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ki-yomii · 7 months ago

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baby, don't go | myg

➥pairing | ex!min yoongi x f!reader, mentioned f!reader x omc ➥word count | 5.1k ➥warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, squirting, hand job, finger fucking, porn w/ plot, angst w/ a happy ending, alcohol, exes to lovers, implied cheating (omc is a fuckboy), implied getting back together (reader & yoongi still low key love each other), idol!yoongi ➥summary | "hii can I request for an exes to lovers trope with yoongi 😭💖 lovee your ficss" you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you. thankfully your ex Yoongi is more than happy to distract you. ➥notes | hope you enjoy this anon 😘💚 omc & ofc are named after characters from one of my favourite k-dramas (personal taste iykyk)

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Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Standing beside you, your friend Kae-In takes a swig of whatever's in her cup - a sickly sweet concoction of fruity soju and Chilsung, most likely - and coolly surveys the backyard.

Small groups of people dot the manicured lawn, others lounging by the fire as they catch up with one another. It's been far too long since everyone's schedules aligned like this.

Years in fact, and there are several who came in from out of town.

Ordinarily you'd be over the moon, but as it were you can barely drum up enough false excitement for your best friend. Let alone others you haven't seen in forever.

Cocking her hip, Kae-In puckers her mouth. "The alcohol isn't even that good." She sighs, pretty face scrunching in disappointment. "Some party this is turning out to be."

Your hard cider, still more than half-full, hides an awkward, ill-fitting smile.

Having nursed your own drink for the last hour, whatever might've been enjoyable about it is long gone. Any refreshing coolness and bright, punchy taste replaced by amber liquid far past room temperature in your clammy palm.

In fact, the fizzy warmth and tart aftertaste of moldering apples turns your stomach with every half-hearted sip.

"At least there's cute guys here - some of them have really grown up."

Her breath ruffles the fringe of her bangs when she huffs, casting an eye to the glass bottle strangled in your grip.

"Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine - gotta be the DD just in case, y'know?"

"Girl, you're ALWAYS the DD. C'mon, you gotta live a little sometimes."

The nonchalant scolding stings, even if it's meant almost entirely in jest but it's not Kae-In's fault. She doesn't know. No one does. You couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth.

Not yet.

It's still too fresh. The wound too raw to go poking around with clumsy fingers.

"Don't be like that," you say with a faltering smile. "I'm having fun."

LIAR.

In actuality, you're a few frayed threads away from snapping. Stuck clinging to the edge of sanity by the fingernails as you battle back tides of crippling grief and blinding rage.

Have been since the first few messages came rolling in; questions with videos attached. There's a part of you grateful they reached out, while another altogether wishes you hadn't seen.

At least not until morning.

Would one more night spent in ignorant bliss have been too much to ask for?

Now you're riding a corkscrew of emotion, one that roils and chafes as ceaseless images parade past your eyelids with every blink. Each one as crisp and clear as the first time you pressed play.

The swirling lights, the heady thrum of bodies. A darkened corner. Your boyfriend of three years who said he couldn't make it. His hand sneaking beneath the hem of a cheap, glittery skirt. The dip of his head as he tucks into the curve of a neck, mouth open and smiling against bare skin.

You shudder, stomach rebelling. When you swallow, it's like trying to down buckets of sand.

Kae-In, none the wiser, flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Well, that makes one of us. I guess." Shrugging, she turns to you and asks with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... a little off."

Panic grabs you by the throat.

This was supposed to be a night full of fun and laughter. You're not supposed to be suffocating in a crowded backyard. On the brink of tears and trying to act like your life hasn't imploded.

Alone - by your own doing, which is even worse - to deal with the crushing weight of an inevitable breakup. The painful extrication of two lives entwined.

How a relationship three years in the making can be shattered in a minute and forty-five seconds is mind boggling. You had it all, and now...

You thought you were going to marry him.

The whiplash of it all almost makes you laugh but only so you don't break down in great, heaving sobs. A heartbreak you're not sure you'll ever recover from. Not for the loss of him but rather the decimation of your trust.

"I'm okay, promise! No need to worry."

The lie weighs heavy on your tongue. Tastes of ash as the words you really want to say hover in the back of your throat, a breath away. Only they can't make it past your lips, stuck to your teeth like hard candy.

"It's just been one of those days."

Your shoulders shoot towards your ears when she hums in response. Fingernails picking at the corner of the sweating cider label so you don't have to meet Kae-In's piercing gaze. You know she can see right through you, and you hate it.

What started as a fun night of planned mayhem turned into desperate distractions though this party has done very little in terms of brightening your mood.

Instead, watching everyone you know have a good time while you stand on the side lines, a stranger in a sea of people, feels more akin to rubbing salt in an open wound.

Miserable but acting like you’re not; waves of bitter loneliness threatening to pull you under because you don’t want to ruin the night.

“Is this because Chang-ryul couldn’t make it?” Kae-In pats your back sympathetically. “What bullshit excuse did he give you this time? I swear, he always does this. Just wait. I’m gonna hit him next time I see him.”

Oh, you don’t even know, you think. You’ll definitely want to do more than hit him.

Your heart throbs at the sound of his name, and isn’t that funny? Such a simple thing - nothing but syllables and letters strung together - and yet it has the power to unmake you completely.

Your tongue swells as you struggle to swallow. Words burn like bile as you force out a laugh; brittle, scraped up from the depths of your chest

“I’d pay to see that,” you croak. Your knuckles ache from how tightly you’re gripping the bottle. “But - no. C-Chang-ryul has nothing to do with it.”

You hate that you stutter over his name.

And perhaps that’s why you don’t want to tell Kae-In just yet.

She’s always hated him.

Always said he was no good. Just another fuckboy looking for beds to warm and hearts to break. And she’s right.

God, why does she have to be right?

You know she’d never hold it over you, but the thought of admitting it - out loud - makes you want to vomit all over your shoes. You need time to stitch your edges back together. Too raw and ragged.

You only just found out.

Your pride can’t handle any more hits right now.

She thumbs her nose with an inelegant snort. “Whatever you say. I could take him in a fight. That boy ain’t shit.”

Your laugh startles you - the first genuine one of the evening - and you shake your head fondly. A soft smile tugs at your lips.

“Oh, no doubt. But really, I’ve just been in a weird mood.”

The twist of her lips shows she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but she’s kind enough not to press. Instead, she spends the next while distracting you with tales of her various escapades of the week.

And it helps for a time, truly.

But then you feel a buzz against your thigh, a ding echoing up from your pocket. Your stomach turns to lead, drops to your feet. Without looking at the screen, you pull the cell out of your pocket with shaky hands and quickly flick the ringer off.

Meanwhile, Kae-In watches silently with sharp eyes, and an even sharper frown though she declines to comment on your behavior.

“Anyway,” she continues once she has your attention, “as I was saying, did you see little Ji-Seok? Dude shot up like a tree! Last time I saw him he was as big as a bean sprout.”

You hum, worlds away.

“You could at least act like you’re paying attention,” she sucks her teeth before a smirk starts to slowly tug at her lips, “How about we talk about something - or someone - I know you’ll be interested in?”

Guilt sparks but slowly gives way to dread. You know that expression. Have gotten into trouble more times than you can count because of it.

Heart tattooing a rhythm against your rib cage, you sputter, “Oh no. No! Do not look at me like that.”

“C’mo-on!” she wheedles. “You’re absolutely right. We should be talking about,” she points at someone across the yard with her cup, “Yoongi instead.”

Currently leaning back against a stone wall making up part of the fence, Yoongi nurses a beer. Sticking out like a sore thumb now that he’s making it big as an idol, no longer as mundane as the rest of them.

Hushed whispers follow his every move, his bleached hair and flashy outfit commanding all sorts of covert attention.

The sharp cut of his shirt flatters his lean frame, the black leather jacket over top emphasizing the width of his shoulders. Dark jeans cling to his legs, as tight as a second skin, and causing your attention to stray where it shouldn’t.

And his eyes - oh, how you ever forgot is beyond you.

Dark, hooded, deep, and hungry; intense as they drag over the planes of your face like the caress of his fingers.

Shit.

You shove Kae-In’s hand down with a loud smack before she makes an even bigger fool out of you in front of another ex.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss. “That’s so rude!”

Not to mention embarrassing as fuck.

“Y’know,” she pauses to wiggle her brows and shoot you an impish grin, “I bet Yoongi would be more than happy to remind you of how rude he can be.”

You smother a groan in your hands, heartache temporarily forgotten. “I can’t believe you. Seriously. We’re no longer friends.”

“Bitch, you love me. And anyway, you know what I can’t believe?” She asks. “You!”

She gestures towards him again amid your flailing attempts to stop her. “Look at him. Like goddamn, you had it good.”

You take a sip of cider to give your hands something to do, nearly blanching at the warm liquid. Refusing to respond or look up as the topic of conversation watches like a hawk, gaze heavy.

How can he still make you weak-kneed after all this time?

He wasn’t even touching you and you still feel his presence down to your toes, setting your teeth on edge.

You hear your own heartbeat, your breathing shaky, sparks of awareness dancing along your spine. Heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.

“Knock it off, I’m serious.”

“No, when are you going to get that Chang-ryul isn’t good for you?”

You swallow roughly, all the moisture leaving your mouth.

“Yoongi was the best boyfriend you ever had and treated you the way you deserve. And you know he’s never been interested in anyone but you. Hell, he’s barely looked away from you since he got here and the break-up was years ago.”

You shift, perspiration breaking out on your brow. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“When will you give it up?” She blows a raspberry, shaking her head. “I know you regret how it went down between you guys. Now that he’s here - when you finally have a chance to make it right you just - just - ugh!”

Shooting her a weak half-smile and a shrug, you turn your attention to the small glowing fire pit.

Other’s are gathered around it, relishing in the glow of warmth that wars against the balmy summer breeze cutting through the air. Focusing on the dance and flicker of the flames is a needed moment of peace in entropy.

Though you know it isn’t going to last - not with a motormouth for a friend.

“So-o, what are you waiting for?”

“Sorry?”

She nods towards Yoongi subtly.

He’s finally busy with his own conversation, his gummy smile a quick flash of brightness. “When are you going to stick it to Chang-ryul and hop on that dick?”

“Oh my god!”

Kae-In shrugs. “What.”

“Don’t 'what' me. Seriously?”

A bony elbow digs between your ribs. You wheeze.

“C’mon,” she says, “You already know it’s good with him, and you deserve someone who’s there for you 110%. Someone who will treat you right. You know I worry about you.”

A wave of emotions threatens to completely drown you in that moment, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Her tender concern - her care - feels altogether too much and not enough.

As overwhelming as a tsunami; your heart a raw, exposed nerve.

All you’ve ever wanted was to be loved.

To feel like someone’s first and only choice.

You used to think Chang-ryul was someone who could provide that. What a fool you’ve been. Men like him don’t fall in love, they only pretend to.

They sneak inside your heart and take what they want from your bed. To him, you’re nothing but a fun little stop; a footnote, read and forgotten.

Your heart squeezes, shuddering from a pain your palm can’t soothe away.

It’s a terrible idea.

But maybe…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lick your wounds with someone you know cares about you. Has always cared about you, and probably always will.

Clearing your throat, you consider his profile from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi's always made you feel wanted. Looked after you as though you were something rare and precious.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that.

Somehow, some way, he senses you looking because he pauses mid-sentence.

Turns to meet you head-on, tracing your face with what can only be called greed. Stopping short when they catch on the lip trapped between your teeth.

Something akin to hunger cuts across his face.

His brows dip low, a palpable heat flooding the inky depths of his eyes. Shadows deepen the lines of his face, the shifting firelight highlighting the flex of a jawline for days, burning halo gold in his hair.

It’s a look you’re intimately familiar with.

Usually preceding a hand-shaking, mind-numbing fuck session where his cock gets as deep as it can, rutting hard and fast, bringing you over the edge again and again until you’re left a wrecked mess.

Your heart jumps, gallops headlong into a rapid beat.

You feel the rush of blood in your chest, every breath stuttered, stomach lurching. Shaking. Jittery. Tongue tied in a thousand knots and you haven’t even said a word.

It was much easier to pretend you weren’t so magnetically drawn to Yoongi when you weren’t riding the single’s train. When he was away in Seoul chasing after his dreams.

Now that he’s got downtime and your relationship has hit a brick wall? His mere presence sears you to the bone. Drags you in like a black hole.

And that?

So not good.

Swallowing roughly, you tear your attention away. You’d forgotten how intense and blindly bright he can be.

There’s a throb developing in your temple, sharp little darts of pain lancing through your skull. An impending headache if you don’t get some air that doesn’t taste like wood-smoke and cheap alcohol.

“I think I’m gonna head in for a bit. Need to get away.”

You shake your head and toss your bottle into the bin on the way inside, Kae-In shouting her acknowledgement with a thumbs up. Makes you promise to contact her in case of any change in plans.

Nearly everyone’s outside so it should be less crowded, more quiet. Most importantly, away from Yoongi and that penetrating stare which makes you more flustered than you care to admit.

Alas, the kitchen isn’t empty not for long.

You’re lounging against the counter, elbows bent, head rolled back and stinging eyes closed when the back door creaks open. Biting off a groan, you swivel your head to the side.

When you see it’s Yoongi who follows you in, you almost slip and brain yourself on the tile. Mouth dry, palms sweaty, heart beating out of control; scrambling into a more flattering posture while patting down your hair.

He chuckles, his nose scrunched and smile coy.

Seeing him happy always makes you tender, weak.

It seems that hasn’t changed a bit.

No amount of pictures or videos do it justice. Granted, Yoongi looks good any time, any day. But seeing his whole face light up like that in person? Utterly priceless.

It’s a struggle to breathe properly around the lump forming in your throat.

Of course, it has to be him.

Wiping your palms off on your thighs, you greet him with an awkward wave, “Uhhh, hey - hey there, Yoongi.”

Oh my god. Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.

“Y’know what,” you say, “I was just about to head back outside…”

As you pass by, he catches your arm.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, callouses dragging across your pulse. Your gut clenches, an unexpected bloom of warmth shooting through your core at the sight of his broad palm holding you captive.

His grip is firm but loose enough that you could pull away.

All it serves to do is remind you of nights spent beneath his body, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the taste of him heavy on your tongue, pussy filled to the brim with cock. His rough voice music to your ears, prideful as he gloats about how well you’re taking him.

"Leaving so soon?” He asks silkily.

A hard tug sends you slamming into the wall of his chest.

Air rushes from your lungs, your hands trapped against his collarbones. Firm muscles contract beneath your palms, his body shoving into your touch.

Twisting your fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt, you look at him from beneath your lashes. Your voice whisper soft when you say, “Yoongi…”

His dark eyes, the colour of a rich espresso, track the path of your tongue as you wet your lips. Fingers drag over the soft line of your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse.

Touch feather light as it stops by the corner of your mouth, pressing down on the swell of your lip.

“I haven’t said hello yet.”

Eyes wide, all you do is watch and wait with baited breath. Stunned into silence at his proximity. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close, the smell of his expensive cologne nostalgic.

Your body recognizes his, responding all the same. The connection between you electric, overwhelmingly so.

His head bows, bleached strands brushing your forehead. The tip of his nose rubs yours. You get lost in counting his eyelashes, tracing the bridge of his nose to the carved slope of his cheeks.

Surrounded by him, the urge to resist what’s happening is nearly non-existent. Though you wish it wasn’t so easy to be caught by him.

“One of the guys said something interesting,” he says, his breath ghosting across your face; mint and beer. “It's about you actually.”

He flashes the smile that sends your heart soaring, your stomach flipping.

The slightest peek of a metal chain resting in the crook of his neck, surrounded by a very tempting patch of skin you want to taste, has you a little dumbfounded, absentminded.

“Oh?”

You really hope you don’t sound as frazzled as you feel but the haughty superiority of his slow appraisal of your body, the cocksure smirk on his lips states otherwise.

You really wish you could knock him down a peg but confidence looks amazing on him.

Always has.

“They said you have a boyfriend now. Is that true?”

You manage the slightest shake of your head in the negative - no, not anymore - your heart thundering in your ears.

Your breath catches in anticipation just before Yoongi closes the remaining inches between you with a hum of approval.

His head tilts to the side as he slots your mouths together in a kiss that’s got your toes curling. A filthy wet slide of lips, his the slightest bit chapped, send you under, liquid warmth filling your belly.

You inhale sharply, a moan vibrating against his lips.

Melting into the cage of his arms as his hands clamp down on your hips possessively, tugging you closer. Pressed stem to stern like this there’s no hiding the evidence of his desire.

He’s already half-hard in his jeans, his erection pressing against the zipper.

His eyes are hooded when he pulls away.

“Wanna take this somewhere a little more private, baby?” Yoongi asks, running his nose up the length of your neck and inhaling.

How is this my life, you think, dazed.

His hips grind forward against you so there’s no mistaking what you’re dealing with. “It’ll be just like old times.”

After an awkward fumble and an elbow to the side, you settle on the downstairs bathroom. He follows, quickly pinning you to the door while struggling to toss his leather jacket over the sink.

With a flick of the lock, you’re finally alone without any possible interruption. The door muffles most of the ruckus outside, leaving you hyper aware of every hurried breath, every low-throated murmur.

For a long while it’s nothing but a mess of lips, his body molding to yours. Easy to fall back into the old rhythms of your relationship as though you never left it.

He holds you down.

His fingers in your hair, on your jaw. His tongue gliding over your lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide back out through his teeth.

You meet him kiss for kiss, your hands finding their way into his back pockets, tugging, groping, loving how he bucks up into the cradle of your hips in response.

A sweet ache settles low and deep.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. “Fuck, I forgot how much you like to tease.”

His thumb circles your nipple through your shirt, teasing it into a sensitive, stiff peak that shows through the thin fabric.

The caresses send soft pulses straight to your clit, the intensity getting stronger and stronger the rougher he is.

Before long, you’re aware of how achingly empty you are.

Yoongi nips the corner of your jaw.

“Never forgot how fun teasing you is,” he murmurs into the silk of your skin. “How wet you get for me.”

“Shit, you can’t just say something like that.”

“Can’t I?” His laugh, genuine and vibrant, sounds through his chest and into yours. “You can bitch all you want, but I know you love it.”

A smile, all teeth.

“Isn’t that right, baby?”

You glare at him weakly through half lidded eyes.

Two can play that game.

“Fuck!” Yoongi bites out, those impossibly dark eyes sliding shut when you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

His breath whooshes from him in a loud exhale, his jaw working back and forth. “That’s cheating.”

You smirk, feeling him throb in your hand.

”What were you saying, Yoongs?” Humming, you rub your chest against his, using a fingertip to trace the outline of his shaft. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Spearing you with a weighted look, Yoongi shoves you back into the door harder than before, the wood creaking under the pressure. Fist resting on the frame next to your head, his body cages you in.

Every shuddered inhale has the planes of his firm chest pressing into yours with the expansion of his lungs. His hips buck up into the softness of your palm with a grunt.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” he cautions.

Competitiveness is a gift and a curse.

Not one to be outdone, you brush away any lingering reservations - which being honest, there weren’t many left. His relieved groan when you tug out his cock reverberates through you.

Shit, that’s so unfair.

Yoongi already sounds wrecked yet you’ve barely touched him. How the fuck are you going to get through this without completely combusting when he actually cums?

Thinking that maybe focusing on what you’re doing will help, you look down.

Big mistake.

Dark designer jeans circle his thighs, low enough for his cock to spring free.

Flushed, curved towards his belly, the head swollen and sticky with pre-cum. The shaft a decent handful that pulses when your palm skims the side.

Feminine appreciation at the sight has velvet heat pooling between your thighs, pussy clenching at the thought of him inside you.

Sex with him was always stupidly good.

All those veiled lyrics about his skill in the bedroom far too accurate for comfort.

Since you broke up, you haven’t been with anyone that comes close to his ability in getting you off.

He’s ruined you.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck with a low groan. His breath puffs across your skin, shivers racing down your spine.

Low voice full of grit, he says, “Shit, baby, that feels…”

Hot palms anchor themselves to your hips.

“Wait a sec,” he says, body twitching with aborted thrusts, strong fingers kneading. “Wanna do you too.”

Heart jumping, you let go of him long enough to yank your shirt over your head and kick off your pants before returning your hand to his cock.

In the meantime, he rucks his shirt up under his armpits. You can’t help but make a noise in the back of your throat as the length of his torso is exposed.

All that soft, smooth skin stretching over his stomach as he flexes. You have to fight down the urge to run your tongue along the outline of his hip.

Mouth slack, Yoongi pushes up the cups of your bra. Watches laser-focused on the bounce of your tits as they drop free, subtly swaying with every jerk of your wrist.

His hips fuck up into the circle of your hand while one of his own inches down to brush the crease of your thigh. Your hips tilt towards his touch, desperate for friction.

“Oh god.” He moans, calloused fingers dipping between your folds. “You’re so wet for me.”

You wiggle, whining against his lips as you meet in a messy kiss. His touch is light, gentle, barely there as he traces the length of your slit.

You’re trembling, skin too tight, body feverish. “Stop teasing, I want you inside me.”

Those seem to be the magic words because Yoongi gives a rumble of approval, using his thumb to spread slick over your swollen clit in tight circles.

Heat coils in your belly, electricity racing down your spine. Your thighs splay as wide as they can, making room for his hand.

His knuckles brush your skin.

Dipping down to your entrance, Yoongi works on spreading you open with shallow thrusts until you take three fingers comfortably.

Your needy sighs and soft moans bounce off the walls.

His low murmurs right in your ear as the pads stroke your walls, his wrist flexing. He’s hitting all the right spots, still remembering how to get you off years after the fact.

You’re quickly turning weak-kneed and wet eyed.

“Fuck, Yoongs, right there,” you keen, baring down on the digits nudging your g-spot, your grip tightening around his shaft.

You grind your palm over the swollen tip, gathering beads of pre-cum.

He hisses, thrusts off beat.

Fingers nudge up suddenly, pressing deep and holding in retaliation. White lightening crackles behind your eyelids, thighs twitching, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty girl.”

Your world narrows down to every filthy slide of his cock in your hand, every gush of slick as he stuffs fingers into you over and over again until you’re a writhing mess against the door.

Your nerve endings are alive with pleasure, the stimulation too much and not enough.

“Please, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, doubling his efforts, wrist working faster.

Dapples of sweat litter his brow, his eyes staring into yours, glazed over and lusting.

Fuck, he’s handsome like this.

It’s a little embarrassing how bad he’s got you but between the blissed-out expression he’s wearing, the weight of him in your hand, and how full you are, you know this orgasm is going to be quick, messy.

The pace of his hips pick up, his breath hitching in his throat, length twitching and thickening in your grip.

He’s getting close, his touch rougher, more force behind the snapping thrusts of his hips, teeth nipping at the side of your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you say, breathless, twisting your hand on the upstroke. He smothers a grunt in your shoulder. “Give it to me.”

It doesn’t take much more to bring him to the edge.

A particular spread of his fingers has you jolting, a sudden, intense spike of pleasure shooting right to your clit.

In turn, you unintentionally massage his cock, knuckles bumping the underside of the swollen head.

He’s a goner.

Cumming with a low, wounded whine and a shuttered thrust, Yoongi smacks the door with his free hand. Thick spurts of jizz make an absolute mess of his stomach and your knuckles.

Sagging forward like a doll with cut strings, all his dead weight bears down on you.

He pants, small tremors wrack his frame. “Baby,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I missed you s’much.”

“Missed you too,” you reply, using nice, languid strokes to wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “More than I thought I did.”

In lieu of a response, Yoongi wiggles his fingers inside you, rebuilding the rhythm he lost. He flutters them, curls up against your walls, peppering kisses along the length of your jaw with a hum.

Slick drips down his wrist, the sloppy sound of him finger fucking your cunt blending with a surge of desperate moans.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Yoongi says against your chin. “So fucking hot, wanna see you cum.”

