leave two minutes ago, so leave.”

“You’re the one who stopped me,” Wilson shrugs. With each of these tense, awkward interactions, he feels as if he and House are getting progressively closer to something big. But then nothing happens, and he’s left disappointed like he is every other time. “You should be getting home, too. It’s late.”

“Ooh, so we can leave together,” House smirks and clacks his cane against the floor again. “I love it.”

Wilson flinches at a crack of thunder that booms through the sky.

“Are you sure you should drive in this?” He asks in reference to the downpour outside.

“What, are you gonna offer to chauffeur me to my place and then make that drive all the way back to yours?”

“No,” Wilson answers with a shake of his head. “I was gonna ask if I could drive us both to your apartment and stay with you tonight.”

“Wow, you’re really trying to get in my pants, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Wilson snaps. House blinks in what Wilson assumes is surprise. “You’re not a genius for figuring that one out; I’ve only been interested for a decade. So what?”

House pauses, standing behind his desk and staring at Wilson with a twinkle in his icy blue eyes. The tension in the room becomes so thick that it’s palpable until House walks towards the door of his office and utters one sentence.

“I don’t sleep with married men.”

Then, he shoots Wilson a wink and a smile before gingerly exiting the office, leaving nothing more than a confused and disappointed oncologist. Wilson sighs and looks at the clock again.

It’s one in the morning. He should be getting home.

A few months pass. Wilson moves out of the apartment he shared with Julie, which she doesn’t question. He also gets together with a lawyer and gets her served with divorce papers. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t question that either, and when he goes back to the apartment for the rest of his things, he’s not shocked by the fact that there’s another car in his parking space and a pair of men’s steel-toed boots by the front door.

As much as Wilson could complain about acquiring a third alimony payment, he’s so relieved that it’s over that he doesn’t think to do so. Instead, he makes copies of all the documents pertaining to the divorce, storms into House’s office, and throws them down onto the diagnostician’s desk.

House, who was sitting in his chair and bouncing his tennis ball on the floor, glances up at Wilson with a half-smile.

“What’s this? STD test results? I knew your panty-peeling ways would catch up to you eventually,” House jokes before picking up the stack of papers and staring down at it. Upon reading the words, his eyes go wide. “You really did it…”

“I’m not a married man anymore,” Wilson smirks. “What now?”

House tilts his head. His small half of a smile morphs into a large, cheshire grin.

“I don’t sleep with people who know me.”

“Really? That’s it? Not ‘I’m not gay’?” Wilson sputters. House must be coming up with excuses to avoid the inevitable at this point- either that or just trying to fuck with him for the fun of it. They love each other, and they both know they love each other, but that was never the problem. It’s always been House and whatever reservations he has back in that complicated head of his. “That’s your reason, that you know me?”

“Yes,” House nods and tosses the copies of Wilson’s divorce papers into the trash can next to his desk. Then, he starts spinning in his chair like a child and tosses his tennis ball in Wilson’s direction. Wilson barely catches it. “And I’ve never confirmed or denied the thing about being gay- I like to keep people on their toes, keep ‘em guessing.”

“You like to keep people on their toes, huh? That’s one hell of an understatement. What about Cuddy? Or Stacy? And I’m pretty sure you’ve at least considered Cameron. You know all of them.”

“Sure I do, but they don’t know me,” House explains and crosses his arms. “You, however, do.”

“And you don’t sleep with people who know you- you won’t risk being with me even though we have these feelings for each other-” Wilson pauses, pointing at himself as he puts it together. “Because you’re afraid of being known.”

“No. I just know better than to mix being known with the terrible thing that is my sex life. Why are you so insistent on making this a me problem?” House demands. While it’s apparent that he’s trying to maintain his composure, Wilson has known the man long enough to tell that he’s frazzled as he looks for his cane. Upon locating it, House grabs it from where it fell onto the floor at some point and gets up from his chair. “Is it because you don’t want to admit that it could be you?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Wilson huffs. He throws his hands up in frustration and furrows his brow in anger. House starts to walk like he’s going to go past Wilson and to the door of his office, so Wilson blocks his way by moving in front of him. House shoots a glare that would work on just about anyone else- that would make Cameron or Chase or Foreman or any of House’s clinic patients turn their backs and walk away- but Wilson hasn’t been friends with House for over a decade by walking away from him. “You just admitted it was you and the weird prerequisites that you have for your sexual partners!”

“Well, you’ve had three failed marriages and you’re the only common denominator, so are we going to sit here and pretend that I’m the problem in this relationship?”

“I know I’m not perfect, you idiot- we’re both the problem!”

“Listen, Wilson, we’re at work and I’m sure you’ve got a ton of dying bald little freaks to save,” House says with a harsh tap of his cane to the floor for emphasis.

“You’re fucked up.”

“I know. We both are,” House says and leans down to Wilson’s ear, daring to nip on the lobe. A flash of heat tears through Wilson’s spine. He can’t remember the last time he was so enthralled with someone; was it during his marriages? No, he would’ve remembered. Before House? Or was it always House? He’s so close that Wilson can smell past the cologne he wears and the shampoo he puts in his hair to get the scent of him, just him. Wilson knows his eyes are wide as House whispers in his ear. “Now get back to work. Or, if you’re just going to spend the rest of your shift thinking about me anyway, go home where you can fantasize about what I’m like in bed without getting interrupted.”

House, thinking he’s won this, side-steps as smoothly as he can given his infarction and goes to take another step forward so he can briskly escape this tense situation. Wilson, however, doesn’t intend on letting House escape. He’s always been good at surprising House, which he does yet again when he entangles his fingers in the loose ends of House’s hair and moves closer until they’re chest to chest. He waits for House to push him away, to say something, to tell Wilson that he doesn’t want this for some other stupid reason he’s come up with to push Wilson away for the millionth time.

Silence ensues. House doesn’t speak, just remains perfectly still with his back pin straight and his icy blue eyes trained on Wilson. He’s just holding his breath, watching, waiting for the oncologist to make the next move. Wilson enjoys the moment for what it is; being this close to House and being able to touch him isn’t something he’s ever gotten to partake in.

House’s hair is peppery in color and a little coarse, and the ends are grown out so he has a couple small curls at the base of his neck. He’s long overdue for a hair cut. Wilson runs his fingers through it and revels in the sensation of his chest against House’s.

He wonders what it would be like if they were at House’s apartment and not surrounded by the staff of the hospital walking by. He thinks about what this would feel like without the layers of clothes between them. He imagines what House would sound like if they weren’t standing here at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital staring each other down- if they were in House’s queen-sized bed, mouths on each other’s, hands roaming bodies and sweat staining House’s dark blue bed sheets.

“Tell me you don’t love me, or that I’m ugly, or that I have too much baggage. Tell me something- anything- about me that’s so bad that you don’t want this,” Wilson commands. “Tell me that I’ve put on too much weight since my second divorce, that my savior-complex is annoying, that I’m a serial cheater, that I always put your empty cereal boxes back in the pantry after I finish off the bag, anything. Please.”

“It’s not-” House starts with a quizzical expression, only for Wilson to quickly interject.

“Not about you or your fears. Give me a good, valid reason you don’t want me, and I’ll stop. I’ll leave, we can go back to being normal friends- hell, you can choose not to talk to me ever again- and that’ll be the end of it. But I’m not going to walk away knowing that you want me just as much as I want you. I can’t do that to us, House.”

“I…”

House looks anywhere but at Wilson now; the clock on the wall, the cane in his hand, the floor, Wilson’s stupid pink tie. He can’t do it and they both know that. Wilson isn’t surprised. What he is surprised by is how House kisses his forehead so tenderly. Wilson almost doesn’t believe it’s him doing it… and then it’s his nose, and his cheek, and finally, House is kissing him on the lips, slow and sweet.

Wilson hesitantly kisses back. It doesn’t seem real, but it is. It must be real if the large hand squeezing his waist and the stubble brushing against his chin are anything to go off of. He pulls away just enough to whisper against House’s lips.

“We’re at work. Shouldn’t you stop now?”

“Yes,” House breathes, even as he goes in for another kiss, and then another, as if he’ll die without; as if he’s drowning and Wilson is his only source of air. Wilson accepts it, craves it, allows himself to be taken in and kissed until he’s out of breath and his lips are bruised. It quickly escalates into something that he knows he’d get fired for at any other hospital. Briefly, he worries about people walking past and seeing this through the glass door of House’s office until he realizes that he wants them to see. He wants them to see that no, his devotion to House isn’t meaningless- that their relationship does mean something, that House can and will feel love for the right person, and that Wilson is the only one worthy of said love. “I should.”

