#we could call this a part 1 in case i ever come back to it

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer!Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 1]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism] Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 2.6k

Authors Note: I have this listed as "part one", because I may want to continue it in the future! This is just an idea that I've had floating around in my head, and I really haven't been inspired to write more of my other story lately, so why not put this out? If you'd like more of this story, please let me know and I can possibly continue it, if it's something y'all are interested in!

(It got another part)

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

New York City is always bustling on a Monday morning. Crowds of people piling onto the sprawling connection of subway, buses and sidewalks on their way for another week of hard work. Jung Kook was among them, wearing a discounted, freshly pressed suit, and a fresh cup of Starbucks coffee in his hand. AirPods in his ear, he let the newest pop playlist cover up the sound of the crowded street on his way to his new office. There was a little, barely noticeable pep in his step, hinting at his excitement for his first day. 

His office building was rather large, even by his own metrics. Coming from Seoul, Jung Kook was no stranger to towering buildings, but this fresh law office had something glistening about its structure. As he entered through the front rotating tour, scanning the pass in his lanyard to be let in, any seasoned attorney would quickly recognize the wide-eyed young man as an ambitious rookie. 

“Jung Kook!” A voice called out from across the lobby. Jung Kook stopped walking and looked up, scanning the room to see Mr. Kim Namjoon, one of the best defense attorneys he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, greeting him with a dimpled smile. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kim!” Jung Kook responded, quickly making his way over to greet him. 

“Aish, Jung Kook. Call me Namjoon.” He smiled shyly. “We’ll be working together as partners, I won’t be just a mentor to you anymore. I want you to feel comfortable around me.” 

“Right, of course.” Jung Kook grinned. “Thank you for bringing me here, I’m really excited.” 

“That’s great to hear.” Namjoon’s voice was warm and sincere. “I wasn’t sure how’d willing you’d be to leave Korea, but I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Yeah, it um…” Jung Kook pauses, thinking to himself for a moment for the right words to say. “It was a move that was for the best.” 

Namjoon kept a smile on his face, but furrowed his brows just briefly as he read into the younger man’s explanation. Not wanting to press too much, he motioned Jung Kook to follow him to the elevator. They walked together with comfortable conversation, questions about Jung Kook’s move to the city and his commute. As the elevator took them high above the rest of the city, Jung Kook’s finger absentmindedly tapped on the coffee cup he held, jitters taking over. 

“We had a case come in that I think you’ll be perfect to help me with.” Namjoon said, leading Jung Kook to his new office overlooking the city. There was an unorganized set of case files already on the desk. “You can put your stuff here, please make this space your own. The case is centering a Korean family, actually, so I thought maybe the two of us could connect with them on that level. Wealthy family, they’ve been doing business in the States a long time. But the son of the founder just recently inherited the company, and he’s being accused of defrauding investors. I need you to look over the case, and tell me what you think.” 

Jung Kook nodded as he took his seat at his desk, opening up the file to read the defendant’s name, Park Jimin. The name sounded oddly familiar to him, but he brushed it aside as he read the details of the case. 

“…Coaxed into investments using fraudulent and misleading data and projections…” Jung Kook read out loud, under his breath, before looking up at Namjoon. “So, he allegedly massaged the numbers into looking bigger than they are, leading to an increase of investments.” 

“Hm.” Namjoon hummed, leaning against the door frame. “Then when the actual numbers came in, and they were nowhere close to what he had projected, he didn’t have the money to pay out. Now it’s our problem.” 

“Yeah, ok.” Jung Kook nodded. “I have some ideas but I’d like to ask him some questions.” 

“Perfect. I’ll give you his contact info, but he should be flying into the city tomorrow. He wants to meet with us anyways, he just needed a little time.” 

“For what?” 

“He recently got engaged.” Namjoon responded nonchalantly, scrolling through the contacts in his iPhone. “She comes from a wealthy family from Busan, apparently. Their fathers knew each other, since they’re both from the city..” 

“Oh, they’re both from my city, I knew his name sounded familiar.” Jung Kook acknowledged. “Since her family is wealthy, maybe I’ve heard of them, too. What’s her name?” 

“Aish, I can’t remember…” Namjoon thought for a moment. “Mr. Park mentioned her, and now my mind is blanking.” 

The two startled when Namjoon’s phone rang. Namjoon apologized before stepping out to take the client’s call, leaving Jung Kook with his case files to further review. The rest of the day passed for the new, young lawyer, buried in a mountain of papers and taking notes. Namjoon peeked into his office on occasion to bring him coffee, or chat, or ask him about the case. But it was a slow, calm first day. 

As was the next day, and the day after that. Jung Kook got into a routine as the weeks passed, feeling a growing sense of familiarity with the way that he was able to bury himself in his work. It was a nice way to briefly consume himself and chase away the loneliness of the last two years of his life. 

He slowly made friends at his new firm. Never the extrovert, he was shy at first and afraid to open up. But knowing Namjoon for several years gave him a foot in the door, and allowed him an entry way into conversations that he wouldn’t have had otherwise. They asked about his life back home, and never dug too deep when he gave vague answers. He appreciated that, and his colleagues grew to like the handsome young lawyer. 

Finally, on a Friday, as the week was winding down and Jung Kook was thinking of possible weekend plans, Namjoon quickly walked into his office after a brief warning knock to his door. 

“We have a surprise meeting with Mr. Park.” Namjoon explained. “He just flew in from Seoul with his fiancé, and called me to say they want to meet with us. They’ll be here in a few minutes, so grab your notes and meet me in the conference room.” 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened and he responded with a quick “ok”, before gathering up his collection of papers into a manila folder, and walking to meet Namjoon, stopping momentarily only to grab another quick cup of coffee to make sure he was alert. Being his first client meeting since joining the firm, he wanted to make sure he was at his best. 

Settling into the conference room, Jung Kook looked over his notes, and made sure to have a pen to write down anything he may need later. He could see a light reflection of himself in the wall of windows facing the rest of the office, which he used to make sure his hair and suit looked presentable. He was hoping that with the money he made off of this case, he could buy a new, nicer suit like the one he saw in a shop window that he passed by not long ago. 

His thoughts of a modest suit however were quieted by the presence of what he knew immediately to be his client walking down the office halls, nearing the conference room. Dressed in a luxurious, designer black suit and Louboutin loafers, Park Jimin was striking at first glance. He hid his eyes behind black sunglasses despite being indoors, and his dyed blonde hair complimented his glowing complexion and lush, pink lips. He looked expensive, the textbook definition of an heir. 

The woman by his side looked gorgeous, Jung Kook thought. She was also beautifully dressed, in a sharp, maroon pencil dress and heels, with sunglasses also covering her eyes. Her Chanel bag dangled off her shoulder, her head was down, and her hand was intertwined with Mr. Park’s as they walked.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Park.” Namjoon greeted with a bow as he opened the door for the couple. “How was the flight in?” 

“It was excellent, thank you. Please, call me Jimin.” Jimin responded, taking off his sunglasses, before turning his attention to Jung Kook. “Hello, I’m not sure we’ve met.” 

“Jeon Jung Kook. I’ve just recently been added to look over the case.” Jung Kook smiled, standing up from his chair to bow. “It’s a pleasure.” 

“Park Jimin.” Jimin introduced himself. “And this is my fiancé, Y/N.” 

Y/N. Jung Kook repeated in his head, his eyes widening. It’s not possible. 

You took off your glasses before bowing to Namjoon, and raised to meet Jung Kook’s eyes. Your expression matched his own, recognizing the man instantly. 

“Jung Kook?” You smiled warmly. “Jeon Jung Kook? Oh my God, what a small world!” 

“You two know each other?” Namjoon asked with a raised brow. He looked over at the young lawyer, who was staring at you with large eyes and parted lips. 

“Jung Kook is an old classmate of mine.” You explained to Namjoon and your fiancé. “We went to the same university ages ago, when we were still living in Busan.” 

This was Jung Kook’s worst nightmare unfolding right before his eyes. Here you were. You. Just as warm, beautiful, and personable as ever. Just as clueless as ever. It was amazing how you could be such an angel, but put him through so much pain, and not even know it. 

“How have you been?” You asked with an innocent, bright grin. “I haven’t seen you in so long!” 

“I-I’ve… been good.” Jung Kook stuttered, causing the other men in the room to look at him with growing suspicion. 

“Honey, I don’t know that you’ve ever mentioned a Jung Kook.” Jimin said in a sweet tone directed at you, while his eyes judgmentally looked Jung Kook up and down. Namjoon nervously watched the interaction, waiting to bud in at any opportune time. 

“We just had a couple classes together.” You explained. “Jung Kook, wasn’t it um…” 

“History.” He finished your sentence, quicker and more deadpan in his tone than what he meant to. “And our political science class.” 

“That’s right!” You nodded. “I remember you were always so smart, I guess it makes perfect sense you practice law now.” 

“We’re happy to have him on the team.” Namjoon interjected, walking over to Jung Kook’s side of the table. He noted how Jimin still seemed unsure of Jung Kook’s mannerisms, and wanted to press on with the meeting. “Let’s get started, I’m sure the two of you have plans for the evening.” 

Everyone took their seat, and Jung Kook stared at the blank notepad in front of him. He could feel Jimin’s eyes on him, but pretended not to be bothered. He scribbled down the date on the paper, desperate to not meet the client’s gaze. 

“So, we reviewed the case.” Namjoon began, seeing how Jimin’s death stare didn’t shake from Jung Kook as he spoke. “We think that we have an excellent shot at winning, and to be completely honest, we’re expecting the judge to throw the case out.” 

“That’s great news!” You said excitedly. “Honey, you’ve been so worried about this.” 

Jimin looked at you, his eyes softening and a soft smile appearing. He rested a hand on your thigh, and looked over towards Namjoon. 

“That is great news. Thank you, Mr. Kim.” 

“Jung Kook has been reviewing the case for several days now, and he put together a couple arguments that we’ll present to the court, and have this ordeal finished, so you can move on.” 

“Y-Yeah, so um…” Jung Kook started, the weight of everyone’s stare feeling heavy and thick in the air. He was careful to avoid your eyes in particular, sure that his reaction would be less than professional. “First of all, the numbers allegedly presented to investors were never your numbers, Mr. Park, they were the numbers that your father had supposedly projected. The suit is filed against you, not the company, so we can argue that you cannot be held personably liable for any losses. A-Also, there’s no um… There’s no physical evidence of these exact projections being shown that the plaintiffs presented so um… We could argue insufficient evidence.” 

If Jung Kook were brave, he’d look up from his notes to see the way you grinned at him with the same, beautiful smile he used to see walking across campus every day. If he were brave, he’d tell you how beautiful that smile, and the rest of you, have always been to him. 

If he were brave, he would’ve told you that a long time ago. But Jung Kook has never been brave. Not then, and definitely not now. Not when his client is shooting daggers at him from across the table, and a sparkling 24k gold and diamond on your finger reminds him of the thing he’s always known; you’re too good for someone like him. You deserve more. 

“I think that sounds like an excellent plan.” Jimin said calmly, eyeing the young lawyer up and down, before turning his attention to you. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “I think Mr. Jeon has this whole thing figured out. What do you think, darling?”

“I agree.” You blushed at your fiancé’s uncharacteristic public affection. “He’s always been so smart.” 

“It seems so.” Jimin responded. “In that case, I believe we can wrap up this check-in meeting. I’d like to take my love out to dinner tonight. It’s her first time in New York City.” 

“Is it?” Namjoon’s voice was pleasant but quick as he spoke. “Well, let’s not keep you two waiting. Thank you for coming in, and we’ll be in touch. Please, Mr. Park, don’t be afraid to reach out to either of us if you need anything.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jimin said, getting up from his chair and helping you out of yours before bowing to the lawyers. 

“Jung Kook, it was so nice to see you.” You said, waving at him while Jimin placed a hand on your back to lead you from the room. “Thank you for working on this for us.” 

“O-Of course.” He bowed. “You two have a nice night.” 

With that, Jimin led you away from the room and down the office, and Jung Kook watched as he took your hand in his and caressed your skin with his thumb. It amazed him how even after all this time, seeing you with another man makes his chest ache. 

“So….” Namjoon’s irritable voice said, leaning against the table. “You want to tell me what the fuck that was about?” 

“It’s nothing.” Jung Kook responded quietly, cleaning up his papers to avoid making eye contact. “Just an old classmate.” 

“Nothing?” Namjoon asked with a scoff. “Our client just burned a hole through you with his glare the entire meeting, and you want to call that nothing?” 

“I want to go home.” Jung Kook said with growing frustration. “I promise, it’s nothing. It’s just been a hard first few weeks, ok?” 

Jung Kook was headed out the door quickly, when Namjoon grabbed his arm to make him stop for a moment.

“If something is going on with our client’s fiancé… if there’s a history there or whatever, you need to let me know so we can manage this. We can’t lose Jimin as a client, we’d both be out of a job. He brings in too much money.” 

“What, does he get into this type of shit a lot or something?” 

“What do you think?” Namjoon asks. “It’s part of the job, dealing with rich clients that have more money than sense. They didn’t teach you that in class? Or were you too busy ogling her?” 

“It’s really nothing.” Jung Kook said, this time more calmly through gritted teeth. “I just need to go home.” 

Namjoon sighed as Jung Kook left the room, and cursed his luck with the obvious situation under his breath. 

[venus-haze]

Stakeout (Billy Butcher x Reader)

Summary: Ever since you started working with Butcher and The Boys again, life has been exciting, invigorating—and stressful. During a stakeout, Butcher mixes the personal with the professional to help you relieve some of the tension you’ve been carrying around.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Takes place vaguely in season 1. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content involving semi-public fingering, light degradation, and voyeurism (Butcher is insane. So is Homelander.)

You hadn’t been on a stakeout in years when Butcher asked—demanded, really—that you come along with him to keep an eye on Vought Tower overnight. Something about letting Hughie get some sleep while you two tried to keep tabs on A-Train’s comings and goings. It was easy enough to see through his bullshit, but rather than call him on it, boredom from your day job and curiosity of what he had up his sleeve made you agree.

Butcher at least had the decency to pick up some snacks from a bodega near your apartment, mostly beef jerky and bags of chips. Kept the radio low on some classic rock station, the two of you sitting in near silence across the street from the tower for the better part of an hour. His car hadn’t changed much from the last time you were in it. Except for the new pine tree air freshener—though new was a stretch. It’d long since lost its scent, but the blue wasn’t as sun-bleached as the old one. Funny, the things you remember.

“This feels like a waste of time. Even if we were here to spy on A-Train, which you and I both know we’re not, there’s no way we’d be able to actually see him leave and come back,” you finally said. “And Homelander wouldn’t leave out of Vought’s front door unless he was doing some publicity to appeal to us plebeians.”

“You got a point.”

“So what’re we doing here?” 

“Y’think the cunt can see us?” he asked.

“Who? Homelander?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t the point of a stakeout that we’re not supposed to be seen?”

“S’why I’m asking, love.”

You sighed. “Unless he’s somewhere we can’t see him, then I guess not.”

“Perfect.”

He put his hand on your knee, his fingers inching their way up your pencil skirt. You didn’t have time to change out of your office clothes when Butcher picked you up at your apartment. Even though you were back with his crew, you hadn’t quit your day job just yet, working for some stupid startup that somehow landed a contract with Vought. Gave you some insight into what they were up to, at least made your presence in the tower the least suspicious of anyone else, able to say you were there for business.

You shifted in the passenger seat a bit. “Butcher, what’re you—“

“Tryin’ to help you relax,” he said, his fingers brushing your clit through your panties. “You’ve been tense as hell lately.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. He was right. Linking up with Butcher again after so many years gave you a renewed sense of purpose, but with that came the stress, the late nights, the close calls. In the comfort of his car, just the two of you where no one else could see, maybe you could let him take control for a while.

“How tense, Butcher?” you asked, leaning back in the seat. “Tell me.”

“Workin’ yourself too hard for a bunch of sorry pricks,” he said, his voice low and husky as he tugged at your panties. You lifted your hips so he could pull them to your knees. “Can’t have that when I need you now, yeah?”

You nodded breathlessly as he slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out slowly, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. His gaze, dark and intense, always had a way of making you feel acutely aware of his attention on you, even when you weren't looking at him. Sometimes unnerving, but in cases like this, utterly exposed despite being fully clothed.

“Been a long time, huh? You miss this? You miss when I'd take care of your cunt?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “God, Butcher, keep going.”

“Thought of callin’ you a few times the past few years. You were always a good fuck,” he husked, his lips, his rough beard brushing across your neck and jaw. “Look at you now, people walking by, and you don’t give a damn who can see you, long as you get off, huh?”

“Butcher—“

“Bet if I’d taken my cock out instead, you’d have sucked me off. Take it all like the cockslut I know you are. You fuck anyone else the past few years? They know how to treat you? Know how to make you feel good?”

“Yes—No—I don’t know.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re pretty when you’re close. How close are you, love?”

“Fuck—I’m close. I’m so fucking close. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” you babbled, choking out a moan when he slipped a third finger inside you. “Keep going, just like that.”

He was pushing you, knew your limits better than anyone, and as much as you hated to admit it, you needed it. Hadn’t realized until then how long it’d been since you’d really been fucked until he curled his fingers inside you, and your brain felt like someone poured soda over it, your skin burning for more.

You didn’t care who saw, all you cared about was getting there, and you were so fucking close it made you screw your eyes shut and cry out in frustration. Jesus, no wonder you were willing to jump back in when Butcher showed up on your doorstep. Everyday was bland, the same old bullshit. There was plenty of bullshit when it came to Butcher and whatever harebrained schemes he came up with, but it was a hell of a lot more fun than typing up reports and sitting through meetings.

“C’mon, love. Put on a show. Let me hear ya.”

You opened your eyes, only to catch Butcher staring out the windshield. Following his gaze, you let out a panicked whine upon seeing a red glow honed in on you, long enough to be sure he was watching. You came on Butcher’s fingers with a perverse moan, pleasure coursing through you as you dug your fingers into the console. You threw your head back, your hips jerking upward as you rode out your orgasm on his hand. 