Your back arches, your fingers digging into the width of his shoulders, head smacking the door with a dull thud.

“Can you do that for me?”

Nodding frantically, you fall apart with a broken gasp. Clamping down so hard he can’t move, the cramps softened by the throbbing heat washing over you. Blood rushes in your ears as your pussy gushes around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, tone heated. “You did so well for me.”

By the time your brain comes back online, you’ve forgotten all about Chang-ryul and the constant vibration of your phone where it’s shoved - forgotten - into your pocket.

The only thing that matters is Yoongi with his tender kisses and greedy hands.

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songsofadelaide · 6 months ago

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"Lives have grown roots around each other. We both know the truth is, we don't really care to find any room to doubt each other. We're tied by the roots of whatever we share."

Zoology major!Laios x crim student!reader who were introduced to each other by your mutual friend, physics major!Marcille, whom you took general education subjects with. You and Laios couldn't be any more different from each other, but you unexpectedly clicked after going on one coffee date together. He is a pretty lively character who is chronically online, and his Instagram is filled with his fascinations— reptiles and amphibians. He mentioned that he wanted to go for a herpetology masters degree when he graduates.

Laios was equally interested in your aspiration to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge. You told him that your pursuit of justice stems from a deep-seated desire to see something happen— and you joked that it was a long story for another coffee date— which he quickly agrees to. (When asked about your date, he told Marcille that you were cute. You said the same thing. Marcille felt like an accomplished matchmaker. She asks you guys to tell her more about your next date, too.)

Your different majors meant different class schedules, so you two try your best to meet up whenever you can, especially when you both have your vacant hours. You follow each other on Instagram now, and he posted a photo of your coffees and sandwiches and his mysterious, faceless date with the caption "🦎💗🦎", to which his many friends and followers blasted likes and comments on.

"Oh, Marcille just texted me. She said this is a... soft launch? Does she mean soft lunch? Sandwiches are soft and light, after all."

You laughed. And Laios swore the sound was sweeter than his coffee.

Your friends and blockmates are both baffled and amused by the handsome zoology major frequently showing up outside the Faculty of Law building on campus with your favourite snack and drink onhand. Likewise, Laios's blockmates are puzzled by your presence in the College of Science building, usually just to drop off some energy boosters for him. (You bring him orange eggs and fish balls every once in a while since you both like them, but you always remind him to eat well and eat full meals.)

Laios made your supposedly grueling days in uni much more fun than you anticipated. Criminology wasn't for the weak-hearted and you had your challenging days, too. But Laios was so full of life and his carefree smile was something you wanted to protect, along with the rest of society. On your second anniversary, he gifted you a very detailed bearded dragon plush. While his major required him to be on the field most of the time, he always made sure to call or message to update you on his whereabouts and what he and his blockmates have been doing. Most of the time, you don't hear him say how much he misses you when you fall asleep while on video call.

You did not choose to call it quits when the time for majors came. Laios wasn't one to give up on something he adores— he loves— so why would you? His pursuit of knowledge for his favourite cold-blooded creatures brought him to James Cook University in Queensland, Australia, while you continued your pursuit of justice as a law student in one of the finest schools in your very hometown.

Laios returns home to you after three years in the Australian outback and marshland— taller, tanned, stubbly and still so lively. He was still the same dreamer you met so many years ago, and you're suddenly filled with dread that you might be holding him back from a life that suited him more. When he noticed how withdrawn you became, he was suddenly filled with dread that he might be too much of a distraction to you as you continued law school. Marcille wasn't having any of that, though, and carefully orchestrated a way for the two of you to bring your concerns to the table, just like how she orchestrated your first meeting.

"I love you," he said, but it's not his words that pull at your heart, but the way his eyes lit up when he gazed at you. He held you in his arms as you cried.

"I know. You still look at me like I'm made of starlight even though my glow has been dulled by so much cynicism."

Laios slept a little bit too deep that night, obviously relieved to still have you in his life. You always did like how honest he was. It was the very thing your profession required but not everyone in the field had it in them. You lay on his chest and breathed a sigh of relief yourself. You may as well be talking to the moon, but you needed to let him know how strongly you felt for him too.

"You are every good in this unforgiving world, and I know it will never forgive me for holding you too close to my heart. This world needs a spirit like yours— warm, curious, forgiving— to heal itself from its curse of indifference and unkindness."

"—come acclaimed and internet famous herpetologist— a reptile lover, people! In case you don't know what that is— wildlife educator and conservationalist Laios Touden! We're glad to have you with us today!—"

"—sure is all mine! Glad to be he—"

"Oh, turn that thing up, Falin!" You excitedly stepped out of your bedroom and found your sister-in-law Falin humming to herself as she helped herself to a glass of juice in your kitchen. She reached for your TV remote and turned up the volume.

"That interview's today, huh? Are you going to watch all of it? You have a trial to attend to, right?" She asked you with a small smile on her face.

"Just seeing his handsome face already cheers me up so much," you replied to her with a dreamy sigh. "But anyway, you're right! I should head court now. That's what he'd want me to do."

"I'll look for links to the interview online if you want."

"Thank you, Falin!"

The young woman left at home in her brother's house turned her full attention to the interview this time, an amused smile on her face as she watched and listened to his television interview.

"—you know, my wife is a Supreme Court Justice, one of the youngest ones, too! And I'm really proud of her for that. On her first day on the job, she reopened a cold case relating to the deaths of several environmentalists from 200X. It was such an old case, but it was important to her, and to me, to an extent. Her family was par—"

"—nly able to do my job, happily at that, is because of her will to protect environmentalists and put those responsible in jail—"

"My, he sounds so eloquent. I suppose a certain judge helped him with that," Falin laughed to herself. "I should call Marcille and tell her about this interview, too."

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's prompts 🎠#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi au #laios touden x reader #laios x reader #laios dungeon meshi #things i can't stop thinking abt lol #starry divider by @/cafekitsune

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rowretro · 9 months ago

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𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟

✧tag list✧: @baevsxii

✧warnings: Yandere/toxic themes, kidnapping, death

♡synopsis: Lee Heeseung loved the feeling of falling in love, wanting to kill or die for a girl he knows would stay loyal to him. He got unlucky thrice, the three cheaters now rotting 6 feet underground, post mortem reports manipulated. Then he laid his eyes on her. Y/n. A girl looking for not just love, but commitment, someone she can trust blindly, knowing he'll be there for her. A match made in heaven right? too bad for her, he's a fucking psycho.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Y/n sat at the café table Criminology book open before her, Laptop just beside, her jaw rested on her palm. A large Matcha bubble tea that was barely halfway finished as she loved to drink expensive drinks like this, slowly. She had been taking notes of what she believes she needs to remember for her exam. 2 hours of revising, and she found herself getting distracted. "Baby I'll be home before you know it, yeah just at work right now" a male said into his phone, hanging up straight after.

Infront of him, another girl too a seat, a sweet smile, looking at him as if he's her world, he leaned into kiss her. Men. so fucking un loyal. Why is it so hard to find a man who could do the bare minimum and not expect something? Was she asking for too much?. the girl heaved a sigh to herself, feeling bad for whoever the unlucky girl was. She got on with typing her notes, not even getting distracted by a rather pretty man who had walked in.

However he was immediately captivated by her beauty. Black hair, a few blonde pale highlights, glossy lips, long lashes, and a very attractive sense in style. One would take a look at her and assume she's some rebellious teenager, only Heeseung saw a girl waiting to be loved, to be held in his safe arms, someone looking for her soulmate. He wants her, he needs her, I mean she's literally made just for him.

Lucky for him, most tables were full, he ordered a drink as he approached her "excuse me... you don't mind me sitting next to you do you?... all the other tables are well... full-" Heeseung said as y/n looked around. There were some empty tables, but she was a bit socially awkward around strangers, not wanting to get on the strangers bad side, she nodded with a soft smile, moving over a little. Heeseung sat beside her, leaving plenty of space. He took out his laptop as he got on with his work. Eventually she went to the restroom, leaving her phone behind with him. Using the little time he had, he bugged her phone and placed it just where it was before.

Since that day, he kept track of all of the people she knew. The girl was walking home one day, looking over her shoulder every few minutes, trying to shake off the feeling that someone was following her. It was late at night, she lives alone, the last thing she needs is to lure a demon into her safe space. So she decided to make sure of that, assuming that singing and vibing to the music she was listening to as she skipped home would de-attract any potential stalkers.

Heeseung found it cute seeing how she was really getting into her music. See to him, he assumed she was acting as if she was in a music video, just because she thought no one was around. She's just so fucking cute in his eyes. So fucking cute. Especially when she's begging and crying, her little brain trying it's best to process what was going on.

Heeseung made a little pouty face as he bent down to her level. He just kidnapped her, the girl now tied up in his basement, her mascara-tear stained face in his view. He wiped away her tears as he planted a soft kiss on her lips. "Oh don't cry pretty baby... I'm only here to protect you... I love you y/n and I know you will love me. but for that you need to stay at home with me." He explained.

5 days had passed since then. Y/n was stick in this ginormous palace-like mansion. Stunning, intricate designs in the walls, golden patterns in the roof, an elegant, dazzling chandelier in the centre of the room. Heeseung was too sweet, he's everything she needs but dangerous. He's fucking perfect, but a sick psycho. Y/n feels herself falling for him, yet she fears him.

Heeseung smiles when he sees y/n, her eyes scanning the window with a pout. There was a little bunny in the garden and y/n wanted to play with it, but now that bunny was no more, either it's been hunted down or it found a better place to graze. "Sweetheart... come here I have something for you" Heeseung called out as y/n silently walked over to him. The man slipped the opaque sheet off of a pretty big square-shaped item.

The item was a fairly big bunny cage, with 2 little fluffy bunnies, one white and one had brown spots. Y/n audibly gasped as she squealed "So so cute!!!!" she said smiling, the girl hugged him tightly as Heeseung smiled, hugging her back, kissing her forehead as she blushed at his acts. He's the one. Others may call her crazy for falling for a kidnapper... but how could she not? in a world full of whores and cheaters, this man seems so... human.

"c'mere bunny~" y/n cooed softly as the small white bunny that was at Heeseung's foot. She stroked the spotty one, playing with his ears. "I'm going to call you.... Rocky!... then I'll call her Reena, because Rocky and Reena are a couple!" she said with a smile. Heeseung snickerred finding her so sweet, her love for animals being so intriguing to him.

Y/n rested upon Heeseung's chest. He had killed quite a few men on the streets today, but you found it romantic, he killed those perverted catcallers just for you. "Baby... I want a pet baby pig" y/n pouted as Heeseung snickerred "I think that's impossible sweetie, we can visit a petting zoo, but I doubt they'd like us since we did eat pork today..." He pointed out as y/n giggled, her eyes meeting his. They kissed, the sickeningly sweet, addictive taste of his saliva filling her mouth. Never has she ever felt so loved before...

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Rocky and Reena were my bunnies, but they passed along w their 3 babies, only Suzi survived of the 4 babies they had</3 my poor bbys

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sleepy0s · 4 months ago

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Such a strange man

Grian: “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy” I would. Pussy.

Grian: “I’m not gonna sink to their level” I will. Coward.

Grian: “I’m the bigger person” I’m 150cm tall give me the gun bitch.

GRAIANN

Hi guys :> Felt like being nice, have a long one! (Long for my standards lol)

1399 Words

~~~

Look, growing up on the streets does a lot to a man you know? Grian was never taught that ‘two wrongs don’t make a right’ No, no he was taught ‘You want something, take it.’. Like seriously, man has no morals. Of Course... The hermits don’t actually know much about his past- Even Pearl HIS SISTER doesn’t know more than everyone else.

Most strangers look at Grian and see a cute, small avian who wouldn’t hurt a fly when in reality he is an eldritch being who grew up in mafias and will not hesitate to pull a gun on you. (Xisuma keeps trying to take them off him but he just keeps showing up with more???) This leads to some interesting experiences. For everyone else, not Grian.

The ‘first’ one.

~~~

It took Grian some time to open up when he joined hermitcraft (Yk, he had just spent the last couple of years locked in a cage in the end dimension lol) So, for the first month or three everyone assumed he was some nice parrot hybrid who was just shy. He didn’t talk in meetings and usually, you had to find him if you wanted to hang out. Even after he had come out of his shell he was still polite and kind (He is still kind but like, more open and friendly)