“But you’re not going to?” Wilson laughs.

“No, I’m not,” House says and dips for another peck between sentences. “Fuck, I don’t think I could stop this even if I wanted to.”

“Then shut the blinds, lock your office door, and bend over the desk.”

A couple more weeks pass. Some days, they sleep together. Some days, they don’t. Regardless, things are the same as they always have been minus the sex.

Wilson should be disappointed. He wanted House to open up and he wanted them to connect, to have a real relationship. But right now…

Well, he can’t bring himself to be disappointed when they’re like this, having just finished.

He’d seen House naked many times before; it’s hard not to when you’re friends with someone for so long. He can’t even count the number of times he’s accidentally walked in on House jerking off or pinned to his couch by some random hooker. He can count the number of times the pain has been so bad that House has needed help with things as basic as getting dressed or getting in and out of the shower. It was never like this, though, with House underneath him, back arching off his bed. The older man’s icy blue eyes are shut with his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He’s flushed dark pink from his head to the center of his narrow chest, which rapidly rises and falls with every labored breath he takes.

The mattress they’re on is an old, creaky piece of shit that creaks when Wilson carefully rests his weight on top of House. They’re covered in sweat and cum and god knows what else.

“Look at me,” Wilson pleads. House does just that, forcing his eyes open enough to meet Wilson’s. His pupils are blown wide and though it’s clear he’s drowning in their shared pleasure, Wilson can’t read much else. Is House just as enraptured by Wilson as Wilson is by him? Is House hoping he’ll stay after they clean up? “You’re beautiful… So beautiful.”

“And you’re cringeworthy. We’re in my bed, not The Notebook,” House references with a half-hearted roll of his eyes and a playful smack of one hand against Wilson’s shoulder. “So shut up and get off of me.”

Wilson does as told and rolls off of House, onto the bed. He’s learned where House keeps everything so that House can just lie there and let Wilson clean the both of them up on nights like this. They never have sex at Wilson’s as Wilson is living in a hotel following the divorce and has yet to settle into a new place of his own.

He settles on his side next to House with his head on one of the pillows. There used to be one, but Wilson noticed after the first night he came over to do this, House bought another. Still, he hasn’t asked Wilson to stay the night. Wilson wonders if House even wants him to. Then again, there’s a lot of things he wonders about House.

Wilson stares at House, who is still on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He already has his boxers back on which makes Wilson self conscious enough to grab his from the floor and put them on as well.

Wilson wishes he knew what was running through the man’s mind right now. He’s quiet, contemplative, and serious in a way that’s out of character for him. Usually it’s awkward enough that Wilson leaves, and they pretend this never happened (until the next time it happens), but Wilson is growing weary of this cycle they’ve created over the last few weeks. Instead of quickly dressing himself and leaving, he gets back into the bed and pulls one of House’s large blankets over the two of them. House’s eyes widen. His gaze flickers to Wilson; questioning, cautious.

“There’s more I wish I knew about you,” Wilson softly murmurs. “More I wish you’d tell me. Things I’d ask about if I thought I could actually get an honest answer out of you.”

House furrows his brow.

“Like what?”

“Will you answer me honestly?”

“Depends on what you wanna know,” House answers.

Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, Wilson worms his way between one of House’s arms and his body so he can rest his head on the man’s chest. House tenses at first before relaxing his muscles and wrapping his arm around Wilson’s body to return the affection.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this… A few months ago, you lied to me about that transplant patient- Carly Forlano- you lied to all of us.”

“Who was that again?” House questions.

Wilson doesn’t know if he’s serious or not.

“That business woman who came in with a ton of problems and ended up in congestive heart failure despite being perfectly healthy. You lied-”

“I like to call it ‘spinning the truth’.”

“So? What was wrong with the patient that met the exclusion criteria for the transplant list anyway? We both know that Chase figured it out and ratted to Vogler and Cuddy during her surgery.”

“She was taking Ipepac,” House says after a long pause, to which Wilson blinks up at him with confusion written on his face.

“You mean she took it once? There’s no way one use would cause that kind of damage to someone so young unless-”

“She said ‘maybe three times a week’. She was bulimic- or, is bulimic- who knows,” House shrugs as much as he can do so considering that Wilson’s weight is on top of him. Still, the expression on his face is unreadable. Wilson remains baffled; why would he lie for her? Why would he take the chance with his medical license by lying like that? Did he have some sort of personal connection with her, or was it just for the sake of solving one of his cases? Just to prove to himself that he was right? “But when bulimics give you a number for the amount they’re purging, it’s usually much more than what they’re actually willing to admit out loud, so I’d bank on it being at least once a day.”

“She’s a smart woman; smart enough to know the kind of damage that could do to her heart, and she did it anyway,” Wilson huffs. He knows everyone copes with stress differently, but he also remembers being very frustrated with that patient while she was in their care. She would use her cell phone during important texting and prioritize her many business calls over her health. Worst of all, she tried to rush herself out of the hospital to get back to work, assuming nothing was seriously wrong and that it was just a random one time health scare at first. If not for the staff’s insistence that she stay, she would’ve died from heart failure. “So why the hell would you grant her the transplant? Better yet, why would you lie to everyone to get her that transplant and risk your job- your medical license? You said you thought you were doing what’s right when we talked about it the first time.”

“I did, because that’s what I thought, and I still think that.”

“Why?”

“Would you believe me if I said I saw a bit of you in that patient?”

At that, Wilson gets off of House and sits up in the bed to stare down at the man, whose expression is unreadable as ever.

“House, I’m not-”

“I know you’re not bulimic, but you’re great at making the worst possible choices for yourself at every turn and ruining your otherwise very accomplished life. That’s another form of self-harm in itself,” House says, sitting up as well. Wilson doesn’t miss the wince that momentarily takes over the other man’s face as he grabs his leg in pain from performing the motion. “Going into oncology even though it makes you miserable, jumping into three marriages that you knew weren’t going to work out, beating up that guy over a Billy Joel song at a bar during an important medical conference, allowing me to befriend you-”

“-you bailed me out of jail, what was I-”

“Staying as my friend even after the conference, allowing me to seep into your personal life and ruin aspect of it, and better yet, your professional life, too!”

“I still have a job and a good reputation, so-”

“Sure, because you got lucky with Cuddy pulling the plug on Vogler, which you had no way of knowing she would do. If that hadn’t happened, your little gesture of voting to keep me on staff even though you knew you’d get canned too still would’ve played out the way it was supposed to. You would’ve been fucked.”

“And what you’re saying is?” Wilson sighs.

“Everyone else in my life; they’re sane enough to not want to deal with me the way I am but crazy enough to try and fix me. You, on the other hand, are sane enough to know I can’t be fixed but crazy enough to stay with me anyway. Even though you’ve made the mistake of getting to know me, you’re still here,” Silence. Wilson isn’t sure what to say, so he tentatively reaches out. House holds his hand and intertwines their fingers with a bittersweet smile. “Nothing to say?”

“Well… What’s so bad about knowing you?”

“Being known is simultaneously one of the best and worst things that could happen to someone. When it works out, it’s great, and when it doesn’t work out, it’s not… And let’s not pretend I’m not a huge asshole. It’s a miracle you’re still friends with me after all these years.”

“That’s all it is?” Wilson asks, to which House nods. “I don’t get it, then. We’ve been friends for a long time, House, you know I can take whatever you can dish out… Unless… Are you afraid I’m going to leave?”

“We could be naive enough to sit here and assume that things are always going to be this way; that we’ll always catch each other when we fall, but people fall out of love. People turn their backs, and they let each other fall. People grow and change and before you know it, your best friend becomes a stranger, and you don’t know them like you thought you did,” House drops Wilson’s hand and turns around to toss both of his legs over the side of the bed. Again, he winces from the pain caused by his infarction. It looks like he wants to stand to leave the room for something but can’t gather the strength to do so. “We’ve both had it happen to us before, and you know it’s real. You’ve been through three marriages and I’ve ran through plenty of relationships in the last few decades. You’re just making the worst possible decision for yourself yet again by throwing yourself into the pits with me.”

“But that’s my decision to make. Whether or not we do anything about our feelings doesn’t change them. There’s no stopping this, at least not for me,” Wilson insists and rushes to stand up so he can go around the side of the bed and offer his hands.