Butcher was relentless when he wanted to be, and you weakly tapped out, squeezing his muscular arm, whining a bit nevertheless when he pulled his hand away. Sparing another glance at the windshield, the red glow was gone. Homelander was gone.

You told yourself it was the surge of fear-fueled adrenaline that brought you over the edge, not exhilaration at being seen, being caught in such a vulnerable state by the most powerful supe in the world. Definitely not. But you kind of hated yourself for not feeling more humiliated, instead, as you obsessively replayed the scene in your head as Butcher drove down the street, you were thrilled by it. 

Still, he should’ve fucking warned you, given you some kind of heads up. You held your tongue until you were sure the sound of traffic would hide your voice from any superpowered hearing.

“You fucking prick!” you hissed, smacking his shoulder. “You banked on Homelander being enough of a pervert to watch us?”

“Killed two birds with one stone. You feel better now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reluctantly conceded.

“Attagirl.” He grinned. “I think I know where the cunt’s going.”

You balked. “I can’t look him in the eye after this.”

“You kind of already did.”

“Fuck you, Butcher.”

He glanced at you again, squeezing your thigh. “I’ll make it up to you later, love. Don’t you worry.”

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 4

Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3 

There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating. 

In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him. 

“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?” 

As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on. 

You know, for fun.

With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?” 

Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade. 

Not of his own free will, anyway. 

“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later. 

“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.

A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once. 

“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!” 

He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”  

“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”

“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day. 

This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.

(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.

The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )

“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense. 

“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.” 

"Hey, language!" 

Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.

He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.) 

“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.” 

(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )

Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him. 

“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster. 

“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?” 

“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!” 

“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.” 

“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that” 

Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it. 

“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.” 

“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.

The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.)  She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!” 

“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.” 

Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.” 

“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?” 

“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as. 

He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie. 

His best friend was going to fucking freak. 

“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?” 

“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!” 

“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.  

(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult. 

Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.) 

Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”

 Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”

Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.” 

Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.” 

Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth. 

The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on. 

It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made. 

(Even if half of them would never admit to it.) 

“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache. 

“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch. 

“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?” 

The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway. 

It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade. 

(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)

Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.” 

He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.” 

“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.” 

“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face. 

“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face. 

“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder. 

“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!” 

“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him. 

“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door. 

“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand. 

Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man. 

Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now. 

xXx

“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around." 

More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over. 

“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.” 

“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.” 

"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.

Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics)  didn't look up from his bass.

Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff. 

"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically. 

"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."

He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit. 

He came up empty. 

"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?" 

He got a flat stare back. "No." 

"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places. 

They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real. 

"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick. 

"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula." 

"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick. 

"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?"  Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.

He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process. 

"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him." 

"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?" 

"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him. 

Grant blinked. "The fuck?" 

“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.

“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!” 

Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.

“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”

Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.

“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit. 

Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be. 

“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing. 

“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.” 

“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van. 

“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one. 

“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!” 

“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head. 

Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet. 

“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.” 

“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter. 

“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him. 

“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.  

“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning. 

“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either. 

Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"  

He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture. 

Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently. 

 "I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished. 

Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds. 

Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always. 

How silent his normally loud house would be. 

Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle. 

"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely." 

The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that. 

“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling. 

“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.

“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.

No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster. 

 "Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"

"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.  

 "So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious. 

“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out." 

His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.” 

“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.” 

“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly. 

Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear. 

“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment. 

"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.

Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.  

"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out. 

Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye. 

"No."  Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it." 

"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?"  Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?" 

"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances. 

They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems. 

"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.

Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal. 

Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes. 

"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it. 

If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks. 

"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot. 

Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."

Gareth made a face. "Please don't."

He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan." 

"God help us all." Jeff muttered. 

(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.) 

Bonus: 

"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school. 

Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.

 Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically. 

In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count." 

“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”

Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.” 

"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?" 

"That was different. I was discovering myself." 

Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"

"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered. 

"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there." 

"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."

Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."

Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs." 

"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!" 

"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."

Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. 

"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it." 

"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it." 

"I hate you." 

Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know." 

[reverie-starlight]

{need you now- hawks}

y’all remember need you now by lady antebellum?

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. angst-ish? kinda fluffy. I’ll be doing a part two of this from keigo’s perspective eventually.

you can’t sleep.

this has been happening more and more lately, and you wonder how much more you can take without starting to hallucinate.

he’s back home from a mission now, which you only found out because of one of his fan accounts. well- “home”. he’s been staying in the luxurious house the commission kept aside for him. nothing homely about it according to keigo, but it’s not like he has much of a choice.

not after you got caught up in the argument and told him you wanted nothing to do with him.

you had shrugged it off when you saw the post, not knowing if it’s been too long to try and reconcile, but now you’re going down memory lane, holding back tears as you flip through the photo album he made you.

you fight yourself to stay off your phone, but you get to a photo of him kissing your cheek and you can’t stop yourself any longer. the loneliness you’ve been feeling all this time finally wins out.

the clock reads 1:15 AM.

is he even awake right now?

it’s been a month… and he’s always so busy, do you even cross his mind anymore? he always seems to be on yours.

you call anyway, against your better judgement and your heart lurches into your throat when he actually answers.

after two rings, at that.

“hello?” his voice both soothes you and chills you to your bones at the same time.

“hi keigo,” you whisper.

“hi, ba-“ you think he’s about to call you baby out of habit and you wish he hadn’t stopped himself. “did you need something?”

he sounds… somber. solemn. sad.

not at all like the keigo you love.

guilt pools in your stomach at the mere idea of you hurting him this badly.

“I…” you bite your lip. “I miss you.”

you hear his breath hitch. “really?”

you wish you could see his expression and figure out what he’s feeling. he’s always been so good at keeping his voice free of emotion.

granted, he always tried to turn that skill off around you, so you gather that he must be feeling guarded.

you keep going. “I’m so sorry for that night, keigo. I said things that I didn’t mean and I regret it so much… I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

he’s quiet on the line for a few beats and then and exhaled “I’m sorry too, baby. we both said some pretty awful things, didn’t we?”

you laugh, but it sounds a bit more like a sob to you. “yeah,” your voice breaks. “keigo, I… I need you here with me. can you please come over so we can talk about this?”

he clears his throat, likely working overtime to continue to keep the growing emotion out of his voice, but it sounds thick when it breaks anyway. “y-eah. yeah, I can come over. I need you too. I’ll be there soon, okay? unlock the window for me, sweetheart.”

he hangs up and you quickly move to do as he asked.

five minutes later, he’s on your balcony, sliding the glass and slipping into your room.

he immediately wraps you in his arms and your body, once cold and empty, fills with a warmth only he could provide.

he’s whispering words into your scalp. “I love you, y’know that? I love you too much to ever want to break up.”

you nod against his chest, letting the tears flow freely. “I love you too. I’m sorry,” these words are repeated between the two of you- they shoot out of your mouth and hit his chest, sinking into his skin and bubbling up his throat only for them to hit your scalp and absorb into your brain, then fall out of your mouth again like a well oiled machine working overtime.

but there’s nothing habitual about these phrases- as is the case for any time you say them, they’re promises.

promises that will never be broken again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve had this idea for a while and I finally wrote it :3

AND I’m gonna work on this from his POV, which I’m almost more excited abt than this one 👀

@emmyrosee sum angst (ish)

[blue-blue-blooms]

A Little Crush   

Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Part 1

Summary: In which Eddie develops a crush on the Henderson sister.

You weren't sure exactly when your life had gone to absolute shit. Was it when you found a strange, superpowered adolescent girl living in Mike Wheeler's basement? Was it when you walked in on a baby demogorgan eating your cat? Or was it when you were drugged by evil Russians operating under Starcourt Mall? You couldn't even remember a time when life was normal. If someone had told you that you would become best friends with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington and fight literal monsters from an alternate universe alongside Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan 'The Creep' Byers a few years ago, you would've laughed in their face. Now? You'd survived the most traumatising events of your life alongside these people. You were bonded for life.

The last few years had also made you closer with Dustin. You loved your baby brother and his weird friends, especially since you'd spent so much time babysitting them. But no amount of love could make you say yes to what they were asking of you.

"Please?" Dustin begged, following you down the hallway as you made your way to Ms. O'Connell's class.

"No! I have, like, three essays due this week, Dustin. I don't have the time to sub." You respond.

"It's only for tonight! Lucas can't make it and we really need a sub. We're nearly done with the campaign and Eddie will kill us if we make him reschedule!" Dustin pleads.

You were really happy that Dustin and Mike had found a safe space in high school. Lord knows those two idiots needed it. Freshmen year is probably the toughest of them all. You're new, scared, and lonely. You were really glad that they'd found friends, a place where they could be their nerdy selves and feel accepted. Hell, even you'd dabbled in their interests when you'd babysat them. DnD wasn't half bad, and not nearly as hard to undertand as you once thought. You'd spent many nights in Mike's basement playing with them. The first few times, you'd get your character killed in the first fifteen minutes. But after a while, you started making progress (even though you're convinced that the party was exceptionally lenient with you after you once burst into tears over getting killed off).

"I'll do your half of the chores for a week!" Dustin exclaims.

That makes you stop.

"A week?" You turn around to look at him, "Make it two weeks and I'll sub."

"Two? Are you insane!?" Dustin yells, making a few people lingering in the hallway turn and look at you both.

"Two or no deal, Dusty Buns," You tease, "And be quick, I'm late for my class."

"Fine!" Dustin says, "And stop calling me 'Dusty Buns'"

"Why? Is that nickname just for Suzy Poo?" You tease.

Dustin glowers at you as you walk off.

♡♡♡

"So, who's the DM?" You ask as you walk alongside Dustin and Mike.

"It's Eddie, Eddie Munson. He's a senior. Long hair, wears a hellfire T-Shirt, I talk about him constantly. God, do you ever listen to me?" Dustin claims exasperatedly.

"Oh! Eddie as in your new favorite older male best friend who Steve's weirdly jealous of?" You ask, "I've seen him around. Is he the one who jumps on lunch tables and yells a lot?"

"Yup." Mike responded, "He's a bit scary when he's revved up. Just warning you beforehand in case he comes off...a bit intimidating."

You nod.

"Hasn't he been held back, like, three times?" You ask.

Before either of the boys could answer, you reach the room. The first thing you see is the table where the game is set. There are three boys sat around, all with Hellfire T-Shirts on. Your eyes fleet from one to the other until finally landing on Eddie. You recognise him immediately from the amount of times you've seen him yelling in the cafeteria.

Dustin and Mike failed to mention how cute he was, you think.

His hair was long and wavy. He was wearing multiple rings. And he was covered in tattoos. You're pretty sure you saw a few bats peeking from under his sleeve.

"Who's this?" One of the guys asks, making all three turn around and look at you.

"This is Y/N! She's subbing for Lucas!" Mike says, the words spilling out fast and nervously.

Why the hell are they so jittery?

"Yeah, she's my sister! The one I mentioned a couple days ago." Dustin adds.

"Does she even know how to play DnD?" The other boy asks.

"Okay, excuse me, I wouldn't have come if I didn't know how to play," You finally speak, waving your hand a little to get their attention.

"So, this is your infamous sister?" Eddie finally speaks, his eyes landing on you, "You know, I thought he made you up. What's your class and level? Level One Elf?"

Elf? Is he mocking me?

"Are you mocking me?" You ask incredously.

"Is he mocking me?" you turn towards Dustin and Mike who immediately start gesticulating, probably asking you to shut up.

"My name is Aeren Sirenfall and I'm a level 14 chaotic good half-elf rogue. I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow...agonising...death." You say, your voice slow and hard as you glare at Eddie, "So, are we gonna play this stupid game or not?"

You're pretty sure you hear one of the boys mutter a 'she's terrifying' to Dustin.

You watch as Eddie's eyes slowly soften and a grin emerges on his face, "Welcome to Hellfire Club."

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 5)

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 3.5k p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

⚠️CW: graphic descriptions of injury, blood & gore, combat (people die), painful goodbyes, swearing (I wrote it so there's swearing, but I think you all know that by now)

Synopsis: The story of how you sacrificed yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before. And what the fuck is Kreacher up to?

👋AN: I have never written (well anything TBF) combat/action before and I was very uncomfortable the entire time so I'm 1) glad it's over (for now) and 2) very sorry if it's awkward or painful to read. I'd love feedback or suggestions as I believe this story may involve more. xx

The spring-time sun meant you had an easier time staying comfortable during the day, but as the sun dipped below the top of the building across from you, it was becoming increasingly harder to stay warm. You sat on an overturned crate in an abandoned building watching the alleyway below you as you nibbled on a granola bar. It tasted like ash.

“Should we check in again?” James asked, leaning in front of you to peek out the partially broken window.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “We checked in only minutes ago, Prongs.”

He hummed in disgruntled acknowledgment. 

“Do you ever think about just like jumping when you look out a window?” James asked as he leaned a little too close to the jagged edge of the window for your liking.

“Pardon me?”

“You know, like when you’re on a bridge and you think ‘I could totally just launch myself off of this right now’, or when you’re holding something really expensive or delicate and you just want to throw it at a wall.”

You stared at your friend for a moment.

“Those are called intrusive thoughts, Jamie.”

“Are they bad?”

“Only when they stop being thoughts and turn into actions.”

“Got it.” He said with a nod.

“Hey, James?”

“Yeah.”

“Step away from the window please.”

He sighed and plopped down unceremoniously beside you. You offered him the rest of your granola bar which he only accepted once you assured him you were finished. 

You moved to sit on the floor so the two of you could play tic-tac-toe in the dust. James complained about breaking a nail and you agreed to check in with Emmeline and Benjy twice more over the following few hours.

“Okay; fuck, marry, avada: Helga Hufflepuff, the Minister of Magic, Merlin.” James asked.

You blew out a breath and leaned back onto your hands. “Hmmmm, how many times do I have to fuck them?”

“Just once.”

“Okay, and do I have to stay married forever and ever?”

“Uh, duh. Till death do you part.” He answered incredulously. 

“Will I die soon?”

James gave you an unimpressed look.

“Okay, uhm, ugh, I hate politicians, James.”

“I don’t want your life story, just answer the question.” 

“Fine. Fuck Merlin, marry Helga, avada the Minister.” You said, though you couldn’t help but cautiously look over your shoulder lest the Minister himself hear your treasonous answer. 

“Explain.”

“I just think Helga would treat me right.”

James nodded solemnly. “And the others?”

“You just said you didn’t want my life story.” 

“You’re right. Do me next.”

“In your dreams, Potter.”

James rolled his eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” 

You chuckled and looked down at the street again.

“I don’t know James; it’s been pretty quiet. How long have we been here?” 

James shifted his weight to one hand in order to check his watch. “Well, we got here at, what, eight this morning? It’s been about twelve hours of nothing.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “What do you think? Do you want to get home to Lily and Haz, or keep watch?” 

James groaned. “I always want to go home to Lily and Haz, but Benjy and Em were on this stake out yesterday too.”

You nodded and stood. You conjured your patronus and told Benjy and Emmeline that it was quiet enough for them to leave, and that James and you would stay for a little bit longer just in case. The silvery fox jumped once before it disappeared through the walls of the building, sending your message to the other team.

James chuckled. “Do you remember how pissed off Sirius was when he found out you had become an animagus?”

You smirked at the memory. “That was back when he hated me.”

James guffawed. “He never hated you.”

“Yes, he did!”

“Nuh uh, he thought he was playing it cool, but he fell just as hard for you as I did with my Lily flower.”

You shook your head. “No one fell as hard as you did, Jamie.”

“Too true.” He agreed. “I’m the best at everything I do.”

“I think he was mostly mad that I’d managed to do it by myself, whilst the three of you bumbled your way through it together.”

“Yeah. You started after us and managed to finish before Pete did.”

You chuckled at the memory.

(Hogwarts boat-house, 4th year)

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up about this.”

Sirius looked at you incredulously. “Uhm, how about because it’s dangerous? What even compelled you to do something like this?”

“Uhm, you guys were doing it?”

“So?”

“So? If you can do it, why can’t I?” 

“Do you know how much trouble you could get into for this?” He asked while pinching the space between his brows.

“Why? Are you going to rat me out?”

Sirius guffawed. “I’m not a snitch, Dollface.”

You smiled wickedly at him. “Good, then shut up about it.”

You stood and stretched your limbs, stiff from the day of waiting for nothing to happen.

“I’m confused, James.” You said, poking your head into the window again. “Didn’t the tip suggest that this was a major meeting spot for Death Eaters and allies?”

James hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Then why haven’t we seen anything all day?”

He looked at you curiously. “I don’t know...isn’t no news good news?”

You groaned. “I don’t know. Not if we’re to believe the tip.”

“You think it was false?” 

You made a non-committal sound as you started to pace the room. 

“I mean, I guess it is weird for nothing to happen two days in a row.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. “Two days?”

James nodded at you. “Yeah, Emmeline and Benjy were here yesterday.”

“They were here yesterday?”

“Are you feeling okay? I literally just said that.” 

“Fuck, James, where did this tip come from?”

James scrunched his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Vix.”

You both stared at each other for a few moments. “I think we should leave.” You said.

“Apparate to location seven?” James asked as you helped him stand.

“Yep.”

You both pulled your wands and spun to apparate.

You looked at each other in confusion. 

After a quick nod, you both spun again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered before moving back to the window; neither teams had any problems apparating in or out earlier today.

“Vix, this isn’t good.” 

“Alright,” you breathed out, squaring your shoulders, “alright. Let’s scout the area. We’ll find out where this anti-apparition ward ends and get the hell out of here.”

James, looking far paler than he had moments ago, offered you one nod before getting into stance and following you to the door. 

You grabbed the handle and heard an awful searing sound before you realized it was the sound of your hand against the metal doorknob. 

“FUCK!” You shouted as you pulled your hand away, blisters already littering the palm of your hand. James quickly cast an auguamenti over your hand followed by a glacius. The stinging slowly subsided but you could still feel your heartbeat in your palm, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. 

James leaned his ear closer to the door. “I...I feel like I hear a dragon?”

You paled. 

“Fiendfyre.”

You moved over to the window and cast a despulso, shattering the remaining glass and leaning out of it. 