Anyway, getting distracted.

~~~

Xisuma had just finished talking about the important stuff, and everyone was chatting away. The hermits would probably stay in the meeting room for a while longer- the area was comfy.

Around half an hour into the hangout someone had pulled up a video on their comm of a server being destroyed whilst a player was still inside, which had become the current topic. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy..” Tango mumbled, the blaze hybrid looked horrified with one hand covering his face as he tried to look away.

Now, Grian had been on a server whilst it was being destroyed, multiple actually in his many attempts at escaping so he was fully aware of the agony and pain someone felt when being essentially erased from existence. He also had many enemies, which he would wish this upon, but his worst enemy? Without a doubt, Sam Gladiator. The bunny hybrid that had tortured his childhood, and god he would probably laugh if he got to watch Sam go through that torture.

Unknowingly, Grian had started laughing to himself just at the thought, which meant some people were looking at him weirdly. “Grian? Why are you laughing?” Xisuma asked.

“Wha- nothing- nothing I was just imagining something.” He had stopped laughing but still had a smile on his face. “I would like- totally wish that upon my worst enemy.” He added simply, sitting up in his chair.

The trip to the main hub.

Some of the hermits had decided to go on a little trip to the main hub for shopping purposes. The small group included; Xisuma (He wasn’t letting them go off on their own.) Doc, Gem, Pearl, Scar and Grian. And it was going well. They each had budgets that they couldn’t go over and everyone had their own bags full of materials.

They had been told to meet up at the portal at 3 pm, and it was currently 2:55, and the only person not at the portal was Pearl. Oh- wait no Xisuma can see her. The Moth hybrid was rushing down the street, trying to get to them on time. “I’m not late yet- I’m not late- Ouch!” She had run head first into some older-looking man, luckily she hadn’t dropped anything.

“I'm sorry- I wasn’t looking where I was going! Are you okay?” She apologized, but when she looked up she was slightly shocked by the look on the man's face which was rage and disgust. “Ugh. Hybrids ruining everything, I'm going to be late for my meeting now because of you.” The man spat at her, before shoving her and causing her to drop everything.

Grian immediately ran over to his sister's side to help pick everything up, as with the others. “Are you just going to let him do that? Aren’t you going to do anything?” Grian asked as he handed her the stuff.

“No, I’m not going to sink to his level,” Pearl responded, but it was obvious she was upset. And look, he knew his sister could handle herself but if she was too shy to stand up for herself in public then he would do it for her. That was one thing he had learnt growing up as a hybrid, if you want to be respected then you can’t play nice. “Grian- Don’t!”

It was too late, he had stormed up to the man and was tapping him on the shoulder. “Sir? Sir. Sir!!!” He spoke, continuing to tap the man until he turned around. “What? I don’t have time for this.”

Grian didn’t look bothered by the man’s attitude, still smiling. “I would like you to apologize to my sister.”

The man laughed, “You think you can get me to apologize? No.” And Grian’s attitude switched, kicking him in the crotch and grabbing his collar, his face emotionless as he stared into his eyes. “It wasn’t a question. Now, Apologize before I pull my gun out.” He whispered into his ear, before letting go of him.

“Yep- yep understood!” He whimpered, rushing over to Pearl and continuously bowing. “I’m sorry for using such language- are you okay? Please be okay or he might kill me.”

The Intruder!

Hermitcraft is famous for being a very safe server, with some of the strongest protections. So, it’s very unlikely that someone can break in. Unlikely, but not impossible.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when they wake up at 2 am with their comms ringing alarms that there had been a breach in security and that they all had to go to spawn. So, all 25 or so hermits had met up at spawn. Grumpy, cold and tired.

“Okay, so everyone is here yes?” Xisuma called out from the dirt pillar he had just built, “So.. uhm I’m not sure how to say this but there is an intruder on the server.” This, immediately caused an outburst among everyone, beginning to talk and whisper, despite Xisuma’s attempts to get everyone to listen

“SHUSH!” Doc screamed at the group, causing everyone to immediately go silent.

“Uh- thank you Doc.” Xisuma coughed, “So, we are all going to go into groups and find the intruder, thank you.”

The groups were decided quickly, and Xisuma ended up with Grian, Pearl, Scar and Mumbo. Everyone was on call, the comms acting as a radio. Xisuma’s group was near Grian’s base, walking through the trees behind the large rocks (Season 9) when Mumbo let out a yell. “Mumbo! What’s wrong- Oh.” Pearl ran over only to find Mumbo being held at gunpoint.

Grian, immediately reached for his own gun only to find Xisuma holding it, “Grian, be the bigger person.” Now, Xisuma was probably about to shoot himself in the face because he had never held a gun before so it would probably be safer to give Grian the gun (God thought I’d never write that) But also, Grian is a tiny guy.

“Xisuma, respectfully I am 5 foot give me the bloody gun.” He responded calmly, in a hushed voice so the intruder wouldn’t notice that they also had a weapon. “It’s him or Mumbo X, what are you gonna choose?”

“Oh god fine.” Grian really was very persuasive. The second the gun was back in his hands Grian was gone, completely disappeared into the trees.

“HAH! What are you gonna do? You call for help and I’ll shoot this... Strangely tall man.” The intruder threatened, seeming much too proud. “Now- I, Oh what do I want? I didn’t think I’d get this far..” Scar and Pearl had attempted to negotiate with the man.

“OH! I know- HEY!?” He didn’t get to put in his request as he got tackled from behind and didn’t have time to shoot Mumbo as he felt the cold feeling of a gun at his own neck.

Grian was sitting on top of the man, a scary smile on his face and a gun aimed at his neck and he genuinely looked excited at the chance he might get to shoot him.

#grian #hermitcraft #sleepy0s #pearlescentmoon #xisuma #evo smp #avian grian #samgladiator yhs #mumbo jumbo #skyblings #watchers #watcher grian #tangotek #docm77 #moth pearl

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waynes-multiverse · 6 months ago

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Polaris – Chapter 3

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, a muder case, funerals, drinking, hurt, fluff, smut

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: This week we have heavy relationship stuff, Cassie/Jenny shenanigans, and a full dive into our murder mystery 🤓 Or did you forget about the serial killer on the loose? 👀

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 3: Pour The Whiskey

The sky was vanilla when the sun finally set behind the Montana mountains, the first stars appearing above and announcing the night. You pushed the driver’s door of your SUV shut and trudged back to the motel for a change of clothes before meeting up with Jenny, Cassie, and Beau for drinks.

You’d been apprehensive about spending the evening with him but knew you couldn’t exclude him. Not forever, at least. It was his home, his friends. You were just a guest here, and you didn’t mind him coming as long as you had the two women as a buffer. You would just have to ignore the stinging in your heart all night. Easy.

Mindless and tired, you unlocked the door before your heels hit something rustling on the shabby doormat. As you glanced down, you found a brown envelope with your name in bold, black letters on it. Your stomach churned. You knew what it was and what you’d find inside.

There had been another victim.

Beau’s heart thumped in his ribcage as he entered the bar. It was a full Friday night, most of Helena ringing in the weekend at the Boot Heel as he looked around the crowd for you and his friends. He hoped Jenny was right, and he could use the evening as an opportunity to talk to you and explain everything – right a few wrongs.

As he spied the three of you at a table in a corner booth, he frowned at the laptop propped open in the middle between all of you. He didn’t expect you to bring work to drinks tonight, but on second thought, he should’ve guessed as much. Relaxing had never been high on your list when you were on the job.

“Guys, c’mon, really? What is this?” Beau asked with a teasing smile. His brow scrunched, however, as he gestured at the computer. “I thought we’re here to have fun.”

“There’s been another victim,” Jenny said without missing a beat and shot him a look that told him to rein in the humor.

Beau’s mouth opened in surprise and then closed for a lack of words, exhaling a breath through his freckled nose. He for sure hadn’t expected that answer.

“We figured you might care since you’re the sheriff and all,” you deadpanned without lifting a single eye at him, which earned you a small glare from him as he sat down next to you.

Jenny and Cassie had cleverly taken seats next to each other, so you were left to sit next to Beau. And thereby went your plan to use them as a buffer tonight. So much for female support. His friends, you reminded yourself.

Fortunately, a new murder victim was also a good excuse to be distracted and not deal with your love life.

“Why didn’t you guys call me there was a new body? Shouldn’t we, you know, go to the crime scene?” Beau looked at you three confused.

“There’s no body yet,” Cassie replied.

His brow creased even more. “Then how do you know there’s been another victim?”

You turned the laptop toward him as a video flickered across the screen. Leaning closer, he squinted his eyes at the content before glancing at you. His brow quirked in confusion. “What am I looking at here? What’s this?”

“The killer always sends video material of the victim’s last forty-eight hours,” you explained.

“We’ve never gotten a video before,” Beau said and looked at Jenny for confirmation, who shook her head.

“Because the killer has been sending them to the FBI. First to the field office in Houston and then to me specifically,” you informed him.

Beau’s look darkened, his features hardening, except for a twitch of his nostril. You could guess what he was thinking as he read between the lines of your words. “What do you mean 'you specifically'? Where was this sent to? The station?”

You exhaled a weary breath. “When the case got assigned to me, the envelopes started getting directly addressed to me and delivered to my desk at the office. This one was delivered by my doorstep at the motel.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Beau’s green eyes widened, his entire body flooding with worry. “Y/N–”

“It’s not unusual,” you interjected quickly. “Our profiler thinks we’re dealing with a narcissistic psychopath. They’re sensation seekers and exhibit a need for control. Communicating directly with me is our subject’s way of controlling the narrative,” you explained but could tell your answer didn’t soothe him in the slightest.

“That’s not the point I was tryna make,” he grunted. “You can’t stay at that motel.”

“I know,” you agreed. “Cassie already offered me her guest room.”

“Yeah, and I’m an empty nester with plenty of space, too,” Jenny added and swiftly turned to her beer upon Beau’s frustrated look.

“Oh… Great, so plenty of options,” Beau grumbled but caught himself quickly, recovering with a tight smile. “Good…”

There went his plan to ask you to stay with him. He had by far the smallest place, but his hope was that you wouldn’t have needed more than a bed. Preferably his. And although he trusted Jenny and Cassie, it still bothered him that he couldn’t keep an eye on you himself. It wasn’t like he’d even insist on sharing a bed with you. He’d take the couch or even a goddamn patio chair outside as long as he knew that you were safe.

“Do I need to worry about you being a target?” Beau’s eyes found yours and held your gaze. You could’ve sworn you heard his heart beating faster in his chest.

“No, I don’t think so,” you replied and tried to sound as reassuring as possible. It didn’t work, however.

His brow raised as he retorted sarcastically, “Oh, you don’t think so. Well, that’s comforting.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

You sighed. “Look, the murder victims are all females in different age ranges. What they have in common, though, is that they are all married to a spouse who stepped out on them. The true targets were always the cheating husbands.”

“Why?” Beau’s brow furrowed. All he knew so far about the case was that three female bodies turned up dead at crossroads. He knew their names; he knew their families. Now, there was a fourth.

What he didn’t know was the who, what, how, or why. That was your area of expertise.

“The crossroads? It’s supposed to show that the women chose the wrong path. They stayed with their cheating partners,” you clarified. “On the other hand–”

“–their spouses get punished for getting their loved ones killed,” Beau finished. He rubbed his bearded chin, pointing at the laptop screen. “And what’s the theory with the videos?”

“They’re essentially held in an escape room. The women get locked in a bunker with a box of tools. If they find the right way out, they walk free. If not, their body is dumped at a crossroads after they’ve run out of oxygen. They’re basically buried alive,” you said.

“You ever found the bunker? Has anyone ever escaped?” Beau asked.

You shook your head and spoke quieter. “No, we’ve never found them. Based on the videos, we think there’s more than one location, especially since the subject has hit five states so far, including Montana. We assume the recordings’ purpose is to torture the husbands. A copy of it always gets sent to a partner, so they witness the suffering they’ve caused.” Letting out a sharp exhale, you continued, “And no, no one has ever escaped. We’re not sure if it’s even possible. It might just be a sadistic torture method as well.”

“Make ‘em believe they can get out when they really can’t,” Beau concluded grimly and chewed on his lower lip before flashing a cynical smile. “Well, ain’t that a fun one…”

“We think the killer is highly intelligent and organized,” Jenny said.

“Yeah, and they’re probably keeping tabs on us. They know we’re working the case,” you added and glanced around the patrons of the Boot Heel. The killer might even be in this bar with you. It wasn’t unlikely they followed you here from the motel. As inconspicuous as you tried to be, Beau still caught your little areal scan.

“That didn’t answer my question, though,” Beau then said and looked deeply into your eyes, his brow stern. “Do I need to be worried? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, I’m itchin’ to put protection detail on you.”

“Who, Poppernak?” you quipped, but Beau didn’t laugh. “And no, no need to worry. I don’t fit the victimology,” you told him with a poker face. It was the truth. What you left out, however, was that you’d always be a potential target, no matter what the victim’s profile said. You were on a killer’s radar. Hell, your whole job was to be in harm’s way.

Luckily, your phone buzzed on the table, saving you from more questions and drilling looks. Beau was smart and a good detective. You knew he could see right through you.

“Excuse me, it’s my DA in Houston. I have to get this,” you said and stood up from the table.

“Ugh, Ted…” Beau groaned and dramatically rolled his eyes back.

“You’re a child,” you scolded him. “What d’you have against Ted? He’s a good attorney.”

“He’s a douche, and he sucks,” Beau declared with a huff.

You sent him a glare. “You’re just saying that ‘cause we dated briefly.”

“Nope, already didn’t like that slimy coyote before that,” Beau maintained. “Neither did Randy, by the way.”

“Wow, okay…” You scoffed, tongue poking your cheek as you shook your head. “I’m gonna take this outside,” you said with a glower and then fled through the doors of the restaurant to the quiet street.

“Y/N, wait–” Beau tried to stop you, but you had already stormed out and couldn’t hear him anymore. The sheriff then pursed his lips and exhaled a deep sigh.

“Stepped in it again, huh?” Cassie threw him a sympathetic look.

Beau ran a palm over his freckled face, his lips in a tight line. “Big time.”

“Well, she’s got good taste,” Jenny remarked as she looked at her phone before holding it up for Cassie to see.

“Not bad,” Cassie agreed with a low whistle and smirked.

Beau caught a glimpse of the screen, seeing Ted’s stupid face looking right back at him, and scowled at the women. “Really? Well, thanks for the knife in my back. Who’s side are you two on, huh?”

“Aw, Beau, we’re just having fun.” Cassie chuckled in amusement.

“Yeah, well, he’s not that good-looking up close, by the way,” Beau retorted, trying to keep his jealousy at bay. “He just photographs well.”

“He’s cute when he’s jealous,” Jenny said to Cassie, who nodded in agreement.

Beau scoffed. “I’m not jealous.”

“Did Ted make it onto your punch list?” Cassie asked jokingly.

“Oh, you bet he did,” Beau replied with a huff.

“So… is he the new Avery now?” Jenny teased and arched a brow. The two women looked at him expectantly.

Beau narrowed his eyes at them. “I hate you both. I really do.”

“That’s a yes,” Jenny surmised, and both women broke into laughter on Beau’s dime.

But he was a good sport and could take a little teasing. Besides, he really did wish to punch Ted’s face. He knew the guy had held a torch for you for years.

“So, Y/N knew your old partner, too?” Cassie asked and hauled him back from his revenge fantasies.

“Yeah, kinda…”

Beau swallowed the shameful lump in his throat and licked his lips, bobbing his head. He probably had to tell them eventually. The truth would surely come out at some point.

His green eyes drifted to the glass of whiskey in front of Cassie. “You mind, uh–” He gestured at the drink but didn’t wait for a reply. He grabbed the glass and downed it in one go.

The girls shared a raised look.

The alcohol burned right through him and numbed the twinge in his heart. He cleared his throat but didn’t look at them, keeping his eyes trained on the glass in his hands as he spoke.

“Yeah, uh, she was his wife.”

His confession was followed by deafening silence, the loud music and chatter of the bar drowning out. Realization dawned on both women’s features as they let the words sink in.

Cassie was the first to speak, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “I don’t-… You never said anything about this during grief counseling.”

Beau nodded and smacked his lips, still avoiding to look at them. “Yeah, well, it’s not somethin’ I’m exactly proud of.”

“I get that,” Jenny said after a pause. “But Beau, we would’ve understood. We wouldn’t have judged you.”

“Yeah,” Cassie subscribed and reached out her hand, clasping his. “And we still don’t.”

“Thanks, but I judge myself plenty enough. Trust me,” Beau said somberly and flashed them a sad smile.

As you ambled back to the table, you took immediate note of what you could only classify as a strange vibe. Everyone’s faces looked austere and bleak. So, naturally, you tried to lighten the mood.

“What happened here?” You cocked a brow and tilted your head at the three with a chuckle. “You guys look like you’re at a funeral.”

Beau snorted humorlessly and set down the empty glass in his hand, rising from his seat. “I’m gonna need more of where this came from. ‘Scuse me,” he said and made a beeline for the bar.

Mouth ajar, you stared after him, wondering if you’d said something wrong.

August 2020

The door swung wide open and hit the wall with a loud bang that surely rattled the entire church as you burst into the small back room. Your jaw tightened when you finally found him, sitting on the cold tiles with a bottle of bourbon in his hands, leaning against the wall.

His green eyes looked up, red and glazed, and found yours. Your chest heaved with every surge of anger that rumbled through your body.

“What the hell?” you yelled. He flinched at the sound of your voice. The unshed tears in your eyes threatened to choke you, but you were too livid to let them free. “Where were you? Were you here this whole fucking time? Getting drunk? You were supposed to give the eulogy!”

Beau hung his head in his hands before dragging a palm over his face, the tears stinging his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in over a week and drank a whole liquor store. His body was shaking, his voice trembling. “I-I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry…”

“You’re sorry?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You were supposed to be there for me. You promised.” A few tears finally escaped and rolled down your cheeks. You wiped them away with your palm. “Guess I shoulda known your word isn’t worth a fucking dime.”

You stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind you.

That’s when Beau broke down, sobs wracking through his entire body. Your disappointment was the last straw for him. This was rock bottom. There was nothing lower than the frigid, unforgiving rocks he found himself falling on. The ones that cracked his skull, broke his bones, and shattered his heart. He had built this prison with his own two hands, rock by fucking rock.

Anger rose in his chest and threatened to tear him apart at the seams till his soul spilled out through the cracks. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror anymore. He didn’t recognize the stranger staring back at him. Neither did his family. The only thing he was good at these days was letting people down.

The bottle in his shaking hands then flew across the room and smashed against the wall, shatters of glass and pools of liquor littering the floor.

He was a fucking mess, but he had to make it right. At least by you.

Your hand softly settled on his shoulder as you approached him by the bar counter. He was nursing a whiskey and avoided looking at you. You exhaled a deep breath before you spoke. “So, I’m guessing by the wide eyes, the long faces, and the general awkwardness that you told them about Randy,” you deduced.

His gaze landed on you at that. A light chuckle squeezed past his lips. “You’re good.”

You took a seat on a barstool next to him. “Oh, I know. If I wasn’t, I would’ve picked the wrong profession.”

He gave you a weak smile in return and licked his lips, returning to his drink.

“Look, uhm, if you wanna talk about it, we can talk about it, okay?” you offered, tapping your fingertips on the bar counter. “I know I’ve been mad at you. But I also know you’re struggling with… well, everything that is us, I guess. I mean, I’m still upset, but I don’t like seeing you like this. I never meant to hurt you.”

Beau nodded, and then a smile, a real and genuine one, formed on his lips. “You know, I’m supposed to actually say that to you.”

“Oh yeah? Which part?” You bit your bottom lip, hiding a small grin behind it.

“The, uhm, sorry-I-never-meant-to-hurt-you part,” he said, green eyes boring into yours as he looked up from his glass.

You gave him a one-sided twitch of your shoulder. You were not the vulnerable type, especially not in a public setting like a crowded bar with a guy who hurt you once before. You wanted to avoid any admission of feelings. Because if you did confess, it meant you felt them in the first place.

“It’s okay, Beau. You don’t have to apologize for how you’re feeling,” you said. Sweeping all your anger and pain under the rug of friendship was your safest option. The plan still remained: solve the case and get the hell out of dodge.

“Yeah, that’s just it. I really do,” Beau replied wryly and finished his drink. “Just gimme a chance to explain, alright? Just one. That’s all you gotta do. If afterwards you still wanna end it, I’ll let you go.”

Pensively, you bit down on your bottom lip and gazed into his eyes. Sincerity, longing, and hope shimmered in them, pulling you right back into that green sea. Although it was probably a mistake, you agreed.

You weren’t sure what it was exactly – whether it was the fact that Beau was your friend, your shared history together, or that he was your dead husband’s old partner. But you were willing to listen to what he had to say. You owed him at least as much.

“Okay,” you said.

When Beau took you to, in his words, “humble abode,” you had expected as much. He had been talking your ear off about his “dream home” for three years now, and a part of you was happy for him that he finally had realized it.

Another part, though, knew him too well and itched to make fun of him for it. You even wondered if bribery was on the table if you threatened to bring both Jenny and Cassie into the loop.

Beau stood with a proud grin next to you, gauging your reaction to his home. “So, what d’you say, huh?”

“I think Emily might have been right…” you mumbled into your jacket. At lunch, she called it a “tin can.”

“What?” The sheriff quirked a brow.

“Nothing,” you brushed it off and grinned. “So, who do you think you are, huh? Patrick Dempsey?”

Beau’s lips pursed a little in a caught kind of manner but still tried to overplay it with a shake of his head. “I don’t know whatcha talkin’ about…”

“Sure you do,” you teased and nudged his shoulder playfully with your elbow. Your grin widened; your eyebrows rose higher. “C’mon, Beau, it’s just me.”

“It’s a guilty pleasure, alright?” he barked as his façade broke. “I just want Meredith to be happy.”

You soothingly rubbed his back. “We all do, sweetie, we all do…” you sighed in understanding.

His head then snapped to you, green eyes wide. “Don’t you dare tell Cassie and Jenny about this! If they find out, I’ll never hear the end of this. Lord knows they’d make me watch more Gosling movies…”

“Yeah, that would be so funny,” you remarked, chuckling. Beau scowled at you warningly.

Taking a step closer to the trailer, you let his life in front of you sink in. You imagined how he’d sit in his patio chair with a bottle of beer in front of the fire pit on cool summer nights, how he’d grab his fishing rod that leaned by the door on his days off, and how he’d have movie nights with his friends on the screen and projector nestled in the back of his little porch.

This is what he left you for.

“You okay there?” Beau checked, noticing your vacant stare.

“I’m fine.” You forced a smile to your lips. “This is nice.”

Beau sighed a little. By now, he knew that your “fines” were never that. He also knew you’d never tell him what you were really thinking.

“Beer?” he offered, hoping you’d accept because God knows he needed one.

“Tequila?” came your reply. You’d need something stronger for this conversation.

“Even better,” Beau agreed and went to pour two shots, handing you one.

You downed it before he could even say “salud” and held out your glass for a refill. He raised his brow a little at you but obliged without question, hiding an amused smile. When the second one burned down your throat, you let out a jittery breath.

“I’ll take that beer now.”

“Well, thank God you’re not a lightweight.” Beau snorted as he handed you a bottle and uncapped it for you. “C’mon, just talk to me. What’s bothering you? I mean, I can take a guess, but I’d rather have you tell me.”

“Guess.” The sternness of your voice gave no room for jokes.

Beau scratched his beard, nodding his head. “Is this about Randy? Look, I’ve been going to grief counseling, okay? I’m working through it. I’m a lot better now.”

“Well, good for you,” you muttered wryly and took a sip of your beer. All you really wanted was another shot of tequila, but asking for more would probably worry him at this point.

“I just-… Maybe it’ll help you, too. I could go with you,” he suggested, his eyes flashing to your left hand. “You’re still wearing the ring.”

“And I’m always gonna wear it!” You frowned, your brow knitting in a deadly combination of anger and hurt. “So, what? You left me because I was still attached to my dead husband? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, I–”

“You wanna do this? Fine, let’s do it,” you announced a little too belligerently as if you were entering a boxing ring, but you were all guns blazing at this point. You took another swig of beer before placing the bottle down on a table nearby. Luckily, the tequilas were finally kicking in.

“Y/N–”

“Nuh-uh, my turn,” you swiftly cut him off. You needed to get this off your chest before the alcohol-induced courage was leaving you again. You’d been waiting to say this for close to a year. You were tired of having this conversation only with your mirror image. “You think this is about Randy? It’s not! I never had a problem with that. You did. Yes, my husband died, and I lost something, but then I found you, okay? And I thought you felt the same way, but then you just fucking left without a warning.”

“I–”

“Still not done yet.” You held up a finger and paused for a beer break and a deep breath. Your lungs were burning for air before you dove back into the water. “I don’t know what’s there left to explain! You found out Carla was getting married and told me you were still in love with her, and then you just up and left and moved to fucking Montana! But then, you didn’t go back to her, did you now?”

“No, that’s what I’m tryna tell ya–”

But you didn’t let him finish. Another huff before you inhaled enough air for your next tirade. “You retired and then un-retired and went fucking trout fishing! And I don’t understand any of it!”

“What, the fishin’?” Beau quipped with an uncomfortable snicker and swallowed harshly upon your deathly glare that cut like a machete, feeling his head slip off his neck.

“What the fuck was all that for, then? Why did you fucking leave if you’re just… dwelling here? You left almost a year ago, and we haven’t spoken since. What’s changed? ‘Cause I can’t fucking see a difference.”

“Look, I tried callin’ ya. I texted. You never picked up,” he threw in and tried not to sound accusatory. Honestly, he understood why you didn’t. Against all odds, he had just always hoped you still would.

“Oh, I wonder why,” you huffed sarcastically before tears began to sting your eyes and blur your vision. But you powered through, refusing to start sobbing in front of him. “You know I was a broken mess when Randy died, and I really didn’t expect I’d ever feel like that again until you left… Do you even know what that means? C’mon, let’s be honest here. You left Texas ‘cause you couldn’t fucking bear the guilt of sleeping with your partner’s wife any longer. That’s the true fucking reason!”

Beau’s lips straightened into a thin line as he ground his jaw, hands resting on his belt. His head bobbed in thought, eyes drawn to his boots before he gazed up and saw you were finally out of breath. The tears that flowed down your cheeks broke his heart. Your words stung like knives.

“Can I say something now?”

“Go ahead,” you retorted rather challengingly and wiped your wet cheeks dry with your sleeves.

Beau sighed and finally drank his shot of tequila. He hissed slightly before finding your eyes. “Look, you’re right. Carla, everything else… it was an excuse, but not for the reasons you think.”

“Oh, gimme a break!” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t wanna face the truth, okay? I felt guilty. Still do, actually,” he admitted and swallowed thickly. “And not ‘cause I slept with my partner’s wife, but because I fell in love with my partner’s wife.”

Your heart stopped beating for a moment as you looked at him. You always felt it, always wanted him to say it, but he never had until now.

“It always meant something to me. You were never a rebound after my divorce. You were never just a distraction from my grief. I never would’ve even kissed you if I hadn’t had feelings for you from the start,” he confessed and ran a hand over his face as the words rushed out. He tried to shove the unshed tears in his eyes back inside.

“And yeah, I’ll always love Carla. Just like I know you’ll always love Randy, but two things can be true at the same time. And the second one is that I’m so deeply and irrevocably in love with you that it scares the living hell outta me.” He gave a small shrug like his feelings couldn’t be helped. “But every time I felt this pull towards you, I kept wondering if I would’ve felt it if I’d never gotten divorced. If Randy never died… Would I have still fallen in love with you? And then the guilt set in, ‘cause the only answer I ever came up with was ‘yes.’”

“Beau…” You stood there petrified, not knowing what to do or say until you saw a tear fall down his cheek. It broke you to see him like this, see all the guilt and shame he carried in his heart for something neither of you could control.

“I’m sorry that I left and hurt you. I never meant for that to happen. I thought I was doing the right thing by lettin’ you go. I thought you deserved better. I never could give you everything you needed. Not then, at least,” he explained. “I tried to ignore my feelings and shove ‘em down. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t deal with it anymore. He was my best friend and my partner. I mean, I was his best man at your guys’ wedding,” he said and let out a humorless chuckle, dragging a palm over his face. Then, his green eyes bored into yours, drowning in emotion. “But once you showed up here… I just couldn’t stay away anymore. I don’t wanna lose you again. I don’t wanna die without you ever knowing how I feel about you. I love you, and I’ve goddamn missed you, Y/N.”

In a heartbeat, you caught his lips, warm and soft and trembling against yours as you kissed him. His breathing quickened, his heart thrumming wildly against his ribcage, his mind filling with nothing but you. His hands were in your hair and on your waist, yours sliding from his cheeks to rest on his broad chest.

When you drew back breathlessly, you looked up into his eyes. “Look, uhm, I don’t have an answer for you. Maybe we would have found each other eventually, or we wouldn’t have,” you said and gave him a small smile. “I don’t think we’re ever gonna solve this one. I don’t think we even have to. So, maybe let’s not focus so much on the ‘what ifs’ and more on the ‘what nows.’”

Beau’s lips rose to a soft smile. “I can do that,” he said. “So, what now?”

“Now, I’ll tell you that I love you, and we’ll make out for a looong time like we’re trying to catch up for everything we missed out on when we were apart. And then we’ll figure out an excuse to tell Cassie and Jenny for me not coming home tonight,” you replied, smirking.

Beau chuckled. “Alright, sounds like a plan. Although I doubt you’re just gonna stick to the make-out. I mean, let’s be real here, we both know you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” he teased.

You gasped playfully and slapped his arm, making him laugh. “Careful now, Sheriff. You’re getting cocky. You better have some proof to back that one up.”

“Oh, I can deliver.” He smirked and dipped his head, claiming your lips.

Heat rose to your chest as his hands slid up your body. You parted your lips slightly, enough for his tongue to slip inside and taste you. His fingers dented the skin on your waist as your arms locked around his neck. His beard tickled your flushed cheeks as you breathed each other in.

“Damn you,” you sighed as you both came up for air.

Beau smiled before his soft lips pressed against yours once more. He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you inside.

September 2021

Your legs were slung around his waist, holding him tight as Beau carried you into the dainty Mexican motel room, cool and dry desert air hushing inside with your movements. He kicked the door shut with his boot, his lips roaming every inch of you they could reach. Your fingers tangled in his hair, occasionally eliciting a groan against your skin when you tugged too roughly.

His hands, his lips, his heart – no part of his body wanted to ever leave yours.

The first and only time his shaking hands let go of you completely since you two jumped out of the car in the motel parking lot was when he sat you down on the end of the squeaky bed, your feet hitting the stained and dusty carpet. He started unbuttoning his shirt; you strived off your shoes and tank top, flinging each item somewhere across the room before helping him with the remaining buttons.

Your lips touched his abdomen, kissed his warm skin, and felt him shivering underneath you as you trailed your way down his abs. Your fingers unbuckled his belt and opened his zipper, letting his jeans pool around his ankles.

You looked up and found his half-lidded eyes, checking if the next step of your endeavor was wanted. His green orbs were full of desire, a need for you that made you drip between your legs. His breathing quickened, a sharp inhale of air as your hand snuck down his boxers. His eyes closed. You smirked and kissed below his pubic bone, pulling the fabric down to join the rest of the discarded clothes on the filthy ground.

“You don’t have to,” he said with a thick swallow, his voice rasped and strained when his erection sprang against your parted lips.

“Oh, but I want to,” you replied cheekily and wrapped your hand around the base of his hard cock.

His large palm wantonly caressed your cheek, thumbing your bottom lip. You sucked his thumb first, teased with your tongue, and twisted your grip around his dick as you stroked him until a first hiss escaped his plump lips and he twitched in your palm. You let his thumb go with a pop and sent him a naughty smile. Your warm breath ghosted against his swollen tip before your tongue took a salty taste test and dipped into the slit. His head fell back between his shoulder blades with a groan.

“Let go,” you told him, your voice sultry and seductively low in the quiet of the room, only the neighbor’s TV drowning through the walls with a Spanish soap. You planted wet kisses on his length all the way down to the root as you spoke. “You can do whatever you want with me. I want you to…”

“Fuck, don’t tell me shit like that,” he growled with restraint.

You smirked. “Why? Does it turn you on?”

“You have no idea,” Beau replied and bit down on his lip, tugging it behind his teeth.

“I think I have some,” you said with a chuckle, noticing how his dick twitched at your words.

Your lips enveloped the head of his cock and then slid down his shaft, taking as much of him as you could fit until he nudged the back of your throat. He was long and thick, making your jaw ache as you sucked him down. He gathered your hair in his fist and guided your pace, a burn on your scalp that spurred you on.

His hips rocked to the bob of your head, taking him a little bit deeper each time. Hollowing your cheeks, you went nose-deep once your jaw adjusted to his girth, leaving his dick spit-wet before he pulled you off with a hiss.

“Shit,” he groaned between heavy breaths. “Not gonna last long if you keep this up,” he said with a coy smile, admiration gleaming in his eyes as he leaned down, hungrily kissing your red and glistening lips. “I wanna come inside you.”

With your heart beating in your throat, you couldn’t speak and just nodded, planting a firm kiss on his lips.

He unclasped your bra, and you flung it off your shoulders as he slipped out of his boots. You shrieked and giggled when he grabbed your thighs and threw you off your feet with one quick haul, your back and head hitting the mattress with a blissful sigh.

His body pressed on top of yours, heavy and large and perfectly sculpted, his mouth following a trail from below your neck to above the edge of your jeans. He shimmied the tight material down your ass and thighs, all the way down your smooth legs, your black cotton panties following shortly after till you were bare in front of him.

Green eyes traced the curves of your body. His Adam’s apple bobbed when they landed on your slick folds. He knelt between your spread legs and lowered his head to your pussy, nose, tongue, and lips traveling through your soaked slit.

His tongue circled your clit and poked into your tight channel till your breath caught in your throat. His lips sucked and tasted you till your heart pounded furiously in your chest. His teeth nibbled and teased till you were writhing underneath him.

One finger, then two, slipped inside and threatened to turn you inside out as they plunged in and out of you, knuckle-deep against your velvet walls. Your hips jerked upon his every touch, a firm hand holding you in place. Your fist gripped his hair as your thighs trembled, calves resting against his strong arms. The back of your head pressed harshly into the mattress as an unstoppable fire claimed your entire body.

Sweat gathered between your heaving boobs in a thin layer as an explosion hit you so violently it shook every muscle. With his fingers still inside of you as your pussy throbbed around them, he found your lips and stole your remaining oxygen for himself, leaving you breathless.

His wet fingers slipped out of your cunt, your aching emptiness waiting to be filled by his cock that rested heavy against your thighs. As he released your lips, his gaze locked with yours, fingers caressing your cheek like you were precious and breakable all at once.

“Do we need, uhm…”

“A condom?” you finished his dangling question with a smile. He let his head drop to your shoulder and nodded bashfully in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “I don’t know. Have you been with anyone since the divorce?”

“No,” he replied simply. But Beau wanted to say much more than that. He wanted to tell you that he had waited for you. That you’d been prevalent in his mind for months now. That he didn’t want anyone else. All he managed was a one word answer and a shake of his head, though.

“Me neither,” you said quietly. Your husband had died thirteen months ago. You’d grieved but never felt ready to move on, to erase him with some stranger you’d met on the internet or in a dingy bar – not that you ever could.

Until Beau kissed you, you’d never thought you’d be able to love again.

His face changed upon your answer, a hint of worry haunting his features. “You-, uhm, you sure you want me to-… ‘Cause we don’t have to do anything… or, uhm, more, you know? We can just leave it at that and forget about it.”

You cupped his cheeks in your palms and forced him to look you into your eyes. You smiled at him reassuringly. “Hey, I want you to. I want it to be you, okay? I want you inside me.”

He chocked down a thick swallow upon your words, his cock needily throbbing between your legs. With a nod, he gripped his length and guided his tip to your soaking entrance, coating his dick in your arousal before gliding inside. Inch by inch he stretched you, sinking deeper and deeper till he filled you whole. Your lips parted when his forehead rested on yours as he relished in the feeling of you.

Neither of you had been with anyone since your respective spouses, a new feeling overwhelming both of you. Your breaths mingled before he claimed your lips, his hands roaming your sides as you stilled for a moment.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N,” he groaned against the shell of your ear, nibbling down your jawline. “Always wanted this, even though ‘m gonna burn in hell for sayin’ it.”

“You feel good, too. But fuck… Beau, please,” you begged, arching your back to raise your hips and meet his, encouraging him to move. It didn’t take much for him to oblige.

His hips rolled slowly at first, each thrust becoming more forceful than the one that came before. His lips caressed your pebbled nipples, hands groping your tits as he explored every curve of your body.

Sinful mouth and gluttonous hands didn’t leave a single spot of your skin untouched, your flesh turning into unholy ground in his wake. He wanted you to be his, claim every bit of you in hopes of breaking a sacrilegious vow. His pumps were biblical, a great flood that buried you underneath him. Your cries of prayer were devout.