House refuses to take them, refuses to accept the help. The older man fumbles around until he manages to retrieve his cane from where he abandoned it on the floor earlier. Instead of using Wilson as leverage, he uses his cane and stands from the bed to walk towards the door of the bedroom. Wilson follows him into the kitchen in wait of a response.

“You’re not scared at all?”

“Of course I’m scared! I’m terrified. I’ve seen our track records with relationships, but… If it means that I get to be with you, I can be scared and still put my best foot forward, to try and make this work. I’m in love with you, Greg House.”

House walks towards the fridge without a word. Again, Wilson follows in wait of a response, this time wrapping his arms around House’s waist and resting his chin on the man’s shoulder from behind.

“You’re persistent.”

“So? You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep making me wait on you. Seriously, it’s been over a decade of this nonsense with two weeks of confusing sex stacked on top of it,” Wilson scolds. House just looks back at him as if he’s not sure this is real. “So? What do you say?” “I say… I’m in love with you too, James Wilson,” House chuckles, reaches into the fridge, and grabs a beer for each of them with a large grin. “Good luck.”

#hilson #house md #house fanfiction #house x wilson #housemd #gregory house #james wilson x gregory house #greg house x james wilson #james wilson x greg house #james wilson #fanfiction #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles

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sitkowski · 27 days

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this delicate balance ( noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo )

pairing: nicholas ruffilio x noah sebastian cw: none. a little bit of angst, mentions of post tour burn out. pretty much just fluff. word count: 860 author's note: more soft boys from my riptide verse. this is set in the same time frame as twin skeletons. title comes from "existentialism on prom night" by straylight run. i think i hurt myself a little bit with this one. divider by @saradika-graphics ✨

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups || the riptide verse masterpost

Waking up without an alarm, without someone telling him where he’s got to be and what he’s got on his schedule is a new concept for Noah lately. The band has been going non stop, and he has to remind himself out loud that this break is for the best. That if they didn’t take it, if he didn’t take it, he was going to become resentful of it all. He’d never been more grateful for the band—his family—than when they told him they were basically making the decision for him, all he had to do was agree to it. And now, here he is, sleeping in and waking up with Lydia tucked into the space behind his knees, and the sounds of Nicholas talking out in the hallway, presumably to Jerry since Dave is sleeping on Nicholas’ pillow beside him.

The door’s already half open, but when it opens more, Noah lifts his head to see Nicholas peeking in.

“I’m up,” Noah murmurs, trying to stretch without disturbing the cats. “What time is it?”

He looks around for his phone, but doesn’t see it. And when he looks to the other side of the bed where Nicholas’ alarm clock usually sits, he sees that something’s been tossed over the display so he won’t see the numbers.

“It’s almost one.” Nicholas says as he comes further into the bedroom.

Noah went to sleep around midnight the night before, and his eyes went wide as he does the mental math. “You let me sleep for thirteen hours?”

“I put your phone in the kitchen too. You needed it, you didn’t wake up once in the middle of the night. Trust me, I checked.”

He can usually sleep that much and more after a tour, but normally he’s ready to bounce back after a day or two. It’s been two weeks, and he still feels the burnout. Never ending jet lag. Not wanting to do anything but sleep and usually that’s pretty fitful the first few nights home before he starts to feel normal. Normal isn’t coming so quickly this time.

Nicholas making sure that he slept fully through the night does something to his heart, and he gently extracts himself from the bed and shuffles over, immediately wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. He feels stupidly grateful, and doesn’t know what to say. That's been happening a lot lately. But he doesn’t really need to say anything, Nicholas knows. Reaching up, he pulls Noah’s head down to press his lips to his forehead.

“Why don’t you shower, and then we’ll figure out what we’re gonna do today.”

It’s not lost on Noah that there is no itinerary, no schedule he’s got to follow. If he wanted to turn around and go back to bed, he could. But he takes a shower, which at least helps him feel a little more awake. When he goes downstairs finally, he makes himself a cup of coffee and takes it out onto the back patio, where Nicholas is sitting with his sketchbook.

“Any plans you wanna make?” he asks, not looking up from his drawing.

Noah gets a little distracted just watching him draw, something he hasn’t had an opportunity to do very often. He wants Nicholas to tattoo him again at some point, he’d give up every last inch of bare skin left over for him to fill in. But he doesn’t realize he hasn’t answered the question until Nicholas is looking up at him expectantly.

“I mean, not really? Half the day is already gone and—”

“Do we need to talk about you deserving things again?”

Noah blushes hotly at that, trying to fight off a smile at the memory of just a few days ago. “Not right this second, no?”

Because he knows the whole point of taking this time off, was to actually try to use the break to relax. And the more he thinks about it, the less guilt he feels about it. There’s not some magic fix, but he’s glad to have Nicholas there with him. As if he’d be anywhere else, he knows he wouldn’t make it through any of this without him.

“You’re gonna wait me out if I don’t give you an answer, aren’t you?”

Nicholas puts down his pencil. “If you wanna do nothing today, then do nothing. It’s entirely up to you.”

“Okay. Let’s order burgers from that hole in the wall place down the road, and do absolutely nothing today.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

Sitting aside his sketchbook, Nicholas starts to get up, probably to go and grab his phone to place the order. But Noah doesn’t let him get far. He sets aside his coffee cup and tugs him down onto his lap.

“One more thing I want today.” Nicholas hums out a questioning noise, smiling. Noah reaches up and pushes his hair behind his ears. “Can I have a kiss?”

Leaning into him, Nicholas loops his arms around Noah’s shoulders, pressing his lips to his cheek. “As many as you want, sunshine.”

Noah pulls his mouth to his, deciding to take him up on that offer. Lunch can wait.

⇉ taglist:

@deathblacksmoke @ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @baddestomens

@rumoured-whispers @cookiesupplier @dominuslunae @malice-ov-mercy

if you ’d like to be added to the taglist, you can find the form at the top of this fic! thanks for reading/reblogging 🩷

#nicholas ruffilo x noah sebastian #nicholas ruffilo x noah sebastian fic #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #nicholas ruffilo fic #.ficbysitkowski #the riptide verse

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jqmalikhsgib · 6 months

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midnight sky

one

what you were doing was absolutely insane! you just met the man not even twenty four hours ago. but the connection the two of you had was incredible, almost like you were made for each other. maybe you were.

the day started off like every other morning. you groaned as your alarm clock went off, got out of bed, took a quick shower, brushed your teeth, and finally made it down town to your favorite local coffee shop.

you ordered a basic coffee and a pastry before sitting in your normal spot, far in the back. you took your laptop out of your bag and began grading papers, groaning and rolling your eyes at the students who didn’t turn in a paper yet.

after about thirty minutes you heard commotion outside. normally you’d ignore it. it’s new york city after all, it was always filled with nosy people. today was different! flashes came from the window, almost blinding you more than the sun.

you heard people screaming as if someone fell and died. you looked up and saw the paparazzi outside. frowning, you grabbed your things and headed for the door.

“shit! im sorry, love!”

groaning at your coffee spilling on the ground, you were ready to yell at whoever this pretentious actor or whatever he was! not caring if the media and his fans tore you a new one.

“watch where you—”

you couldn’t even finish your sentence. he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. from his buzzed hair cut, beautiful brown eyes, tattooed neck, and his attire. he was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

“are you alright, babe?” even his accent was perfect.

“uh—yeah—yeah! im sorry.”

he chuckles, “it’s my fault, really.”

you were frozen. completely mesmerized by this beautiful man in front of you. your heart skipped a beat.

“it’s fine—um, i should get going.” you began walking away, pushing through the loads of paps. you needed to get far away so you could get that man out of your mind.

unfortunately the moment you got home you looked him up. you needed to know who he was and where he was from. you searched the location of the coffee shop and found tmz reporting the images.

“zayn malik. fuck, even his name is perfect!” you dived into everything zayn malik and began to sigh. soon you find his instagram, noticing he only had a few post. you assumed he deleted his old post due to him starting a new era for his next album.

biting your lip you sigh as you close your eyes processing. god, where you an idiot for even thinking about messaging him. maybe? you knew he probably got thousands of messages everyday, but it was something about him. you click on his profile, clicked on message, and began typing.

‘hi..god, you probably won’t see this, most likely won’t even open it, won’t bat an eye, but i thought i should text you. i guess im intrigued you could say.’

you wait patiently until you heard your phone vibrate. you had never picked up your phone so quickly. you smiled hugely when you saw it was him that sent you a message.