“This way.” You said to James over your shoulder before changing into Vixen and jumping down two storeys. Your paws stumbled beneath you as you landed awkwardly, but you fared better than you would have in your human form.

James looked down at you from the window as you changed back to your human form before giving him a quick nod. He jumped and you cast an arresto momentum, slowly lowering him to the ground. 

You both tried to apparate again to no prevail. James cast a revelio which illuminated the shimmery grid lock of the ward around you. 

“It doesn’t look like it goes far. We just need to make it to the street.” James said as he nodded his head down the alleyway. 

You began in that direction when two shadowy, masked figures stepped into the alley from the street. You huffed and figured you’d fare better on the other end, save having to climb over the barbed wire. When you turned again to run, another set of masked figures stepped out on that end too.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” One of them sing-songed. 

“Through the building.” James commanded and the two of you moved to the door of the building across the alleyway.

James cast a despulso to open the door as you threw a bombarda at the second set of Death Eaters. You narrowly dodged a confringo as more bolts of light shot your way.

You ran down the hall, looking around corners for signs of an exit. You passed a hallway and felt a hand grab your arm before you were slammed into the wall.

A wand was pressed to your throat when you heard James cast a flipendo. The wizard pinning you was sent flying, so you righted yourself and grabbed James’s hand before sprinting down the hallway again. 

You shot a hex at a fire extinguisher as you passed it which fogged up the hallway behind you. 

“Confringo!” A voice suddenly shouted from ahead. A ball of fire hit James’s square in the chest as he moved to block you from it. He fell to the ground with a thud as you cast a protego around the two of you. 

Three more casts bounced off of your shield before you shot an incendio at them, watching the robes and masks melt away before the wizards turned to ash. 

“You idiot!” You gritted through your teeth as you cast healing charms over James’ burn. 

“Wake up James, get your arse up.” You insisted, gripping his chin and shaking his head back and forth. 

You looked up at the sound of running and shot another bombarda behind you. The sickening sound of a body hitting a wall and sliding to the ground let you know you hit your mark as you continued to rouse James.

“You need to get up James. Come on, let’s go.” You said as you hauled him into a sitting position. You mentally cursed him and his dedication to the gym as you tried to manhandle his 183cm (six-foot) pure muscle figure. The movement caused him to groan.

“Yes, come on Prongs, get up, we need to go.” You insisted, giving him another shake. The burning in your hand was starting to return and you felt the beginnings of a wicked headache coming on. You could hear shouting from the floor above you – you had company. 

The wall behind you exploded suddenly and threw you both across the hall. Your head made a sickening crack as it met the brick wall and James was covered with rubble.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You moaned as you felt heat spread down your neck. You ripped a large piece of glass from your right thigh as you stood, which began to bleed far too quickly for your liking. Wobbly as all hell, you moved over to James and pulled the cinderblocks from his body.

“Come on Potter,” you muttered. “You’ve got a wife and kid at home.”

He groaned in agony as you pulled him into a crouch.

“And you’ve got a Sirius.” He slurred.

“Exactly,” you grunted as you used your wand to throw a piece of wall at some assailants to your left. “And if I go home to my boyfriend without his boyfriend, he will have my head.”

Both of you hissed in pain as you stood, but you trudged through the rubble and moved to the end of the hall. You pushed through a door which brought you out into an alleyway parallel to the one you guys had just been in. You cast a revelioand saw that the anti-apparition ward ended at the sidewalk about ten yards away. 

The sound of an explosion followed by screaming made you turn. The building you and James had been in for your stake out had been completely consumed by the fiendfyre and was spreading to the building you just exited. 

“The fiendfyre caused friendly fire.” James muttered. 

You pushed at his shoulder and directed him toward the street. “James, this way, we’re almost-” 

“BOMBARDA.”

“No!”

The wind was knocked clean out of you and your senses vanished. You saw bright white and couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in your ears. You tried to stay calm as you willed your lungs to take in more air. 

You were aware of someone standing above you, or in front of you, but you couldn’t see or hear them. There were hands, warm hands, you were being shaken. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” 

Choking.

You could hear choking.

You could hear!

You hear yourself choking. 

You sucked in a deep breath that caused an unbelievable amount of pain in your stomach; the breath shuddered as it left your body. 

“No, no, no. Vix please.”

You opened your eyes. Though your eyesight was still white around the edges you could see James’ face in front of yours.

“Y/N, we’re almost there.” James whimpered, tilting his head toward the sidewalk where the ward line ended. You lifted your hand to your head even though it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and when you pulled your hand back it was red. 

“James.” You choked out. “Go, I’ll find you.”

“Y/N.”

You attempted to sit up straighter, but it elicited a strangled sob from you. You felt a strange pressure in the left of your stomach, and when you looked down you could see why.

Your head, also feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, lolled as you lifted your shirt to expose a metal rod that had impaled you from behind. Your view of the injury quickly became obscured as blood flowed from the wound. Between the wound to your thigh, and now your stomach, the gravel below you was quickly becoming drenched in your blood. You knew then. This injury was well beyond either of your wheelhouse.

“Jamie.”

“No.”

“James.” You whined quietly, lolling your head back against the fence behind you. “You have to go.” 

“Y/N, I won’t. I cannot leave without you.” 

“You have to.” 

“No.” He cried miserably. 

You took a few breaths, heart hurting both from blood loss and for your partner.

“What about Sirius? Hm?” He shot at you.

You smiled at the thought of your sweet boy. You felt like you could smell him now; worn leather, caramel, and his cigarettes. You knew he tried to spell the smell away, but it never really worked; you’d learned to associate the scent with him though, so you mostly didn’t mind. 

“You’ll take care of him for me, won’t you?” You asked your friend, offering him a tired smile. Tears fell from his eyes; he was too pretty to cry, you thought. 

“Vix, please, he needs you.”

“Thank him for me?”

James sobbed.

“I’m so-” you grunted and fought the urge to gag. “I’m so thankful for him. For all of you.”

“Y/N.”

“Tell him I’d do it all again. Every moment of it. If it meant I got to love him.” You breathed in deeply. “It was worth every minute of it.” 

A portion of the building behind James collapsed in on itself under the flames, but neither of you moved your gaze from the other. 

“Tell him for me?” You asked again.

James’s face was scrunched in pain as he nodded.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He cried.

“I’m not.” You said as you shook your head. “I don’t re-I don’t-” You tried to take a deep breath but found yourself unable to.

“I don’t regret anything.” You finished on an exhale. 

The building behind James continued to fall as smoke and debris fell around the two of you. You shakily lifted one of your hands to his face and wiped at the tear tracks lining his cheeks. You lifted your wand in the other and cast a diffindo at the death eaters approaching behind him. You were thankful your vision was going, knowing the sight behind James would be unbelievably gruesome. 

“I-” you started, your breathing becoming erratic. “I love you. All of you.”

James nodded as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

“I am so lucky to have known you, Vix.”

“Go now.” You said quietly.

James held your head to his shoulder.

“You - you have to go.” 

James kissed your head again.

“Go.”

You rested your head against your own shoulder as you watched James hobble to the end of the alleyway. You did it, you thought to yourself, you saved him.

James made it to the sidewalk when he turned to face you. You tried to offer him one last smile as he spun and apparated away.

A sob tore through you, and it felt as though it emptied your lungs of any remaining air. 

No matter, you wouldn’t need air anymore anyway.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it home, Siri.” You thought. “I’ll find you in our next life, and I’ll love you there too.” 

With a shuddering sigh, you fell asleep. 

It was dark. It made sense. Death would be dark. Should it be cold? Perhaps. You only wished it wasn’t also painful. It was quiet, but you could hear.

“Why waste your energy on a pathetic mudblood?”

“Information. Knowledge is power, after all.”

“Couldn’t you have found a mudblood that wasn’t so close to death then?”

“We would’ve had more to choose from had someone not thought to fight with fiendfyre instead of a good old incendio.”

“Incendio was boring, I wanted to spice things up a little.”

“Your penchant for spice lost us numbers, Junior. The Dark Lord will not be pleased.”

“Then we’ll get the mudblood talking. Once we get information, the numbers won’t matter.” 

“You ignorant-”

“Enough! What’s done is done. Someone will have to take responsibility for the repercussions when the time comes.”

“Severus is right. For now, the mudblood comes with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The last prisoner did not even survive the night under your watch.”

“Pfft. You should have heard the mouth on that nasty witch. I did the world a favour.”

“Foulness tends to be a common trait of the Order. Please do keep up, Goyle.”

“I do not see how you are in any position to be barking orders around here. You are barely out of Hogwarts yourself, child.”

“Yes, and this child received their dark mark before they even graduated. In fact, Mulciber, I have had my mark longer than you.”

“What do you even want with the mudblood anyway?”

“Trying to keep it in the family, baby Black?”

“Yes, Purebloods tend to do that. I can see that your ancestors kept it a little too close to home, however.”

“You don’t know what to do with a prisoner; let the rest of us enjoy her a little.”

“I am not concerned about enjoying, you imbecile. I work for the Dark Lord, that is my only concern. I am one of the most skilled legillimens and occlumens here, I will not let my dick get in the way of getting information for the Dark Lord, unlike the rest of you, so I will take the mudblood.” 

“Hmph, well, we’ll see how long this lasts.”

You listen: Doors. Floorboards. Parchment. Fireplace.

...

...

“You’re awake.”

...

...

...

“Squeezing your eyes shut will not change the fact that I know you are awake.”

Are they talking to me?

“Yes, I am talking to you.”

Shit.

“Very elegant.”

I’m fucking alive?!

“Indeed, you are.”

You peeled your eyes open and blinked against the light above you. The room was dark, with dark-grained wood on the ceiling and walls, and little light save from the gaudy chandelier above you and a tiny window letting in a minuscule amount of light which seemed to dissipate by the time it reached one foot from the source.  

Your neck cracked loudly as you turned your head to the voice, and you swore you felt your heart fall out of your feet.

“You can’t be serious?” You rasped disbelievingly. 

“Close, but no.” The man smirked as he stood and moved toward the table you were lying on. “The name is Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black.”

You felt your heart rate pick up as you stared at the face of a man who held an uncanny similarity to your boyfriend. 

“I don’t suppose you happen to know occlumency, do you?”

You shook your head; unsure you could voice anything more than a horrified whimper.

“Shame. Well, for your sake, I hope you are a quick learner.” 

And he stupefied you. 

(Present)

“Kreacher, what have you done?” You spat angrily, twisting your arm in his grasp. He appeared wholly unimpressed with the situation and less than inclined to respond to you.

“Let go.” You muttered as you tried to tear your arm from the house-elf. For looking so small, thin, and well, decrepit, he was surprisingly strong. You considered pulling your wand when someone spoke.

“Release her.”

Your head shot up at the sound. You were met with a scarily familiar smirk that left you feeling weightless.

The elf obeyed, though you wish he hadn’t as you suddenly felt weak in the knees. 

“Welcome back, Y/N.” He smirked as he stood from his perch on the edge of an ornate desk. “Ready to finish this?” 

Continue to part six here.

[museanddream]

Heaven - part 2 || Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x reader

Warnings: 🔞 || threesome, poly relationship, oral sex, strap-ons, degrading language, bottom!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Part 2 of 3

Part 1 here

Ona bends to kiss you, slow and sweet, then gently coaxes you onto your hands and knees. Lucy has kicked off her boxers and now sits completely bare against the headboard, legs slightly parted as she waits for you.

“Come up here,” Lucy says.

You crawl up the bed until you’re kneeling between her legs. Lucy pushes herself off the headboard, abs tensing as she does, and grabs your jaw with one hand. Her grip is rougher than Ona’s was, hard enough to remind you who’s in charge, but the thumb that she rubs across the seam of your lips is gentle in comparison.

“We gotta find a good use for that filthy mouth, huh?” she murmurs, her gaze flicking down to your lips.

You nod, staying silent in case you say something that riles Lucy up even further.

“You’re gonna eat me out while Ona fucks you from behind,” Lucy tells you, letting go of your jaw. Her gaze flicks up to Ona, before she adds a second instruction, this time for the Spaniard. “She doesn’t come until I do.”

Ona nods obediently, jaw clenched, and helps guide you into position. Your knees are near the edge of the mattress, Ona standing behind you at the foot of the bed, your ass in the air ready to be filled by her cock again. In front of you, Lucy is relaxing against the cushions once more, legs spread so you can see the perfect lips shining with the evidence of her arousal.

Before you can get to work, Ona pulls you upright, wrapping her arms around you from behind as the toy presses against your ass and her mouth finds your neck. You tilt your head as your eyelashes flutter shut, giving her access to a wider expanse of skin, and she sends one hand south across your stomach until her fingers dip between your legs again. You’re so wet there’s no friction at all as her fingertips slide over your clit, taunting your entrance before sliding back up across your stomach, leaving a wet smear behind.

“Ona, please…”

“You heard Lucy.” Ona’s voice is nothing more than a low rumble in your ear, but it still has you pushing your hips back against her harness. “You get her off, then I’ll reward you. Does that sound good, cariño?”

You nod and let Ona guide you back down onto all fours. She’s so careful with you, stroking your back as you find a comfortable position between Lucy’s legs. That’s one of the big differences between them. Lucy likes to be rougher, likes to assert her control by throwing you around the bedroom or pinning you down with her strength. Ona is stronger than you too, could probably even give Lucy a run for her money, not that Lucy would ever admit to it or let her try, but so often chooses to be gentle instead.

Lucy notices too and calls Ona out.

“This is the problem, you know. This is why she acts out. You’re too fucking nice to her when she’s being a brat.”

Though you can’t see Ona’s face behind you, you can picture the smirk on her face from the tone of her voice as she points out, “I’m not the one she told to get fucked.”

Lucy’s eyes drop to meet yours, looking at the way you’re on your hands and knees between her legs, patiently waiting for instruction.

“Go on then,” she tells you. “Get on with it. This was your idea.”

Her voice is devoid of any emotion as her eyes bore into you, as if being eaten out by you is a chore she has to endure rather than a pleasure, but instead of putting you off, it only spurs you on, desperate to prove to Lucy that she should be craving you and the way you can make her feel.

You lower yourself onto your forearms and nuzzle your face into the inside of one of Lucy’s strong thighs, pressing a couple of kisses to the soft skin there, before you turn your head back and run your tongue through Lucy’s arousal. She’s soaked, and as you lick through her and hum at the taste, you feel pride swell in your chest. Lucy might pretend to be unbothered by the prospect of you going down on her, might put on a show of bravado and dominance and act like she’s in control, but the wetness collected by your tongue is evidence that she is affected by it all. Whether she’s turned on from watching Ona fucking you or if it’s just the power of having you willing to do pretty much anything just to be allowed to come, it doesn’t matter because she wants you.

Even though it’s against your own interests, you start slow, teasing Lucy with your tongue. You avoid her clit, you swirl around her glistening hole without actually dipping inside. Revenge, you could say, for the way she denied your own pleasure earlier.

But you don’t have the same resolve as Lucy, that’s probably why she’s dominating this encounter while you’re the one on your hands and knees with your ass in the air, because you can’t deny her for too long. Not because she makes you, not explicitly anyway, but because there’s more power in unravelling Lucy’s composure than there is in teasing her.

Your tongue gets more precise, finding the spots that you know drive her wild, settling into more of a rhythm. Your lips wrap around her clit, soft suction as you press the flat of your tongue against her, before licking down and curling the tip of your tongue inside her where her arousal gathers.

Apart from the wetness coating your lips and chin, there’s no sign that she’s moved by the way you work your tongue against her most intimate area at all.

It bothers you to no end that Lucy is so calm while you’re a desperate mess between her strong thighs.

You’re so focused on trying to elicit some kind of reaction from Lucy that you almost forget about Ona and her strap behind you.

Almost.

“Ready?” Ona’s voice is low as she speaks to you.

You can’t reply, not with your mouth occupied by Lucy, but you know that Ona is an ass girl and push your own up further into her hand to encourage her. The fingers of one hand squeeze the flesh appreciatively, while those on the other dip back between your legs, smearing your copious arousal around until you feel the digits replaced by the familiar silicone of the strap’s blunt head.

Ona pushes in, not forcefully, but without the same care to stretch you out slowly that she used before. The ache as she slides in and bottoms out is a pleasant one that has you humming against Lucy.

“She feels good, huh?” Lucy asks. You might be imagining the slight rasp to her voice but you feed off it, knowing that your tongue must finally be making her feel something.

You can’t answer without lifting your mouth from Lucy’s cunt and you don’t dare, but you let out a little moan of assent.

Behind you, Ona starts moving, only pulling out halfway but still managing to nudge that spot inside you with the toy’s blunt head on each slow thrust.

“Look at you,” Lucy continues. Your eyes find hers and are met with a strange look, her eyes hazy with lust but a scorning expression on her face. “Being used at both ends. Pathetic.”

If your tongue was not busy, you’re sure it would fire a sharp quip right back at Lucy, some clever retort to try and prove that you’re not just in this position because she’s put you there, that you like being the sole focus of their combined attention. But your hot head and smart mouth are what got you into this predicament in the first place and you don’t even want to dare to imagine how long Lucy will deny you from coming if you were to make even the tiniest slip up and question her authority again.

Behind you, Ona’s hand strokes your ass as she fucks into you, the gentle touch a contrast to Lucy’s harsh words. But if you’re honest, the cold way that Lucy addresses you is just as responsible for the delicious pressure building in your core as Ona’s strap is.

Ona fucks you steadily, hips less hurried than they were when she had you on your back. The pace shouldn’t be enough to get you there on its own, or at least it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t already been teased mercilessly, first by Ona’s tongue and fingers, then by her strap.

But something about this whole situation, being used by them both, having your own pleasure held ransom by Lucy and her willing accomplice Ona, has you hurtling towards the edge far quicker than should be possible.

You lift your mouth from Lucy’s pussy and gasp out, “Stop. I’m close. I’m gonna…”

Ona pulls out, leaving you pulsing around nothing. The ebb of the incoming orgasm washes away and leaves you feeling so frustrated that you almost wonder if you would’ve been better off coming without permission, inevitably facing the wrath of yet another punishment from Lucy but at least getting a little relief in the process.