Neither of you spoke a word, your sole focus on each other as passion overtook you both, too busy with impatient kisses on mingling body parts. The silence in the room was filled with ragged moans, salacious sounds, and the occasional squeak of the old mattress.

His fingertips bruised your flesh, your heels digging into his lower back as he bottomed out. His fingers then interlaced with yours above your head till your grips were knuckle-white. You squeezed his cock, your pussy swallowing him whole.

Your cunt clenched and gripped him tightly as you came undone, your second climax washing over you with a slip of his name. Your whole body trembled in ecstasy, your nails digging into his back and your toes curling so much they came close to a cramp.

Beau let go after a few more pumps and grunted, spilling a full load of cum into you as his hips came to a jerky standstill. His head dropped to your shoulder as he caught his breath, sweaty skin meeting heaving chest.

Gently, you stroked his back and carded his damp hair with your fingertips, massaging his scalp as he softly groaned into the crook of your neck. Your heartbeat slowed to its regular rhythm. Your breathing calmed like the waves after a great storm. His head lifted off your shoulder. His eyes fixed on you. A smile twitched on the corners of his lips.

“So… that happened,” Beau said almost to an awkward degree. It made you snort a laugh.

“Technically, it’s still happening,” you noted with an amused smile and squeezed his softening cock inside of you.

“Oh, uh, right,” he muttered with a clear of his throat, his cheeks adorably blushing. He tried to slip out, but you stopped him, fastening your legs around his waist till he relaxed again.

“No, it’s alright. This is actually my favorite part,” you confessed and watched the smile on his freckled face widen.

“Yeah, mine too.” His knuckles caressed your cheek, his fingers tucking back some strands of your hair. “Was that okay? Do you, you know, feel good? Any, uhm, regrets?”

“No, I’m good. You were amazing,” you assured him with a tender smile and saw the relief wash over his features.

Beau tried to choke down the guilt and betrayal that bubbled deep in his chest. Truth was, he wanted to be selfish for once. He wanted you, and he wished you could feel the warmth that spread through his heart whenever he looked at you.

“Are you okay?” you checked when you noticed a glaze in his green eyes. At first glance, you assumed it was sadness, your heart weighing heavy in your ribcage before the crinkles of happiness around his eyes betrayed that theory.

“Yeah, I am, darlin’. For the first time in a long time, actually,” he said and kissed you long and deep.

Chapter 4: Rewind

All's well that ends well. Now it's just all lovely bliss till the end, innit? 🤣

Next week we have a bunch of awkward (maybe scandalous even?) flashbacks to dive in... 👀

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sweet-honey-tears · 11 months ago

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Blanket Fort

Shinso x Gn!Reader

Hello everyone! Hope everyone is well! This was a request for some Shinso Fluff. I hope you like it! 🤍

Aizawa was gone, week week-long mission he begrudgingly accepted. More so against his will than anything, as it was the week of Eri's birthday. To say he was angry, would be an understatement. You were half sure hero society was about to revolt at the fact the commission took Aizawa away from Eri during her birthday week. Even Hawks seemed pissed, stopping by on Tuesday to drop off a present for Eri. You spoke to him shyly, the young civilian talking to a top Pro-Hero. “Thank Dove,” a nickname he called all fans, “ Still can’t behave they pulled the old man away from his daughter.” His voice teetered on venomous before he snapped back. “But hey, Eris got you and little Azawia, so I’ll know you make it great!” Damn straight you would.

The house was void minus the cats, Eri, Shinso, and yourself. The no-so-adopted third child who for a small moment, everyone thought was another addition to the family. In actuality, you were Shinso’s (Girl Friend, boyfriend, significant other) Though to Eri, you were big (Brother, Siter, Sibiling)

3am. Shinso phone rang, your pretty photo popping up. Shinso, as you knew, was awake, wide awake. But why where you?

“Baby why are you-”

“I HAVE AN IDEA!”

It was your idea to do the blanketfort. You had planned it before Aizawa had even left for the mission. Even ended up even planning the day with Aizawa. Which Shinso found both adorable and hilarious. Coming home from practice to see you at the counter, Aizawa leaning over the other side. Both of your faces in pure concentration as you talked about what to do for the fort alone- not the whole week itself.

Stuffies, blankets, fairy lights, pillows and what ever else where shoved into you bags. The zippers struggling to keep the stuffed animals from bursting. When Shinso opened the door for you, you where breathing heavily, arms full of bags stuffed with material.

Eri jumped up and down the moment you brought up at idea. Shinso smirked at your bad acting, saying the idea just came to you. You both where half sure Eri almost squeezed you to death when you started to talk about what else you all could do.

The Fort itself was the biggest challenge to set up. A drying rack, TV, and couch where the best bases to create a large enough Fort for the three of you. Stuffed animals surrounded the edges of the fort, and layers of blankets and bed mats covered the carpet in the living room, adding a much-needed cushion. Fairy lights hung inside like glistening vines and soft music played in the background.

Shinso and you self made sure to take photos, as many as your phones could hold. The large files sent to Aizawa, would barely responded, but you both knew he was happy.

Around 2 hours later, the blanket Fort, dinner, and Pjs done and you all rested in the rather large Fort. Shinso rested by your side, scrolling through his phone on bordem. Eri was thankfully fast asleep, her little area of the fort darker with only the twinkle of fairy lights to show her sleeping face. Shinso’s eyes caught the slight smiles on his little sister's face. Her arms wrapped tightly around one of the many stuffed animals you brought or bought for this occasion. His heart swelled, he was lucky for you. Lucky you loved everyone in the family so much, lucky that you loved Eri arguably more than him.

Shinso knew he and Aizawa wouldn't have been able to do this. They were stupidly busy, tired, and bogged with hero duties. In Aizawa’s casework, and his own being homework, patrols, and training.

“Shinso” you had whispered, causing him to snap out of his trance. “Your phone” you slightly giggled. Shinso looked down. In his distracted state, his thumb had been placed on the ‘f’ key. Typing out a long line of ‘fff’ as a comment on a video. Quickly canceling it, he let out a sigh.

“Got distracted” you laughed slightly, pushing yourself farther into him, yawning slightly. It was 1 am, and to his surprise, he was tired. “Tired kit?”

“Yeah… think I may call it” you yawn. Scooting down to lie down. He followed you, and quickly, almost garingly, pulled you close to him. Barely giving you time to move your arms around your boyfriend, lest they be trapped.

”I love you.” Your face softened, relaxing at the realization everything was okay. His arm brought you closer to him. “I love you so much.” He kissed the space available to him, an area of your clothed shoulder.

“I love you too Shin” he huffed, his chest tightening a little. He pulled away slightly, staring at you for a slight moment. As if ensuring you were telling the truth. You were, it didn’t take him long to conclude that. He leaned in to kiss your lips softly. Pulling away for only a moment before continuing. His hand slid to your hair, playing with the strands softly. Words weren’t needed, you both already knew everything he wanted to say. You scootched yourself under him, face nestled into the area of his neck and shoulder. Your legs weaving together to get unbelievably closer. “I love you so much, Shin.” Your face felt warm, and happiness almost caused wetness to prick your eyes. Shinso kissed the top of your head, pressing his lips to your temple.

“I love you too kitten, so much.” He squeezed you again, letting you both fall into a peaceful, gentle silence as you dozed off.

@waytotiredforthis

@bookcluberror

#bnha headcannons #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha writing #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinsou headcanons #shinsou x reader #shinso hitoshi #shinso x reader #shinso fluff #hitoshi shinso x y/n #gender neutral y/n #🪴request/ questions🪴

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wordy-little-witch · 6 months ago

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Buggy brainrot-

I spent a few hours today in the EER with mama and had to distract myself Somehow so you get my silly lil snippets of music video stories in my head-

Buggy accidentally seduces a bunch of people and doesn't even NOTICE because of his special brand of oblivious survival rizz

Basically during the 2 year skip where he gets named a Warlord, he does in fact attend a meeting or a few. The first one, he's a mix of audacious loudmouth show boating and critical assessing eyes.

By the second one he's decently comfortable with knowing the names and faces of his vicinity - he's plotting and he's got more than a few cards, knifes, and other items up his sleeves.

At some point, the meeting goes from relatively calm to absolutely hog fucking wild and somehow, someway, someone's belonging winds up damn near launched into the upper rafters of the room. There's a strict No Devil Fruit policy, enforced by a seastone earring, so while the arguments and in-fighting ensue, Buggy just kind of scoffs, walks put, comes back with a pole, jams it into the broken tiled flooring and proceeds to ignore them while he climbs. Pole art isn't too terribly different from his aerials and trapeze, and he's done just about EVERYTHING under the sun at last once, so it's nothing unfamiliar. His gloves are uniquely textured so he can safely handle his Muggy and Buggy Balls, too, so carefully using his momentum and muscles to climb and shift up the pole smoothly is a pretty simple matter.

He gets to the top, hooks his legs and feet properly, and twists his spine to reach out, unaware of the sets of eyes boring into him.

Mihawk is stone faced, but there is a heat to his gaze. Doffy's sunglasses have slipped down his nose a little. Kuma is pointedly Not Looking. Hancock is... frankly pretending to be uninterested but lowkey is staring. Buggy is oblivious, retrieves the hat or sash or earring, whatever it was, and shifts his weight, releases a hold and smoothly drops, stopping just before the floor to daintily rise, sashay over, and plopped the item on the table, fixing his gloves.

It's the silence that has him looking up, arching a brow. "What?"

Then he sees the time.

"Oh. Meeting's over. Bye~"

And baby boy DIPS.

(Nickelback - Midnight Queen)

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Shanks POV post-Rogers-disbanding, pre-Execution, the cabin brats solo on the seas

He's watching Buggy charm the absolute hell out of a guy at a bar in some no name little town. They've been landlocked for nearing a week now, their previous ship shot to hell by a pirate crew hounding their tail after they'd been sighted some three islands back. The ship held together long enough to pull a full miracle put of nowhere, helped along by a storm. Since then, they'd been gathering cash to pay off her repairs to keep moving, unwilling to part with Speed after all she'd done for them so far.

One source of income came from Buggy's silver tongue and sticky fingers.

The blue haired pirate was leaning over the counter now, twirling a loose lock of hair as he giggled, fluttering his lashes. The man he was buttering up was a few years their senior, bejeweled and slicked hair, a flush of intoxication on his cheeks as he warmly regarded the pretty thing at his side. Shanks could relate, at least a little, on the way the man's attention was focused so thoroughly on Buggy.

Pink tinted lips quirked into a smile, head tilting invitingly, to which the man responded as expected. He was under the blue haired pirate's spell already - Shanks checked the time - three minutes in. Not a new record, but close.

He wasn't sure how to feel about it all, honestly. It was not jealousy, not truly, that curdled his stomach. Instead, something bloomed viciously in his abdomen, something akin to possessiveness. Sure, he figured absently, people can find Buggy pretty in his disguise.

But Shanks was the one who saw his entirety.

Shanks saw the tan lines on pale skin; Shanks knew the taste of his freckles and skin; Shanks knew the scars on his left hip and between his shoulder blades; Shanks could map Buggy's face from memory with lips alone, and he damn well knew it.

The world can be played by Buggy, but Shanks would know the game.

And an hour later, outside of that little bar, he would welcome the smaller body leaning unflinchingly into his side, arm around the other's shoulders, heart full and his lover's pockets heavy, and Shanks would look back, would meet wide, dark eyes with a pink smudge on his chin. And Shanks would grin, sharp and unrepentant, turning to guide those same pink lips up to his own.

He's wear his boyfriend's lipstick with pride.

((NEFFEX - Rumors))

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Buggy wears skirts whenever the fancy strikes, and sometimes it works perfectly for parties. He'll be the first to say that people who don't love dancing in skirts have never tried it before. While his fashion tastes aren't always expected, he revealed in the freedom there - and his crew thrived in such environments.

That was why he hadn't thought to make a big deal out of the first skirt day since Cross Guild was established. It simply WAS, in the same way as the weather, the same way as the meal plans, simply just footnotes in it all. He'd gone most of the day without seeing the two newest additions to the island, and frankly had forgotten to be vigilant of them.

It was a good day, a new shipment, a celebration, nothing too extravagant, just a fun night with his people. Really, Buggy hadn't even thought to glance up for yellow or violet eyes.

The crew was boisterous, but that was normal, music playing and laughter ringing. Buggy was sandwiched between Alvida and Marianne, a newer islander from a small island out East. The dialect there was unfamiliar by and large, but Buggy had grown up learning it from a man he considered a father, and Mari had so few who spoke her mother tongue.

Buggy simply had the idea to make tonight Extra fun.

After all, nobody partied like a Roger, and Roger always had the best songs. Bugs wasn't too bad with a fiddle. When asked, Mari beamed, no slouch herself, and offered to take the lead.

So they took to the stage, each swiping an instrument with playful glares, and heels tapped the rhythm as they began, hop-skipping as they bobbed and weaved, clapping joining as people whooped and hollered, making merry and enjoying themselves.

It was midway through that Buggy was caught playfully, fiddle lifted as one of the older mercenaries bowed him out, picking up the tune. He laughed happily, hands fisting his skirts as he twirled and danced, thoroughly enjoying himself-

And then he caught sight of Mihawk. He was watching, an odd note in his eyes, and Buggy could just barely see the way the other seemed to lean into the music. Fueled by a wild idea, high on the adrenaline and joy, Buggy walked over and offered his hand.

And Mihawk accepted.

He was a great dancer, and Buggy was delighted to be lead in a familiar dance, beaming boldly at the goth man before him. Traditional dances like this were few and far between - it only made them more fun.

That night began a change - first of which culminating into Mihawk fluffing Buggy's skirt with an almost-smile, a quiet statement following. "I should quite like to do this again some time."

Buggy only realizes later what that implied.

((Celtic Woman - Níl Sé'n Lá))

#buggy headcanons #song sillies #shameless self indulgence #buggy the clown #one piece #bughawk #buggy x mihawk #shuggy #shanks x buggy #yEET #lore be upon ye

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lovelyhan · 2 years ago

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Sexting with Jeonghan -Have fun! Sam @dkakapizzaboy 🩷

SAM>!!?!?!!?!/ i... don't even have words anymore i'm just going to

⟣ sexting with jeonghan ⟢ wc: 0.6k words minors do not interact!

You wouldn't call yourself needy.

In fact, you're sure you're fairly independent yourself. Your relationship with Jeonghan has a grounded give-and-take dynamic, which you honestly didn't expect when you first got together with him. This means that he doesn't necessarily leave you wanting for too long that you'd resort to becoming needy.

But just because both of you have your heads in the right place for the most part, doesn't mean it erases the fact that your boyfriend is a busy, busy man.

You're hit with a particularly unscratchable itch when Jeonghan has a day packed with shoots and dance practices. You know better than to bother him when he's got his hands full with their most recent comeback, but you suppose a few texts hinting at what he's going to come home to won't hurt, right?

Me: hannie, what time do you finish up today? i have a little surprise for you ><

It takes Jeonghan an hour to reply, but you don't really hold that against him, being a full-time idol and everything.

Jeonghan: hey, angel. we should be done by eleven! miracle, right?

Me: your producers are way too hard on you sometimes :/ anyway, aren't you curious abt the surprise?

Jeonghan: i am, but something's telling me this "surprise" of yours is an occupational hazard.

Jeonghan: angel, if you're going to send what i think you're sending...

Me: :) [1 Attachment]

You know better than to distract Jeonghan while he's in the middle of work, but it's not like you're actively there with him on whatever set he's at. You're simply at the comfort of your home, wearing the lingerie set that drives Jeonghan crazy whenever he comes home to see you wearing it -- stockings, harnesses, garters and all.

He doesn't have to know that you're internally cackling to yourself as the three dots indicating that he's typing back a response hover in and out of the screen. Like he's at a loss for words, and has to type out an entire spiel before deleting it again.

When he finally manages a proper reply, though, you end up clenching your thighs together as you go over each word.

Jeonghan: i hope you're ready to take responsibility for the problems you're giving me.

Jeonghan: we're shooting a music video right now, and you made me pop a hard-on in the middle of the set. are you happy with yourself?

Me: mhmm <3

Me: can't wait for you to shove your cock down my throat, hannie~ we both know you need it more than you're willing to admit

Me: you can finish all over my tits if you want <3

Jeonghan: you're being extra cheeky today, aren't you?

Jeonghan: no, sweetheart. you're going to swallow every last drop i'm going to give you. then you're going to ride me right after.

Jeonghan: that's the least you can do for making me want you in the middle of work, isn't it?

Me: anything you want, hannie.

Me: i just miss you so much... i'm already touching myself wishing it was you instead.

Jeonghan: oh? are you so desperate that you can't even wait for me to come home?

Jeonghan: my needy little angel. be good for me, will you? no touching yourself until i get back.

Me: fine. but i want a reward for being good :(

Jeonghan: how does a pretty pussy dripping with my cum sound like, sweetheart?

Fuck. You're the one who's supposed to be riling him up -- not the other way around. But then again, you've been with Jeonghan long enough to know that it's completely futile to outdo the doer.

Me: you have yourself a deal.

Me: now, get back here sooner or i might just decide that i want to be a brat tonight after all.

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt fanfic #svthub #jeonghan smut #seventeen jeonghan #📝 drabble #💭 request #💘 mutuals #sam <3 #i am totally ok after this #perfectly fine #lovelyhan

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fishnets-fingers · 1 month ago

Text

blossoms, big changes & blanket forts

a/n - @harry-on-broadway's short 'n sweet fic challenge inspired me to write a burb from the six months universe. this takes place in the future and hints at storyline(s) for future parts. it's been a while since i'd written anything, so i hope this turned out okay. word count: 2.5k (not proofread) happy reading :)

…

Every Saturday Harry’s alarm blares at five in the morning and every single Saturday he swiftly silences it before it disturbs the other occupant snoozing next to him. This morning was no different. He quietly slips out the bed and heads to the bathroom to change into his running gear.

A dopey smile blooms across his face at the sight in front of him. A foot peeking out the sheet, a hand haphazardly dangling over the side of the bed, and a shock of dark hair obstructing her face.

He smooths the raven locks away from her face and leans down to kiss her sleep warm cheek. A quiet grunt makes him chuckle.

“What ungodly hour is it?” Layla asks, eyes still closed.

“It’s the AM,” he answers diplomatically.

She mumbles something incoherently, turning over on her stomach, face burying into the pillow. He knows better than to ask her to clarify and jolt her from the pull of slumber. He kisses the crown of her head, pulling the bed sheet in place.

And off he goes, running down the same circuit he takes every Saturday. He enjoys this time where their neighbourhood is slowly setting up for the day - the scratches of produce filled pallets being hauled into the restaurants, the beeps of trucks pulling into the warehouses of the supermarkets, the hum of baristas as they begin to ready their spaces, and the soft grunts of runners they start with their stretches.

He relishes this routine; the calm after five days of scrambling around with this Masters thesis, hours in the lab, typing away on his computer into the night. Saturday mornings were his reset. The hour and a half he spends running with no distractions is just what he needs to set the tone for his weekend. The same sights, smells, and sounds. This Saturday however he spots a moving truck along with a couple carrying boxes into the lobby of a highrise apartment and is immediately transported to a wintery evening five months ago. He was lugging bags of groceries from the car when his phone chimed. Once. Twice. Thrice. Followed by a call from Layla all the way from Chennai.

“Hi bab-” He starts before getting interrupted.

“You are speaking to the new assistant professor of San Diego State! Well not really. I still haven’t signed but I just got the email.”

“No fucking way! Really?”

“Really! I read the email three times to make sure my brain wasn’t playing tricks on me. I did just wake up, so there’s a big possibility that I’m dreaming.”

“Congratulations, Layla.”

“Aww, thanks,” she blew out a breath. “You know what this means, right?”

“No more long distance,” he smiled into the microphone.

“Can’t wait. I love you.”

“I love you too, Lails.”

“Say it again,” she said, and he can picture her lips pulling up at the corners.

“I bloody love you, sweet girl.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that,” she added quietly.

He felt her conflicting feelings of anger and longing miles away. She did not want to go to India after what happened during their last visit. After weeks of trying, her cousins convinced her that she was long overdue for a sleepover, pointing out that a full time job would only make flying over more complicated. “Chennai will make me feel at home, my house is just a building,” she’d insisted but Harry had seen the hurt etched on her face on their video call from she hotel she checked into. She had forgone the invite from her relatives to stay at theirs, not wanting cause any conflicts between them and her parents. He’d wanted to go with her but his schedule wouldn’t allow him and which was convenient for her with wanting him far away from her mother. “Have you told your folks? Do you want to?” He’d asked after a pregnant pause.

She sighed. “Not my parents. I called my grandparents. They were overjoyed, obviously. They wanted to meet me for lunch but I told them I’m not coming home. So, I’m meeting them at the restaurant. I explicitly told them that I would leave if Amma and Appa (Mum and Dad) showed up.

“Anyway," she said after a while, "I think my grandparents are going to give me a fat stack of cash, like they did when I got into the PhD program.” She forced a chuckle, signaling that she was done talking about it.

So he changed the topic, “when do you have to get back to them?”

“They haven’t specified anything but sooner the better right. I’ll respond by tomorrow evening” she yawned. “I'm heading over to Chitti's (aunt - mother’s younger sister) for dinner. All the cousins are attending Carom night. I’ll ask her to help me go through the contract before I sign. I’ll have to tell them that I’ll only be coming to the US next week. I think I want to negotiate my salary a little or get more PTOs. I don't want to pass it up though. They are willing to sponsor my visa and I don't have any more offers to be in the same city, so…” She prattled on.

He’s giddy at the thought of not having to resort to scheduling visits when their calendars permit them to. To not have their coursework making them unavailable during important moments. To not have to fit their belongings into a small cabin bag and rush to the gate to catch a flight to each other a few states away. To not have to tiptoe around Layla’s housemates, who barely tolerated each other. To not have to resort to FaceTimes when they wanted to see each other. To not be next to each other - when all they wanted was to wrap the their arms around the other - to help them wind down from an exhausting day.

“Har,” her voice snapped him out of his reverie. “Are you paying attention?”

“Yeah yeah, contracts.”

“Not even close. I was talking about apartment hunting.”

“Why would you look for apartments?” His brows knitted together.

“I’ll need a place to live in, won’t I?”

“You already have a place to live in.”

“No, I don’t. What are you-,” her voice cuts off as she drew in a sharp breath in realisation. “Are you- Would you like for me to- Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I’m almost twenty six. You’re twenty seven. We’ve been together for two years now. I’m so in love with you, Layla Sathish. Never stopped for a second since I first laid eyes on you in your Uncle’s house in Apex. Never stopped in the two years we were apart. And I don’t want to waste another second. I want us together. I want to go to bed with you next to me. Kiss you goodbye when we both leave for university. I want to complain about your makeup and skincare taking up all the space in the bathroom cabinet. I want to buy you flowers when I come back home after a run. I want your paints and brushes scattered on the dining table. I want to make space in my closet for your clothes. I want your fingerprints smeared on my laptop screen. Move in with me.”

It didn’t skip past her that he wasn’t asking her but telling her. “I mean I do have the spare key to your loft. Might as well put it to good use,” she teased.

He laughed. “Exactly! You can be the breadwinner of the house and I can rest easy as a kept man and work on my thesis.”

She giggled. “I love it!”

Three weeks later, they were moving her belongings into the loft. He had to pinch himself every few hours to remind himself that he had unfettered access to the woman he loved. But living together posed a few adjustments, like the time she used his coffee grinder to make gunpowder from scratch and he was about ready to rip all his hair off telling her about cross-contamination of the flavour. Living together spotlighted their different cleaning ethos - he lets the mess accumulate and then do a deep clean but soon found out that Layla could not function when things piled up. The different towels and rags of Layla’s system he needed to keep track of: the ‘nice one’ for drying the dishes, the ‘yucky one’ for cleaning the kitchen countertops, the ‘microfiber’ for dusting that needed to be dampened, and the ‘soft one’ for electronic screens. They’d argued about finances and after weeks - much to Layla’s chagrin - they’d settled on a compromise: Layla would take care of the utilities and date nights and Harry would pay for rent, and groceries. She put her foot down about being able to pay for the two of them on their future trips to India and he agreed with the condition that all other trips would be taken care of by him. Their grocery trips were different now, Layla was so focused on giving herself a spending limit since she wasn’t paying for it. This meant standing in the middle of the aisle and calculating down to the gram to figure out what brand gave her the best bang for her buck - whereas Harry just pulled things off the shelf that caught his eye. But all of their spats and differences melt away when he sees her smile up at him, from whatever she was doing, as he walked through the door after the end of the day.

In the home stretch he slows down and walks into the florist. It was early in the day to have the pick of the freshest of flowers straight from the delivery truck. Every single week he would pick out random bunches - today it was different coloured sweet peas and tulips. He’d wake her up with the flowers held behind his back where she’d blink up at him with sleep laden eyes and gasp when he’d present them to her. She gasped every Saturday morning, even if it had become a ritual by now - watching her put together an impressive floral arrangement while he’d make breakfast for them.

He’s surprised when he keys into the loft, usually he’s met with the quiet hum of appliances, today peals of laughter bounce off the walls of the entryway. He smiles toeing off his shoes as he spots two sets of feet - one tiny and one large - sticking out. Their couch pushed back towards the wall and the four dining chairs stood in its place acting as pillars on either side with a fuzzy throw draped over the backs of the chair, cocooning the two.

He tiptoes slowly towards their makeshift fort to find the two sprawled on a quilt on their tummies. Layla in her power rangers pyjamas, hair haphazardly thrown in a bun, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes, her head propped on her elbows, and a curly headed girl in a wrinkled nightgown giggling with her as she points at the book that’s propped against the a cushion. Vasanth and Abi had dropped Laya off with them for the fourth of July weekend and had driven up to Temecula Valley for their long overdue wedding anniversary getaway. She was a deadly combination of her parents, self-willed and mischievous.

“Your Tamil teacher has her work cut out for her,” Layla howls.

“Miss. Muga,” the four year old replies.

“Who?”

“Miss. Muga. She’s my Tamil teacher.”

“You're going to be a pain in Miss. Muga’s bum,” Layla breaks into giggles.

Her little body twists around, eyes widening in alarm, hands coming to cover her open mouth. “You said bum!” She sputters into laughter.

“Excuse me, ladies, where was my invite?” Harry asks, crouching down and sticking his head into the opening, making sure the flowers were concealed behind his back.

“Harry!” The girl screams in delight, crawling haphazardly towards him.

“Someone decided to wake up at the crack of dawn with a determination to build a fort and finish her Tamil homework in it,” Layla sighs.

Harry gives their guest a sympathetic smile. “You did promise her a blanket fort last night, baby. It’s a miracle that she slept this long, reckon she might be in Eastern time.”

“What do you have?” Laya asks, pointing at the tulip sprig that peeked out from the side.

“It’s a gift,” he tells her, shuffling into their cosy cocoon. “Can you cover Akka’s (older sister) eyes and close eyes?” He whispers loudly.

With a nod she clambers onto Layla’s back, using her hands to shield Layla’s view while she scrunches her eyes shut. A collective gasp echoes when he tells them to open their eyes, presenting them with his colourful selection of the day. Harry's body permeates with warmth from the radiant smiles coming from the two; the type of light that could rival the sun’s. The warmth makes him smile, feeling content at the sight in front of him, chuffed at the approval of his floral pick, and the singe of tranquillity from being inside the fort.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Layla asks, bringing the bouquet to her nose. “Mmm…Smells good too.”

“Mmmm,” Laya copies her cousin, burying her nose and nodding in agreement. “For me?” She looks up at Harry.

“For the two of you,” he replies, inching closer to them. He twists a purple bloom and tucks it behind Laya’s ear. “A sweet pea for my sweet pea.” He declares, chuckling at the way Laya cheeks tinge with pink and the way she blinks up at him with a shy smile.

“Manners, Laya. What do you say?” Layla prompts.

“Thank you,” she says in a singsong voice, reaching over Layla's head to kiss his cheek.

“You’re welcome, love.” He dramatically clears his throat before picking up a yellow tulip and swishes it around before tapping his girlfriend's nose with the bulb. “And a tulip for my tulip.”

“Thanks. Laya, do you want to help me arrange them in the vase? We can do that while Harry makes us pancakes, okay?”

The little girl nods, clambering off her sister and barrels in the direction of the kitchen, remembering the empty vase she’d seen on the kitchen counter. “I guess homework’s not a priority anymore,” Layla mumbles.

She sits up to follow her cousin before she wreaks havoc but Harry firmly holds her in place with a pointed look. “What?”

“Manners, Layla,” he echoes her statement from earlier.

“I thanked you.”

“Not properly.”

“Huh?”

“Guess you could learn a thing or two from Laya. No thank you is complete without a kiss.”

“Since when?” She smirks.

“Did you not get the memo from the blanket fort etiquette committee?” He teases with a toothy grin.

She rolls her eyes, rocking up on her knees to kiss his cheek. “Happy?”

“Very.” He sears his mouth on her, tongue languidly sweeping her bottom lip, teasing her with a promise of what’s to come. When they pull away, she’s breathless, looking up at him with her tired eyes. And he cannot resist pulling her back in for another, this time his fingers curl around the back of her head, pulling her closer than before. It’s hurried - teeth clanging, noses knocking, tongues caressing, breaths stuttering - never faltering in passion.

“Layla Akka!”

“I’ve been summoned," Layla murmurs against his swollen lips. “Thank you for this,” she picks up the bouquet from her lap and brings it close to her chest. “And all the others.” She presses a quick peck on his lips and they make their out the fort and towards the kitchen.

.....

MASTERPOST (if you wanna read more of Layla and Harry)

#six months #indian!oc #camboy!harry #fishnets-fingers #harry styles fics #harry styles fluff #blurb #blossoms big changes and blanket forts

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puppy-stevee · 2 years ago

Text

✨ stranger things fic rec pt 1 ✨

part 2 | part 3

mostly steddie with some ronance/fruity four/platonic stobin sprinkled in. heed the ratings, there's a healthy amount of smut.

fics in this installment: 65

fics in total: 196

as per usual:

-all fics are in alphabetical order

-please tell me if the links are broken/linked wrong

more fic recs

my own works

and, as always, please leave kudos and comments, and reblog this post!

'86 baby - T, 2.5k, 1/1, complete

hydrangea_bush

Eddie is finally graduating and is prepared to walk up to Principal Higgins, flip him the bird, and snatch his diploma.

Steve doesn't know any of this is about to go down and is just proudly waiting for his boyfriend to graduate.

"Steve Harrington Corrupted By Eddie Munson - Sounds like a Hawkins Headline" - E, 7.5k, 1/1

krwaken

"Harrington, what the hell are you thinking about down there?"

Steve grins up at the ceiling, languid and sated. He feels so fucking good. Every muscle in his body is relaxed, practically turning him into a melted puddle in the middle of Eddie's trailer. The carpet underneath him is soft and plush, and maybe a little outdated, but Steve swears he could sleep here for an entire year. He runs his open palms along the shag, letting out a contented noise - somewhere between a hum and a moan.

"God, you're so fucking high," Eddie says.

(you're my) bone to pick - E, 2.6k, 1/1

bdelaney

Kinktober Day 30: Pet Play

“How about this?” he says into the top of Steve’s head. “I’m gonna go get our food, and you stay here–” Steve cuts him off with a whine, and the hand running through his hair suddenly grips him firmly. “You’re going to stay here and get out of your work clothes. And then when I get home, if you’ve been a good boy, I’ll put your collar on.”

Any remaining tension seeps from Steve’s body fast enough to leave him feeling a bit lightheaded. He chances a glance up to see Eddie smirking softly down at him, eyes knowing as he watches Steve already beginning to slip into that headspace at the mere mention of his collar.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly before kissing Steve’s forehead. “Alright, up we go. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

4B - T, 4k, 1/1

andthentheybow

One of them is in college, Josh and Maisie are pretty sure, at Emerson. The other three work an odd variety of hours. They have a large amount of makeshift weapons littered where anyone can grab them, they’re all covered in scars, and whenever the lights in the hallway flicker they jump about three feet in the air.

Or, the kids that live in apartment 4B are weird.

5 times someone noticed Steve and Eddie and 1 time everyone noticed - G, 6/6

kermittheshipper

5 times somebody notices Steve and Eddie being completely and irrevocably in love and 1 time everyone notices

A Bad Day - T, 6.3k, 1/1

Abigailcantread

Steve’s friends don’t know he’s struggling and he reaches his breaking point

Steve has a very bad day and someone’s there to help

A Bracelet - G, 2.6k, 1/1

mewtoz

Steve is making a bracelet for Eddie and he really hopes his boyfriend will like it.

a criminal like me (and a princess like you) - T, 3.3k, 1/1

roosevelt

When Eddie comes into Family Video on one hot, boring summer day in Hawkins, long after the danger has passed and things have gotten back to normal, the last thing he expected was for Steve to invite him over his place to watch The Breakfast Club.

And the last thing either of them expected was what came after the movie.

a lunchbox full of drugs and pretzels - G, 606, 1/1

Lullabyebye

Eddie gets an actual lunch instead of just pretzels.

A Quiet (distracting) Morning - N/A, 1k, 1/1

slythekiel

A sweet rainy morning between Eddie and Steve as Eddie prepares for the next session of his campaign. Sweetness ensues.

A Secret World, My Secret Love - M, 6/6

RandomThingsInLife

Steve curses everything that led him here. Here being stuck in a Russian elevator, he was supposed to be with his fucking boyfriend tonight.

In other words, Steve's been dating Eddie for a bit, and he really wishes Dustin wasn't quite so curious.

Eddie has no clue what's going on, his boyfriend has been beat to hell and maybe drugged, and every word someone says just adds more confusion.-In other words, Eddie loves his boyfriend, but he really, really needs someone to tell him what the fuck is going on.

ahoy there - E, 7.4k, 1/1

starryskeyess

“Alright, Munson, let’s hear it,” Steve says, beckoning at Eddie. “Do your worst.”

Eddie blinks at him a few times, hiding half his face in his drink as he eyes Steve from head to toe. Everything about Eddie is intense, and the way he looks at Steve right now is no exception. Blatant and interested and heated.

Steve shudders at the look, so direct it feels like a physical touch, but he doesn’t back down.

Eventually Eddie smiles at him, wide and playful, and asks, “So when do you set sail, big boy?”

all at once it feels so right - M, 3.7k, 1/1

deadratz

Robin has never kissed anyone and is terrified of doing it wrong. Steve and Eddie both offer to give their best friend a (completely platonic) kiss to show her it's not so bad, but it ends up being too weird, and too funny of a situation for them.

Nancy ends up being the one to help Robin out.

Steve realizes that he might still be hurt over how his relationship with Nancy ended, and feels just a bit overprotective over Robin.

Eddie helps Steve.

All I Ask - M, 8.2k, 1/1

god_hates_tyler (@bisexual-cryptid)

Eddie will not stop calling Steve silly little pet names, which is really not helping the massive crush he has on him. He gets super flustered whenever he does it and makes a bit of a fool of himself in the process. Thankfully Eddie seems to like him anyway.

always a lonely boy (cry, boy, cry) - T, 2/2

riceenthusiast

If Steve got called an asshole one more time Robin would lose her actual mind. This was her official warning. The last chance everyone got to clear their fucking act before she snapped.

(Boy, did she snap.)

OR: Robin is sick of everyone putting Steve down and calling him an asshole (Steve was sick too but in a different way). She finally snaps when she has to comfort him after a breakdown.

Amantium irae amoris integratio est - T, 2.7k, 1/1

hellabifurious

Eddie and Steve didn't fight. It wasn't an official rule they'd written down somewhere, stuck on the fridge between the chore chart and the grocery list. Yet by a certain point, it simply felt like a rule of the universe, the ones that governed space and time and held together the sun and moon and stars.

Max allowed that to comfort her; coming home every day to Steve and Eddie's at most playful bickering allowed her to find solid land when everything around her was spinning out of control.

Naturally, when she heard the shouting, her stomach turned to lead.

And I'm Sorry I Left, But It Was For The Best (Thought It Never Felt Right) - T, 3k, 1/1

Babybuckleydiaz

“Oh darling, what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?” Questioned the curly haired man, and Steve wishes he could put it into words what’s going on in his head right now.

“Can I braid your hair?” He asks instead, and he expects to get questioned more or for Eddie to try and keep them on topic, but that isn’t at all the reality that he is faced with right now. Instead, Eddie smiles so softly and filled with nothing but understanding as he nods his head in silent agreement because he knows how Steve’s mind works.

- - -

“Tommy called me today, he wanted to try and be friends again.”

- - -

Steve pauses and smiles softly before he answers. “For loving me.” Is the response that he gets, and Eddie’s gaze softens into something filled with pure unadulterated love that he holds for the man sitting pretty on the couch in front of him. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards as he responds.

“You never need to thank me for that. I do it happily, lovely.”

- - -

aka: steve having a bad day and eddie is a wonderful partner

Babygirl and Sunshine - T, 2.7k, 1/1

made_of_tea

He squatted next to the bush, giving Eddie a good view of his thighs. "Anyway, why are you in a bush?"

"Henderson thinks you have a girlfriend, and we're all spying to see if you meet up with her during your morning jog," Eddie explained.