‘hey! normally i don’t open this app unless im posting something about me music or a selfie. coffee shop girl, right?’

smiling, you typed,

‘yeah! sorry about spilling that coffee by the way. im normally not that clumsy.’

‘haha!’

‘it’s cool, babe. got a three year old! use to clumsy.’

‘oh? didn’t noticed you had a kid. gonna be honest, i kinda went on a bit of a stalker session finding you.’

‘really? that’s cute!’

‘yeah! got a daughter. she’s the sweetest thing ever!’

‘i love kids! i always wanted to teach kids instead of middle schoolers. kids love to color and draw. middle schoolers love to gossip and fight.’

‘ha! not ready for that at all!’

‘you’re a teacher, huh? that was my career path before i became a musician.’

‘i enjoy teaching! wanted to since i could remember!’

‘you guys are doing great work! deserve a pay raise!!’

‘tell that to the us government. 😩’

‘fuck them all!!!’

‘agreed!’

‘how bout i meet you up for a coffee? promise, no paps this time?’

‘right now?’

‘yeah…is that okay, babe?’

‘yeah—yeah! ill be there in twenty.’

‘cool! see you soon ;)’

you never got ready so fast in your life. heading downstairs from your building and walking a few blocks to the coffee shop, you spot zero paps and zayn sitting inside your booth. you smile before walking into the building. when he spots you, he smiles at you, stands up, and gives you a hug.

“hey.”

“hi.” you sit in the seat right across from him.

“never got your name. your instagram account doesn’t give it away.”

you blush. you created your instagram when you were in middle school. being overly obsessed with harry potter as a kid and extremely dorky, you had to go with ‘voldedork_hp,’

you never got around to changing it. now you regret that decision one hundred percent. “im sorry about that. a little embarrassed.”

“don’t be! it’s cute. im a huge harry potter fan myself. i went as voldemort last halloween as a mater-of-fact.”

“my names yn.”

“it’s nice to meet you yn. you have a lovely name by the way.”

you snort. feeling like your name was completely bland compared to his!

“may i ask where you’re from? your accent, it’s pretty thick, even for someone born in the uk.”

zayn chuckles. “yeah! m’from bradford england. my pops is pakistani so my accent comes out a little bit stronger i guess. what about you? you don’t sound like a new yorker.” he takes a sip of his coffee.

“im not! born and raised in texas actually.”

“texas, huh? you’re a little way from home, yeah?”

“i got a full scholarship for new york university! i couldn’t pass on that opportunity.”

“brains and beauty, huh?”

you blush. he was definitely a flirt! the two of you got to know one another for the next four hours. you both lost track of time. zayn phone blows up and he continues to ignore it. enjoying his time getting to know the pretty woman across from him. you were loving the company and conversation. it felt like you knew each other for the longest time. you were both laughing and listening to each other tell some crazy story. it felt right.

“how about we get out of this coffee shop, yeah? maybe walk around new york? i promise, no paps. i know places they’ll never go.” he winks at you. you nod before getting out of the booth. zayn grabs your hand and interlocks your fingers.

you were surprised but you didn’t object or pull away. zayn paid for his coffee, leaving a generous tip before leaving. you walk hand and hand around new york, enjoying each other’s company. you continued to talk about everything. the two of you got along so well, you felt crazy for already falling for him. you just met the man! how could you already have such strong feelings for the musician? were you seriously losing your mind? you just couldn’t help how you felt though.

zayn felt the same way. it’s why, standing in front of a courthouse, holding your hand as the moonlight shines, he got the craziest idea. he stops, looks you in the eye, and caresses your cheek. “may i kiss you, babe?”

you blushed, nodding nonetheless. when his lips touched yours, you felt the whole world stopped. god, how could such a beautiful man be this perfect? when he pulls away he grabs your hand and runs across the street. it was like faith, standing in front of a kay jewelers and a bridal shop. you laugh as he looks at you with the biggest grin on his face.

“what?”

“this is gonna be the craziest thing ive ever done or said but, i just—i feel like ive known you for the longest time. you’re beautiful, funny, smart, and amazing. i—i feel like we’re meant to be, meant to meet each other. and you, god maybe this is insane! you can totally say no, kick my ass, slap me, whatever you want, but this is just perfect. it’s almost like faith,”

“what is it?” you asked nervously.

“a jeweler, a bridal shop, and a courthouse right across the street. maybe this is the universe telling us to just go for it. let’s get married.”

normally if a man had asked you this you’d laugh in his face. you’d think he was absolutely insane for even suggesting this idea. but seeing all the key details, it’s like a story from a fairytale! who were you to pass up a fairytale story?

“okay!”

“yeah?”

you nod your head. zayn kisses you passionately before calling up taryn to be a witness! once he convinced her, he grabs your hand, head into the jewelry parlor, the two of you pick your rings before going to the bridal shop and grabbing the most gorgeous dress and a suit, before heading across the street to officially get married.

“are we doing this, forreal?”

“yeah, yeah we are! let’s get married, baby!”

and before you know it, you become misses malik. a true fairytale.

i really hope you all like this fic! it’s not enough zayn fics out there and i need people to make some!

what do you think?

if you wanna be added to taglist please don’t hesitate to ask!!!

#zayn smut #zayn x black fem!reader #zayn x fem!reader #zayn zquad #zayn x reader #zayn imagine #zayn fanfic #zayn mailk #zayn fluff #icarus falls #mind of mine #nobody is listening #room under the stairs #midnight sky jqhotchner

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captain-mj · 1 year

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Vampire Part 4

The plot thickens and Ghost takes off his mask

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Soap had a hard time sleeping after getting all of his housework done. All he could think about was Alejandro’s offer and the way the two men looked intertwined. He thought of what it might be like to be between them. Threesomes had never been high on his fantasy list, usually it was bumped down by the numerous fantasies about vampires. Being bitten, biting, being picked up, being fucked in front of a mirror. Blasphemy and heresy in equal measures.

But a threesome just climbed higher on his list. His little crush on Ghost also just got a lot worse. He had never seen Ghost’s mouth not soaked in blood before. His lips were so red. His fangs poked into his bottom lip and he was so pale. More than that though, his throat had recent bite marks. Meaning Alejandro or someone else bit him often.

Soap’s heart fluttered in his chest and he ended up sitting up, needing to do something with his hands. He grabbed one of his sketchbooks and started to draw Ghost again. This time, he managed to get more of his face. Connecting it with the eyes he knew so well, he tried to piece him together.

He put music in and made sure his alarm was set. He tried his best to sleep most days but sometimes his circadian rhythm just wouldn’t let him. Between that and the adrenaline from earlier, he knew it was likely a losing battle.

Soap drew those fangs dripping in blood, his to be specific but you couldn’t tell from the sketch, and then tried to figure out what Ghost’s nose looked like.

Turns out even adrenaline wears off because he woke up to his alarm while drooling all over the sketch. He sat up slowly and his neck cracked.

“Fucking hell.” Soap stretched and wandered up around the house. He checked that there was a party nearby that the vampires could snatch people from before going up to his Ghost. In the morning, he’d go to the pack house to meet up with Farah, but for now, he’d hang out with Ghost. Like every night.

Soap smiled. When he became a familiar, he didn’t realize he would be a paid friend.

The door was locked.

The door was never locked.

“Ghost?”

“Go away.” Ghost sounded strained, like he was in pain.

Soap panicked. “Sir, are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Ghost didn’t respond.

“Sir, please.”

“Johnny.” Ghost said coldly and sternly. “I am fine. Just… come back later, please.”

Soap sighed. “Okay…” This was the second night this week that Ghost didn’t spend with him. It was selfish of him. But Soap was getting worried that Ghost had gotten… bored with him. He was immortal but he had long learned that didn’t mean much. They grew tired and bored of things quickly if they weren’t just right to catch their fancy.

In the room, Ghost felt like he was dying. His body ached all over. His ears kept ringing. His mouth had been stuffed full of cotton. Ghost hadn’t needed to breath in so long but he needed to right now.

The ski mask Soap had given him was ripped to shreds on the floor as Ghost gulped for air, but it just… wouldn’t go into his lungs. Nothing he did gave him relief from the suffocating feeling.

Something seared in his chest and there was a sharp pain growing.

Bloody tears ran down his face until his vision was red.