As it is, you’re left more worked up than ever. You need to come, need to get Lucy off so that you can come.

For the first time, you start to regret the brattiness that got you in this predicament. Would they have let you come by now if you’d kept your mouth shut, if you’d laid obediently between them instead of telling Lucy to get fucked?

“Poor thing,” Lucy says, though there’s no sympathy in her dark gaze, nor the twist of her lips as she looks down at you between her legs. “Just desperate to come, aren’t you?”

She pauses, but you know the question is rhetorical and she soon continues.

“Poor little slut.”

Ona’s warm hand on the base of your spine is a stark contrast to the coldness of Lucy’s words. Her touch is kind, though you can’t help but think that it would be kinder of her to let you come. She won’t though, knowing very well that it could just as easily be her in your position if she enables you, sympathising with you just enough to know what it feels like to be on Lucy’s bad side when she’s in one of these moods but not enough to actually help you out of the mess you’ve caught yourself in.

Ona knows the rules. As do you - Lucy comes, then you do.

“Can I use my fingers on you?” You dare to ask the question, knowing it would speed up the process.

Lucy shakes her head.

“No, I don’t think so. I want your mouth. Want you to prove to me that your tongue is good for more than just mouthing off when you’re being a brat.”

You groan, partly in frustration and partly because Ona chooses that moment to sheath the toy inside you once more. You have no doubt that you’d be able to get Lucy off in less than a couple of minutes with your fingers, satisfying the criteria to be allowed an orgasm of your own, but Lucy doesn’t come as easily from being eaten out.

That’s not to say that she can’t come, you’re just going to have to work a little harder for it.

Something that’s going to be really difficult if Ona keeps bottoming out inside you like that.

Ona’s thrusts are shallower now and she probably thinks that she’s doing you a favour by not pounding into you with as much vigour, but it’s actually the reverse. Because the bulb to the cock’s head means there’s a slight ridge that is rubbing inside you, providing perfect pressure exactly where you don’t need it, not if you’re going to get Lucy off with your tongue first.

But just when you’re about to call out for Ona to pause again, one of Lucy’s hands finds the back of your head, winding her fingers through strands of hair as she pulls your face tighter against you.

She’s close.

“That’s it.” Lucy’s voice comes out as a growl, and when you glance up her body, you see that her eyes are shut in bliss, her other hand stretched out to grasp one of the slats on the headboard, her abdomen rippling as she bucks her hips against your willing tongue. “Right there. Let me use you. Want to come in that filthy little mouth.”

Lucy’s words have you clenching around Ona’s cock and you know she can feel the extra resistance from the way that her hand squeezes your ass apreciatively. You’re more than happy for Lucy to use your mouth, lacking the agency to move much yourself with Lucy’s hand in your hair directing you where she wants you. Her hips are moving more urgently now, practically riding the lower half of your face, smearing her arousal across your lips and chin, but you just let her, firming up your tongue to give her something to grind against.

It takes less than half a minute like that for Lucy to tumble over the edge. The only warning you get is the fist that tightens in your hair just before she comes, followed by the low groan that spills from her throat as her hips twitch against your mouth.

Ona has fallen still behind you too, cock still nestled in your cunt, probably distracted by the view in front of her and you don’t even blame her. Lucy is beautiful as she comes, eyes squeezed shut but her face the perfect portrait of pleasure. It’s something you never get tired of, watching either of your girls coming and knowing that you’re the one who made it happen, but there’s something extra special about unravelling Lucy, something about this brief moment where she’s not the one in control, that you don’t think you’ll ever not be awestruck by.

You’ve fulfilled your end of the deal but you know better than to assume you’re allowed to come now.

“Please?”

Lucy’s lashes flutter open and her hazy eyes gaze down to where you’re between her legs. The pause drags on just long enough that you think Lucy is going to be cruel enough to continue to deny you, even after making her come, but then her eyes flit up to Ona behind you.

They’re doing it again, communicating silently over you like you’re not even there, It should be embarrassing, degrading, the way they treat you like you’re a toy to be used for their pleasure rather than a person with your own desires and urges, except for the fact that it’s such a ridiculous turn-on that you’re sure you must be getting wetter around Ona’s cock.

You stay still, quiet, obedient, desperate, until finally -

“Go on,” Lucy says to Ona, with a sharp nod. “But make sure it’s good for you too. Wanna watch you both come.”

[zepskies]

A Crime of Passion

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.

AN: I couldn't help myself lol. I wrote this last night. Here's a quick little drabble for the Take Me Home series, set directly after A Good Man Is Hard to Find!

Based on this request from @jessicalynnann.

Word Count: 550

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Implied smut, fluff, and a murder (of sorts).

Catch up on the TMH-verse: ⤵️

❤️ Take Me Home Masterlist

You just…you couldn’t stop laughing.

“All right, you done?” Beau asked.

You never thought you’d see this man blush so thoroughly. It made you laugh harder, though you tried to stifle it with your hands covering your face.

He had you laid out beside him, still skin against naked skin as the cool air began to dry your dewy bodies.

You were lying against him in an odd position, considering your bed now had a deep crack in the bedframe that ran all the way down the middle. It meant your legs were bent at an angle, almost like you were laying in a recliner seat.

You just couldn’t believe it.

This man had really broken your bed.

In fact, he murdered it. Killed it dead. Though you supposed it was a crime of passion, in this case. (You held in a snort at the thought.)

There were even a couple of screws that had rolled across the tile floor.

“Again, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’ll pay for a new frame,” Beau said contritely.

The truth was, he was embarrassed beyond belief.

Another giggle escaped you, though you tried to soothe him by caressing his cheek.

“Baby, it’s okay. This thing was old. I’m surprised it survived the move all the way from Chicago, honestly,” you said. The twinkle of mischief in your eyes made his face warm further.

“But how damn lucky am I,” you added, your lips curving. “My man quite literally shatters expectations when he makes love to me.”

And despite the unexpected cracking sound that had left you wide-eyed, it had been a spectacular finish. Even now, you were still tingling between your legs from how hard you’d come on his cock. (Twice.)

You slipped your bare leg between both of his and pressed a sweet kiss to his chest.

Beau fought it, but he had to smile at your words, and your affection. He sunk a hand into your tangled hair, first brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“You sure you’re okay then?” he asked.

“I’m more than okay,” you said. He felt the shape of your smile against his skin. You pulled back to meet his eyes. “Better the bed than my back, anyway. Jesus.”

Beau let out a sigh. Another giggle bubbled over and escaped you. You rubbed his arm.

“Think of it this way,” you said. “Now we can go pick out a new bed together.”

Beau tilted his head at that, and he nodded. A smile grew across his face.

“Now there’s an idea,” he said. It was probably too soon for him to broach the topic of moving in with you, but this could be a good first step.

“Right?” you replied in excitement. But there was something else dancing in your eyes. “We’ll just have to make sure the frame’s reinforced with titanium or something, because goddamn.”

Beau couldn’t help but laugh. He dropped his forehead against your shoulder while his own shook. You held him to you and didn’t bother to try and hide your own amusement anymore.

One thing you knew for sure?

There was no way in hell you’d ever let him live this down.

And one thing he would never tell you…

Beau Arlen was damn proud of himself.

AN: 😂 Well then. That was fun, and I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Keep Reading:

Here’s a one-shot set a couple of months after this one. It’s called S.I.N.G.:

Summary: Beau wishes you’d take this self-defense lesson a little more seriously.

▶️ Next Story: S.I.N.G.

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Take Me Home Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[whore-era]

1-800-GIRLS - part 2

☁︎ modern!ellie x sex-hotline-operator!fem!reader, very small mention of dealer!ellie ☁︎ summary: in which ellie takes her favorite phone sex hotline operator out on their first date! ☁︎ warnings: contains smut! 18+ only. top/dom!ellie, bottom/sub!reader, interactions with men, dirty talking/praise, fingering (r!recieving), use of fem nicknames, slight mention of petplay, let me know if i missed anything else pls. ☁︎ a/n: back by popular demand, and to thank you all for 1k. i love u all from the bottom of my heart. thank u all so so so much. also there will be NO PART 3! s/o to my girl @clearheartgreyflowers for staying up w me til 3am writing smut LMAO ☁︎ word count: 5,124 ☁︎ 1-800-GIRLS part 1

thursday, 1:15am → ongoing call with sir steven (ft. lauderdale, FL)

sir steven (client): thank you, sugar. did good as always, pretty lady.

sugar: no problem, sir.

sir steven (client): have a good night, darlin'. good night.

the line clicks on the other end, and you finally let out a big stretch, able to relax as you close the hotline for the night. you made 13 calls tonight, which usually wouldn't be enough to help with bills, but much to your dismay, ellie had been sending you money nonstop.

it's been a couple of weeks since you first met her in the library, and since then, you've seen each other here and there, most of your communication being made through texts and calls, as you both have been extremely busy with final exams and work. barely getting any real time to spend together besides having lunch together or walking to class when the time allows it.

however, ever since you revealed to ellie your real name and gave her your personal phone number, she's been using it to her advantage — sending you money through applepay/paypal, paying for food to get delivered to your apartment when you tell her you haven't ate that day, or getting uber's or taxis to pick you up when she wasn't able to come get you herself.

she was very persistent in being your provider, insisting that with her income, she could support you full-time and buy you everything you needed and more.

but you didn't have it in you to just quit this hotline gig. you didn't want to feel like you had to rely on ellie, and the last thing you wanted was to burden her with your own issues.

thursday, 1:30am → incoming call from ellie (jackson, WY)

you: ellie...?

ellie: hi baby.

you: why are you calling the hotline? you have my number, silly.

ellie: what? can't check in on my girl?

you couldn't help the flush in your cheeks. ellie never failed to make you blush. she always made a point to flirt, hard, and you both weren't even in a relationship, yet.

you: what can i do for my favorite client?

ellie: hm, how does going out with me on saturday night sound?

you: like...a date?

ellie: yeah, don't you think we're a bit overdue for one?

you: sure! what should i wear?

ellie: 's up to you. you make anything look beautiful.

you hated how easily she made the heat rise to your cheeks.

ellie: are you blushing?

you: ....no.

ellie: liar. just for that, you owe me a kiss on our date.

you: hm, we'll see.

ellie: guess we will.

-

saturday couldn't have arrived any faster, and by the time you knew it, it was 6:00 in the evening, almost time for your first date with ellie.

you couldn't make up your mind on what to wear, trying on different outfit combinations, determining which one you think ellie would like more.

groaning in frustration, you seemingly settled on a baby blue dress, with a light and warm cardigan. the weather was absolutely perfect for this type of outfit, not too hot with just the slightest breeze.

as you touched up your makeup, swiping on your favorite gloss, you couldn't seem to calm the nerves boiling in your belly. what was there to be nervous about? you were going on a date with one of the coolest and prettiest girls you have ever seen in your life.

overthinking every possible worst-case scenario that could happen tonight, you took some deep breaths, shaking off the images of you possibly falling on your face, snorting while you laugh, or accidentally passing gas in front of ellie. oh god, if that were to happen tonight, you didn't think you could ever face her again.

you would have to change jobs. and schools.

"god, jesus, whoever, please have my back tonight," you whisper to yourself, suddenly jumping at the small 'ping' coming from your phone.

unlocking your phone, you see it's a text from ellie:

ellie <3: I'm on my way up baby, u ready?

you: yes! i'm ready hehe

you take the time to lace your shoes at the front door, giving yourself a quick one-over in the mirror to see if you were presentable, at the least.

two soft knocks on the door resonated through your apartment, and you took a deep breath as you unlocked the latch, mentally preparing yourself for tonight.

swinging the door open, you're greeted by the tall, emerald-eyed girl.

"hey, baby," she greets, leaning over to plant a kiss on your cheek, "you look gorgeous."

your eyes fell to the ground, cheeks flushing with crimson. get ahold of yourself. you're acting like a teenage girl with a puppy-love crush, you echoed in your mind.

"thanks, els. you look pretty cute too," you compliment shyly, looking down at her fit — a white shirt complimented with a red flannel and dark-washed jeans. of course, hair styled in her signature half-up ponytail and sporting her white and black converse sneakers.

"ready to go?"

"yeah, let's go ahead."

"cool, just parked over here in the parking lot."

taking hold of your hand, the two of you head out to the parking lot, and she takes the lead in guiding you to her car. her hands felt warm and clammy— and you wondered if ellie was feeling just as nervous as you were.

and she was.

ellie was freaking the fuck out. from the outside, you appeared calm and relaxed, which put her at unease. were you not excited to be going out with her? were you going to like what she planned for tonight? what if you absolutely hated the date she organized? it'd tear ellie's heart to pieces.

but ellie couldn't overthink, especially not right now. she couldn't let her emotions get the best of her, and she only had to think of the present — you.

ellie fished out her keys from her pocket, briefly letting go of your hand to unlock the car and open the passenger side door for you.

getting inside, you mumbled a quick 'thank you'. as ellie scurried to the driver's side of the car, you scanned your eyes around the interior of her car.

what the hell? was she driving a...dodge hellcat? you knew ellie drove, but you didn't know she drove such an expensive muscle car. how much money did she make being a dealer?

her car smelled just like her, fresh and musky, and she kept it fairly clean.

ellie piled in the driver's seat of her car, putting the key in the ignition and turned on the engine.

"soooo, where are we going?" you queried.

"that's a surprise," ellie smirks, and suddenly she places her hand behind the head of your seat, turning her neck to look at the rear windshield as she backed out of the parking spot.

you swallowed thickly, focused primarily on how hot she looked doing something as simple and elementary as reversing her car. the way her neck flexed, the way her arm tattoo looked by your face, and the way she was concentrated on moving the vehicle — suddenly turned the heat up in this confined space.

"you okay? you look a bit warm," ellie asks, interrupting your train of thought.

"huh? yeah, no, i-i'm okay," you smile meekly, "it's j-just a little warm in here."

"oh, sorry," her hands went to turn on the air conditioning, the gentle breeze of cool air providing relief, "there you go. better?"

you nod, "much better, thanks."

"wanna play some music?" she asks, holding her phone up.

"hmm, you can put whatever you want on. i wanna see what type of music you're into."

"okay," ellie says with a wide smile, "suit yourself."

approaching a stop light, ellie uses the window of opportunity to tap away on her phone, searching for her favorite song. the song 'the spins' by mac miller plays throughout the car at a mellow volume.

"great taste. i love this song," you chime.

"yeah? me too," ellie states, "i loved mac miller since like, forever."

eyes gravitating towards ellie, you couldn't help but get lost in a daze at the way she drives, the slight spread in her legs, one hand on the wheel, the stray strand of hair that falls in her face — she was dangerous.

and ellie could feel the burning gaze you were searing on the side of her face, "you okay there?"

"hmm?"

"you keep staring at me."

"oh— uh— i'm sorry. i didn't mean to—" you sputtered, ashamed that you'd been caught red-handed.

"it's fine, baby, no worries. just wanted to know if there was anything on your mind was all," ellie briefly tears her eyes away from the road to check on you.

you had to quickly think of an excuse, something to save you from this embarrassment — "just thinking of where we're going."

the girl chuckles, "well, we're already here."

the neon lights were the first thing that caught your attention, then the rapidly moving contraptions, and lastly the laughter from the crowds of people.

"we're at the carnival?!" you squealed, unable to contain your excitement.

"yea," ellie muttered sheepishly, "uh— i saw on your instagram how you shared the posts about wanting to go on your story, so i-"

you cut her off with a forceful hug, "oh my god! ellie! we have to get out now! let's go, let's go, let's go!!"

"alright, baby, let me put the car in park-" she began, but you were already halfway down the entrance.

-

"wow! ellie! that one was so fun! it was exhilarating!" you breathed out, fueled by the rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins after riding the 'slingshot' rollercoaster.

ellie couldn't be any more amused, smiling down at you, "yeah? you liked that one, babe?"

"yes! i loved it!" you squealed, but as the adrenaline wavered, you began to feel that familiar rumble in your stomach, "it did give me an appetite, though."

"wanna get a little something to eat?" ellie's hand is securely interlaced with yours, guiding you towards the various food stands.

you nod, "mhm, i am starved."

"just tell me what you want, and i'll get it for you, m'kay?" she gives you a smile and squeezes your hand as your eyes scan the numerous items to choose from.

corndogs. cotton candy. kettle corn. pretzels. chilli cheese hot dogs. funnel cake.

"hmmm, i think i want some funnel cake," you suggest, "we can share it."

"sounds good to me," ellie shrugs and you both fall in line. she orders and pays for the sweet treat and the worker hands her the food, as you find a vacant picnic table to sit at.

digging into the crispy, creamy treat, you couldn't hold back the moan of delight that came from your mouth.

"oh my god! this is amazing!" you moan, whip cream getting all over your lips.

ellie was too busy hyper-fixating on the cream that sat on your lip, and before thinking about anything else, she swiped it off your bottom lip with the pad of her thumb, bringing it to her lips and sucking it clean.

"mmm, delicious," she commented, then consumed the dessert as if nothing had happened.

leaving you stunned, you gulped the cup of water she gave you, attempting to soothe the heat seeping down below.

"so, which ride do you wanna get on next?" ellie spooned more of the funnel cake in her mouth, looking up at you, awaiting your response.

"not sure, why don't you choose? i picked the last one after all," you clean your spoon off, getting every last bit of leftover ice cream.

"we can ride theeee..." ellie scours the carnival rides, "...the haunted hospital."

your heart fell to your stomach, you hated anything related to horror.

"oh no..ellie, i don't think i'll be able to ride that—"

"are you scared?" she taunts in a playful tone.

"yes. i'd be covering my eyes the entire time, el."

"good thing you have me with you, i'll fight anyone who gets too close to you. promise."

"fine."

when you both finish the funnel cake, you quickly discard it and ellie rushes you over to the line to the haunted attraction, but as the line goes by quicker than you anticipated, the fear began to set in deeper and deeper.

"ellie, i'm scared," you whisper as you both approach the front of the line, watching the people in front of you climb into the little mechanical car and disappear into the darkness.

"hey, i'm here, baby," she coos, rubbing your back, "besides, it's all fake, okay? 's not real."

and on cue, the attendant calls you both up, "next!"

walking slowly towards the black cart, you get on first and take a seat, with ellie following closely behind you.