~~~

The Party thinks Steve has a girlfriend. Little do they know, the "girlfriend" is actually a boy. And that boy is Eddie Munson.

Back to the Light - T, 2.7k, 1/1

analogical9954

Dustin has a terrible nightmare about that night and there's only one place he can think to go: Steve's.

Backer? I Hardly Know Her! - T, 1k, 1/1

alligator_writes (@riality-check)

"'I quit dealing illegal shit,' Eddie says. 'Now I just get alcohol and backer for high school kids who want to party a bit.'

'Backer?'

Eddie looks at Steve like he’s stupid. 'The shit that goes in cigarettes? I know you’ve been clocked in the head a lot, but you’re not that dumb, sweetheart.'

Rude, Steve thinks to himself, then says, 'Do you mean tobacco?'

'Yeah. Backer.' Eddie has the beginnings of a shit-eating grin on his face."

AKA an incredibly niche fic in which Steve and Eddie compare their accents. (you don't need to read the first work in the series to read this one)

Bad Timing and a Good Audience - T, 5.1k, 1/1

MonstrumOstendere

After an enlightening conversation, Chrissy finds out Eddie likes Steve. Steve also finds out. Robin is just along for the ride.

be my baby ( never half & always whole. ) - G, 3.4k, 1/1

peachyyjacobs

“Don’t need you choking on your own vomit in case you throw up,” Eddie says softly, and Steve thinks he hears an underlying tone of pain somewhere in there.

“Mm ‘kay,” Steve mumbles, gazing up at Eddie through half-lidded eyes. The blurriness is starting to subside a little bit, but not all that much.

Eddie sits down next to him, his back resting against Steve’s headboard. “How are you feeling?” Eddie asks, voice soft as he looks down at Steve. His hair is curlier, frizzier, even. “Your hair looks so curly,” Steve says, curbing Eddie’s question completely. A shocked laugh is ripped from Eddie’s throat, looking down at Steve in bewilderment. “I like it when you laugh,” Steve tacks on, before Eddie can say anything in rebuttal to him.

A rose blush dusts over Eddie’s cheeks. He shifts where he sits. He clears his throat, “you do?” He asks. Steve nods, a dopey look of his own falling across his face. “Yeah, ‘s loud…Like you, like you own the whole room when you laugh.”

or, a party at Steve's soon turns into something much softer.

besides all the glamour (all we got was bruised) - M, 9.6k, 1/1

haushinka_love

He knew, through rumors and jokes and the literal handcuffs hanging on his wall that Eddie liked things rough. Probably liked his partners rough and strong and durable in a way Steve hadn’t been since the first time he swung a baseball bat full of rusty nails at a monster from an alternate dimension. Since Jonathan and Billy and several unnamed Russian officers had each taken a turn at making mincemeat of his face. Since chipped teeth and concussions and broken bone after broken bone. For all his bravado, for all the time he spent chasing down demons and play-acting a hero, he knew the second Eddie laid his hands on him, he would crumble, and he just couldn’t live with the shame of having his chance and ruining it because he couldn’t keep up.

Or, the one in which Eddie Munson lives and Steve Harrington learns that it’s okay to want.

but yours has just begun - E, 1.3k, 1/1

limerental

The plates rattle in the cabinets. The trailer's kitchen is glowing orange like fire while the sun tracks to the black edge of the horizon, and Steve can't dance for shit, always gets a little deer in the headlights when Eddie tries to hip chuck him into it. Slow, Steve puts his hands up high on Eddie's waist and tries to move with him, clumsy as shit but earnest, and Jesus Christ, Eddie wants to keep this guy snug in his pocket and feed him kitchen scraps. Get him a collar. Tug.

Calamity's Child - T, 3.6k, 1/1

glorious_spoon

It’s 10:15 on a Sunday morning, and Steve is on Eddie Munson’s couch.

More specifically: Steve is on Eddie Munson’s couch, in his boxer shorts and a shirt that's clearly been slept in, eating dry cereal out of the box and blinking slowly at the TV, which is currently playing WWF. His hair is more of a mess than Dustin has ever seen it outside of literal fights to the death. Eddie himself is nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dustin demands, dropping his backpack just inside the door.

Candle in a Window on a Cold Dark Winter's Night - G, 6/6

Shadowmouth

Five times Steve (and Eddie) spontaneously come out and one time they plan it.

come lie with me and let silence treat us kindly - T, 3.6k, 1/1

flowercrowngods

Eddie learns that sometimes Steve will just lie down on the floor and simply exist while the world around him continues. The Party know that, call it "floor time", and generally leave him be until Steve is ready to be back. Eddie doesn't mind, because it offers him even more opportunities to just look at him. To watch him.

That is, until Eddie himself is in dire need of just lying down and letting the floor work its apparent magic. It's a good thing, he finds, that Steve understands him without as many words and is very ready to just take care of him. Eddie might be a little bit in love, actually.

Or: In which they lie on the floor and take care of each other, falling in love somewhere along the way between music and silence.

Come up for air, you pull me to the floor - E, 2.2k, 1/1

L3gitD3ntist

He looked like cogs were spinning in his head, his gaze locked on Steve and weighted with longing. Steve raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as Eddie’s expression shifted towards a grin; wide and wolffish.

“Y’know, it’s not every day I get to see Steve Harrington on his knees in front of me.”

His voice had deepened, words followed with a low approving whistle.

“And my, my, my; what a view.”

Contact - T, 1.3k, 1/1

jesskier

AU where it’s still 1986 but everything is normal.

Steve and Eddie run and hide from Jason & his goons under the high school bleachers.

Critical Hit - E, 7.1k, 1/1

AidaRonan

Steve shows up to play DnD.

Eddie decides Steve can stay. IF 'King Steve' recognizes the real lord and master of Hellfire.

Dee - N/A, 731, 1/1

demon_spirals

“Close your eyes.”

“What was that now, Stevie?”

“You heard me! Close ‘em!”

Dirty Laundry - T, 4.3k, 1/1

sparrow_in_hawkins

Eddie is excited for Steve to attend a Corroded Coffin gig for the first time, even if it includes fighting off other guys who want to hit on Steve.

Disarmed - T, 1.5k, 1/1

crow_of_crimes

When Robin and Steve volunteer to drive Murray back to Illinois, he may have met his match, a case he finally can't crack.

Or, Murray tries to break down Robin and Steve's "relationship", but it's more of a challenge.

don't make me regret this, dingus - G, 1.7k, 1/1

kermitwashingtonlincon

The King of Hawkins High takes the Weirdest Girl in Hawkins to prom

Don't Tell Steve - T, 3.9k. 1/1

Blapblaps

Fourth of July is just around the corner, and Eddie’s determined to make it the perfect day for everyone. The best way to do that is to give the kids their own fireworks display, but the only way to do that is to keep his boyfriend calm, cool, and collected. Can’t be too difficult, right?

Double Date at the Haunted Corn Maze - T, 2.8k, 1/1

Asimplewriterlivingasimplelife2

It’s Friday night and instead of having a double date to the midnight showing of Evil Dead, Steve was standing in line for the annual Hawkins Haunted Corn Maze.

Drive Me Crazy - T, 1.7k, 1/1

Asimplewriterlivingasimplelife2

"You sure know how to drive a guy crazy Steve-O."

"Yeah?"

Steve and Eddie make out in the Staff Room at Family Video and get to be happy

Dying for Another Taste - N/A, 7.3k, 1/1

the_departed_one

Eddie likes to think he’s not an overly judgmental person. He prefers to take his time and fully learn someone before deciding anything about them. It’s the same grace he wishes Hawkins and all her judgmental residents had given him before writing him off as the freak. But whatever, that doesn’t matter. He’ll still give them the benefit of the doubt first, even the ones who shouldn’t get it.

The most notable exception to that is one Steve Harrington.

Or, Eddie finally learns about what the Russians did to Steve and Robin.

End of Beginning - T, series

FreshLoaf

“This is dedicated to my husband, who, at the beginning, only ever heard the shitty versions of these songs and still believed in me anyway.”

The crowd roars, and Steve hears a couple of their Chicago friends near the stage boo in jest. Eddie narrows his eyes at them and laughs.

Steve looks around at this bar that their family has shared so many memories in - he tries and fails to not let his heart overflow at the sight of so many people coming to see Eddie play in the same bar that housed empty gigs not that long ago.

He wills himself not to cry.

Eddie wins a Grammy, finishes an album and comes home for a secret gig - and in the arms of their old haunt, Steve surprises him.

Family is Built, not Born - N/A, 3.7k, 1/1

just_a_garbage_dump

When an argument between Steve and his father ends badly, he turns to his boyfriend for support, but instead finds Wayne, who turns out to not be half bad.

feel the magic (there's something that drives me wild) - T, 1.8k, 1/1

fivecenturiesverse

Robin is drunk and not for the first time wishes she could fall in love with Steve Harrington. Wishes she was 'normal'.

It’s dumb, really dumb, that she still wants to crow to the whole of Hawkins High that she knows what Steve looks like in the morning, in his boxers, coming out of the shower. She still wants to be normal, and it stings sometimes so harshly she thinks she might cry, that she’s never going to swoon over Steve’s arms or his stupid hair.