It didn’t stop until midnight and Ghost reluctantly knew when it was. His birthday. Technically, the day he turned but he didn’t know what his actual birthday was anymore. These days were always awful but never this bad. Usually there was just an uncomfortable feeling so he had no clue why his body decided to remind him what pain was.

He slowly ran his hands through his hair, feeling… something.

No.

NO.

His denial could only do so much though. His ears were pointed. And from the way it felt, rather long. Even if his mask wasn’t destroyed, there was no way it would cover them. Ghost looked at his nails, noticing they were longer and sharper, as well as a nice obsidian color. He’d be glad he no longer had to paint his nails if not for the growing hate in his soul.

Sometimes, when he was selfish or lonely or sad, he’d pretend he was human. Just… for a bit. It was easy if he didn’t look in mirrors or run his tongue over his teeth.

But the hands in front of him were not human. The way the hair tickled the tips of his ears was not human. Even his fangs fit differently in his mouth.

Ghost scratched at the flesh on his wrists, watching the darkened blood cover his nails. He felt sick. He’d need to eat soon. Soap had gotten him used to nightly feedings but… he couldn’t stomach going outside.

Rudy, the fucking psychic Ghost swore, knocked. “Simon, are you pouting about your lover again?”

Ghost tensed. “Don’t come in.” Mist was already pouring through the door as Rudy appeared in front of him. His face fell.

“Simon. It’s nice to see you again.”

Ghost looked away. “I can’t let Soap see me like this. Please don’t let him see me like this.”

Rudy sighed and knelt in front of him. “He’s into vampires you know. I don’t think he’d care if you look a little less human.”

“I don’t want to be less human. I feel like I’m pretty inhuman as it is.” Ghost let Rudy take his wrists. “New nails.”

Rudy hissed and shook his head. “You’re not healing thanks to the little transformation you decided to have. Used everything you got.”

Ghost didn’t like the implication that it was on purpose but he let it slide. “I’m not going out there. I don’t have my mask. And Soa-”

Rudy covered Ghost’s mouth to quiet him. “I know. I get it. Look, I just came back okay? You can have a nibble off me and then we’ll figure it out.”

Ghost relaxed and mumbled.

“What was that?” He mumbled again.

“Simon.”

“I said thank you… Also stop calling you that.”

“Would you prefer batling?”

“Nevermind.” Ghost pulled Rudy in his lap easily and nosed at his throat. He took a deep breath. All vampires smelled a little too sweet and Rudy was no exception, but he could also smell fresh running blood under his skin. He sank his teeth into Rudy, feeling him tangle his fingers in his hair. His eyes closed as he drank, holding his body even closer.

A simple tap on his shoulder and he pulled away, swallowing. Rudy leaned in and kissed him before licking the blood off his lips. “Not as good the second time around.”

Ghost nodded and kissed him back, feeling slightly less terrible. “How can I hide this?”

“You could just… not hide it? There’s no reason too.”

Ghost didn’t understand what Rudy meant. He was covered in scarring. He looked like the dead.

“You’re handsome.” Rudy smiled. “Even if you look a little older now.”

Ghost cupped Rudy’s face, examining him. He was perfect. Everything a vampire should be. A perfect predator.

Ghost was that when his mask was on. When no one could see.

Rudy pulled away and lightly kissed his cheek. “Do you need anything, handsome?”

Ghost laughed softly and smiled, his new fangs biting into his lip a little. “I’m fine.”

Rudy paused and softened a little. “You have a nice smile. You really should let people see it more. I know Soap would love it.” He teased but it was good natured. Gentle. Like he knew just how fragile Ghost was in this moment. His hand ran through Ghost’s hair. It was long and went to his shoulders, a nice soft ginger.

“Thinking of bleaching it.”

“Why?”

“It’s going to have to be seen more. I don’t know. Just think it might be smart.”

Rudy patted his head. “I’m liking the implications. Think you’d make a cute blond.”

Ghost was glad he was not well fed enough to blush. Rudy would tease him “Just… give me a little time.”

“Not too much though, you understand?” Rudy glared. “I don’t want you to get lost in your own head again. Does no good for anyone.” He did leave him alone though.

Interviewer: So why did you come back?

Price: Well, I know Simon’s birthday of course! This is the year when he goes through some changes. You’d think this stuff is gradual since we live forever but our bodies change fast, just spread out.

Interviewer: Interesting. Like phases?

Price: Precisely. First year, a vampire is a fledgling. They require a lot of care in those states. Especially if they were like him and unhappy about the change. You have to keep them fed, keep them from going into the sun, teach them what they need to survive. Then, when you reach a century, some vampires get gifts. Turn into a cat, turn invisible, stuff like that. Extra things that don’t always come with the package. And today. His 800th birthday. When your ears come in. He’ll finally be a grown up.

Interviewer: Did you warn him?

Price: I was going to but it seems I was a tad late. Didn’t want to interrupt him.

Interviewer: Right… Well, what was Ghost like as a fledgeling?

Price: This interview is over.

Soap was on the other side of the house, stressing about this decision. He finally decided yes, he did want to take Alejandro’s deal. So he found him.

Alejandro was lounging on the couch, clearly waiting for something. Soap was pretty sure it was Rudy.

“Alejandro, sir.”

“Yes?” He sounded mildly irritated to be interrupted in his lounging but he sat up anyway.

Soap sat next to him. “I… Your deal.”

Alejandro looked intrigued. “Yeah. The deal. You keep quiet and if you want, I show you what Ghost kisses like.”

“I want to know.” Soap said softly. Despite everything else he had done, sleep with Rudy, get felt up by Alejandro, watch Alejandro and Ghost do… things, for some reason, this made him nervous. It was just kissing.

Alejandro touched his face carefully and had him face him. He held him so tight Soap could barely move. Soap parted his lips to speak and Alejandro leaned in, kissing him softly. His eyes stayed open and so did Soap’s. It felt too intimate. Too much. Soap quickly closed his eyes. The kiss was… gentle. Not really what Soap had been expecting. He couldn’t lean into it thanks to the hands stopping him.

Alejandro pulled away too soon. “I’m rooting for you, little buddy. I think you two could be good for each other.” He smiled.

Soap was out of breath and flustered. “Thank you…”

Alejandro shook his head. “You’re cute. It’s endearing.” He stood up. “Rudy and Ghost seem to be busy. I’m bored.”

Soap hummed. “I had a party invite? It was so you guys could grab something but you could go there?”

Alejandro nodded. “Thanks Soap. Bat.” He turned into a bat and flitted off before Soap could respond.

Soap checked the time and since it was only a little bit after midnight but no one needed him, he caught up on the sleep he missed. It felt weird, but he decided that was better than trying to find out what Ghost and Rudy were doing together.

Gaz woke him up at 5:30 sharp. “You still going to the pack house?”

“Your boyfriend tell you?”

“Yes. I’m going to tell them I had you run errands for me so they don’t want to know where you’ve gone.”

Soap stretched and caught Gaz up on what little he knew about Ghost refusing to let him in or leave his room. Gaz looked a bit concerned. “I’ll talk to him. He has a soft spot for me.”

Soap knew that to be true. He had seen Ghost pick Gaz’s sides in house arguments he wasn’t even involved in and terrorize half of Gaz’s boyfriends. They acted more like siblings than roommates half the time. Made sense Gaz had Price as his adopted Dad. “Thanks, Gaz. I just… worry, ya know?”

Gaz was clearly trying not to make a face. “Sorry, your worry is just really sour and bitter. Trying not to breath too much.”

Soap laughed and got up. “Let me figure out what these werewolves want, yeah?” He fist bumped him and followed the directions to their house.

It was nice. A little smaller but with an actual car and a giant backyard. Three dogs were running about in it.

Soap knocked and all three dogs stood up.

Oh. Not dogs. Definitely not dogs.

They walked on their hindlegs over to him and he tried to not let the intense feeling of uncanny valley and nausea distract him.

Now that they were closer he could see their size and could pick out Alex. Alex waited until his front paws were on the fence to shift back. It meant Soap wouldn’t see him naked. Well… His lower half at least.

“Hey there!” Alex smiled. “Glad you could come.”

The other two werewolves grabbed blankets to wrap around themselves before joining. One was an older lady with blond hair and the other was Farah.

Farah rushed forward, careful to keep the blanket around here. “You’re early!” She smiled. “So here’s the deal. I need your help rescuing someone from a vampire. Once it’s sunrise, we’re going to sneak in and steal her.”