"alright, hands up," the attendant commands as the handlebars latch down and lock onto your lap, "keep your hands and feet in the cart at all times. have fun."

as the cart begins to move forward and ascend into blackness, you curl into ellie's body and her arm instinctively wraps around your body, holding you tight.

this is exactly where ellie wanted you, up close and personal. she wanted an excuse to hold you all night, and after seeing the 'haunted hospital' sign, she knew this ride was the perfect place to do that.

your heart was pumping in and out of your chest, preparing for the worse to pop out and jump-scare you.

"ugh, i can't look," you stammer, covering your eyes. ellie takes hold of your wrists, gently taking them away from your face.

"hey, just focus on me, okay?" ellie whispers, her hot breath fanning in your face, "it's just me and you."

"o-okay."

and the fear that took habitat in your belly faded away, your mind zeroed in on ellie and how close she was to you. if you even breathed too hard, you probably would’ve accidentally kissed her.

but luckily for you, ellie was five steps ahead.

she reached her hand out to cup your cheek, resting it on the soft, warm skin of your face.

"can i kiss you?" ellie asked, her mouth taking over her brain, but she didn't mind it. she wanted to kiss you. she's been wanting to kiss you ever since she heard your voice that night she accidentally called you.

“please. please, kiss me.”

leaning in, ellie pressed her lips on yours, her other hand snaking around your waist, pulling you in closer. her lips were soft and inviting, and they tasted sweet — they were definitely a good distraction from the horror props popping out at different intervals. 

her lips leave subtle pecks along your lips, enamored by how your lips tasted, and how it left her wanting more. 

ellie pulls away, inciting a small whimper from you, “the ride’s about to end, babe.” 

“hmph, okay,” you pout and ellie pecks your lips again.

“we’ll have plenty of time to continue later,” she reassures you with a laugh. as the both of you emerge into the light, back to the entrance of the attraction, you notice your lipgloss smeared all over her lips, eliciting a small giggle from you.

“what’s so funny?” 

you point to her lips, and her eyes dart down to her face, using her sleeves to wipe off the pink gloss from her mouth as you both get off the ride. 

you smile sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you both stroll around the carnival, “sorry, that was my fault.”

ellie smiles and shakes her head, “don’t worry ‘bout it,” she says coolly, “hey, let’s go over there. there’s no line.” 

pointing to an attraction behind you, you turn around and follow her trail, your eyes settling on the ferris wheel.

hand in hand, you both get on the little capsule of the ferris wheel, the employee holding it sturdy so you and ellie would have time to climb in. 

they latched the door closed and you both begin the slow, upward descent. 

“wow, the view is beautiful,” you breathe out, astounded by how pretty the lights looked in the city as you towered over the area below. 

“yeah, the view certainly is beautiful, huh?” ellie murmured, but she wasn’t staring at the view. her eyes were on you, taking in how breathtaking you looked in this moment — eyes glimmering in amusement, perfect, plump lips slightly parted, and hair a bit messy from the breeze, but framing your face in all the right places. she took her phone out, snapping a quick picture, never wanting to forget this moment. 

she moved seats, before, sitting on the bench facing you, and now sitting right beside you. 

“uh, there’s something i have to tell you,” ellie began, her nerves shocking every cell in her body.

“yea? what is it?” you ask, turning to face her, “is everything okay?”

“yeah, yeah, i just—” ellie bit her lip nervously, “i just really like you. like, i think about you all the time. when i first heard your voice that night i dialed you, i just knew i had to talk to you again. there’s just something about you that always brings me back and— fuck, i never thought i’d find myself catching feelings so hard for a girl before.” 

your cheeks were hurting from how wide your smile was, but you didn’t care. ellie put her arm around your shoulder and held your hand with her free one, leaning in closer.

“what i’m trying to say is that— i really, really want to be with you. i want to be the one who you tell the weird stories about your clients to and i want to be the one to take care of you after a long day at class. i want to be the one who protects you and who you share your favorite meal with. i just— i really want you to be my girlfriend,” and before ellie continues any further, you cut her off with a kiss.

“if this is your way of asking me to be your girlfriend, the answer is yes, ellie williams,” you answer, briefly pulling away for air. 

ellie’s smile grows wider, “cool,” she quirks before connecting your lips again. 

- 

the sun was long gone and the moon had taken over the night sky. but your date with ellie was far from over. 

after spending an evening filled with thrill rides and greasy, fried snacks, you and ellie both decided to calm things down by taking a walk along the boardwalk, occasionally strolling up and down the pier.

“would you say this has been a good date so far?” ellie’s eyes flitter toward you, her arm slung over your shoulder as you stride down the various closed stores and restaurants of the boardwalk. it was empty, only one or two people passing by, but other than that it was only you two. 

“mmm, i’d give it a…six out of ten,” you tease, gaining a scoff from your new girlfriend. 

“a six? seriously?” she shakes her head, “damn, not the response i was hoping for.” 

“i’m just kidding, els,” you giggle, “this date has been amazing. i loved every bit of it. thank you.”

you lean over and press a small kiss on her cheek, watching how the vermilion scatters across her freckles.

“now that’s more like it.” ellie laughs, continuing the promenade forward, with no destination in mind.

your eyes settle on this small, old-fashioned photo booth tucked away in a corner of the boardwalk. the sign above it flashing ‘PHOTOS: 4 different poses’. it was the perfect idea to end the night and have a little souvenir to remember your first date.

you let go of her hand, dashing towards the photo booth, ellie confusedly following after you. you open your bag, searching for some change, and you insert four quarters into the small coin slot. 

“let's go inside,” you enthuse, excited to try out the photo booth.

ellie went inside first, taking a seat on the extremely small bench, barely leaving any space for you to sit beside her. the booth was such a tight enclosure, only allowing enough space for a maximum of two people. 

“i— uh— don’t know where to—” you stammer, but she interrupts you as she grabs your hips, sitting you down on her right thigh.

warmth rose to your face, feeling secure and sturdy sat upon her leg. ellie closed the black curtain, covering the entrance and blocking any light that would shine through. 

“okay, we have three minutes and four poses,” you say, turning your neck to look down at her, “what should our poses be?”

“i dunno, i’m sure we’ll look great doing any. we can jus’ do them as we go along,” ellie shrugged, and the photo booth began to count down from five.

sitting up straight in her lap and fixing your hair, you and ellie put on a smile, and the light flashes white, signaling the end of the first pose.

for the second pose, you turn your head and plant your lips on ellie’s cheek as ellie scrunches her nose up, and the flash lights up for a second time.

for the third pose, you loop your arm over ellie’s shoulder, and you both look each other in with adoring eyes and loving smiles — flash.

you both couldn’t even bother getting ready for the final pose, too lost in each other’s admiring gazes to think properly. you were focused on the jade green of ellie’s eyes, wishing you could jump in and swim in the pools of emerald. ellie was hooked on your face, and memorizing every detail like her life depended on it — tracing her eyes over your pouty lips. 

and as the countdown went to one, ellie smashed her lips onto yours, her arms tightening around your waist to pull you closer. this kiss was different from the ones from before — there was urgency, there was eagerness, there was a burning passion, one you’ve never experienced before. 

her tongue shoves into your mouth, tasting the mint you’ve chewed previously. immodest and perhaps, pornographic wet sounds from your mouths resonate throughout the small photobooth. one of her hands trail from your hips towards your tits, groping the soft, pillowy flesh underneath your baby blue dress, eliciting the faintest of whimpers — a sound ellie has been dying to hear again.

you couldn’t help the arousal building up in your core, compelling you to grind your crotch against the denim fabric of her jeans. 

“e-ellie, i— i’ve never—” you struggle to let out, pulling away from her lips, a trail of spit lingering on your bottom lip, and her lips plant sloppy, wet kisses along the side of your neck. 

“we can stop if you want, sweet girl,” she murmurs against your skin, and you quickly shake your head.

“n-no, don’t stop, p-please,” you gulp and with your approval, ellie’s other hand goes down to hike your dress up, bunching the fabric up around your waist. her hands push your legs apart, and she lifts one of your thighs up to rest on the wall of the photo booth. you were exposed, the only thing concealing your bare, pussy was the thin fabric of your panties.

she sat back against the corner of the booth, leaning against the wall and allowing you space to lean against her body as well. her hand cupped your panty-covered crotch, rubbing against it.

the sudden friction made you jolt, your breath picking up, “b-but what if— what if someone hears us? or—or sees us?”

“then you better keep it down, pup.”

ellie’s hand slips inside your panties, her index finger sliding between the warmth of your folds, drowning in the wet, hot juices leaking out from you, “fuck.”

you let out a pitiful whine, needing more pressure, craving satisfaction. the nights after that call with ellie, your own fingers no longer sufficed the needs your body demanded. you tried so hard to replicate the same feeling ellie gave you that late evening, but there was no avail as you realized the only person who can truly serve your body correctly was ellie. 

“p-please, more,” you begged, hoping she would show you mercy and give you what you wanted.

“please, what? huh? use your fuckin’ manners,” she snides in your ear, breath fanning against your neck. you immediately knew what she was inferring.

“please, daddy, please. i want more,” you bucked your hips up to her hands, and she happily obliged. two of ellie’s fingers made their way to your throbbing and swollen clit, applying pressure as her digits created circles. 

you couldn’t suppress the moan that emerged from your throat, clamping a hand shut over your mouth, careful not to alert any strangers nearby, knowing people would still be able to hear despite the thin, black curtain covering the photo booth.

���you look s’ fuckin’ pretty,” ellie whispers against your neck, and her hand grabs your jaw, turning your head to look at her as she smushes her lips against your swollen, red lips. 

a stream of melodious moans vibrated against ellie’s mouth, and she was drinking it in, savoring the sound of you against her lips. the way ellie’s tongue fucked your mouth felt ungodly, and almost immoral. someone who harbors the power to make you feel how you do is something close to the devil, as pleasure this wonderful was sinful.

her fingers disappear from your clit, leaving you feeling empty. 

“open.” ellie orders and you part your lips. she pushes her fingers in your mouth, and you suck them clean, your tongue lapping the salty juices like a puppy desperate for water on a hot day.

“such a good fuckin’ girl, shiiit,” ellie praises, slipping her fingers in your pussy, continuing the circles on your hardened clit.

“you know what good girls like you get? huh?” ellie’s fingers pick up speed, “they get to cum. you wanna cum for daddy, baby?”

unable to think of any response, you nod your head up and down. 

“use your words, pup.”

“yes, daddy. puppy wants to cum,” you whine out. that was enough for ellie to give you what you wanted. one hand rubbing circles your clit, her other hand pushes your panties to the side and inserts one finger in your leaking hole, gently sliding it in and out.

“ellie!” you cry out, astounded by the added pressure. her finger was long and filled you up almost, completely. 

“gotta stretch you out, baby. get you ready for my cock,” ellie smirks as she slowly adds in another finger, still maintaining her slow, neutral pace. 

your pussy clenches around her fingers, and you scrambled around to grab ahold of anything you can get your hands on. you were drunk on ellie, the way she talks to you — almost condescending — combined with how she had you writhing under her fingers. you were unequivocally hers. you were ellie’s.

she added a third finger to your clit, applying more pressure on your sensitive clit, and her fingers began to pump faster inside your pussy, coating it in a thick, creamy layer of your juices.

“god, you’re such a pretty fuckin’ girl,” ellie kisses the side of your neck, “look at you, making a mess all over my hands, like a filthy pup.”

all your mouth would utter was these weak, pathetic whimpers and moans, fucked out dumb and stupid. you don’t even think you could remember your name right now. 

the familiar feeling of your orgasm coming undone begins to rise, accompanied by a new pressure you feel in your abdomen — the urge to push. 

“daddy, think m’ gonna— p—pee,” you stammer, not wanting to embarrass yourself and closing your legs, “it feels like i have to—”

“baby, let it happen. promise it’s not piss or anything,” ellie reassured, figuring this was your first time squirting. “just let go, sweet girl.”

the sweet sounds of your wet pussy echoed throughout the confined spaces of the booth, just how ellie liked it. it was music to her ears. 

the feeling of your walls tightening around her fingers told her that you were just right on the edge, and she was going to give you that push to fall over and come undone all over her hands.

the pad of ellie’s fingers massaged figure eights on your pussy, almost tracing infinity signs on your clit. her fingers found rhythm and continued thrusting her index and middle fingers inside you, curling up to rub the flesh of your walls, hitting just the right spot and emitting an angelic moan from you. 

ellie was in heaven and she had this honey-sweet angel melting under her touch. 

you squirmed in her lap, your back instinctively arching, about to come apart in this small photo booth.

“daddy, i’m about to— can i? can i cum? pretty please?” you cried out, almost pleading, like you were begging for your life, but you felt like you were going to simply die if you didn’t finish right now. 

“yes, pretty baby, cum all over me,” ellie coaxes you through your orgasm, “make a fuckin’ mess, puppy.”

you came undone, falling apart right there. your pussy clamped around her fingers, a stream of milky-white cream trickling onto her hands. your body overcame your thoughts, and you pushed out — releasing a gush of watery, squirt all over the place. spurting out, imitating a fountain.

ellie pulled her hands out of you, and brought them to her mouth, sucking and licking them clean. still coming down from the high that was your orgasm, your breaths came out heavy and unlabored, a tear falling down out of the corner of your eye and streaming down your cheek. 

“you alright, babe?” ellie asked, fixing your panties and pulling your dress down.

“y-yea, i’m okay,” you stutter, standing up and exiting the photo booth, finding the boardwalk still deserted. legs still shaking, you trip over your own feet and lean on the walls of the booth for support. ellie took hold of your waist, ensuring you don’t fall.

“hey, look, our picture,” she points out, taking the strip out from the slot and showing the black and white photo to you. 

ellie smiles at the strip, “we look good, huh?”

you nod, still simmering down. ellie takes notice of your state and plants a kiss to your lips, rubbing your waist soothingly. 

“how ‘bout we get outta here and get some real food? sound good, baby?”

you nod, smiling, “sounds perfect.”

🫶🏼

[kaiserthread]

shopping spree pt.2

clothes/accessories the bllk boys buy you! characters: nagi, oliver, rin content: pro players, established relationship, f!reader, slight implied nsfw in olivers part (nothing graphic but just in case) part 1 here! tysmmmmmm for the love on part 1!!!!! this one was so much fun to write

NAGI SEISHIRO - couples pajama sets 

loves sitting around the house with you on his off days

values every minute he can get with you 

buys it with the express purpose of seeing you wearing one of his shirts

gives you the shirt from his set and lazes around shirtless

seishiro’s free time has always been very precious to him, even more so now that his schedule is jam-packed with matches, press appearances, traveling, so much practice, and most importantly, you. he’s perfectly content with spending all his off days with his lover. which is exactly why he couldn’t resist buying the cute couple pajamas when he was supposed to be buying groceries. you can’t even find it in yourself to scold him for forgetting the frozen blueberries when he pulls the pajamas out of their bag and presents them to you with a small smile on his face. “i’m letting you off easy this time, sei. only because you’ve been gone for a while.” you say, reaching up to pinch his cheek. “mkay, i’ll remember next time, promise. but only if you match with me tonight.” he says as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “alright fine, since you asked so nicely.” you huff, grabbing the pajamas and making your way towards your bathroom to shower. seishiro is lounging around in his new pajama pants when you step out of the bathroom. “sei, what happened to matching?” he turns his attention away from his phone, passes you his pajama shirt and says, “you always look better in mine, sweetheart.”

OLIVER AIKU - bikini

he likes looking at women in swimsuits, trust he’s gonna know the latest and most flattering styles

he just wants you to look your best when y’all go on vacay together!

reminds him of how you two met

“oliver! come tie the strings on this for me.” your voice rings out and oliver comes running to help. he takes the strings and gently ties them into a neat knot. “you look so pretty, baby.” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck before wrapping his arms around your waist and admiring you in the mirror in front of him. “doesn’t this remind you of how we met?” you giggle, turning in his arms to rest your forehead against his. “how could i ever forget?” he questions, thinking back to that incredible summer several years ago. high off his first big win in the pro leagues he’d found himself on vacation at the beach. you were there for a friend's wedding, fresh off a disastrous breakup with your ex. he’d charmed you with compliments and the two of you stumbled into bed together on several occasions before parting ways, but not before swapping numbers and promises to keep in touch. the two of you made things official the following summer and ever since then going to the beach every summer has become a tradition. “meeting my summer fairy was the best thing to ever happen to me.” he says before pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

ITOSHI RIN - evening gown

you're his princess ofc he's gonna buy you a dress to fit that title

studies your wardrobe for a while to make sure he’s getting one with a good color and a fabric that doesn’t bother you 

he browses for so long that he just says fuck it and goes to a designer to have one custom made

rin honestly can’t believe this, isn’t paris supposed to be known as a fashion powerhouse? the fact that he can’t find something perfect for his princess is beyond ridiculous. he gives up after weeks of browsing and calls in a favor from a manager at the club who has connections to a renowned designer who’s willing to make him exactly what he’s looking for. a few weeks later he’s handing you an extravagantly wrapped box, “an early christmas present.” he explains. you open it and pull out a beautiful floor length gown. “rin it’s stunning!” you throw your arms around his neck before rushing away to try it on. “come zip me up?” you ask, and rin complies, walking over to you and zipping the dress up. “it fits perfect rin, did you get this tailored?” you question. “i had it made just for you, the stores didn’t have anything nice.” rin responds, sweeping you off your feet. “only the best for my princess.”

[miley1442111]

hi!!!!! I love your writing so much, and I loved insomniac, and i was wondering if we could get some more aaron and insomniac reader? I just thought it was so cute!!

thank you ml!