Fight So Dirty (But You Love So Sweet) - E, 4.2k, 1/1

god_hates_tyler (@bisexual-cryptid)

Eddie ties Steve up and marks up his chest before fucking him stupid.

First Timer - E, 2k, 1/1

ZachwyBuwnzie

Steve and Eddie do it for the first time

Forget About - M, 2k, 1/1

theoldhouse

Eddie laughed. And Steve saw the light come back into his face.

The light was beautiful.

Steve and Eddie share a tender moment in the RV.

four walls - T, 2.5k, 1/1

shroooms

“You got a lotta stuff,” Steve remarks, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, arms behind his back.

Eddie’s cheeks grow red. “Yeah, stuff just sorta piles up in here,” he takes a seat at the edge of his bed. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve done any kind of deep cleaning around here so, sorry for the mess.”

“No, no — it’s fine, man, it’s cool. Your room’s cool. I like it,” Steve reassures.

steve, eddie, and home

Fragile (Handle With Care) - E, series

LexiRoseWrites (@lexirosewrites)

All it takes is getting dragged to one Corroded Coffin concert for Steve’s life to change forever. Now he has to find a way to navigate a newfound romance with his famous soulmate while dealing with his complicated past and mothering a pack of preteen pups.

full time daddy, white and gold - E, 1.4k, 1/1

bdelaney

“You think we finally knocked you up?”

The words take a second to register in Steve’s post-orgasm haze, but then…

Oh.

get you back (by my side) - T, 3.9k, 1/1

fivecenturiesverse

Eddie hasn't spoken to Gareth and the others since whatever went down with Chrissy Cunningham, now Gareth sees him playing basketball with Steve Harrington and a bunch of kids, what the fuck is going on?

Sinclair sighs longingly.

“Okay, man, I can get behind you on the sweet and salty,” says Gareth, “but New Coke?”

“He was crazy for it,” says Harrington, grinning all fond at the back of Sinclair’s head like he’s retelling the story of his toddler’s foray into the world of art and talking Gareth through all the monstrosities in pride of place on the fridge. “Weird kid.”

Eddie is smiling at the side of Harrington’s face and Jesus Christ, Gareth never wants to meet another gay man in his whole life if their taste is Steve fucking Harrington.

get you wild, make you leave ( a little much for everyone. ) - G, 3.2k, 1/1

peachyyjacobs

“Hey,” he murmurs, slowly sitting up. Eddie whips his head to look in Steve’s direction, eyes wide and wild. He looks scared. “What’s up?” Steve whispers, more than ready to help. Eddie just shakes his head, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Steve glances over at the clock, barely able to see the big hand pointed at the six, and the little hand pointed at two.

“It’s two thirty, Munson. Did you have a nightmare?” Steve asks inquisitively.

And finally, Eddie opens his mouth to speak. “No,” comes his defensive reply, but Steve sees right through him.

or, it's movie night at the Wheeler's, but Steve's got something in store for him.

Getting Eddie Munson to graduate, and other acts of herosim - M, 7/7

liionne

It had only been about two weeks since Vecna and their trip to the upside down and everything had just… gone back to normal. As it always did. Life went on. The kids went back to school, he and Robin went back to work, Nancy and Jonathon were getting ready for college and Eddie…

Apparently, no one thought to check in on Eddie.

Recovering from first-time exposure wasn't easy, especially not when your return meant trying to graduate high school for the third time, so Steve decides he's going to do whatever it takes to help Eddie Munson graduate, even if it means re-learning 12th grade U.S History, and learning some things about himself along the way.

Good Dog - E, 7.8k, 1/1

PuppyKTae

Eddie calls Steve a "golden retriever boyfriend." Steve likes that a little more than he probably should.

Aka: Eddie calls Steve a good girl ❤

Handcuffs and Pleasant Surprises - E, 5k, 1/1

thefatedthoughtofyou

Steve accidentally handcuffs himself to Eddie's bed. It might be the best day of Eddie's life.

Happy Birthday, Will Byers. - T, 2.4k, 1/1

jesskier

“You forgot Will’s birthday?!”

The look on Steve’s face is nothing short of flabbergasted, and Eddie can’t exactly blame him. El and Mike are staring back at them with wide, guilty eyes and he would never touch a hair on El’s head but he kind of wants to backhand Wheeler.

“We only just moved to California and it was very difficult,” El continues, tears welling in her giant, brown eyes. “He is like my brother and I would like to make it up to him.”

“Yeah,” Mike chimes in, gesturing at El with his thumb. “It was kind of distracting when El knocked a girl in the head with a roller skate.”

All three of them glare at Mike. El opens and closes her mouth a few times, apparently at a loss for words. Eddie takes an aggressive step forward. He’s never hit a kid but if he were going to it would be Wheeler, definitely.

Before he can speak his mind, Steve steps between them, coming to the rescue (which is so very him that it makes Eddie’s chest ache). “Okay!” He claps his hands and rolls up his shirt sleeves. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

have yourself a merry little christmas (far away from a hallmark card) - E, 9/9

JeanElaineGrey

Steve Harrington hates Christmas. Not in a Scrooge-y, Grinch-y way, but in a "my parents are never home for holidays" way. Eddie notices and worries.

He Can Handle It - T, 2.4k, 1/1

Tricker86

His parents weren’t supposed to be back for another four days, they didn’t come home early unless something happened. The last time they’d come home early was when the "earthquakes" happened, but they didn’t come home because they were worried. No, they came home because since he had been missing he was considered a suspect of murder. His parents had been furious, demanding to know why he was careless enough to let the family name be tarnished by his actions. Almost an exact replica of what they’d said the time before when they came home early because Steve had gotten suspended for getting in a fist fight with Billy Hargrove during basketball practice.

This time though there wasn’t a fight with Billy Hargrove. There wasn’t an "earthquake". There wasn’t anything other than the fact that for the past nine months he had been dating Eddie Munson.

Steve knows they know. He doesn’t know how but they know.

Steve's parents find out that he's dating Eddie. He doesn't know how they found out but he can't take it anymore. He doesn't care what they think or what they do. Whatever happens, he can handle it.

Head Over Heels - T, 3.5k, 1/1

possumrug

Vecna is gone. Highschool is over. Everything seems to be back on track for Eddie and Steve. But with Halloween just around the corner, what harm can a little relaxing do?

hideout series - E, series

ghosttotheparty (@ghosttotheparty)

steve and eddie fall in love pre-season two. steve keeps eddie away from the whole upside down mess, but of course he gets involved eventually. it was inevitable.

home - G, 2.6k, 1/1

peaktotheocean

Eddie was well aware that his ideas of romance were vastly different from that of the general population. Metal, for one-- super romantic music in Eddie's opinion.

His partner showing up to a metal festival after a twelve hour shift teaching/babysitting a bunch of five year olds, not even changed or showered from his day, covered in paint that he was never going to get out of his favorite sweater vest? The most romantic thing Eddie could think of.

Home (Music Box) - G, 1.7k, 1/1

eajsabandoned_acc

Steve Harrington hated hospitals with a burning passion. Smoldering, if you will.

But here he was, Hawkins Memorial Hospital, sitting in one of the stiff waiting room chairs next to Wayne Munson, waiting for Eddie to be discharged.

(Not that that needed a medal or a pat on the back, because that’s the bare fucking minimum, and he damn well knows it.)

Home Is Where The Heart Is - E, 3.8k, 1/1

calendulablooms

It feels like it's been a much more hectic day than it actually has. Steve has just worked himself up into a tizzy. The list of stuff he wants to get done before Eddie gets home is long, and he wants, no, needs everything to be perfect. Eddie's had a long day, and he deserves to come home to a clean home and dinner on the table. So Steve bustles from one end of the trailer to the other trying to get as much done as he can. He still has laundry to fold, and the floor could honestly use another going-over with the vacuum, but Eddie is due home any moment, so it's time to check on dinner.

(Or, Eddie figures out Steve maybe has a thing for being his good little housewife and indulges him like a good, sweet boyfriend)

honey, when you warm the bed on wednesday - G, 1.4k, 1/1

bartoninthevent

Slowly, Steve pulls his gaze from their joined hands to look into Eddie’s eyes. The usual deep brown of his eyes has caught the light just so and it has shifted the shade to a gorgeous amber that almost makes Eddie choke remembering how to breathe.

Holy shit, isn’t he the most beautiful man.

hopelessly devoted (to you) - T, 8.8k, 1/1

fivecenturiesverse

In Miami, on vacation with his parents, Steve meets Eddie. So what if he doesn't get a last name or a phone number, it was a summer fling and they had a great month together. He doesn't realise it was Eddie fucking Munson until the guy has a broken bottle to his neck and they're about to go face interdimensional aliens together. Steve doesn't know when his life became a very fucked up and non-musical version of Grease.

Robin’s lips twitch. “And it was just a summer fling?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “What?”

“You’re such a hopeless romantic, Steve. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.” He must look as confused as he feels because she laughs and says, “Dude, you like sighed his name, you’re so done for.”

“Shut up. It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again, is it? I’m never even going to hear his name again. It was a summer fling and that’s all.”

Hours and Hours - E, 7k, 1/1

Blapblaps

“My tats turning you on that much, huh?” Eddie jokes.

“All of you,” Steve whispers, “So handsome.”

Eddie’s breath hitches and he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, bringing their bodies flush together. It sends a buzz thrumming underneath Steve’s skin.

“Talkin’ like that’s gonna get you in trouble,” Eddie’s voice is lower now, thick with something Steve hopes (knows) is love.

Steve’s hands haven’t stopped moving. “What kinda trouble,” He murmurs into Eddie’s ear, pulling their hips together.

“The kind where I keep you here and make love to you for hours.”

housing a wanted fugitive never looked so good - G, 2.6k, 1/1

just_yeole_cryptid

Dustin needs to find Eddie Munson, to help prove his innocence, and fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he goes to Steve.

Steve, who knows exactly where Eddie is.

“Did you see what was on the news?” Robin asked, disturbing Steve from his reverie, as Dustin and Max hurried up to the counter.

“That’s exactly what we’re here about.” Dustin replied, hopping the counter, barely giving Steve enough time to brush a stack of VHS tapes out of his way.

“We need to find Eddie,” Max supplied, giving Steve a look.

How Do I Get You Alone? - T, 5.1k, 1/1

eerielake

Dustin rolls his eyes and pushes off of the counter. "Your shift's almost over, right? Wanna hang out?"

Steve scoops up the fallen movies. "I would, but I've got plans. Me and Eddie are meeting up at the diner."

"Oh, that's cool. I'll just come with you."

Steve pauses his work and looks over his shoulder at Dustin. He's got a pinched look on his face, like he's thinking something over. Dustin knows that can be a real struggle for him.

"Uh... I don't... I don't know if that's a good idea."

5 times Dustin accidentally crashes a steddie date (+ 1 time Steve crashes a Hellfire Club meeting)

#steddie #steddie fic rec #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #cj talks #fic rec

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sterekchub · 1 year ago

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Okay but what happens when he reaches 15,000 followers? 20,000? 50,000??

What happens if he actually reaches 100,000 followers?

Part 1: 🔥 Derek goes from a jock to a food challenge streamer

Part 2 Below:

15,000 Followers

You've never seen anyone who has eaten as much before- Derek's got to be in a hall of fame for gainers somewhere. "I-I'm sho full ...*schlop*... b-but'sh ...*slobber*... I ...*snarf*... can't'sh ...*gnash*... s-shtop eating. ...*slosh*..." Derek has gone from streaming 1 a day to a 24/7 live stream. Donations pour in for his meals and Derek is almost never not eating. It's terribly distracting, you're trying to go about your day knowing that meanwhile, Derek is shoveling pounds of food into his growing body. His followers pitched in to get him a scale that sends his weight straight to the chat - because past 400 Derek has had to bend further and further over to see the number on the scale. Today's number flashes in the corner of the screen: 515 The chat is all speculating how long Derek is going to continue this he's totally ruined I bet he'll quit at 600 He's appetite is going to make him eat until he pops Wonder if he misses his days as an athlete...

You type in your own thoughts: He's going for the gold- this pig is reaching half a ton.

20,000 Followers You've watched this video more often than you care to admit. In the middle of the "Order everything from the McDonalds menu" Derek’s bench finally breaks in the middle of the stream, just as everyone predicted, sending him crashing to the ground, in an undulating wave of fat rolls. Should we call someone? I don't think he'd fit in an ambulance! He's not too fat to get up, is he? Derek groans from his spot on the floor - but the munching sounds let you know he's clearly okay. He tells his phone "Siri, call coach." The phone rings and someone answers, too muffled to be picked up on the stream. "I uh....need some help. Think you and the team could drop by?" In about a half hour, the door is being forced in and four burly football players and their coach, clearly having just come from practice, come rushing in. They all enter Derek's room and stop and stare at the ground where he's currently beached. "Jesus, Hale! What the hell happened to you?" "You need help..." "he's like a thousand pounds, how are we gonna lift him??" "Are we sure he was our Captain? Looks like he ate them!" "On the count of three, boys. One..two..." On the count of three they all hoist Derek into into a standing position. He has to lean on the computer desk for support, giving the chat a perfect view of his triple chins and flabby moobs. "Maybe shed some weight before we're buttering you up to get through doorways, eh, Hale?" "Yes...Coach," Derek wheezes. "Think he looks hungry," another player says, playfully slapping Derek's rear. A second guy laughs and starts pushing his hand into Derek's middle, seeing how far his hand will push into the immense blubbery mass. "We should come back with food..." "Don't enable him," the coach barks. "Extra laps for the team so you all don't end up like this whale!" They all leave and Derek ends the chat - but not before they hear 1 of his teammates say "Love your stream, Captain...." You donate to his funds for a bigger capacity chair - it's the least you can do. 50,000 Followers When Derek restarts his stream a couple of days later, apologizing for the time off, his follower count has risen in his absence and his new weight is flashing 732lbs. Some of it you attribute to the higher quality stream. When the stream starts again, Derek is sitting on a couch, taking up easily 2/3rds of it, belly close to touching the ground as he sits with his legs spread apart- not that it matters with thighs like tree trunks that always end up touching. Now he has studio lights behind him, a long coffee table in front of him covered with food and there is a bar-cart in the corner of the screen filled with sodas and cartons of cream. "This is Jordan and Matt," Derek announces. "They were on my team before I - " "_ got too out of shape and hopelessly obese to play?" "...yes." "But he's still our captain, so anything to help." "Someone has to lug his fatass to bed and bring him food." "And our first job...." they pull out a funnel. Jordan holds it in Derek's mouth, pressing into his belly and highlighting just how ridiculously wide Derek is that his teammate practically sinks into his sea of lard and isn't even a quarter of Derek's size. Matt starts opening cartons of cream and pouring them in one by one as Derek eagerly guzzles it down. "Alright, for every $20 donated we'll pour another carton in this tank of a belly!" The donations to the chat flood in. jock to immobile in 2 years has to be a record what a goddamn blimp I hope these two feed him until he's begging for them to stop he's going to fill out that couch by the end of the year! You chip in $100. It's for a good cause.... 5 quarts of cream will round Derek out nicely....

100,000 Followers

You see Derek's name in a national newspaper and almost choke, thinking you're in very good dream or maybe someone has found your browser history and made an elaborate prank. “Man Set to Break 2 World Records”. His stream hits 100,000 followers and a few million views as everyone turns in to see Derek reach the title of World's Fattest Man at a whopping 1500lbs and his way to accomplish it: One week to eat a million calories. Derek is bedbound, the California King mattress completely hidden by his body, which has become nothing but a shapeless pile of fat rolls and blubber. Even his face is almost indistinguishable from the rest of him. Legs uselessly buried under his belly, only his toes peeking out. You can't remember the last stream you've seen Derek feed himself, not since he's passed 800lbs. There are cameras everywhere - giving the world a 360 view of the nearly 2 ton man, ready to push himself to a new level of gluttony. A team of football players surround him, forming an assembly line to keep the keg attached to his funnel full. You've seen the calorie breakdown of what's in those shake's they're feeding him, each one a staggering 10,000 calories. Derek keeps chugging, only taking the occasional breaks before grunting to his team and they shove the tube back in his mouth. "Last one!" Every one cheers. Derek doesn't even acknowledge it. You know he must feel reaching to burst, more achingly full than he's ever felt in his life - but with so much lard covering his stomach, he doesn't even look full. You wonder if he could handle even more. When the keg is empty, it gets tossed aside and the tube is taken out of Derek's mouth. "That's the record!" Someone shouts. "How do you feel?" It takes Derek several long seconds to answer. Brain stuck in gluttony, mindless and fat-filled making it too hard to form a thought. And it was increasingly hard for him to form words with his lips puckered and pushed together by softball-sized cheeks and his stack of chins. "H-Hungry. …burrRRPP… …PblttFFf…"

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soft-bellied-tannies · 10 months ago

Text

Hidden Intentions

Read here or on AO3!

Jin and Hoseok had talked about it many times together - enjoying watching their partners settle down. They loved the physical display of their love and seeing them indulge, seeing them eat.

It was a shared interest that they could discuss together and figure out ways to foster it more often in their home which is how nights like these came to be.

It became quite obvious that some of their partners were more susceptible to their interests with proper planning.

Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin had always been easily fixated on a deep conversation, especially after getting philosophical or introspective. Their other four partners thought it was endearing and sweet.

Jin and Hoseok talked it through and figured out that if they kept Taehyung and Jungkook occupied and ensured that the other three didn't run out of food and wine, they could have them mindlessly eating and talking for hours.

It started with an unsuspecting meal, but a good meal nonetheless.

Jin prepared a nice, hearty meal that Hoseok paired with rich, red wine. They gave them one solid plate to start the night off right without overdoing it along with a big glass of wine to loosen them up, encouraging their dive into a sound discussion.

With promises of playing their favorite games after cleaning up dinner, Jin and Hoseok distracted the youngest two while encouraging their other partners to get comfortable on the couch and continue talking.

Truthfully, they couldn't even recall what the conversation choice had been that night - just that it was focused enough to have Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin blindly agreeing to the directive.

Hoseok sauntered into the living room with a fresh bottle of wine, topping off their glasses and accepting their affectionate thanks and kisses, but he also didn't linger long enough to interrupt them.

While giving them time to nurse their once again full glasses, Jin crafted a spread of salty snacks that would be easy to grab without a second thought.

Bowls of chips and popcorn alongside a nice spread of cheeses and nuts that paired well with the red wine.

Jin couldn't hide his soft smile as Jimin pulled him in for a gracious peck, thanking the eldest for his continued care throughout the night.

And that smile only grew as he watched all three of them extend a hand toward the tray of snacks, grabbing the first bite of many that followed while humming and nodding at another point that was made in their chat.

Jin and Hoseok tried to hide their excitement when Taehyung and Jungkook excused themselves to go play a few rounds of a video game. It was the perfect excuse for them to keep an observant eye on the living room, ready to refill and watch.

All three grab without thinking, always seeming to have a bite of something in one hand and their wine glass in the other as they delve deeper into their conversation.

Namjoon and Yoongi clearly held the brunt of the shared appetite, both reaching for the tray of food like it was a practiced routine. Surely neither of them had ever eaten this much in one sitting before.

Jimin, on the other hand, was their lovely heavyweight, especially when it came to wine so Hosoek decided to pop a bottle of prosecco open after the third round of red wine refills.

While Jin filled glasses with water and offered cans of Coke to the other two, Jimin smiled with excitement when Hoseok handed him a new glass full of his favorite bubbly - thanking him with a kiss similar to Jin's earlier.

It started to seem impossible that they still had room in their unsuspecting stomachs as they watched them find a new tangent for their discussion while greedily sipping on their fresh drinks.

Jin and Hoseok couldn't believe that they were not recognizing the effects building up.

Could Namjoon not feel the way his waistband appeared to be straining? How the jeans were certainly creating a red, indented line across his midsection?

Was Jimin oblivious to how he had curled into the loveseat with one hand resting on the crest of his clearly bloated middle, his cute chubby fingers self-soothing his taut skin?

Did Yoongi really forget that Jin had refilled the popcorn bowl twice now after emptying it himself? How could he be ignorant to the salt puffing up his cheeks and swelling his stomach?

Seeing their plan perfectly unfold left Jin and Hoseok struggling to keep calm, needing all their restraint to not interrupt their conversation to gently rub bellies and kiss soft cheeks.

Ideally, they would explore more intimacy than that, but both had to exercise a different type of control than the one they already had that night.

By midnight, Taehyung and Jungkook had already said their goodnights and gone to bed together, also unaware of the pure indulgence that had taken place for hours after dinner.

It was clear that Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin had finally tapped out - completely wine-drunk and overly full.

Namjoon and Yoongi had pushed their drinks away, talking more quietly between each other when they noticed Jimin start to doze off.

Hoseok had rescued the last bit of Jimin's final glass of prosecco from where the glass dangled in his sleepy hand. He dropped a few kisses on his forehead, enough to wake him and help him off to bed - dragging a slow-moving Yoongi along to one of the available beds as well.

While Yoongi seemed to find sleep the moment his head hit the pillow, Jimin seemed to have a slight resurgence that was testing Hoseok's ability to stay calm.

Crawling into the middle of the bed, Hoseok couldn't help but think of no better place to be aside from a bed that could somehow fit all seven of them. He took a moment to look over Yoongi as Jimin got situated, appreciating the way his plump cheek squished against the pillow and how he cradled his full stomach in comfort.

Jimin scooted himself backward until he felt Hoseok's chest against, humming in contentment and mumbling his love for the other.

Hoseok couldn't hold back any longer with how sweet the younger looked and sounded, reaching his hand over Jimin's waist as he would any other time except this time it found the taut crest of his stomach.

He began by gently caressing circles over Jimin's now clingy sleepshirt before Hoseok ventured below the fabric, receiving a pleasant sound from his drowsy partner.

With growing confidence, Hoseok pressed a little firmer with his still gentle massage and felt the way Jimin's impressive bloat fought back against his fingers until an unexpected burp left Jimin's mouth.

Hoseok stilled, unsure of what the reaction may be, and was shocked when he heard Jimin let out a squeaky giggle before saying, "I'm all bubbly."

The ever-charming disposition of Jimin made Hoseok join him in laughing, continuing his massage and agreeing, "Yeah, baby, you are."

He held it together long enough for Jimin to finally fall asleep, not before letting out a few more muffled hiccups and burps. Hoseok mind raced with excitement and kept a tight lid on his arousal, knowing that it would be such a fun story to recall for Jin.

Jin who was left with Namjoon and would have a story of his own to share.

Namjoon was clearly the farthest gone, considering his much lower threshold for holding his alcohol. He had to keep his composure as his partner leaned his full weight against him during their trek upstairs.

It wasn't news that Namjoon was a rambling, lovey drunk, but Jin hadn't expected this particular type of ramble when he led the other to bed.

Spending the next ten minutes until he knocked out, Namjoon babbled on about how good Jin's cooking was, how caring Hobi was, how nice their night was - on and on until his words were replaced with snores.

Jin cuddled up beside him, similar to Hoseok in being unable to keep his hands away. He let Namjoon rest his head on his chest and stared at the ceiling as he tried to ignore the sensation of Namjoon's soft middle against his side while running his hand up and down his back.

And it seemed that their little experiment had not ended there.

When those three woke up the next morning hungover and still impressively bloated, they excused it with all the wine as the drunken haze of their night can only recall the nice long talk and alcohol, seeming to forget the progressive stuffing that took place over hours.

Jimin was tucked up against Taehyung on the couch in an oversized hoodie, arms over his recovering midsection and aching head on the other's shoulder who was quietly recounting his and Jungkook's successful night of gaming.

Yoongi was nursing a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter, silently watching Jin and Jungkook prepare a carb-loaded breakfast to combat the queasy hangover nausea and occasionally accepting bites that Jin offered him.