“And you need me why?”

“In case the vampire shows up of course! You’re The Ghost’s familiar. None of them are going to touch you.”

Soap hummed. He supposed there was a sliver of truth to that. But anyone who knew Ghost well enough, knew that Soap was not something he’d kill for. He liked the vote of confidence though. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

Farah smiled. “Thank you so much. This really means a lot to me.” She went inside, presumably to get dressed. The other lady had switched to a robe while he was distracted.

“My name is Kate, but most people call me Laswell. It’s nice to meet you.” She shook his hand and smiled. “Farah has been really worried about her girlfriend.”

Alex leaned in. “Just friend. Hasn’t asked her out yet.”

Laswell frowned. “Seriously?? Still? Jesus.”

Soap blinked at the word, pavloved into expecting a hiss or sizzling sound from one of his companions. There was nothing.

He missed his vampires all of sudden.

God, maybe he did need to get out more.

Farah came out and started to lead the way, ironically towards his house meaning they could’ve met up at his house and saved Soap walking at 6 in the morning but whatever. The other werewolves didn’t come with.

“So. This friend.”

“Her name is Malika. She’s been being controlled for who knows how long!”

Soap noticed she wore a choker around her neck. It looked odd with the rest of her outfit. It was plain, not made to draw attention but then she had black… lace? Satin? He didn’t know fabric. But it covered most of her skin.

“I have scarring.”

Soap quickly looked forward. “Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s cool. Better than when a vampire asked if I liked being collared. Or you just asking. But yeah, I have scarring.”

“What from?”

“I just said I didn’t like being asked.” Farah huffed, but there was a lot more bark than bite to the words. “I didn’t always have a pack and people are cruel.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You got anything like that?”

Soap sighed. “Growing up Scottish in Britain was certainly not ideal. Neither was being gay. Can’t say I have any scars from it. Least not physically.” He grinned at her.

“Must have a ton of mental ones if you want to be a bat.”

“Hey, they’re cool. Live forever. Turn into a bat and fly.”

“Watch everyone you love die. Kill people nightly.”

Soap hummed. “Only bad people.”

“You think every vampire follows that?”

“Mine do.” When Soap was the one in control, but he didn’t let that slip. That night at the bar was different.

Farah didn’t seem to buy it. “Right. Well, we’re here.”

The house was disheveled and held together by tape. The windows were boarded up and Soap didn’t see how anyone, let alone a vampire lived there. They tended to be high maintenance with high standards.

“You sure?”

“Yep! Malika is in there and I have to save her and you’re going to help me.”

Soap sighed. “Yeah, alright.” He grabbed one of the wooden stakes that marked the fence and handed it to Farah before grabbing his own. He checked the sun to see it was well over the horizon. “Alright, they should be sleeping. If Malika is injured or anything, do you have medical supplies at your house?”

“Basic stuff for when we shift.”

“Okay, good. My house is closer but we’ll only go there if there’s an emergency okay? My vampires may also be asleep but its better if we can just bring her straight to your house.”

Farah nodded. “Agreed.”

They both snuck into the home through the front door. It was weird, not needing an invitation. Or having to invite them in behind him.

All these years had started to fuck with his brain and Soap was just now putting together how much it was. When he got irritated, his first instinct was to hiss. When he smiled, he rarely showed off all of his teeth anymore, as if he himself had a pair of fangs to hide.

It was occurring to him now that if for any reason Ghost changed his mind and refused to turn him, Soap would still be very different. Not only because a good chunk of his life would have been waisted on a pipe dream, but such deeply ingrained habits would haunt him.

How could he live as a human when open windows give him anxiety because what if sunlight comes in? When he knew what the wind through his hair from over a 100 feet in the air felt like?

Soap wandered further into the house. It was incredibly dark which not a good sign. The vampire may be a light sleeper.

Farah sniffed the air and started to lead again. She stayed quiet and moved slowly so Soap could keep up even in the pitch black areas. Soap felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he started to reach for Farah. But Farah gasped and rushed forward just as his hand touched her shirt.

“Malika.”

The lady was pretty, but that wasn’t the focus. The focus was the wound on her throat. Several bite marks, none of which were healed. Barely any blood dribbled out and she was so pale.

Farah scooped her up gently.

“My place.” Soap whispered. “Trust me, i-”

Something grabbed him by the back of his hoodie and yanked him off the ground. He felt weightless right before he smashed into the floor. The wooden stake slid towards Farah but she had her hands full with Malika.

“Just go.” Soap yelled before managing to get up and start running in the opposite direction. He made it down the hall before he felt it grab his feet and start to drag him further down.

It was big and clearly old. Very, very old. Soap wondered how many children it had. How many of those children had children. Poor thing, living like this. A vampire this old should have help.

Soap kicked it in its nose though because his survival comes first. He scrambled further away and it gave chase.

“Ghost! I’m Ghost’s familiar!”

It didn’t even understand him. It just kept coming.

Soap couldn’t find the exit. Every room looked the same. Luckily there was nothing else there.

He saw a loose board covering a window and yanked. The sunlight would keep it at bay long enough for him to get it open and get out.

“Ha. Bitch.” Soap grinned right before it lunged straight at him.

Straight into the light.

He watched it set alight. Watched it burn alive.

He didn’t want it to die.

Soap quickly tried to push it out of the light but it was too late. It hit the floor and shattered like porcelain. He stood there, frozen for a while.

“Oh no. Oh no no no.”

Soap reached into the dust, hoping to find something. Anything. A way to know its name.

He’d have to ask Malika. Hopefully the poor thing had enough intellect to tell her.

Soap wanted to cry. It had been an accident. He swore it was just an accident.

He started to head home quickly, wanting to leave what he had done behind. Maybe Ghost would be up. Maybe he could just ask him to sit with him while he buried his head in the blankets and pretended this never ever happened.

Soap closed the door behind him.

“Will you just shut up and let me help?” Alejandro hissed behind him.

Farah growled. “I’m not letting you feed off her.”

Rodolfo sighed and it was clear this was an ongoing argument. Soap wondered once again how long he had been out there. “Our saliva has healing abilities. She’ll bleed out at this rate.”

“It’s true.” Soap backed them up.

“Oh. Thought you were dead.” Alejandro said it so flippantly. Like it really didn’t matter.

Soap wanted to cry again and he blamed it on the already emotional day he was having.

“Glad you’re not?” Alejandro added awkwardly. “But anyway, let me help the little familiar. Don’t want her dying on my watch. Her master can be mad at you, not me.”

Farah snarled but Malika was getting paler and still was dead asleep, so she relented. She gently let Alejandro take here, stepping back just a tiny bit so she could still watch. Alejandro’s tongue flicked out, licking the wound just once. The skin started to stitch back together, but Alejandro didn’t give her back.

Instead, he turned to Soap. Both he and Rodolfo did. Price was on the couch, casually sharpening a blade.

“What happened?”

Farah hit his shoulder. “I told you what happened.”

Rodolfo sighed. “And we believe you, but we mean after you left him alone. You’re clearly fine. Any vampire worth their fangs would’ve ripped you to shreds for theft.”

“Told them I was Ghost’s.” Soap lied, hiding his ash covered hands behind his back.

“Ah. Makes sense. We can’t just… Soap, you can’t just do that!”

Soap winced. “Look, I’m sorry. I just wanted to help. Look at the condition she’s in.”

“It’s horrible but you can’t…”

Footsteps. Unsteady footsteps.

Soap heard Ghost’s voice as he stood on the steps.

Unmasked.

Ghost was unmasked.

He was blond.

He had bleached blond hair from the looks of it.

And freckles.

And pointed ears with little piercings.

And the soft ruby lips Soap thought about all the time.

“Don’t scold my Johnny. That’s my job.”

Price hummed. “Nice to see you again, Simon.”

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taylortruther · 10 months

Note

The way almost EVERY single line in YLM can be related to a previous like she wrote about Joe is INSANE. Like YLM is basically the song that would most fit the theme of Midnights (reflecting on the past and integrating it into the present) and guess what? She left it out (for reasons that I understand).

Here we go;

You say I don't understand and I say I know you don't// Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

We thought a cure would come through in time now I fear it won't// I thought the plane was goimg down, how'd you turn it right around?