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treatment plan (part 1)- a.hotchner

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting, I love this series (as a fellow insomnia girly)

summary: aaron oversteps and it starts a fight.

pairing: aaron hotchner x insomnia! reader

warnings: angst, discussions of insomnia and feeling 'different' because of it, mental health, crying, no happy ending, aaron is an asshole, fighting

part of this au:

insomniac

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Aaron didn’t always know what to do in these situations. He’d never had trouble sleeping, he was lucky like that. He realised very early into your relationship that he was lucky. He didn’t stay up for the simple fact of not being able to sleep often, he wasn’t worrying constantly about whether or not he’d get enough sleep to function the next day, he wasn’t brought to doctor after doctor only to be told the same thing time and again. “Sorry, we can’t help you,” or “No one here specialises in that,” or, his personal least favourite; “You can’t be helped, sorry.”

He knew he was lucky he didn’t have to go through the things you did. He didn’t have to worry about what insomnia would mean for his future health, what not sleeping would do to his body. 

You weren’t lucky. 

Every night was a battle, ever since you were a kid. You’d kick and scream, and even now, often you’d end up in tears. It was awful, and incurable somehow, at least in your case.

Yet, Aaron didn’t want to stop looking for a solution, and that’s how you ended up sleeping at Penelope’s place, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and a dumb rom-com on the TV. 

Fuck him. 

---------------------

4 hours earlier. 

Aaron walked into your shared home with his briefcase in his hand. You’d gotten off work an hour ago and come home to cook dinner. You were in the kitchen.

“Hey baby,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he walked in. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, then smiled down at you. 

“How are you?” he asked, but everytime he asked, there was another question underneath it, one he’d stopped asking because it would always end in a fight. ‘Did you sleep?’ 

Aaron had left early that morning, and he felt good when he saw you asleep in your bed, and he was as silent as humanly possible while getting ready, so he’d hoped he hadn’t woken you. 

“Fine,” you nodded, going back to your cooking. “Work was boring, but Lucy’s leaving so we have to go to her farewell party on Friday- if you’re around-”

“You have the sleep test on Friday night honey, we can’t go, remember?” 

You sighed. “I cancelled it. I can always do it another time.”

Aaron was in shock. You’d cancelled the appointment? The appointment that was there to help you, to help you feel better. “Why would you do that Bug?”

“Because Lucy is one of my best friends, plus it’s not like the sleep test is going to work, so it doesn’t matter,” you shrugged and Aaron felt his blood boil. 

In recent months, you’d become what he would call ‘complacent’ with your condition. You saw it as accepting it. After years of being told you were incurable, why should you search for a cure? They were the professionals, and you’d seen more than 60 doctors about this, in your entire lifetime. That didn’t bode well with Aaron. He would fight to the ends of the Earth for you, and he planned on trying to fight this for as long as it took, but that would only work if you were fighting too, which you weren’t. 

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “We were on that waitlist for a year Y/n.”

“I was on that waitlist for a year, and I decided I don’t want to do it anymore, it’s my health,” you shrugged and served him up his plate. “Now tell me about your day.”

“We still need to talk about this,” he scolded, sitting across from you at your kitchen table. “You just decided to stop treatment?” His eyes were darker than usual, his signature 'negotiating stare’ trying to make you feel small. Not that Aaron himself was trying to make you small, just that you always felt… different when he looked at you like that. Strange. 

“I don’t know why you can’t grasp that I’ve accepted my condition?” You scoffed. “You don’t need to worry anymore, maybe this will be good for me! I’m always so worried, and so are you, even Jack notices it for fuck’s sake! My insomnia has controlled my entire fucking life, and I’m sick of it, so yes Aaron, I decided to stop treatment,” you weren’t exactly shouting, but you weren’t calm and collected. You were at your wits end, completely. You hadn’t slept in two days, you were bordering on exhausted, and you planned to take one of the sleeping pills you had, (even though you’re slightly allergic), an allergy medication, and sleep for 15 hours straight. You were very happy Jack wasn’t meant to be back from his cousin’s house until at least after 4pm tomorrow. 

“That sleep study is the closest we’ve ever been! Why would you cancel it? I understand you’re frustrated-” he started, but you cut him off. 

“You don’t understand Aaron. You don’t understand. How could you? When you go to sleep, it’s simply that, sleep. To me it’s so much more, so much anxiety, so many negative thoughts, so much awful shit, so many shitty sleeples nights since I was a fucking kid! And you don’t understand that, and I'm not asking you to, but I’m asking you to accept my decision over my body Aaron. I can’t deal with this anxiety anymore around something as simple as sleeping. I feel like I have no control anymore, so this is me taking back control Aaron-” You felt yourself welling up with tears. His face was set in stone, silently judging you.

“There’s better ways to take back control of your life Y/n-”

“Tell me!” you shouted. He stayed silent. “Exactly.”

“This isn’t healthy, you’re going to hurt yourself more Y/n,” he cautioned and you scoffed, a sick smile on your face, bred from your frustration and desperation. 

“Aaron, what more damage can I do to myself?-”

“I don’t want to wake up someday and have you not remember me!” He shouted. That was low. You were terrified of memory loss diseases like Alzheimer’s and Dementia. 

You stared at him for a minute, small tears pushing past your ‘emotionless’ exterior. “That was low Aaron.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

“No it’s not, it’s your truth. Don’t mix that up,” you cautioned. 

“Am I not allowed to be worried about my fiance?” he asked, but in that stupid condescending voice that made you want to smack him. 

“Aaron please just stop,” you groaned, looking down into your food. This was going to turn into a lecture. This was going to break you. You were right on the edge, hanging on by a thread. And Aaron cut it clean with his next words. 

“You’re being selfish.” 

You blocked the rest of his speech out. Selfish. You were selfish. Selfish was silently crying so he could sleep. Selfish was indulging every single one of his stupid sleep tests and doctors even if you were in pain and exhausted. Selfish was being poked and prodded by doctor after doctor that he brought you to, in hopes of finding a cure. Selfish was hiding your condition’s worst parts (migraines, mood swings, anxiety, memory loss,and everything else) so he wouldn’t worry.

Right, you were selfish. 

You got up and grabbed your jacket, keys, and phone, and you left the house. You ran into your car, Aaron hot on your heels with his booming voice screaming over you, pushing you further. Your car was cold, thus the pleasures of Washington. You shrugged it off and started driving, Aaron was trying to stop you, you didn’t let him. 

Fuck him, he was the selfish one. 

You drove to Penelope’s without another thought, just letting yourself cry. You couldn’t let this condition define you anymore, and you won’t let it define your relationship either. If Aaron didn’t understand that, maybe he wasn’t the right one. 

---------------------

With the shitty rom-com over and Penelope heading for bed, you made your makeshift bed on the couch, and tried as hard as you could to sleep, but you ended up just thinking about it all, all night long. 

What a great Friday night.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

criminal minds taglist :) (message me or comment to be added :))

@princess76179

@khxna

[wandanatsgf]

Lovers, Vampires, Strangers Part 2

Pairing: Vampire!Wanda x Vampire!Reader

Word Count: 2886

Summary: This story starts in the year 1850. You and your girlfriend Wanda are happy together. You have everything you could ever want, until she secretly turns you into a vampire. After a horrible accident, you leave her and that life behind. Now 173 years later, she's come to ask you for a favor.

Part 1

Part 2: 2023, The Second Shittiest Year of my Life

“What do you want Wanda?” I ask the girl who was frantically banging on my door.

“I need a place to stay for a few days, please,” she begs. It makes me laugh. She really thinks I would help her after what she did? She’s insane.

“No way,” I tell her.

“Please Y/n,” she asks again.

“No,” I say. “I’m not letting you into my home or life again, Wanda.”

I go to shut the door when a small bullet sized wooden stake comes whizzing through the air. It flies through the small crack in my door from where I haven’t shut it all the way. I hear Wanda yell out some cuss words, while I barely manage to dodge the bullet. I should’ve just shut the door and let Wanda fend for herself, this is her problem after all. But I, being the idiot that I am, didn’t.

“Fine you can come in,” I say, pulling the brunette girl inside with me. I quickly shut and lock the door.

“What the hell was that Wanda?” I exclaim as I run through my house, grabbing the first bag I see. I put the guns and knives that II keep hidden throughout my home in there, in case whoever is outside tries to go after me, since I too am a vampire.

“That was Natasha,” she says like that explains everything.

“She’s a girl I…used to be with. She’s a little angry is all.”

“A little angry?!? She just tried to kill you Wanda.”

“Yes well vampire hunters tend to do that Y/n.”

“What the actual hell Wanda. You brought a vampire hunter to my front door?!?”

“Not on purpose. I didn't know she was a vampire hunter when I was sleeping with her. And I thought I had lost her back in Budapest. Clearly someone is determined to kill me.” Wanda rolls her eyes as she talks, as if this Natasha girl is a mere annoyance, like a gnat or a fly, and not a hunter trying to kill her.

I’m so mad at her I don’t even know what to say. I finish gathering my things, but I leave my phone in case someone tries to use it to find my location. I make sure I avoid all windows as I make my way to the secret exit of my house that will lead me to the other side of town, the exit I had installed in case of emergencies just like this. I go to the bookshelf door I had installed and open it.

“Are you coming or not?” I call out to Wanda, who was currently just standing there. Wanda quickly moves to where I am, not avoiding windows. Which leads to them being shot out by Natasha.

“Great another thing I have to deal with,” I mumble under my breath.

“What was that?” Wanda snarkily asks.

“I said great that’s another thing I have to deal with. Because of you,” I add on.

“Oh please don’t act like your life was all sunshine and rainbows before I got here,” she says as I lead her down a staircase. “We both know you were lonely without me.”

“Really? I’m the lonely one?” I say. “I can assure you, Wanda I have been anything but lonely since you left.”

“You really think Kate Bishop can fill my place that easily?”

“And how do you know about her?” Wanda says nothing, but it’s clear she had been keeping tabs on me.

“I should’ve known you’d never leave me alone, Wanda. You were always the possessive type.” I turn down a corridor and open the door. I walk out and into open air. The passage leads to a road two streets over where my getaway car is stashed.

“I’m not possessive. I just don’t want anyone to have what’s mine,” she says. I chuckle under my breath, reading through her lie. I choose to ignore her and walk over to a car, praying that it’s unlocked. Of course it isn’t, but i guess when you have vampire strength it doesn’t really matter. I get into the car in no time and I make quick work of hot wiring it so I can get away, and hopefully leave Wanda here. I get the car on and I climb in, quickly locking the doors so Wanda can't.

"What do you think you're doing?" Wanda asks, clearly annoyed. She stomps her feet like a child and it makes me laugh.

"I'm leaving," I say through my laughter.

"Not without me you aren't."

"Yes I am. I got you away from Natasha, which you're welcome for by the way. Now I'm off to save my own skin. Now get out of my way or be roadkill Wanda. Your choice." Wanda refuses to move, much to my annoyance.

"Move Wanda," I scream out.

"No," she screams back. I can feel my annoyance rising with every passing second, and then Natasha runs around the corner, guns blazing. I unlock the car and allow Wanda to hop in before I floor it. I pull out of the parking space, driving away as fast as I can, leaving Natasha in the dust.

"Happy?" I finally ask once we have gotten a little further down the road.

"Yes, very." I can tell she is pleased with herself, something that I absolutely loathe. I choose to ignore her so I don’t blow up.

We drive for what feels like forever, and I being a vampire would know what forever feels like. So trust me when I say it felt like forever.

Wanda does her best to annoy me, but I ignore her every time, not in the mood for her games. Eventually I pull into a decent looking hotel on the side of the road. I’m not sure where we are, but we’ve driven for at least 16 hours straight and I’m tired. Well as tired as you can be when you’re undead.

“Here we are,” I say as I park the car.

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know. But we’re safe aren’t we? You could be a bit more thankful,”

“It would be safer if we knew where we are,” Wanda retorts.

“Well why don’t you work on that while I get us a room.”

“Fine,” Wanda says, for once not starting an argument.

I happily hop out of the car, grateful to be away from Wanda, and I enter the lobby.

“Hi I need two rooms,” I say to the front desk lady.

“I’m sorry we only have one room available.”

“Fine I guess that’ll work,” I grumble. It really doesn’t work for me but I’ll just have to suck it up…or sleep in my car. Honestly I’d do anything to not be near Wanda for longer than I have to.

“And how will you be paying?”

“I won’t be. The bill will be comped by the hotel,” I tell the girl. I look in her eyes and change the tone of my voice, activating my compulsion.

“Here you go,” the girl says cheerily, handing me my room key.

“Thanks.”

I walk back to the car where I had left Wanda to give her the bad news.

“Unfortunately they only had one room,” I grumble, throwing her a room key.

“Don’t sound so upset. It’ll be just like old times,” she says, sending me a wink. I let out a scoff at her words.

“I’d rather sleep on the cement than in a bed with you Wanda.”

“Fine have it your way,” she says. She gets out of the car and walks into the hotel and to our room. I try and make myself comfortable in the car, but it’s no use. It’s too small and too hot. I grab one of my guns that I had brought and tuck it into the waistband of my pants then I reluctantly go inside, bracing myself for the snarky comment I know Wanda is about to say.

“Aww I knew you’d change your mind. I’m just too irresistible.”

“God you’re so full of yourself. But no I’m in here because the car was uncomfortable. It has nothing to do with you Wanda.”

“Sure, whatever helps yourself sleep at night.”

God this woman is infuriating. I choose to ignore her last comment.

“So you’re not talking to me now?” I give her the silent treatment.

"Real mature y/n."

"Whatever Wanda. I'm going to go get us some essentials, try not to get into trouble while I'm gone," I say, just wanting to get out of here and away from Wanda.

"Aww sounds like someone cares about me," she teases.

"No I just don't want all of this hard work to go to waste," I say as I walk out the door. It's currently 10pm at night so luckily anywhere I go should be jut about empty. I drive to the nearest Walmart, leaving Wanda in the dust at the hotel. I get us some toiletries and snacks (because yes even though we are vampires and undead we still like human food). My next stop is a blood bank, where I steal as much blood as I can. I prefer it this way over drinking straight from the source. It's much cleaner and not so scarring to humans. After about two hours I make my way back to the hotel, carrying my shopping bags inside, only to find Wanda gorging herself on a member of the cleaning staff.

"Wanda," I yell out. She drops the maid and her face takes on a guilty look, like a child who knows they are doing something bad.

"Yes?" She tries to adopt a nonchalant tone but it isn't working.

"I literally told you not to get into trouble and the first thing you do is get into trouble."

"But I was hungry," she says, as if that justifies her actions.

"I don't give a damn if you're hungry Wanda. If I tell you to do something so do it."

"That's funny I don't remember ever taking orders from you, but you sure did take a lot from me," Wanda says, referencing the times when the two of us would sleep together, before I hated her guts.

“Well things have changed Wanda. I’m trying to keep us alive and away from your vampire hunter ex. So either listen to me or leave.”

“Fine,” is all she says. She goes off to the bathroom to shower while I heal the woman Wanda had just dropped. I compel her to forget anything had ever happened, and off she goes back to work.

I close the door behind her and I put my grocery bags down and put things away. After I’m done and had a snack and some blood, I tuck my gun out of my waistband and put it on the small side table. I jump into bed. The bed is rock hard. There’s absolutely no give or bounce in it whatsoever, but I guess an aching back is a small price to pay for safety.

“Move over,” Wanda says once I had finally gotten myself comfortable.

“No,” is all I say back.

“Yes. Move or I’ll make you move y/n.”

I refuse to move, ignoring the glares that Wanda throws at me.

“Fine have it your way.” She walks over to me and picks me up as if I weigh nothing. I try to resist, but it's pointless, and she moves me anyway.

"I'm older than you and I'm stronger than you. Next time it would be wise to do as you're told," she whispers into my ear. Her words have me blushing. A fact that I try to hide form her, but of course she notices.

"Did my words make you needy baby?"

"Fuck off Wanda," I say, but it doesn't come out as strong as I want it to.

"No baby I think you want me to fuck you, isn't that right?"

Her dirty words send my thoughts racing back to the times when we had slept together and how good it felt. But that was before she hurt me, and this is now. And now I don't like her. Even if she's gorgeous and makes me feel good. She's still the woman who turned me against my will. She's still the woman who hurt me, the woman I hate. So I form my resolve.

"No goodnight Wanda," are the next words that come out of my mouth. Wanda's mouth opens and closes like a fish, she's shocked that I didn't give in. I get up and turn off the lights and the two of us lay there in silence. I'm sure Wanda is seething in silence at being told no, but it isn't my problem. I quickly fall asleep, and I only wake up when I hear a loud banging noise.

The door to our room is kicked in, making us jump out of bed. In comes a brunette woman I don't recognize.

“Oh great and who’s this? Another one of your exes?”

“Actually yes,” Wanda and the woman sat at the same time. The woman walks closer to the bed, while Wanda and I try to walk further away without blocking yourselves in.

“Of course it is,” I say rolling my eyes. “How’d you piss this one off?”

“She may or may not be a vampire hunter also. So y’know when she found out about me she wasn’t exactly my biggest fan,” Wanda whispers to you.

“Really Wanda? You sleep with two fucking vampire hunters when you’re a vampire yourself. Are you stupid?” I whisper back.

“Haven’t I already proven that yes I am stupid.”

“I guess you’ve got a point there,” I say.

"Are you two done arguing now?" The woman asks.

"Yes Maria, we're done." Ok so Maria is her name. "Can you just get this over with," Wanda says, her tone sounding exasperated.

"Oh come on Wanda, I wanna drag this out. Hurt you just like you hurt me." Maria pulls the sleeve of her black jacket off her shoulder, showing off the scars that mar it.

"What the fuck did you do?" I look at Wanda, but there's no emotions on her face.

"What I had to do to survive." Wanda glares at Maria, but it's not the playful one she has been giving you all day. This is a true glare. The kind that says I want you dead.

Maria lunges and Wanda deflects her punch while you try and grab your car keys, which are all the way across the room. You almost make it, but then Maria grabs you by your hair, pulling you back. You claw at her arm, digging your nails into her skin. She shrieks and lets you go, turning her attention back to Wanda.

"How'd you find me anyway?" Wanda asks as she ducks under Maria's fist.

"Your little pet led me right to you. She wasn't as inconspicuous as she thought at that blood bank. I was just going to kill her, but then I realized she was with you, and well, I didn't want to waste such a delicious opportunity." Wanda's eyes turn a dark black color, something that only happens when a vampire is truly emotional, and strikes Maria, making the woman stumble. While she's disoriented I run to the side table and grab my gun. I hate using these things on humans, but if it means I get to live I'll do it. I aim for her leg and pull the trigger.