Namjoon had the worst of it. He was laid out on the couch, a silver of his soft tummy visible from where his shirt rode up, and his head in Hoseok's lap - the other being incredibly gentle as he ran his hand through Namjoon's hair.

Taehyung and Jungkook had asked what caused the random drunken Friday night considering it started with a nice dinner and no intention of being more than a relaxing night.

Jin waved them off, excusing the other three for simply being able to enjoy their night however they liked.

The relaxing day continued due to the big breakfast and tired mood piling on top of their persistent hangovers. Taehyung and Jungkook sensed the shared mood and matched their lounging and calm attitudes.

Jin and Hoseok shared a few pointed looks at seeing how nicely Namjoon's clingy t-shirt framed his still-full belly or how Yoongi was sitting with one hand on his bloated middle like it was made to perch there or how Jimin spent the entire day with Taehyung's or Jungkook's hand slipped under his big hoodie.

Although they never discuss how that night unfolded or the accepted aftermath, it also was far from the last time it happened.

Those nights managed to happen once a month at least. Jin and Hobi became pros at spoiling their partners and Taehyung and Jungkook seemed to join in, a solidarity in pampering their partners.

Much to Jin's and Hosoek's delight, the nights were never anything but perfect each time they were graced with the opportunity - quite obvious when looking at how their partners were filling out.

They knew it would likely become a topic of conversation at some point. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin were too intelligent to not have already caught on to something happening.

Maybe they would start with Taehyung and Jungkook considering how the pair tend to join in now.

The way their hands always seemed to find their way under Jimin's shirts or rest on his round backside and how they offered to feed him during the more rough hangover mornings.

The way Taehyung liked to pinch Yoongi's cheeks or pat his belly and how Jungkook curled around Yoongi claiming he was always so soft and warm.

The way Jungkook likes to climb on Namjoon's lap with praise for how soft and comfortable it is or how Taehyung likes to sneak his hand into Namjoon's back pockets any time they are close to each other.

And, of course, it didn't hurt that their partners were truly stunning as the arrangement continued, helped by the fact that they never ran out of things to discuss with each other. Those long nights of food and wine became second nature to their sweet, softening loves.

Namjoon with his softer thighs and layer of softness settling in his lower belly, often on show thanks to his continued wear of whatever shirts he grabbed from his closet without bothering to check the size or fit.

Yoongi with his dumpling-round cheeks and matching pale belly that seemed to absorb every calorie of their wine-drunk binges, his waistband permanently worn under his growing-rounder stomach.

Jimin with his interesting contrast as the salty snacks and mix of wines give him an impressive bloated belly each night of indulgence that then seems to find a final place in his widening hips and ass.

For now, Jin and Hoseok would relish in the successful indulgence of their hidden intentions, never growing tired of the display of gluttony they could bring out of their partners.

And who knows, maybe their hidden intentions aren't so hidden after all?

#soft bellied tannies #chubby bts #bts weight gain #bts feedism #chubby jimin #chubby yoongi #chubby namjoon #implied feeder jin #implied feeder hoseok #supportive jungkook #supportive taehyung

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alectoperdita · 2 months ago

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At some point I got it into my head to write a bit more of the HSR fusion because I adore the Penacony storyline so much. But then I lost steam/motivation and it seems unlikely I'll finish it.

Was mainly supposed to be a rehash of Aventurine's and the Trailblazer conversation in the hotel room after the lobby incident, except Seto walks in halfway and is feeling overprotective of Katsuya against Aventurine. Well it'll live in my head I guess.

---

Almost two system weeks had passed since he last saw Katsuya. They parted fondly when the Astral Express dropped Seto off at his destination, further bound for Pier Point. Katsuya had kissed him goodbye, right in full view of the other crew members. March 7th positively squealed. Dan Heng watched the proceedings with his usual brand of neutrality. Welt and Himeko smiled like proud parents.

Seto would've been embarrassed if he, well, wasn't brimming with pride. A public declaration of affection was something he gladly accepted from Katsuya.

Instead, he pulled Katsuya closer and kissed him back, already missing his warmth and strong hands in the lonely times ahead.

They talked nearly everyday since then. Text messages, video calls, if there was a signal and time, they reached out to one another. Katsuya cajoled him about eating and taking care of himself, and he cautioned him to stay out of trouble.

But trouble and Katsuya went hand-in-hand, as he was soon reminded when he learned of the Trailblazer's next destination: Penacony.

It has been three system hours since Katsuya sent him that message, and Seto's worries only compounded since then.

There were numerous reasons to visit the Planet of Festivities: rest, leisure, but chief among them was the upcoming Charmony Festival. Hardly a place most people considered fraught with danger.

But Katsuya was Katsuya, and Seto, well, he wasn't deaf to the gossip working its way through the grapevines among the company's upper echelon (although sometimes he wished he was). By now, everyone knew of the Strategic Investments Department's failure to collect on the long-standing delinquent debt from Jarilo-VI. Of course they spun it, "renegotiated terms to foster a lasting partnership," but everyone inside and outside the department knew the project was a failure. And Seto had sat in enough interdepartmental meetings to hear whispers of their next target.

Penacony—once an IPC asset, its loss was a stain on the company's history.

Two system hours ago, he found out Strategic Investments had dispatched one of their Ten Stonehearts to the planet and he was on the next warp jump out of Pier Point.

He had never visited The Reverie Hotel before. The distractions Penacony peddled to its tourists were of little interest to Seto. Their technology and command of the memoria were what primarily interested him, but the management, the Family, were supremely protective of it.

The hotel spire soared over everything, casting a long, looming shadow across the entirety of the Alderson disk. The lobby could put the IPC's atrium to shame. Its scale and grandeur could make a person's head spin. It was teeming with milling guests, many recent arrivals stretching their necks as they took in their surroundings in awe.

Seto wasn't here to sightsee. His eyes combed through the crowds, hunting for a familiar face: March 7th, Himeko, Welt, someone he knew. Thankfully, Himeko's flame-red hair was hard to miss even in a crowd. He marched straight toward her, a man on a mission.

"Oh, hello, Seto," she greeted when she spotted him approaching.

"Where's Katsuya?" were the first words out of his mouth.

Her eyebrows knitted together for a second before smoothing out. "I believe he and March 7th went to check out their rooms. Katsuya never mentioned you'd be here too. Are you here with the other IPC representative?"

"The other IPC representative?"

She nodded. Her face gave away nothing, which was frustrating at the moment. "Yes. A Mister Aventurine. He was kind enough to help us sort out a mishap in the check-in process."

Seto bit his tongue to stop from swearing. It was too late. Trouble already found Katsuya. Found him on arrival it seemed. Which made it all the more concerning Katsuya had yet to respond to any of his texts.

"His room number?" Seto asked through gritted teeth.

The words barely left her mouth before he strode away.

#my wips #puppyshipping #violetshipping

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silver-rings-and-rabbits · 4 months ago

Text

Open Heart 2 - Chapter 13

Control

TW: Miscarriage and infertility is further discussed A/N: Here's The Prayer that is sung later

Matthew hadn’t realised how comfortable he had got with the hospital routine until Ethan announced his vitals were stable and he was officially being discharged to rest at home. Matthew was looking forward to his own bed and having a cuddle with Spooky, but with Rafael still in hospital and his friends still at work, the empty hours were suddenly very unappealing. It wouldn’t be the same without people checking in regularly, and without Rafael a few doors away.

He did his best, looking for distractions in the form of TV, books, art, and video games. He deep-cleaned the apartment three times in the week, only stopping when the cleaning products started irritating his hands, but the knot in his chest only ever loosened when his friends came home.

No matter what he did, nothing could stop the nightmares. Gigantic hazmat suits bearing down on him, but he couldn’t see the faces of the people inside them. An endless ocean of plastic smothered him, and Rafael’s lifeless body was always just out of reach. More than once, Sienna had overheard him thrashing around and had woken him up. She would keep him company for the night, but he would be too afraid to go back to sleep.

A memorial was to be held for Danny and Bobby on the 25th November. The families had held a private service each, but agreed to a joint memorial for the hospital staff who wanted to pay their respects. As someone who had been there at the time of death, Matthew had been asked to say a few words. He wasn’t sure why that made him qualified to speak; it had been made to sound like he had kept vigil by their bedside as they had peacefully slipped away. On the other hand, how could he say no?

A bright spot was when Rafael was fully discharged a few days before the memorial. He was indeed going to stay with his grandma first; his parents still worked full-time and he would need extra support whilst he was still weak.

The night before the memorial, Matthew was sat on the sofa sipping warm milk. Jackie was keeping him company.

“You’re going to see Raf tomorrow morning, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

Jackie took a sip from her mug and looked at him thoughtfully.

“Are you two back together or anything?”

“I…no.”

“But you want to be.”

“Well…yes. But…it’s hardly the right time to talk about it.”

“That’s your excuse?”

“But…his health…!”

“I know. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.” Jackie sighed and shifted in her spot on the couch. “But when exactly is the right time? You’ve both been discharged now, and if you keep pushing it back, you’re at risk of losing him again.”

Matthew gulped, gripping the handle of his mug.

“Would you judge me?” he asked. “If we did get back together?”

“No.” Jackie’s voice was unexpectedly gentle. “Not if he makes you happy.”

Jackie gave Matthew her car keys the next morning – she had bought a cheap old banger after Landry moved out last year – and he drove over to Raf’s neighbourhood. It was a quiet part of the city, with more green space. Apartment buildings gave way to small houses, and traffic thinned out.

He pulled up outside a small brick house with a shaded porch and a neat front yard. The familiar old-fashioned street lamps brought a small smile out of him as he climbed out of the car and started up the path, but he was barely halfway there before the door opened to reveal Juliana Aveiro.

“Matthew!”

She shot towards him like a dart, hitting him with a force that made him step back, as she wrapped him into a hug so enormous he wouldn’t have believed it came from such a small woman.

“Careful there, you’ll break me,” he chuckled, hugging her back. He’d only met her once, but she greeted him like her long-lost friend. It was very touching.

“Oh, you can take it!” Juliana beamed. She pulled his face down to kiss him on both cheeks and grabbed his hand to shepherd him into the house.

The smell hit him instantly: a decadent blend of chocolate, cinnamon, hazelnut, and something fruity. Juliana’s kitchen table was littered with brightly coloured candies and cakes that she had clearly put her heart and soul into making.

“I have food! I have drinks! I have everything you need! My home is yours!”

“Please, this is far too much—”

“Nonsense.” Juliana held his hand tightly in both of hers. “You saved my beautiful boy! Nothing is too much for you.”

“He saved me too, you know. We saved each other.”

Juliana was not deterred. “Then when he visits you, let your grandmother dote on him!”

Matthew chuckled – not wanting to tell her his grandparents had passed away years ago – when the door creaked open and they both looked over to see Rafael standing there. He leaned heavily on the door frame and the weight loss was still extremely noticeable around his face and baggy clothes, but he smiled brightly at the two of them.

“Vovó, please! You’re embarrassing me!”

“And what could you have to be embarrassed about?” Juliana laughed, calling his bluff. “A grandmother who loves you and knows how to treat her guests? Now please, eat!”

Matthew’s appetite still wasn’t quite back to normal, but he could hardly turn down Juliana, so he tried a cajuzinho. It was sweet, with a sublime peanut flavour, and melted in his mouth and he couldn’t resist a second one. Juliana smiled in satisfaction and said she would pack him a tin. As she busied herself, Matthew took the opportunity to speak to Rafael.

“How are you doing?” he asked, as they shared a quick hug.

“Well, it’s easier to walk every day and I can get up the stairs to my bedroom without wheezing so that’s something.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“And…things between you and Sora…?”

“Definitively over,” Rafael sighed. “But I think that’s for the best. My heart wasn’t in it the way it should have been. Maybe, in time, we can be friends again.”

“Makes sense,” Matthew nodded, trying not to let too much relief show on his face. “Are you coming to the memorial for Danny and Bobby this afternoon?”

“I can’t,” Rafael said, his face falling. “My doctors are still really concerned about my immune system and they want me to steer clear of large crowds.” He shook his head, real pain in his eyes. “Pathetic, isn’t it? I can’t even go to the memorial of the men I failed to save.”

“Stop it,” Matthew said, fiercely, putting his hands on Rafael’s shoulders. “They wouldn’t see it that way and you know it. You did everything you could. The only person to blame for this is Travis, and he’s dead.”

Rafael looked surprised at Matthew’s sudden speech, then his face softened.

“What would I do without you in my life, Matthew?”

“The same stuff, probably. But you wouldn’t have anyone to sass you about it.”

Raf smiled, and seemed to relax a little.

“So, listen…I know you have to get ready for the memorial but…if you have some time, I’d love some company on my walk.” He scratched the back of his neck again. “I’m attempting a whole block today…big stuff.”

He looked like he still had a few things on his mind, and Matthew suspected he didn’t want his grandma to hear a lot of it. Raf looked relieved when he said he would walk with him.

“Vovó! Matthew and I are going for a quick walk around the block.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Juliana asked, her eyes anxious behind her glasses. “Dr Mirani said you needed rest…”

“He also said I needed to build my strength up,” Rafael chuckled, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Besides, Matthew’s a doctor too, remember? He says it’s OK.”

Juliana glanced at Matthew, and nodded.

“OK, if Matthew says so. Just be safe!”

“It’s a promise.”

“Don’t worry, Juliana, I’ll make sure he gets home safely,” Matthew interjected, teasing Raf just a little.

“I know you will, darling.”

Juliana handed him a tin stuffed to bursting with sweets before kissing them both goodbye.

“She’s just put your life in my hands, hasn’t she?” Matthew smirked as they closed the front door and he put the tin of sweets in Jackie’s car.

“Wouldn’t trust it with anyone else.”

They began walking slowly down the street.

“So, how are you doing?”

“I’m good. Great, even!”

“That’s what you told me in front of your adorably worried grandma. I’m asking for real, just between you and me.”

“I…” Raf faltered and his face fell. “I don’t know. The truth is, I’m all over the place. Some moments I feel grateful but other times all I can think about is Danny and Bobby and how I couldn’t save them. I keep replaying it in my head. If I’d moved quicker, or seen the signs sooner…if I’d thought faster to throw myself on that goddamn cannister…”

“But then you’d be dead.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No. No buts. Please, Raf, not on this.” It still scared Matthew to hear Rafael talking about his death. “You’re alive, and that’s important to me. It’s important to everyone.”

Raf was quiet for a moment, lost in thought, before he turned to Matthew.

“I had an appointment with a therapist the day before I was discharged. Um…my mom told you a bit about why I’m an only child?”

“She just said a big family wasn’t meant to be.”

“She had three miscarriages before me. I remember being about five or six and having to move in with my grandparents. I ended up living with them for quite a few months, and just visiting my parents every so often. When I was older they told me it was because they had tried again, but remained unsuccessful. It damaged her mental health and she needed professional support, but at the time they just told me she was really sick. I remember picking up on the fact they were sad and I wanted to them to be happy again, and I wanted to help them as much as I could back then. My therapist thinks I never really let go of that mindset. I was trying to be a good kid, then I grew up and continued wanting to help people, and then it just snowballed, you know? I was the guy who helped and saved everyone, I think it became…not a goal, but a measure of my value if that makes sense?”

“You mean if you weren’t taking crazy risks, you weren’t trying hard enough?”

“God, it sounds ridiculous but…yeah. If I was prepared to risk my life for a stranger, then I was where I was meant to be. But when I talked about it in therapy, I started thinking that Mom and Dad would have been appalled to hear that was my way of thinking. They never would have wanted me to feel like I had to sacrifice myself to ‘earn’ my place.”

“You’re not wrong,” Matthew said gently as they turned a corner. “Was there anything else that made you question your mindset?”

“…The look on my vovó’s face when I came home,” Raf said, quietly. “Her desperation and her fear…and the way she hugged me and just sobbed and sobbed.”

He quickly wiped his eye. Matthew reached out and squeezed his shoulder in quiet comfort as Raf took a minute to pull himself together.

“It got me thinking,” Rafael continued. “What if I really had died? How could I do that to her? To you? To Mom and Dad, after they struggled so much to have a child?”

“You did amazing things as a paramedic,” Matthew said, giving him one more squeeze before he let go. “But there’s so much more to you than taking big risks. You’re you. And you matter.”

The corner of Raf’s mouth tipped upward as they crossed the street. A pair of old men were sat on a nearby porch playing chess, and they called out ‘hello’ as Raf walked past.

“Raf?”

They turned to see Raf’s friend, Lucas, jogging over to them. Matthew had briefly met Lucas last year. He and Raf volunteered at the civic centre on a regular basis.

“Hi Lucas.”

“Good to see you, man. Back from the dead and better than ever!”

Matthew winced as Lucas hugged Raf tightly.

“I know you’ve got a long recovery, but come visit the civic centre when you’re ready? The old ladies are very worried about you.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to teach samba alone!”

“C’mon, you know what they’re like when the music heats up!” Lucas laughed, as he turned to Matthew. “How about you, Matthew? You doing OK?”

“Yeah, not bad,” Matthew smiled, pleasantly surprised that Lucas remembered his name.

They chatted with Lucas for a minute longer before moving on, with Lucas promising Rafael he’d take him out for a drink when he was up for it. Matthew didn’t miss the way people continued to smile and greet them when they saw Rafael.

“God, they really love you here, don’t they?”

“It’s a warm neighbourhood. We love each other.”

“You know what I mean. Look at how they look at you.”

It was heart-warming but Rafael seemed distracted.

“It can be a lot of pressure, actually.”

Matthew thought of how unsettled Raf had been since the summer, and how moving to Brazil was supposed to be a fresh start. He wondered if some of the uncertainness was still there, if Raf was still considering a move when the time was right. At the time, Matthew had swallowed his pain to support Raf but – selfishly – he didn’t want to do that anymore.

“I’m happy you’re staying,” he said, quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Matthew glanced at him, and then away. “I know I distanced myself when we broke up…but it didn’t change the fact I was really going to miss you. Boston wasn’t going to be the same without you around.”

As he said it, he wondered if it was too much, but Rafael smiled with a softness that reminded Matthew of how it had been before Sora had come into the picture.

“I was going to miss you too,” Raf said. “But the funny thing is, since moving in with Vovó, I’ve been increasingly glad that I didn’t move to Brazil. I’m sure I’ll go back to visit but I’d have missed my home too much.”

Matthew laughed and wrapped an arm around Raf’s shoulders. Raf squeezed him back in return as they walked into a small, empty park.

“It’s nice here,” Matthew noted, looking around. The path was lined with rows of coloured pansies and led to a small fountain. The trees were mostly bare, but orange leaves flooded the surrounding grass. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, sometimes, when I need to clear my head.” Rafael suddenly stopped and turned to Matthew. Desperation was written all over his face. “Matthew, what the hell do I do now? I think I know what I don’t want but without that…who am I?”

“Just take it one day at a time, Raf,” Matthew said, taking his hands. “You’ll figure it out when you’re meant to.”

Matthew wasn’t sure what made him do it. If you’d asked him, he would have said it was still too early. But Rafael looked so scared and all Matthew could think about was calming him down. He leaned forward and very gently pressed his lips against Rafael’s for a brief moment.

Rafael froze at his touch, staring at Matthew wide-eyed. But then, his eyes hardened, he pulled Matthew close to him and kissed him back, with a long, deep kiss that was as tender as it was desperate. Matthew melted into his touch, enveloped by his warmth, as his hand traced up Raf’s arm and he tangled his fingers in Raf’s thick hair. He kept his hand there until the kiss ended and Raf rested his forehead against Matthew’s. They were both breathing hard.

“Matthew…”

“Ssh…”

Matthew kissed him again, pouring out months of yearning and pining. Raf returned it eagerly as his hands ran up Matthew’s back and sides. Matthew sighed longingly as Raf’s arms came to rest around his waist.

“Matthew, listen…” Raf gasped, pulling away again. “I’m sorry for the way things went down. With Sora, with us…”

Matthew suddenly didn’t want to hear it. He had been dreading this day, but now the best thing in the world was happening to him, and he couldn’t ruin it with anything else. He gave Raf another quick kiss.

“We’ll talk about it later. I promise you, we’ll talk about it properly later. Right now…this is all I want.”

Raf cupped Matthew’s cheek in his hand, stroking his pale skin with his thumb.

“God, you’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Matthew’s cheeks warmed under Rafael’s palm, and then they were kissing again. They slowed down now, desperation giving way to softness as they both realised the moment wasn’t going to disappear. Matthew was good at focusing on work instead of personal problems, but now everything about him was focused on Rafael and nothing else. He wouldn’t have noticed if they had grown wings, lifted off the ground and ascended to the heavens.

And then his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket.

“Crap,” he muttered, digging it out and switching off the alarm.

“The memorial?” Rafael brushed his lips against Matthew’s forehead as he spoke, which made him shiver.

“Yeah. I have to get ready.” Matthew reluctantly stepped out of Rafael’s embrace. “C’mon, I can at least walk you back.”

It was a shorter route, completing the circuit back to Juliana’s house. They didn’t say much – just their hands brushing together as they walked – until they were stood at the edge of the front garden.

“I’d offer to invite you in,” Raf said. “But Vovó might not let you leave.”

Matthew didn’t say anything as he looked over at the house. He was suddenly very tempted to run inside and hide in Rafael’s arms all afternoon.

Perhaps Raf could tell what he was thinking. He pulled Matthew into a fierce hug.

“I’m here for you, I promise,” he said. “If you need to talk after the memorial…you can call me, whenever you need.”

“Thanks,” Matthew murmured, cherishing his touch and breathing in his scent. Then he gave him one more gentle kiss.

“Can we do this again soon?”

“Oh yes. Absolutely.”

Matthew climbed into the car and watched as Rafael made his way up the path and into the house. He had a small smile on his face as he started the engine, which made him jump as it roared to life. It seemed too loud, as if his ears had been blocked, muffling sound for months, and had now just cleared.

His smile didn’t last as he drove back towards the city. Skyscrapers loomed and the overhead clouds thickened and darkened, and he could no longer ignore what he was about to face.

He was surprised to find a small bouquet of flowers sat on the kitchen counter when he got home, with a card that read ‘Sorry for everything you went through – Best wishes, Farley’.

“Hi.” Jackie had just come out of her room. She wore a smart black dress and was clipping her hair back. “How’s Raf?”

“He’s OK…well, about as OK as he can be for now.”

Jackie looked him up and down, but said nothing else about it.

“The others decided to head out early, but we’re not running late yet. Do you want me to put the flowers in some water?”

“Yes please. Did he deliver those personally, or…?”

“Elijah found them at the door and brought them in. I never had Farley as a flowers person, to be honest.”

“Me neither.”

Matthew handed Jackie back her car keys and put his box of sweets in the fridge before going into his room – which was the tidiest it had ever been thanks to his obsessive cleaning. He had gone out with Bryce after he was discharged to buy a suit. He had found a black three-piece suit and, as he was trying it on, had spotted a black dress coat. The ensemble was perfect. As he looked in the mirror, he saw the respect that Danny and Bobby deserved for losing their lives in his place.

He and Jackie didn’t speak as they drove through town to the cemetery. Matthew distracted himself by fiddling with the radio. Jackie didn’t tell him off for it, which was a little unnerving.

“Holy crap,” she muttered, suddenly. The small car park was full. Cars lined the street. People were walking into the cemetery in droves. Matthew recognised a lot of hospital staff, but there were so many patients among them, and more family and friends than he’d thought possible. He bit his lip and squeezed Jackie’s shoulder.

Chairs had been assembled – not enough – in front of a podium, and a table that overflowed with flowers and held framed photos of Danny and Bobby. Bryce and Elijah were looking at it as Bryce talked about an event that happened earlier that year. A particularly paranoid patient had gone into a panic right before going into surgery and had refused any help or even anaesthesia. Eventually, Danny had gotten desperate.

“…So he grabbed the emergency paddles and just said ‘I don’t have a taser but these will do the job pretty well’. The patient finally let us operate after that,” Bryce chuckled. “Not the toughest emergency surgery I’ve ever done, but certainly the most eventful.”