Remember looking at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light...now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time// The entirety of Daylight duh

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it //I am an architect I'm drawing up the plans (I'm reaching here I know)

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix always rising from the ashes // I am ash from your fire

Mending all her gashes // is this the end of all the endings, my broke bones are mending

You might just have dealt the final blow // Darling this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart (these two lines feel so similar to me)

Stop you're losing me (I hope I never lose you) I can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore// he got my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue

Every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes// after the storm something was born on the 4th of July

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying// There's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough

I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick // I gave SO MANY SIGNS

My face was GREY but you wouldn't admit that we were sick // I don't like anticipating my face in a RED flush (I could write an essay about just this grey/red parallel but nvm)

And the air is thick with loss and indecision//clearing the air I breathed in the smoke

I know my pain is such an imposition // You don't really read into my melancholia // Always taking up too much space or time // I'm not your problem anymore

Now you're running down the hallway // I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway // You were standing hollow eyed in the hallway

And you know what they all say "you don't know what you've got until it's gone" // he better lock it down or I won't stick around 'cause good ones never wait

How long could we be a sad song // each bar plays our song

Till we were too far gone to bring back to life // Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

I gave you all my best mes, my endless empathy // I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best// After giving you the best I had, tell me what to give after that?

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier // All the bloodshed, crimson clover // And if I bleed you'll be the last to know // soldier down on that icy ground

Fighting in only your army // I'd sit with you in the trenches

Frontlines don't you ignore me // I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

I'm the best thing at this party // best believe I'm still bejeweled when I walk in the room, I can still make the whole place shimmer

And I wouldn't marry me either // She would've made a lovely bride // I'd marry you with paper rings // all they keep asking me is if I'm gonna be your bride // the entire bridge of Lover

A pathological people pleaser // what a shame she's fucked in the head // mirrorball tm // my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Who only wanted you to see her // Walking with his head down, I'm the one he's walking to

And I'm fading thinking DO SOMETHING BABE // Some boys are trying too hard he don't try at all though

SAY SOMETHING // You don't ever say too much

LOSE SOMETHING BABE RISK SOMETHING // this ain't for the best

CHOOSE SOMETHING BABE I'VE GOT NOTHING TO BELIEVE // stood on the cliffside screaming "give me a reason"

i have nothing intelligent to say but I LOVE THIS, let's discuss

#ylm

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filthyfluffyfantasies · 1 year

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─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

❝hey baby girl! you look lost. maybe I should escort you back to the north side.❞

you roll your eyes as soon as you hear what the ghoulie is saying to you and you fume. if not for sweetpea and the stupid school project, you think to yourself, i wouldn't even be over on the south side past midnight. as the footsteps pick up behind you and the ghoulie continues to call out to you and try to get you to stop, you pick up your own pace.

sweetpea picks up his pace to match your own. when he heard what the ghoulies were planning after you left the wyrm, he rushed out the back way and he thought he'd catch up to you, maybe walk you home. just as you're about to turn the corner up the block, he closes the gap between you and a massive ring adorned hand clamps down on your shoulder, bringing you to a full stop.

❝get your fucking hands offa me!❞ you yell as you spin around fast, this catapulting you right into the towering mass that is sweetpea. you stare up at him for a few seconds, puzzled by his sudden appearance because when you left him at the wyrm, he was about to start a game of pool with that guy, fangs. your nose wrinkles. ❝you? what do you want, hm?❞ you question, your hand settled on your right hip as you tap your foot and your eyes dart around, just to be on the safe side.

❝Easy, princess.❞ sweetpea raises both hands as if to surrender and for the third time that night, eyes as dark as the night sky rake over your body. he steps closer, the front of your body bumping against the front of his softly. ❝you kiss your mother with that mouth, princess?❞ he teases; he's being a shit and he knows it. you roll your eyes and hold up your middle finger at him. ❝i thought you were that ghoulie asshole.❞ you mutter after seconds that seem to stretch on and on, forever.

sweetpea clenches his fists when you mention that one of the ghoulies was already harrassing you. you're the one who just had t' work with her, man. it's your fault she's even over on this side of the tracks to start with. - the thought comes and sweetpea raises his free hand - the one not resting on your hip at the moment, and rubs his face. ❝i'm walkin you home. fangs was right. i never shoulda let you leave by yourself.❞

and it's not a question, it's not an offer. it's a command. spoken in the firmest tone as sweetpeas' eyes dance over your little body and the way you've done it again, migrated closer to him. no matter how much you live to make his life hell, you're always close. too close. touching him with your smaller hands, your perfume making his mouth water, the flush in your cheeks and the flare of your nostrils when he's taken things too far and made you angry getting him all hot and bothered.

he's a little surprised when you meet his demand with no resistance, only a tired sigh and a grumbled obscenity under your breath as the two of you begin to trudge towards the grassy knoll that separates his side of the tracks from yours.

but the silence is too much. it's thick and heavy, it's enough to strangle you both. as you draw to a stop at the flickering streetlamp across the street from your house, you nod your head towards the house as you gaze up at the massive south sider.

❝well, this is it.❞ you mumble, uggs shuffling against concrete as you linger, hesitant to get in out of the cold. you're dying to ask him why he insisted you partner with him earlier in class but deep down you realize that asking will be you, opening pandora's box.

and maybe it's just better this way. maybe if you don't ask you can safely keep fighting the sparks you felt earlier tonight at the wyrm, sitting side to side with him in a back booth at the wyrm.

sweetpea starts to walk away, assuming you've gone inside after watching you walk up the concrete walkway that leads up your sloping front lawn to your porch. so this time, he's the one surprised when he's turned around. shoved up against the trunk of the nearest tree that lines the street as you mold yourself against him and raise to tiptoe, just barely grazing warm,soft lips against his in a chaste kiss as your hand lingers against his cheek. as you seem to come to your senses and pull away, sweetpea blinks, dazed.

before he can ask you why the hell you kissed him, you've bolted up your walkway and through the front door to your house, door banging shut behind you and the sound echoing off the night air.

he stands there to collect himself for a second or two and then he starts to make his way back over to the south side... more confused than ever now, no thanks to your little kiss.

#sweetpea #sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea x reader #sweetpea x you #sweet pea x y/n #( headcanons! )#( blurbs. )#☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ naughty thoughts & thots;

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shadowbriar · 2 years

Text

Remus Lupin - Wrangler

Pairing : (F/M) || Remus Lupin x Reader Word Count : 2.2k Warning : Mentions of scar and wound. Misunderstanding. Notes : Her absence has created nothing but more insecurities for the poor boy. He knew he was at fault and he would never forgive himself for it, but was that it? Could his condition finally become the scissors to have cut their strings of love?

Remus stares at the now cold food served in front of him. The empty chair placed on his side was screaming in silence. The ticking sound of the grandfather clock by the sitting room turns louder with each passing second. Another night poured down the drain, he thought.

There hasn’t been a day where he doesn’t blame himself for what happened that night. Perhaps he didn’t chew enough wolfsbane, or maybe he didn’t fully drink the potion down to its last drop. Whichever reason it was, the cost he had to pay was beyond his imagination. It had cost him everything.

It had cost him her.

Ever since that full moon months ago, she’s always left their house before the sun even woke up and returned only when the clock almost struck midnight. He hardly ever sees her, though they’re living under the same roof, sleeping on the same bed. The lingering smell of her perfume on their bedsheets and the dirty cup by the sink, stained with her lipstick, were his only proof that she hasn’t truly left.

Yet.

He would forever curse himself for hurting her that night. The scar marked across her chest would be his everlasting reminder of how much of a monster he is. One that doesn't deserve a lover. A lover as precious as her.

Perhaps this is where he should draw the line. Let her go and watch her flourish from afar. End whatever it is left of their relationship before every good memory and pleasant affections turn into guilt and hatred. No, he would rather die than have her hate him. He could never bear such torment.

Yet seeing the fading glee surrounding their home, Remus could understand if such a feeling is already brewing in her heart.

His brood was interrupted as he heard the front door open. She finally arrived. An hour earlier than her usual timing, yet still late at night. He quickly wipes the tears off his eyes with his sleeves, plastering a fake smile to not worry her even worse. The last thing he’d want is for her to pity him though he knows he must look like the most pathetic bloke right now.

“Remus,” She greets, surprised to have found him still up and with untouched plates of food “Why are you still up, Love?”

“I cooked for us.” He answers with a smile, hiding the disappointment that she has indeed forgotten their anniversary “I thought it’s been a while since we’ve had dinner together, so.”