"That should keep her occupied for a while, now let's go," I tell Wanda. We both run out of the room, car keys in my hand. We both jump in the car, leaving Maria behind in the hotel room.

"Looks like being attacked wasn't my fault this time," Wanda says once our adrenaline has finally gone down.

"Well you still dated this one too so I'm sure this is somehow also your fault."

"Ok whatever you say," Wanda says, although I know she doesn't agree with me. "So we've got Natasha and Maria on our tails now, so where do we go now? With the both of them following us, there aren't many places that would be safe."

"I might know a place," I say. "It's like a safehouse of sorts."

"Why didn't we go there in the first place?"

"it's complicated," I say, not wanting to answer her question.

"Like how Natasha and I are complicated? Or Maria and I?"

"Not exactly," is all I say, and thankfully Wanda drops the subject. We drive for a few more hours until I finally turn into a driveway. The house before us looks like any other house in the suburbs would. There's flowers and trees lining the driveway and a little picket white fence around the house. You would never suspect that a supernatural creature lives inside it.

We walk up to the door and all I feel is anxiety. I had taken us to the one place I hadn’t wanted to go to, but it’s out last option. It’s the only place I know that would be 100% safe. So reluctantly I knock on the door, praying the woman who lives on the other side of it answers, and that this won't be another decision that bites me in the butt.

[theconstantsidekick]

Lit Cigarettes (Part 1)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x BestFriend!Reader, Damon Salvatore x Stefan Salvatore x Sister!Reader (mentioned) Genre: Angsty Fluff

Summary: Y/n decides that Dean Winchester really needs to know how she feels about him.

(Set after the events of Supernatural season 4 and yes, Y/n is technically a Salvatore. I love the adopted sibling trope, can you tell?)

a/n: I have another part in mind if this does well.

Warnings: Smoking, mentions of smoking, romanticisation of smoking, a lot of that yes, sorry. Don't smoke kids.

Part 2 is here

He used to light her cigarettes when she was too busy talking. That’s what love is. According to her, that is the truest, most genuine form of love. The idea might sound quite contradictory, somehow. But it would make sense to smokers all around the world. 

The thought that somebody would just pluck the cigarette out of your hand, light it, take a little puff to keep the light aflame and just place it back between your index and middle finger. That’s somehow so painfully selfless that it can’t be classified as anything other than the most romantic act known to mankind. 

Now, the tragedy of it all was that that was the only showing of love she ever got from him. All she ever got was a lit cigarette handed off to her while she was too invested in spewing absolutely random bullshit about the sensors on automatic doors at some blackwater motel in an unnamed town. He’d do it quietly. He wasn’t quiet but there was always a quietness about him. Not quiet in the truest definition of the word. He was quiet in a different way, he talked. He was always charming, never not charming. He smiled and charmed everyone further still, but it felt like a very well rehearsed performance. His words, his charm, his smile seemed rehearsed, practiced relentlessly. A stark contrast to how they talked, when he talked to her and just her. Or well, so she thought until she found out that he could talk with a genuine smile to just about anyone unless there was a room full of people. Until the day she found that out, she felt quite special about it.

She felt important to him, enough for him to talk around her more, smoke around her more and light her cigarettes when she was too busy talking.

He never smoked around anyone else, hid the bad habit from his brother, but never her. It made her feel like there was a precarious unspoken bond between the two of them that could break at the mere mention of it. Could it?

She’s going to find out.

“Dean,” she calls out in no urgency, with a quiet calm. They are packing up their things, leaving the small motel room behind for another one in another town. Sam’s out at the reception, settling the bill. He’ll be back soon, she needs to wrap this up before he comes back. 

“Yeah?” Dean answers, never looking up from the duffle bag he’s aggressively shoving his clothes into.

“I love you.”

Dean’s motion halted at once. He doesn’t move, she thinks maybe he can’t move.

“Dean?”

The man in front of her gulps, audibly. “Yeah?”

“I love you.” It feels important to reiterate in this case. 

“I—” Words seem to be straining him. “I heard you the first time.”

“Good,” she tells him and then resumes packing her shit. But there’s a few more things to add, “I know we don’t talk about it, I know we aren’t supposed to. I know you’ve always known that I loved you and we still never talk about it, which means you don’t feel the same way, which again, I know. I am not trying to change your mind, I’m not trying to get into your pants. I’m certainly not asking you to love me back. I am not asking for anything actually, so you can quit looking so fucking terrified. I just needed to tell you because you up and died and it felt like my life stopped, like I couldn’t fucking breathe anymore. I felt hollow and broken and it felt wrong to be alive…” He looks at her then. Her voice is so thick with emotions, even though she is trying to keep them at bay, he must have felt compelled to look at her, she muses.

Shaking her head, she exhales audibly. “But you’re back now and I just needed to say it. I’ve loved you since I first saw you when I was 13. I don’t know how to not be in love with you, trust me, I’ve tried. So, I've learnt to make peace with it. I definitely don’t need you to say something, I just needed you to know that I love you, always have, most probably I always will. I need you to know that you are loved.”

There is silence then, no words, just the sound of her footsteps as she goes around the room picking up things she wants to shove into her bag.

“I…” Dean tries. But the words fade away just as quickly as the thoughts strike him. She looks at him for a second but the silence that proceeded makes her look away. She has just dropped a huge bomb, not that it was some revelatory information but it was something they had avoided talking about for literally ever, so it was fair that he needed some time to come up with a response. She is more than happy to give it to him.

But then Sam walks back into the room. “I’m pretty sure the dude at the reception thinks we’re a freaking thruple.” He walks to the washroom to collect his toiletry pouch and begins packing as well. “I mean, I’m not sure I can blame him? But I want to?” He shrugs. “Dean and I really don’t look all that alike, maybe that’s it? But this is like, the seventh motel in a row that’s given me really weird looks, you know? I don’t know whether to be flattered or plain disgusted—” His words drop off, as he finally notices the atmosphere in the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks looking from his brother to his best friend.

“Yes,” Dean replies at the same time as she says, “No.”

“NO?!” Dean balks at her.

“Can you guys drop me off at the bus stop? I gotta head to Mystic Falls,” she says, zipping up her bag and exiting the room.

Dean follows her instantly. “Mystic Falls? I thought you weren’t talking to your brothers?” Running up to catch up with her, he races even further ahead to open the trunk of his car for her. 

“Yeah, but that was last week,” she tells him as if that was enough explanation. She places her bag in the trunk.

“They kicked you out!” Dean seems on edge. She can’t completely understand why. 

She looks at him. “It’s Stef’s birthday.”

“He’s had a couple hundred of those,” Dean argues.

She smiles, “I hope he has a couple hundred more, and I’ll try to attend them all.”

“Damon forgot yours!” 

She shrugs. “I’ll pretend to forget his. But this is Stefan. And besides, Caroline invited me. You want me to bail and piss her off?”

He slams the trunk shut. “Fine!” He acquiesces, albeit very aggressively. “But I’m dropping you to the Boarding House, not a fucking bus stop.”

Meanwhile, Sam comes out, carrying his own luggage as well as Dean's—who had apparently completely forgotten about it. He opens the trunk again, eyeing Dean and her very suspiciously.

She moves to open the back door of the Impala. “You’re going to Ohio, it’s like a three hour detour.”

“It’s two hours with me behind the wheel. Get in,” he commands, leaving no room for any argument. 

“I was doing that anyway,” she says almost to herself, getting in the back. 

Dean stops her. “Get in the front. Sam’ll sit in the back.”

“I will?” Sam questions, lost.

Dean doesn’t care. He just gets in the driver seat, not waiting on either of the two. A look passes between Sam and her. He raises a brow in question, she just smiles and shrugs again in response and gets in.

Later, when Sam’s already asleep in the backseat, Dean clears his throat.

“So.”

She doesn’t turn around to look at him, she isn’t sure she was supposed to, and it’s drizzling, she doesn’t want to turn away from the window, not yet. “So.”

She can feel him shift uncomfortably next to her. “You gonna say anything?” He asks.

She thinks for a second. “I don’t think I have anything left to say, really. I said everything I had to say.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Dean yells out.

She has to look at him then, with ire in her eyes. “SHhhh!! He’s sleeping!” She whisper-yells at him, pointing to Sam in the back seat. 

Trying to compose himself once again, Dean whisper-yells back at her, “What do you mean you’ve said everything you had to?”

“I said it, in the motel,” She explains.

“And that was it? The end of the conversation?” Dean questions, seeming very agitated.

“I mean, yeah! What else am I supposed to do?” She throws back, his agitation is quite contagious. It always has been. 

“You really think that was a reasonable end to that conversation?!” Dean bites.

She’s getting annoyed now. “What do you want? You want me to elaborate? Write a thesis paper on it? Or—or would you like to read my diary where I scribbled ‘Y/n Winchester’ a million times? What exactly is the resolution you’re looking for here?”

“You wrote ‘Y/n Winchester’ in your diary a million times…?” He asks, almost as if he cannot comprehend the idea of it. 

From anyone else she would’ve taken that as an insult. Had it been anyone else they might have actually been making fun of her. But it’s not anyone else. It’s Dean. So she’s compelled to look at him.

“Yeah, Dean. And it was just as embarrassing then as it is right now. But I was the nerdy teenager and you were the hot jock who the cheerleaders at Mystic Falls High were dying to date.” Just the thought of those days makes her morose. “I don’t like to think about those days.”

Then there is silence again.

Until Dean clears his throat, slowly he says, “But I never drove any of them home.” And damn it all to hell, it makes her smile. And damn it all to hell, her smile apparently makes him more confident in his approach. “I didn’t wait for them outside their place, blaring AC/DC at the crack of dawn, all to get milkshakes before school… It was you. I wanted to hang out with you.”

But that’s somehow the wrong thing to say, “Never at school.”

“What?” Dean asks, thrown off.

“You didn’t talk to me at school.” Admitting it, it breaks something in her all over again. It’s like she’s in highschool again. She hates it.

“That’s not true! We had lunch together everyday!” He defends.

“Nope,” she tells him. “You had lunch with the cheer squad while I sat on the table next to you silently eating really bad beans.”

“But I was there,” He tries.

“You were,” she concedes. “You were there but you weren’t there.”

Silence falls once again.

“I don’t blame you,” she is the one that breaks it. “For high school.”

“Why not?” Dean asks, sounding genuinely more hurt at the fact that she doesn’t blame him than the fact that she accused him of ignoring her.

“It’s a weird time for everyone, and I think Mystic Falls High was the first time you got to actually enjoy it. You stayed there long enough to stop being the new kid and I think it was also the first time you felt like you fit in. I didn’t, and that was never your fault… or your problem for that matter,” she explains, fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

“That’s not fair,” Dean opposes.

“What?”

“Your problems are my problems.”

And the finality of his statement gives her a weird sort of confidence to say, “Sheesh. Wonder why I ended up falling in love with you.” 

The car skids a little.

She can’t help it, she laughs.

“YOU CAN’T JUST SAY SHIT LIKE THAT!” Dean argues.

She’s still laughing, “I’m sorry. But… Come on! It was kinda funny.” 

“I did not find that funny! Not even a little bit! What’s so funny about being—” He cuts himself off.

She laughs a little harder. “That’s what’s funny! You can’t even say it! You wanna know what’s so funny about being in love with you? I can’t stop it. It’s…” She sits up to position her back towards the window and moves herself to face Dean better. “It’s like breathing. I have tried, time and time again, to stop, and for a while I can. I can try to hold my breath when I’m being mindful of it. I can remember not to breathe when I’m focused on not breathing but the moment my brain gets engaged anywhere else, I’m screwed. The moment I look away, the moment I burn my toast, or start reading a book or watch a film, the moment I’m in a rush to meet Bonnie, the moment my mind becomes occupied with anything other than the conscious thought reminding me not to breathe—BAM! I’m falling in love with you again. It’s so fucking easy, it’s so fucking comfortable. Loving you is the my most cherished accomplishment because I’ve done it so fucking well for so freaking long.” She smiles. “I feel like I deserve a prize.”

Dean stays silent.

Her smile fades.

She shakes her head, she knew what he felt. She’s always known how he feels. A long silence shouldn’t be the thing that aches her heart. Not after having been in love with this man for this long.

“Did you—” He cuts himself short. She turns to him again, eager for him to continue. And her silent pleas are heard loudly. Continue he does, “Did you decide to tell me… about this today cause we met 15 years ago today?”

“No,” she brushes him off. “I just needed to get this off my—” Suddenly his words strike her like a thunderbolt. “What do you mean 15 years ago today?”

He shrugs, eyes on the road. “A day before Stefan’s birthday, that’s when we met for the first time.”

“You… You remember the day we met?” She asks, dumbfounded.

Dean doesn’t answer, instead the car comes to a stop. He’s pulled into the parking lot of a 7Eleven. “I’ll be right back.”

Only when she watches Dean get out of the car and walk into the store does she realise that it’s the 7Eleven in Mystic Falls. They are only a few minutes away from the Salvatore Boarding house, barely 12 minutes away from her brothers’ place. 

She can’t believe she feels this way but a part of her feels like she’s running out of time. But running out of time for what? It’s Dean! He’ll be there to pick her up two days later. He’ll be there to light her cigarettes in a crowd—and not mean absolutely anything by it—in two days time. It’s not that long. They’ve dropped her off to live with her brothers’ for weeks even. Two days is nothing. It’s barely a visit. Then why in God’s name does she feel like there’s a clock right above her head counting down. And counting down to what??

“Here you go,” Dean says, as he gets in and throws something in her lap. 

She catches out of reflex. “Cigarettes?” It’s two packs of menthols, her current favorite.

“What about ‘em? You like these right?” He pulls out of the parking lot. “You quit Marlboro Reds a month ago, and switched to these so I thought they’d be a safer bet. Was I wrong?” 

It’s natural though. The most natural thing in the world. Dean buys her cigarettes. He always buys her cigarettes.

The thing about smoking that most people don’t understand is that it opens a whole new world. It’s bad obviously and no one should do it. But when you do it, when you smoke, there are a few things, a few rules that might not mean anything to a non-smoker but mean everything to a smoker. 

Take for instance, ‘Puff-Puff-Pass’. 

For any random person, the intricacies of ‘Puff-Puff-Pass’ exists to the extent of its name. But only a smoker knows that in an intimate setting, between two friends, the rule doesn’t apply. It’s rude not to follow the rule in a social gathering amongst semi-strangers, but among the two of them, it never applied.

Similarly, buying someone cigarettes is the purest gesture of care. 

Having a pack ready for consumption whenever she came back from a visit to the Salvatore Boarding House? To her that always felt like the loudest way that Dean could tell her that he cared for her. 

And he did these things often. Even when he quit smoking, he’d light her cigarettes for her. For as long as Dean has known she smokes, she has never lit a cigarette for herself. These gestures of… call it love, call it self-destruction, they have never not been there. So him buying her cigarettes is the most natural thing in the world but it throws her off still.

“Y/n?”

“What?” She suddenly remembers there was a question there, in his words before. “Oh yeah. Menthols… I smoke menthols now, yes. Good guess.”

He noticed me change my cigarettes? She asks herself, feeling something very close to giddy. Before she has to scream at herself inside, cause Dean has always done this and it has never meant anything. It’s just his small way of adhering to his duty of care.

“Thanks,” she tells him belatedly. She doesn’t fail to notice how the words make his nose scrunch up—the way it usually does when he dislikes something.

“You said you’ve tried not loving me,” Dean states and that’s all it is—a statement, an observation.

But she feels compelled to explain herself, “It’s not easy,” she tells him. “You’re… You’re you. You’re charming and hot and…” she’s spilled most of her guts, what harm can a little bit of spilling her heart do now? “You’re beautiful. You’ve got a different girl to take home every other night. It kills me inside, I won’t lie. It’s torture seeing you laughing with someone else. It really is. But it’s not your fault. And, I know you don’t feel the same way, and for a long time I didn’t mind this one sided affair cause, it was mine, you know? This love I had for you, it was all mine. I didn’t care if you loved me back… But then you…”

“Died,” he finishes the sentence for her.

She nods lamely. “It felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest. I don’t remember what I did when you weren’t around. I don’t remember how I survived because to me breathing was being in love with you. It’ll always be that. I just knew if I ever saw you again, I needed you to know how I felt. I’d been too selfish with my love for you. I… I don’t know. It sounds stupid now. I just needed you to know and I felt like I should tell you today so I did.”

And then the car stops again. 

She looks up and she’s standing in front of the boarding house. 

Clock’s run out.

Dean tries to say something but she doesn’t know if she has the courage to hear a placated, softly-worded rejection so she just gets out of the car. 

He follows suit.

He rushes to open the trunk and pulls out her luggage.

She takes it for him, and then begins walking to the door.

“Y/n!”

It feels like a gust of wind. 

The way he calls for her feels like the gust of wind that blows right before the lighting strikes.

She turns without hesitance. 

Their eyes lock.

He’s standing next to the driver side, the door to the impala is still open. The only thing lighting his face is a street light a couple paces behind him. Bathed in yellow, he looks like a wild field of sunflowers, with his messy blond hair and painfully green eyes. He’s absolutely breathtaking.

For all her talk of her love for Dean Winchester being like breathing, in this moment, at the sight of this man looking absolutely divine, she doesn’t think she remembers how to breathe at all.

So with bated breath, she waits for him to speak.

“Y/n…” He says again, before something changes and his eyes stop shining, his posture hardens, his hand grips the Impala’s door a little harder and his face loses color. Then he says, “We’ll pick you up Tuesday.” With that he gets back in the car and drives off. 

It’s only when they’ve crossed the Mystic Falls border does the silence in the Impala break.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam tells him. 

Find Part 2 here.

[newtkelly]

Not to word vomit on you but I can't stop thinking about Oliver wanting a love story like Tarlos and how it all accidentally lined up.

Knowing that Carlos and TK were about to move in, and then Carlos made that romantic gesture and TK got scared because it was, "too good to be true."