“There are senior doctors here, Bryce. Maybe you shouldn’t be talking so loud…”

“They won’t be able to do anything. Danny felt he had to report it to Naveen afterwards. Naveen found it hilarious, and I think he bought Danny a drink that night.” There was a twinkle in Bryce’s eye but it faded as his face fell. “God, I can’t believe that was only a few months ago.”

“Me neither,” Matthew murmured. He looked over at Elijah to find him staring passively at the framed photos.

“Elijah? You OK?”

“Yeah.” Elijah blinked out of his absent-mindedness. “Just…been to too many of these.”

Matthew was about to ask what he meant when he felt a gentle touch at his wrist and glanced down to see Aurora, dressed in a black shirt and trousers. Her eyes were a little bloodshot and Matthew squeezed her.

“Thanks for saving my life,” he said gently, which always managed to draw a small smile out of her. “How are you doing?”

Aurora stopped smiling. “Not great. I just spent half an hour talking to friends and families of the men I couldn’t save.”

“Don’t say that,” Matthew said. “You did everything you could.”

“If I’d just thought to bring Tobias in earlier…”

“What-ifs will drive you crazy, Aurora. Trust me, I know.”

Aurora wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.

“So, listen, I’m trying to put together a pitch for merging our two hospitals and I was hoping you could help me with it? I could use back up when appealing to Tobias and Ethan.”

“Of course I’ll help. Maybe one night this week we can—”

But then the priest had taken his place at the podium and was calling for the crowd to take their seats. Elijah rolled himself up to the end of the second row, Matthew sat beside him, then Jackie sat beside Matthew. Bryce and Aurora were next to her.

“Thank you all for coming to today’s service to celebrate the lives of Daniel Cardinal and Robert Gunderson,” the priest said. “It warms my heart to see so many of you here. Their loss has devastated all of us. Both men lived their lives in the service of others, up until the end.”

Matthew’s throat tightened when he remembered Bobby walking straight into the patient room without hesitating. Risky situations were the nature of his job, and he did his job well. Danny lost his life just for running a regular health check on a patient. A patient who was only in the hospital because Matthew had coerced him into transferring, in the hope of getting some money. It seemed so trivial now, when all they had was two bodies in the ground. It could have been three, or even four bodies in the ground.

Matthew’s hands started to tremble and his eyes stung. At his side, Jackie was sniffling and tears were rolling down Elijah’s cheeks. Matthew took a deep breath and reached for both of their hands. They held on to him tightly as Elijah rubbed his forearm and Jackie leaned against him.

The priest went on to talk about how Danny was a sweet, caring little boy who had loved to play hospitals. He had been forever asking questions and constantly bandaging stuffed animals; some of the attendees chuckled at this. The dark-haired woman in front of Matthew bowed her head, and a younger woman beside her wrapped her arm around her shoulders. The grey sky above only got darker.

The priest moved on to Bobby, how he had served in the military until his late thirties, when he decided to move back home and focus on his family. Apparently hospital security had offered a good balance between the two. Matthew remembered how Jackie had snuck him into the hospital to visit Rafael last year and had almost bribed Bobby with coffee to let him in. Injustice burned in Matthew’s heart. Bobby was supposed to pass away peacefully of old age, after his children had grown up and children of their own. Matthew clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He saved lives every day at work, except here. And now all he could do was listen to a speech and toss a flower onto a grave.

“Dr Valentine?”

Matthew jumped. The priest was looking at him, along with what felt like everyone else.

“Would you like to say a few words?”

No. That was what Matthew had thought when Danny’s mother asked him if he would be able to speak; he was Danny’s friend and he had been there in his last moments, she had said. It would mean a lot. In the end, he didn’t have the heart to refuse. So he stood up in front of the crowd and prepared to speak about the deaths that might not have happened if it weren’t for him.

He thought of Rafael, safe at home, and how upset he had looked that medical advice prevented him from paying his respects. Matthew squared his shoulders and stood up, doing his best to hide his shaking as he made his way to the podium and took the speech from his pocket. Writing it had been hard…it was a group effort with all his friends. He glanced over at them before he began.

“We’ve heard so much today about the amazing people Danny and Bobby were. For me, and everyone else who worked with them, they made every day brighter. Bobby always had a smile on his face, and he found a nickname for every doctor in the hospital….and you all know it’s a big place.”

The crowd chuckled appreciatively, and Matthew smiled despite himself. Bobby never failed to say hi when he saw Matthew at work, and sometimes it made all the difference. His personal nickname for Matthew had been ‘Dr Lightbulb’ after Matthew had been casually chatting to him and had a sudden brainwave about a case. Too bad he hadn’t had a sooner brainwave about Senator Farrugia…

“Danny wasn’t just one of the best nurses I’ve had the privilege of working with. I counted him as a friend. I was new to Boston when we were all sitting out on Boston Common, sharing picnics and watching movies. He helped this new place, this new city, feel like home.” Danny’s kindness on his first day. After making a fool of himself in front of Dr Ramsey, a group of nurses, and a waiting room full of patients, Danny had shown him the way to the locker room, talking and laughing with him the whole time. Within minutes, Matthew had gone from complete humiliation to light-hearted optimism about working at Edenbrook. He sometimes wondered whether he’d have given up if it weren’t for Danny. He had to fight to keep his voice steady.

“What happened was…a tragedy. Every single day, Danny and Bobby gave back. They helped other people. It’s hard enough to lose them…but knowing that two good men lost their lives to something as ugly as revenge…it’s just devastating.” He took a minute to pull himself together. Aurora was sobbing, Bryce’s arm was tight around her.

“The world is a darker place without them. I’ll miss their smiles, their jokes…but most of all, I’ll miss them. I’ll miss the people they were. And I want to thank them both…for everything.”

People were crying again at the end of the speech. Matthew stumbled back to his seat, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t breathe properly. Jackie held on to him tightly as his shoulders heaved and he tried to calm down. The priest murmured his thanks.

Matthew wasn’t the only one to speak, and for the next few minutes, various people said their pieces. The head nurse went up and spoke very fondly of Danny. Bobby’s sister read out his favourite poem. And then a man and woman stood up and sang ‘The Prayer’, which was enough to fully reduce Jackie to tears. Finally, the congregation were given a pair of orchids each and directed to each grave to place it by the headstone. Matthew felt he should say something else as he placed the flowers, but words failed him. All he could think was I’m so sorry but even that seemed insignificant against the scope of what had happened.

The memorial moved into a wake, hosted in a nearby hall that Edenbrook’s administration had organised. A long table was set up alongside the bar, offering a selection of food. Tables and chairs were all set up, and the walls were adorned with pictures of his friends. Matthew looked around at Danny’s school pictures and Bobby’s wedding photos, until he saw one from last summer that made him have to turn away: a selfie by Bryce, featuring Matthew, Danny, Sienna and Elijah. That was when they used to meet up to watch movies on the Common. Matthew had been so happy but he hadn’t even realised how much at the time.

He looked around the room and spotted Sienna in her black dress, standing in the corner of the room and looking a bit wrung out and overwhelmed. He quickly made his way over to her.

“Are you OK? I looked for you at the service…”

“I stood at the back with Ethan. There were a lot of old people there, it didn’t feel right to take a seat.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Just so…”

Sienna bit her lip, then screwed up her face and suddenly thumped at her thighs.

“I’m just so freaking mad! That scummy senator…Travis…the whole freaking world!”

Matthew caught hold of Sienna’s fists and gently pulled her away from a nearby group who had looked over at her sudden outburst. Sienna didn’t fight him.

“The world is so scary, Matthew. Why do people have to make it worse by hurting each other?”

“I don’t know,” Matthew murmured. “The world hasn’t made much sense to me for a while.”

“I used to believe if you were good and kind, the world would be good in return…but that’s bullshit, isn’t it?” Sienna scowled as Matthew rubbed her back. “Danny and Bobby got murdered for doing their jobs…and then I had to pretend that the senator was a good guy…and Danny…”

“Sienna…”

“It was working,” she sobbed, tears falling steadily. “I…I thought we finally had it right, I was excited for what was to come…but now…it never will.”

Matthew pulled Sienna into a tight hug and didn’t let go as she sobbed into his coat. He stayed that way, shielding her from any onlookers. It was so unfair. Sienna had done nothing wrong. She didn’t deserve this pain, and she certainly didn’t deserve to suffer in her relationships for the rest of her lives. Yet again, Matthew wished he’d thought to get Danny out of the room.

Sienna calmed down enough to pull away from the hug, though she held on to Matthew’s hand.

“You saw Raf this morning, right?”

“Yes, he was so sad he couldn’t make it today—”

“Did you talk about your relationship? Now that you’re both out of hospital?”

“Sienna, I don’t know if now’s the right time—”

“Then when is the right time?” Sienna groaned. “What if something else happens? Or what if you keep thinking about it and never bring it up and it starts to breed resentment? You got a second chance! Don’t waste it!”

Matthew couldn’t speak, so just nodded dumbly. Sienna wiped her eyes.

“I need to go wash my face. But thanks for being here, Matthew.”

“Any time you need me, I promise.”

“Yeah…I don’t think we ever stop needing each other.”

Sienna made her way to the bathroom and Matthew was alone with his thoughts. Now that Sienna had mentioned it, it was getting harder not to imagine Rafael being included in the memorial: his pictures on the walls, and the size of the congregation being ten times as big to accommodate those who loved him. He looked around, desperate for something to focus on, someone who needed him…and then an idea took hold.

He found Aurora moving through the crowd and rushed to meet her, without pausing to think his idea through.

“We need to talk to Ethan about your plan. Mass Kenmore and Edenbrook need to merge.”

“Wait…now?” Aurora blinked. “We’re at a memorial service, besides I haven’t put a pitch together…”

“It doesn’t matter! Ethan just worked with Tobias to cure the incurable. The longer we wait, the more they start to forget that and move back to their stupid competition.”

He didn’t bother to wait for a response and marched toward Ethan, leaving Aurora no choice but to hurry along behind him. Ethan raised an eyebrow as he approached.

“We have an idea to save the hospital.”

“…Can’t it wait until we’re back at the hospital?”

“No!” Matthew snapped, all of his frustration bubbling over. “For months I’ve been busting my ass finding ways to save the hospital and you’ve blocked me at every turn. How about this time you actually try and meet me halfway?”

Ethan’s eyes widened as Matthew realised he had basically just told his direct supervisor to shut up, but when Aurora tried to apologise for him, Ethan just shook his head. He was giving Matthew a pass, this time.

“Tell me.”

Matthew looked at Aurora, who sighed before launching into a brief explanation of merging the two hospitals and sharing the research grant, splitting resources and minimising redundancies. It promised good press for both hospitals. Ethan stayed quiet, glancing between the two of them with a look that bordered on intensity. It put Matthew on edge.

“Help us pitch it,” Matthew said, after Aurora finished explaining. “We’re nobodies; the board won’t listen to us. But if you and Tobias can work it out…”

He trailed off when he realised Ethan was shaking his head again.

“Matthew, you know that if it worked, it wouldn’t be a cure-all. Minimising redundancy isn’t no redundancy. People will still lose their jobs in this scenario.”

“Then I’ll be the first person to volunteer for the lay-offs. If that’s what it takes to save Edenbrook, so be it.”

“You don’t need to throw yourself on to the fire for this,” Aurora said, shocked.

“I’ll do whatever needs doing,” Matthew said, before turning back to Ethan. “So will you talk to Tobias?”

Ethan spluttered. Matthew growled in frustration.

“Danny and Bobby just died. The least you can do is talk to a man you don’t like.”

Ethan’s face fell.

“I’m not saying no. Just…give me a little more time to look into it, OK?”

“…Fine.”

Knowing he was arguing a lost cause, Matthew stalked away, feeling a lot of eyes on his back. His own eyes were on the floor as his face burned with humiliation. He shouldn’t have lost control at a memorial service, particularly not this one, but he was sick of everything being out of his hands. Especially with Ethan and his damn morals. This was the same Ethan who had broken dozens of hospital rules to secretly treat Naveen last year for god’s sake…

Matthew wanted to leave. Every time he looked at a picture of Danny or Bobby, he saw Rafael in their place, dying for him. He hated every fake smile and gentle conversation he had with someone else who was grieving: they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. The smell of food made him feel sick, but it seemed like every time he had a chance to escape, someone else wanted to chat to him and he couldn’t say no.

At long last, the crowd thinned out and people said their goodbyes. Jackie was at the bar and Matthew wondered how long she had been there for as Bryce wandered over to him.

“Hey.”

“Sorry I haven’t been able to see you before now,” Bryce said, opening his arms for a big hug. It helped a little. “Though I thought you’d have gone by now.”

“I want to. Except I really want to see Raf. But Jackie can’t drive herself home.”

They both glanced back to the bar. Bryce nodded.

“Go see Raf. I’ll make sure Jackie gets home.”

“Thanks Bryce.”

Matthew slipped outside and called Raf first, then five minutes later he was running through the rain to the nearest T station. By the time he turned up at the house, thunder was rumbling and he was soaked through, to Juliana’s horror.

“Good god, Matthew, what were you thinking, walking around in the rain?! You must be freezing! Come inside before you get sick!”

She grabbed Matthew’s hand before he could say anything and practically dragged him through the house and up the stairs to the bathroom, calling to Rafael in Portuguese the whole time. Rafael met them on the landing, dressed in a long-sleeved grey t-shirt and red checked pyjama pants, looking mostly surprised at the scene.

Juliana pushed Matthew towards the bathroom, where she got the shower running, as Rafael brought out a spare pair of pyjamas for him, and taking his keys, phone and wallet in return. Juliana squeezed his hand and told him to take his time. They would be waiting in Rafael’s room.

As the water heated up, Matthew glanced around. The bathroom appliances were modern, all sleek chrome, but the wall tiles dated the room: pale yellow with a dainty pattern of purple and blue flowers. Thick, fluffy towels were folded on a wall rack next to the sink. Above the sink was a small shelf of bath lotions: all floral scented. Stepping into the shower, he saw the available shampoo was lavender. According to the label, it was supposed to be calming.

He finished up and dried off with a warm towel, rubbing it over his hair until it stood out in a damp cloud. His funeral clothes were left in the tub: Juliana had told him to leave them there to be washed, ignoring him when he said she didn’t have to. The pyjamas Rafael had left him consisted of blue pants with a star pattern, and Matthew suddenly smiled when he unfolded the t-shirt: Snoopy.

Juliana and Raf were sitting on his bed, talking quietly. They both smiled when he came in.

“Thanks for letting me use the shower.”

“Of course, darling.” Juliana stood up. “Would you two like some hot chocolate?”

They both said yes and she left to make it. Matthew sat on the edge of the bed, glancing shyly at Rafael.

“Were you OK this afternoon?” he asked.

“As well as I could be, I think,” Raf said. “I got upset, I couldn’t help it. But Mom and Dad had come over so we could be together. They went home just before you called. What about you? I’ve been worrying about you.”

“It was…It was really hard,” Matthew said, his throat tight. “My speech went OK, but…having to be there…when…” he swallowed, not looking at Raf, even when Raf moved to cover his hand with his own, and he wanted to say more but Juliana was coming back up the stairs and he couldn’t say it in front of her.

She came in to hand them both a mug of hot chocolate and said she would leave them to talk, before putting her hand on Matthew’s shoulder and telling him he was welcome to stay as long as he liked. Matthew thanked her, deeply relieved. He and Raf were quiet for a few minutes as they drank.

“Matthew…?” Raf said, gently. “What’s on your mind?”

Matthew paused, then placed his mug on the floor beside the bed. Raf did the same and watched as he twisted his hands in his lap. He scooted a little closer.

“It was my fault,” Matthew said suddenly in a rushed whisper. “I snuck into Mass Kenmore and talked the senator into transferring to Edenbrook. I thought it would generate money for the hospital, but two people are dead because I convinced this stupid senator and his crazy aide to come to Edenbrook.” He took a deep breath and carried on. “I hated having to talk about how brilliant and brave they were when I was the reason they’re dead, and everyone thanked me for speaking, I felt like such a fraud. And the whole time during the wake, I kept thinking about how it was very nearly your funeral as well. I don’t think I could have handled that,” he whispered. Tears welled in his eyes when he finally looked at Raf, who was wide-eyed.

“Matthew…”

Matthew looked away again as his hands trembled and his stomach knotted.

“None of this is your fault.”

“But if—”

“If you hadn’t told the Senator to come to Edenbrook, his aide would have attacked him regardless,” Raf said. “We were both there when he said he’d been hoping to get revenge for years. Farrugia has no one to blame but himself.” He took Matthew’s hands in his own. “There was nothing you could have done to stop this. In fact, you did everything you could. You tried to talk him down, but he was too far in his revenge obsession to see reason. Even when we were poisoned, you never stopped caring for everyone, even though you were a patient too. In my opinion you went above and beyond.” He stroked Matthew’s hands. “Don’t forget, I ran into the room when I shouldn’t have been there, and that was my own fault. Please don’t blame yourself for this.”

Matthew’s lip trembled. “I’ve really missed you!” he choked out, and then he was sobbing. Raf let go of his hands to hug him tightly, rubbing his back as Matthew cried everything out.

He clung to Raf as tightly as he could, pressing his cheek into Raf’s shoulder as his tears flowed without stopping. Now that he didn’t have to control his emotions for the sake of other funeral-goers, he couldn’t seem to stop crying. Every time he tried to calm down, he was shaken with another sob, and he was starting to feel light-headed, but then he heard Raf’s deep voice simply telling him to breathe. A simple instruction that never failed. As his sobs slowed down, his shaking subsided and his head finally felt clear again. He sat up slowly, and Raf let go of him but brushed away a tear as he did.

“I’ve missed you too,” Rafael said. “Since the summer I felt like something was missing but I didn’t know how to fill it until you came into my room and took my hand.” He took Matthew’s hand now, brushing his thumb over his knuckles. Matthew didn’t move, even though he wanted to.

“Raf…why did you choose Sora over me?” he asked quietly. “You said you wanted to see how things go with him…but as far as I knew, things were going really well with us and then you just…ended it.” He swallowed, trying not to cry again. “I just wanna know…otherwise it’ll play on my mind.”

Guilt crossed Raf’s face as he turned to face Matthew properly.

“I’ll tell you,” he said. “But first, I want you to know that I didn’t cheat on you.”

“I believe you.” And he did. Rafael didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body.

Rafael nodded as he sat back against the head board.

“OK. Umm…well, to start with, we agreed to break up because he was moving across the country for college, whereas I was staying in Boston; there was no bad blood, we were just moving in different directions. Then I started studying and got my paramedic license and started working for Edenbrook. By the time I met you, I had actually almost forgotten about him.”

Matthew nodded, taking it in. He wondered where this was going. Rafael scratched the back of his neck as he tried to explain.

“The thing is…Matthew, you’ve achieved so much in a short space of time and I’ve always been, and still am, so proud of you. I’ve always thought you’d have the world at your feet…but I’m not the same. I didn’t think I’d ever leave Boston.”

“Raf…”

“I’d never want to hold you back in your life or career. When Sora came back to town, he just asked if I wanted to catch up, and we did, and we got on really well. It made me think that…maybe I was better suited to someone like Sora. It seemed like fate was trying to tell me stay in my lane. And then after I broke up with you, word got round that Dr Ramsey was going to work in the Amazon for a while, and it just felt like a confirmation that I’d made the right choice…that is to say, the safe choice.”

Matthew looked at Rafael silently as he tried to wrap his head around what he’d just said. He’d never imagined that Raf thinking Matthew was too good for him was the cause. If anything, he’d thought the opposite.

“You thought…you weren’t good enough for me?” he said eventually, and Raf nodded, looking anguished. Matthew shook his head, dumbfounded.

“I…you…Jesus, Raf, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! You’re a smart man but that was really idiotic!”

“I know,” Raf said, quickly blinking his own tears away. “I’m so sorry, Matthew. I fucked up.”

Matthew had never heard Raf swear before, and it caught him by surprise.

“I can’t disagree with that,” he said, softening a little. “Because you did. But Raf…I care about you so much. And if anything, I always thought that maybe you were too good for me.”

“What?” Raf blinked. “How could I be?”

“Exactly!”

They looked into each other’s eyes…and then started to laugh. They couldn’t stop for a few minutes. The air was clear and a certain freedom had settled between them.

“I’m really sorry I hurt you, Matthew,” Raf said, gently. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

Matthew shifted closer to Raf, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together.

“Listen. I appreciate and accept your apology, but I don’t need to hear anymore. I’m here because I want to be with you, and I want to give you a second chance. I forgive you. So don’t obsess over apologising, or feeling like you have a debt to settle, I can tell you mean what you say.”

A hardly-daring-to-believe-it smile was crossing Rafael’s face.

“So…you mean…?”

“Raf, I want to be your boyfriend!”

“I wanna be your boyfriend too!”

And then they were laughing again, hugging each other tightly, and everything felt right. Some of Matthew’s hurt finally melted away as Rafael rested his forehead against his and gazed at him tenderly.

“Thank you,” he said simply, and pressed his lips against Matthew’s, soft and slow. His hand traced Matthew’s cheek, as if memorising every detail of his skin. Perhaps he was reminding himself. He had memorised it before, thinking it was something he couldn’t have but would remember it in moments of sentimentality. Matthew kissed Rafael back, leaning into his touch. Rafael could have every inch of him and treasure every detail.

With nothing else they needed to say, they finished up their lukewarm chocolate, still holding hands and stealing glances at each other, smiling when their eyes met. When they were done, Raf placed their mugs on top of the dresser and sat back against the headboard, holding out an arm inviting Matthew to cuddle. He didn’t need telling his twice and instantly curled into in, resting his head on Raf’s shoulder. God, he’d missed him. It was so wonderful to just be able to hold him.

“Is everything else OK?” Raf asked. “You still look very tired.”

“Hmm…”

“Have you been having nightmares too?”

“Every night,” Matthew sighed. “Just…I don’t remember them exactly, but it’s always that I’m on my own and I can’t find you and I know that you’re in trouble but I can’t help.”

“Me too,” Raf admitted. “I remember this overwhelming feeling of helplessness…and that’s not really something I was used to feeling.”

“Do you talk to your grandma about it?”

“Not in depth. She knows I have nightmares but when it’s something she can’t help with…I don’t want her to be worrying about me any more than she already does.”

“I get that. Sienna helps me through it if it gets too much but…”

“She doesn’t fully get it?”

“No. She tries but…there’s something missing.”

He held on to Raf tightly, sharing his warmth, and listening to his strong, beating heart. Back in July he had listened to Rafael’s heartbeat during a dance he wasn’t sure they should share, thinking he could only have that small moment to pretend everything was OK.

“Raf? If the nightmares are too much, you can talk to me. I don’t even mind if you have to wake me up to do it, as long as I can help you.”

“Thank you, and the same goes for you. I’ll be here, whenever you need, I promise.”

Matthew traced his fingers along Raf’s arm.

“Will you cuddle me? It might help.”

Raf gave him that warm smile that he loved so much.

“Of course.”

He pulled back the covers and fluffed the pillows a little before they snuggled down together. Juliana’s bed was softer than Matthew’s, with thicker pillows. Matthew practically sunk into them and wrapped his arms around Rafael, squeezing him tightly. He’d wanted to do this ever since Raf had woken up from his coma. Now that they were together, it seemed silly that he’d kept looking for reasons not to. They liked each other, they were together. Nothing else mattered.

Raf nudged Matthew gently.

“Turn on to your other side?”

Matthew did so, smiling when Raf cuddled up behind him, enveloping him in his arms and nuzzling his neck, kissing his cheek. His body felt different, but he didn’t care. The muscle would come back, but Rafael was irreplaceable. Matthew brought Raf’s hand to his lips and let his eyes slowly close. His mind drifted, and for the first time in weeks he slept without dreams.

Tags: @sazanes @rafasgirl23415 @ceruleansnake0

#playchoices #open heart #rafael aveiro #mc x rafael aveiro

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