She places her bag on the table, taking a seat with an apologetic look, “Remus, Darling, I’m sorry but- I was starving earlier so I ordered some takeaway and I-”

“It’s fine,” Remus cuts in, taking the plate in front of her and feeling even more foolish of himself yet concealing it with a shrug “More for me, then. I mean, it’s almost midnight. I’ll be even more worried if you haven’t had dinner.”

She nods, eyes still filled with sorry.

“How’s your day, Love?” Remus asks, taking a piece of his meal “Anything interesting happened today?”

“No, nothing interesting happened, unfortunately.” She sighs, running her fingers through her hair in despair “The potion I’m developing hasn’t shown any promising effect and we have to wait until the next full moon to try out the new batch.”

He smiles sympathetically, taking one of her hands and caressing it softly.

Remus hates yielding to the ugly ideas that have been plaguing his mind, but it was clear for him to see that his condition is starting to change her view. At least, in his mind, she’s doing all this research to cure his condition because she was embarrassed to have a werewolf as a boyfriend. One that will hurt her and is obviously an improper partner for her. She’s the brightest witch of their year. Her career as a healer is blooming while he couldn’t even manage to keep a job longer than three months. Why would such perfection stick around with someone as damaged as him?

“Your scar hasn’t fully healed.” She says, taking a jar of her self-made healing balm and gently dabbing it to his skin. In a few seconds the red wound was healed, leaving only a thin line that is hardly visible to the eye “There. Beautiful as always.”

“You’re embarrassed of me, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t sure what came into him but the sudden raise of his tone had certainly made her blink in surprise. Perhaps the frustration of missing her has finally reached its peak, or the disappointment that she’s paid no attention to today’s date. Either of which, it was powerful enough to fuel such anger in his chest. Remus was never one to get angry. He was always the calm and composed one in every other argument they had before. With this sudden change of action, he was sure that a storm was coming.

“What- Embarrassed of you? Remus, what are you talking about?” She asks, sounding appalled “I’m only trying to heal your wounds.”

“I’m a werewolf, Love, I’m supposed to have wounds!” He answered, voice raising to make her quiver on her seat “All you seem to care about is to make me look pretty. Heal my wounds, make them look invincible. I’m a monster, I’m supposed to have scars!”

“You’re not a monster, Remus, stop saying that!”

“I am a monster! Stop trying to deny it!” Remus continues to yell, the veins on his neck more visible now “Look at yourself, for Merlin’s sake! I’ve scarred you. I’ve hurt you that night and now I have to live the rest of my life with such regret.”

The tears welling on her eyes have now fallen heavily. She’s never seen Remus looking so angry yet so vulnerable at the same time. She could feel the frustration and hatred he holds over himself, cursing and blaming himself for the accident that’s happened.

“I’m a damaged goods beyond repair, Darling.” Remus continues, smiling pitifully for himself “You can’t cure me.”

“You don’t know that.” She says fast, trying to light just a spark of hope to his dull eyes “We’re making progress with the potion. Not much, but we’re getting closer.”

Remus chuckles darkly, “If you really want a non-werewolf boyfriend then you should just break up with me and find another man. I’m done being your lab rat.”

With those last venomous words, he stood from his seat and stormed into their bedroom. The loud slam of the door made her flinch. He was hurting, physically and emotionally.

All she wanted to do was to help him. The regret Remus is having for that night is burying her alive, too. She was the one who gave him the wolfsbane and brewed the potion herself. If anyone were to be blamed for the accident, it was her. She must have done something wrong to have cost him to lose control like that. The fault was hers, not his.

But there’s no use of arguing when both of them are too emotional. If she were to continue, she was sure that more damage would be done. Remus is already feeling insecure of himself and their relationship. He would surely not listen to any of her words. At least, not tonight.

—-

Remus woke up with a bigger heartache than the previous days. Her side of the bed was neatly tucked, no sign of her purse by the side table. She must have left for work as always. Even after their huge fight last night.

Perhaps he should feel more thankful over the fact that she didn’t leave him for good. The words he spat last night must’ve been more painful than the scar he’s left on her chest. He wasn’t even sure how he could have the heart to accuse her like that, even after years of her evidently showing her love and affection towards him.

He was about to pull the blanket once more, trying to halt the frustration he’s feeling with another hour of quick nap when he heard noises outside. Remus checked on the clock by the side table— 10.15. She must have already left for work by this hour, so what could be the cause of said noises?

Taking his wand, Remus walks to the door. The moment he opened it, the sweet smell of newly cooked pancakes was smelled. He could see her silhouette in the kitchen, back facing him as she hums softly to the song from the radio. Oh how he missed this sight. Her wearing one of his ugly shirts, candidly beautiful doing whatever it is she’s occupying herself with.

“You’re awake.” She says softly as she turns, smiling gently at him “I’ve made breakfast. Come sit.”

Remus, not making a sound, only nods and takes his seat by the table.

“I’m giving you more cakes cause you didn’t eat enough last night.” She says as she places his plate in front of him, planting a kiss to the side of his head “Go on, eat.”

He stares at her, embarrassed and feeling undeserving of her kind gesture after what he’s done last night.

She raises her brows, “Come on, now. You’re not asking me to feed you, are you?”

Remus smiles, finally taking his cutleries.

The couple then have their breakfast in silence, occasionally glancing at each other and holding in an embarrassed smile as if they were back in Hogwarts. Though his heart was full, the guilt and remorse from last night is still hovering over him. He knows that he needs to apologise, try to ask for her forgiveness though he knows for a fact that he doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m taking some days off from work.” She announces as she places her cutleries down “I realised that I’ve been absent for too long and, well, I’ve got some sins to atone here at home. Starting with making up for the mistake of forgetting what yesterday was.”

“No, please don’t apologise.” Remus cuts in, feeling even more guilty now “I should be the one apologising, Love. I didn’t know what came into me last night. I’m so sorry for all the things I said to you.”

She smiles, taking his hand and holding it gently, “It’s not your fault to have thought of such an idea, Darling. I should’ve been more transparent about what and why I’m being so focused on developing the potion.”

Remus remains quiet, awaiting her further explanation.

“That night when you lost control, I couldn’t shake the memory of how fear and guilt were filling your eyes. I was hurt, yes, but I knew that I could patch myself and make myself good as new. What hurt me most was the panic on your face when you transformed back. How you didn’t want to touch me for days after that night. The guilt was eating me alive because I was the one who gave you the wolfsbane, I was the one who brewed you the potion. I’m the cause of said havoc, Rem.”

“No, no you’re not-”

“But I am, Love. I should’ve given you an extra leave of wolfsbane, or brewed you more potion. You couldn’t control yourself when you’re in the werewolf phase, the only thing controllable was our preparation and I was in charge of it. I was the one who made the mistake, not you.”

Tears were falling from Remus’ sad eyes. His hold of her hand is now firmer. He wanted to argue about how she was never in the wrong, it was his and his fault only. Yet no words were able to be uttered. His heart has taken over his brain and made it unable to create coherent sentences.

“Ever since that night, I promised myself that I will cure you. Not because I was embarrassed of you, but because I don’t want you to undergo the same painful torture any longer.” She continues, starting to cry herself “Remus, you’ve gone through so much pain in your life, already. If I could try to lift this one burden of yours, you bet your arse I would do it, whatever it takes. I would trade anything to stop you from feeling the pain of transforming ever again.”

Remus nods, finally understanding her absence and feeling more at fault to have thought of her with such ugly notions.

“I’m so sorry to have caused you so much worry, Remus. I should’ve told you since the beginning and not have myself too occupied with my ambition. It was never in my intention to make you feel like you were a lab rat.” She gently explains, caressing his skin with her thumb “If it would make you feel better, I’ll stop the research and we’ll continue our preparations as usual. I’m doing this for you, but if you’re not comfortable with it, we can always abort the mission.”

Never in his entire lifetime has Remus felt more loved. He’s hurt her and instead of hating him, she tries to cure him instead. The extent she’d done to show her love for him was beyond his imagination and he’s unsure if he was deserving of it.

He pulled her hand and kissed it, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you and I know I’m being selfish, but please never leave. Please never leave me.”

“I won’t, I promise.” She smiles genuinely, pulling him into a hug “We’re in this together, alright? Don’t you forget that.”

Remus nods, burying his face deeper to the crook of her neck. He pulled her closer, hoping that his embrace could show her just how much he loves her. For once, Remus felt that being a werewolf isn’t so bad after all.

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