Carlos is left, confused, puzzled and nursing a broken-heart but still just as in love. What do you mean that TK and Carlos saw a future together, one got scared at that prospect and left before Carlos was the one to leave??

What do you mean that happened after Oliver said he wanted Bucktommy to have a love story like Tarlos; where it was always going to be them?

Then you consider Oliver saying that we might see Tommy and Buck interact during a call and it'll be awkward and who can't help but think of TK and Carlos running into the furniture store and seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

Anyways, sorry to be delusional in your ask box. I'm deep within the Tarlos trenches so this is all starting to look eerily familiar lmao (it could also be Tim is out of ideas, which is most likely the case)

Please feel free to word vomit on me always, I live for it.

Receiving this ask has actually prompted me to share some thoughts that I’ve held back from sharing, just because I wasn’t sure if it was worth it to throw more speculation into the void. But this message is so lovely, and I agree with it so much and so… okay I will share some of my mixed bag of thoughts about this whole situation.

Firstly, I adore Tarlos and LS (even if I don’t post about either much), TK is my baby, and the interesting thing about them for me is that I wound up caring for them more AFTER they broke up and got back together. If Buck and Tommy’s story is formatted as a rom-com, TK and Carlos are a tragicomedy. TK, the heartbroken recovering addict thrust into an entirely new city, a new career, who doesn’t want to let himself get too close to something good because he is misery incarnate. Carlos, the hopeful hopeless romantic who sees TK and doesn’t see something that needs fixing, but someone who his love could help heal. It’s such a gorgeous story, and the symmetry of both characters shockingly losing a parent in a tragic way is painfully beautiful. I LOVE their love story.

That brings me to Oliver and Tim’s comments. Throughout the Buck and Tommy relationship, my belief that this would be Buck’s final relationship only ever wavered twice. The first time was in the immediate aftermath of their first date (I spent the whole episode thinking that Tommy was actually reintroduced to kick off the bi awakening plotline and Buck was not acquiring a boyfriend) and the second time was towards the tail end of the summer hiatus when I legitimately began to doubt Lou would want to come back given everything that transpired. Other than that, I had full faith that this was it, this was Buck getting off the “hamster wheel”—Tim’s words, not mine.

I had confidence for a few reasons. 1 – the story was always handled with care onscreen and gave us no reason to think they weren’t going to work out. 2 – the chemistry was insane, and I knew it couldn’t just be me because an entire fandom was born. Tim and tptb must have seen what we saw. 3 – the supplementary information funneled to us through articles and Tim’s social media, literally up until post-8x06 never seemed to indicate that their relationship was headed in this direction. A big part of that was the comparison to Tarlos.

In order to protect myself (should I name the list of shows, movies, couples that I’ve fixated on that wound up playing out in dissatisfying ways?), I am awfully pessimistic. The post-episode interviews, articles, + hearing a bit from LFJ and OS has me wondering if this was some mass hallucination. Did we truly cling to something good and blow it up, run with it? Was this always the plan? I’ve wondered if because S7 was so short and S8 required that other characters get the spotlight first/other stories needed to be told and wrapped, and if because of production and scheduling and whatever external reasons, did their relationship wind up having a longer life than was ever intended. Were they ever supposed to make it to six months? Were they ever supposed to make it past the fucking wedding? I have been asking myself this stuff a lot. Alternatively, did something happen that made them want to or have to part ways with LFJ? So many questions, and I’m not sure we’ll ever know.

But… then there’s the delusional side of me, and the reason I haven’t totally abandoned hope is because when I was watching 8x06 live, EVERYTHING in me told me that this is a necessary section of the rom-com formula. Even the call-backs throughout the episode made me feel like the writers are so painfully aware, and that the narrative wants these characters to be together (Miceli’s, Abby, basketball, going to the movies, calling an uber, the loft kitchen, “you’re not ready”)—the motifs were absolutely popping off. I did not think it was the end when the episode ended. I wondered when and how they would find their way back to each other to fulfill the rom-com genre, but what I did NOT expect was to open social media and see articles framing this as the end. I wasn’t surprised when I found out who wrote the articles, and listen—if they bait one side of the fandom, can’t they bait the other? I still have some hope, because at the end of the day, anything can happen with network television. Maybe this is all part of the plan, and the interviews should be taken with a grain of salt. I just don’t know.

Interviews with Tim and Oliver from day one positioned the Buck and Tommy relationship as a queer love story devoid of trauma. Okay, well… huh. From where I was sitting, there was A TON of explicitly queer trauma exposed in 8x06. Their “hurdle” is tied utterly and completely to queerness. Tommy runs because he is a gay man who doesn’t trust that his bisexual boyfriend should “settle” for him, and who would rather be alone than heartbroken, and if that truly is the last of Tommy, it has to be one of the coldest and cruelest exits we’ve ever seen on this show. Do they simply not realize how deeply traumatized both characters come off in that episode, or is it all part of the plan? If the interviews positioning this as the permanent end of bucktommy should be taken at face value, shouldn’t the other interviews that position them as a rom-com (with the formulaic third act breakup, boils and all) be taken as the truth as well? If there was some misinterpretation, why hasn’t Tim said anything—he clearly knows a lot of fans were hurt by what they watched. He must have seen the outrage—why radio silence? Did we truly blow this out of proportion? Are the wheels coming off behind the scenes? I need a tell-all at this point lol

Thank you for the lovely ask, I’ve been sitting with these thoughts all week so this was a good excuse to finally articulate them. <3

[daisymbin]

please don't go - jeon wonwoo

warnings: none

pairings: jeon wonwoo x afab reader

genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst

a/n: lower case intended! also writing my first fic at 1am so.....

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

"how was your date?'' wonwoo asked the second the door opened to your shared apartment. not that wonwoo would ever admit it but it is currently 1:03am and he may or may not have stayed up to wait for you to return despite having had a very exhausting day himself.

''why are you still up? isn't it past your bed time?'' you asked as you removed your heels. 'i couldn't sleep.' he simply said. ''so? how was it?''

'it was alright i guess. it wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst either.'' sighing, you walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge before settling near the island of the kitchen.

truthfully, you didn't want to discuss the details with wonwoo. because aside from the fact that you're in love with your best friend, you've also been going on a few dates with mingyu now to try and get over your best friend. seungkwan had suggested setting you up with mingyu when you confided in him as he knew mingyu was interested in you. the only problem, however, is the fact that wonwoo seemed to not like mingyu. ever since the first time you went out with mingyu, wonwoo had no problem in letting you know how bad of an idea it was. saying mingyu was not your type, or that you both don't look good together; all these petty reasons that make no sense at all and you were slowly getting annoyed.

''are you hungry?'' you asked as you tried to change the topic.

''are you going to continue going out with him?''

''should we order some pizza?''

''mingyu isn't even your type, i don't know why him out of all people.''

''or should we order some pasta if you're not feeling pizza?''

''y/n.''

''or maybe i should cook us something? fried rice?''

''y/n can we please just talk about this?''

''do we still have any rice left?''

‘‘Y/N PLEASE!''

''what wonwoo?'' you said back harshly. it isn't until now that you realise how frustrated you are. trying to move on from him is so hard when he is around you all the time. it makes it even harder when he keeps being harsh about your dates and points out why each one of them isn't suitable for you, and the worst part of it all is that you know he's right, all of it. but what were you to do? there is no one who could ever come close to wonwoo.

''stop going out with mingyu! you don't even like him!''

''and how do you know that? maybe i do like him! maybe i like him a lot!'' you wanted to scream and shout to get all your feelings out..but this isn't your first fight with wonwoo about mingyu or any other guy you've been on dates with and you were just so worn out by now.

''that's bullshit and you know it. mingyu literally checks none of the boxes on your list of traits for your type.''

''i made that list 3 years ago! things change wonwoo! not all of us stay the same!''

its wonwoo who is silent now. his knuckles have turned paler than ever from gripping onto the edges of the island so hard.

''what the hell does that mean?''

''nothing.'' you said as you picked up your purse and head to your bedroom. you don't get to go far though, because wonwoo is holding onto your wrist now. so tightly yet so gentle at the same time. you wonder how that is possible. you hope he doesn't feel the pulse on your wrist picking up speed, and he hopes you don't feel his hand slightly trembling.

''please sweetheart...just..not him''

you sigh for the nth time tonight, ''wonwoo i can't just not date every guy you think isn't good enough or suitable enough for me. how am i ever going to find someone?''

''do you have to? do you have to find someone? i know you don't like mingyu enough so why?''

''really wonwoo? do i not like mingyu enough or do you just not like mingyu like how you don't like every single guy i've ever been on a date with? why? are you scared i'll call you less? replace you? have a new best friend? spend less time with you?'' your frustration was slowly growing again.

wonwoo feels his heart clench. can he tell you? will it ruin your 8 year long friendship? things are bound to become awkward, there's no way he can tell you how he truly feels.

but wonwoo decides, wonwoo finally decides that hiding his feelings from you for 5 long years is excruciating enough.

''none of that.'' he says so softly you can barely hear him.

''what?''

''i said, its none of that.''

''then what is it?''

wonwoo decides that if he is to get his heart broken by you, it might as well be tonight. he might as well just....try

wonwoo looks at you one last time for what feels like a good 10 minutes, even though it was only 10 seconds. he's contemplating, he's thinking and then.. he says fuck it.

his body moves faster than his brain. before he could properly process it, he finds his lips on yours. he feels you freeze for a split second, and then he feels you relaxing under his touch. he feels you kissing him back. he feels his heart beating so fast but also, he feels his heart slowly but surely unclench.

he pulls away softly and slowly. ''don't go out with mingyu anymore. don't go out with anyone else anymore. don't have dinner dates with anyone else. don't laugh at someone else's jokes that aren't funny just for the sake of being polite. i won't put you through all of that. i'll hold your hand. i'll have a pair of your converse in the car so your feet won't hurt from heels all day. i'll tell you jokes that are actually funny the way i know you like it. just let me love you and i'll show you all the ways i know how when it comes to you.''

you don't realise your tears slowly staining your cheeks, not until wonwoo's free hand comes up to wipe your tears with his thumb. its now your turn for your hand to reach out for wonwoo's wrist to pull him in for a kiss.

''please...please don't go''

''do you mean it?'' you asked softly

''i do. i love you, and i'll show you.''

and he does. now, he always holds your hand when you're walking on the street, crossing the road, lazing on the sofa, on the bed, on the table when you're waiting for your food to be served. he holds your hair back when you have to puke after having too much to drink. he removes your make up for you when you are too tired or too drunk. he never makes you wait, he always gives you the first bite of his food. he kisses you on the cheek, on the forehead, on your temples, the back of your hand, your fingers and on your lips, all while always telling you how much he loves you. he loves you in all the small and simple ways. but jeon wonwoo knows you love him too.

[foxcantswim]

FNAF Movie / / Vanessa x F!Reader [Safety Latch]

(gif by me)

Vanessa teaches you how to repair Freddy. She's definitely feeling platonic things right now. Contents: Fluff, Angst(ish), First Kiss Warnings: N/A WC: 1,598

(Freddy repair process is based on Help Wanted 1 gameplay)

You nervously circled around Freddy. Even as he sat on the chair he still towered over you. You had only been working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria for a few months now as the new overnight security guard, you were quite surprised when you got a call telling you to repair the animatronics despite no prior training.

You had thankfully met an officer called Vanessa on the first night on the job, she seemed to know quite a bit about the animatronics.

"Try not to worry too much," Vanessa said as she leaned over to fumble around in some drawers nearby.

"What if I break him?!" you exclaimed, worry in your voice.

Rolling her eyes with a smirk, she looked over at you, "You won't break him. I'm here to teach you the basics."

"I'm surprised you even know how to..."

She shrugged, "There's a lot you don't know about me, Y/N."

Vanessa brought out a small strange looking box and placed it on the desk near Freddy, "What's that?" you pointed towards the box.

"His music has been glitching out a lot lately. That is a music box. I think it's about time he got a replacement, god knows when he last had one," she stood up from her stool which was directly in front of Freddy, she then beckoned you over with her finger, "Sit."

Gulping harshly, you walked over and sat down. Freddy was currently deactivated, yet a slight twinge of fear ran through you. Your eyes landed on a blue bin to your right, there was a couple of different clothing items within it.

Vanessa noticed your curiosity, "That's just in case he has anything inside him that doesn't belong. We always make sure he's thoroughly cleaned out."

You let out a shaky breath with a nod, "Okay... Okay." Vanessa switched on some extra lights to give you more lighting, hoping to help you out a little bit more. Her hand soon landed on your shoulder in comfort. Both of your eyes soon landed on the huge animatronic in front of you.

"Right. Lets get this over and done with." She removed her hand from your shoulder, sadly, and she grabbed a toolkit from a shelf, "Hopefully he doesn't have any irreparable damage," she really did hope it was just the music box that needed switching out.

"Where do we start?" you said, your eyes not daring to leave Freddy.

The blonde put the toolkit onto the desk before moving back to your side, "Okay. First things first we need to get into his chest cavity. I'll walk you through it." She pointed up towards Freddy's chest, "First you need to grab his bowtie and pull it out towards you."

"Wh-What? What if I break it, I-"

"Y/N..." she sighed, "You won't break it. It was designed to do this. You're not scared of this little teddy bear, are you?" she teased as her hand landed on your upper back, pushing you forwards ever so slightly, you shivered under her touch.

A pout had landed on your face at Vanessa's words before you decided to finally raise a shaky hand up towards the bowtie, attempting to face your fears. You had been saying that you were merely afraid of breaking the animatronic... But truthfully you were worried about what this thing was capable of, after all it seemed to be sentient from what you had seen in the past few months.

Finally your hand grasped the bowtie and pulled gently, you didn't expect the chest cavity to fly open so quickly causing you to flinch back.

"There... Good job. That's step one done," her hand moved to your shoulder and squeezed it, "Thankfully there doesn't seem to be anything that doesn't belong in here... Now here comes the fun part," she said through a sigh, sarcasm in her words.

Within the chest cavity you could see some sort of mechanism swinging from side to side, behind it there was a device that seemed to resemble a music box.

"Right, this thing here," she pointed towards the mechanism that was swinging, "Is the safety latch. It causes a shutdown if anything gets in the way. So don't touch it. And don't touch any of his wiring, you can get a nasty shock from it," she eyed the music box in the bottom right of his cavity, "All you need to do is take that out, and then push that red button right there on his endoskeleton to reset his safety latch. Easy?"

You nodded, "Y-Yeah... Sure."

All you had to do was grab the music box without touching the safety latch that was occasionally swinging in front of it. Simple.

"And then you have to reconnect the new music box. Then we are all done. There doesn't seem to be any other damage, so that's all we need to do."

Your already shaky hands seemed to shake even more as you slowly reached towards his chest cavity. You stopped yourself just short of the music box, narrowly avoiding the safety latch.

"Hey... Take it easy. No rush," Vanessa reassured.

A few moments passed and yet your slowly retracted your hand, unsure of what to do. You definitely didn't expect for Vanessa's own hand to slowly lay on top of yours, "Here... I'll help you," her voice was soft, her face flushed a slight red.

You could feel your heart beating rapidly as Vanessa's cool skin smoothed over your warm hand.

"And... Here we go," she slowly guided your hand towards the music box, the safety latch still slowly swinging left and right. Her head was next to yours, her breath tickling the side of your ear. You could feel her chest resting against your back as she leaned over your shoulder, "Just one quick grab, okay?" you flexed your fingers as Vanessa moved your hand closer.

It was over before you knew it, Vanessa had successfully guided your hand to the box and helped you remove it with no complications. You were surprised at how easy the box seemed to detach.

"See. You did it," her voice was quiet as she still kept her head next to yours, "Nice job, Y/N," she removed her hand from yours finally, you had to stop yourself from reaching back out for it, "Lemme get that for you." She expertly pressed the red button whilst dodging the safety latch, the latch then slowly came to a stop.

You placed the damaged music box onto the desk before grabbing a new one. Vanessa stepped aside so you could put the new music box inside the chest cavity. At least the safety latch no longer moved, this was a piece of cake.

"You'll be a natural in no time," Vanessa smirked at you as you finished connecting the music box, "I'm proud of you for not fucking it up at least."

You couldn't help but smile.

Vanessa proceeded to close Freddy's chest cavity and put the bowtie back in place.

You didn't really know what came over you, but you decided to stand up from the stool and walk over towards Vanessa, "I definitely couldn't of done it without you." She turned around to meet your gaze. You could already feel the blush spreading across your cheek as you reached up to kiss her on the cheek, "Thanks, Van."

A shy laugh escaped Vanessa, "No worries, Y/N."

The pair of you still stood face to face, neither daring to move away. You barely caught Vanessa's gaze flickering down to your lips, you felt as if your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

Vanessa took you not moving away as a sign, and she slowly leaned in. Her lips brushed against yours, almost feather light. Your eyes closed shut at the contact. She couldn't stop herself from smiling into the kiss as she decided to deepen it ever so slightly. You were shocked at the sudden kiss, you never even thought about Vanessa having feelings towards you.

You stepped forwards to get closer to her, but Vanessa abruptly pulled away as her back banged into Freddy.

She let out a laugh, "Sorry, Freddy," she pat Freddy's knee. She looked back at you, a soft look in her eyes. You were about to speak but were cut off by Vanessa pecking your lips once again, "We'll have plenty of time to talk about this later, Y/N," she smiled.

"Y-Yeah..." you gulped.

Vanessa's hand cupped your jaw and her thumb rubbed your cheek. You were just about to lean into her touch but she suddenly pulled away. She nodded her head towards the door, "Come on, Y/N. It's about time we go and check up on the others. They're not going to repair themselves." Her hand interlocked with yours to your surprise.

Your breath hitched as you were dragged out the room, she shot a wink your way.

A part of you didn't want to do this anymore, another sense of dread washing over you. But an even bigger part of you would do anything to be that close to Vanessa again. You'd do anything to get her to guide your hand again. In any way she wanted.

Vanessa opened the door.

You simply smiled once you saw Bonnie.

Vanessa x F!Reader - Jealousy (Fluff,Angst,Established Relationship)

Vanessa x F!Reader - Total Insecurity (Angst,Hurt/Comfort)