#why would she be hell bent on getting those two together.

[jfkisonthemoon]

han sooyoung did not write both TWSA and ORV in the slim hopes that one of them would save kim dokja's life for y'all to write her off as the "angry lesbian who only cares about getting her gay friends together"

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

[caitlynspistol]

the varsity jacket

based on this post by @the-curious-butterfly bc apparently my brain can not read something cute and NOT create a whole scenario/fic in my mind-

now on ao3!!

-----

It’s because Red has nothing else to do, okay?

She’s free after class on the days that Chloe has practice, and it’s not like she’s like those goody two shoes to start on her homework a week before it's due (unlike someone she knows) or have any other friends to bother, so that is why she is on the Tourney field. She would never admit it to herself but she misses her roommate sometimes, especially when they don’t have all the same classes and Chloe doesn’t look at her or treat her differently because she’s from Wonderland; Red misses Chloe, and coming to see her practices before they head off to their dorm together afterwards has become a highlight of Red’s week.

She has a favorite spot: the seventh seat from the left in the second row, one that is not too close to the field so that dirt doesn’t shower into her face whenever the players skirt by, and one that is not too far so as to not make out each and every one of Chloe’s expressions while she leads and directs her team members. Red loves how expressive Chloe is, how smart her eyes look when they sparkle in elaborating strategic plays and how strong and confident she seems whenever she stands in that way with bent knees demonstrating the correct way to hit the ball.

She likes to bring her sketchbook sometimes just to capture those moments.

Chloe seems to have noticed how Red has a favorite spot. She glances Red’s way at the beginning of practice every time, Red trying not to grin whenever Chloe would make an excited hop when she would wave back. When the breeze first turns chilly and the weather starts getting more cold, Chloe lends Red her varsity jacket, claiming that it would be on her conscience and she would feel bad should Red acquire a cold at one of her practices.

Red didn’t even have the time or energy to complain. She can feel her cheeks heat up in embarrassment and that weird fluttery emotion in her chest she’s noticing recently around Chloe and her stupid affectionate gestures when Chloe wrapped it around her shoulders, the entire school’s eyes on them as Chloe patted her arm. 

“There you are, Princesse, don’t cause too much trouble without me, okay?”

Red watches her run back to her team with a slackened jaw, the jacket unnecessary as the name Charming burns a hole into her back.

Since then Chloe has never failed to leave the damn thing on Red’s spot. She would arrive with her black sketchbook and deck of cards to fiddle with, to a folded blue varsity jacket saving her seat. Red wonders fleetingly why nobody ever moves it because teenagers can be quite a selfish crowd, but after it happens the fifth time, she casts it out of her head.

Occasionally the jacket would reveal a surprise. There was one time where Red had removed it to discover a note, one that said “you didn’t take the trash out today” with a little sad face, another where she found chocolates waiting for her that left an uplifting smile on her lips.

Red would shuffle her cards and send one out to the field to circle around Chloe to show her appreciation whenever this happens, secretly adoring the excited giggle it would induce. 

Red loves the jacket, loves wearing it every time Chloe leaves it out for her. She worries that it’s stenched with her perfume with how often she wears it but Chloe never seems to mind so she eventually stops too.

Especially when the whole school knows to stay the hell away from Red’s favorite spot on the bleachers. 

It’s reserved.

[sunflowerrosewood]

Let Me Between Those Thick Thighs ~ Alastor

Author's Note: Since my other account @cheekyredwillow got deleted. I am adding some of my favorite fanfictions to this account and revamping this one with new ones. I hope to make an actual list of fandoms I am still a fan of! NO requests for the time being.

Warnings: This is a smutty story. Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Reader is AFAB and plus size.

~~~

You have been dating Alastor for a couple months now. It was interesting how you two got together because it had to do with Charlie. Apparently Alastor had been harboring a crush on you since you arrived as a maid for the hotel. As silly as it sounds, you looked very soft and like you did not belong in Hell. It had to be one of those mistaken identities again. But when Alastor watched you pick a large demon over your shoulder and threw him down the stairs for making sexual comments, he realized that there was no mistake.

He had watched you from afar and loved every minute. Charlie knew how much Alastor liked you because he got drunk one night and began to delve into his desires to protect you, love you, and even have you under him. He bragged that having a plump stomach made you look soft yet strong. Your large ass was so full that he would love to squeeze it as he walked by. And he loved how the maid outfit showed the stretch marks on your body. Charlie made it her mission to get you two together because then you confessed how much you loved Alastor. 

You two got together after Charlie asked you to clean Alastor’s room. He was going on and on how to ask you out to Niffty as she was sitting and avidly listening. You had walked in when he said you would not love a man like him and you just had to confess. That’s how you two became a couple. 

But since you two have been together for going on three months, you two haven’t had a whole lot of time together. It was always him running the hotel while you were cleaning it. You never had to worry about unwanted guests as Alastor would usually torture them. But you two really wanted time together. 

You were thinking of how Alastor always promised when you were ready to worship your entire body. It always made your panties wet and sometimes you just had to walk around with them soaked. Alastor would always get off in his office just thinking about your large breasts and plump stomach bouncing as he pounded into you. 

It was also your 4th month anniversary in the next week and Charlie and Vaggie knew how much you two needed time off. So they gave you the next week off and told Alastor to take the next week off. Even with his stubborn attitude, he took time off. And as soon as Charlie gave you two time off, it came just as quick.

The only thing that began to bug your mind was the night of your anniversary was the next day. You were hoping to tell Alastor that you would like to have your first time with him but the little voice in the back of your mind said to not say anything. You are fat. Why would Alastor want your body? 

“Y/n? You ready for bed? Tomorrow is our anniversary.” Alastor said softly as he bent down to kiss your temple.

“How did I get so lucky?” You sighed as he squeezed your ass and caused you to gasp.

“You mean that the other way around. I’m one of the most vile demons in Hell and here you are loving me like a teddy bear.” He teased as he kissed your lips gently. 

You got into bed and Alastor immediately held you against him. His face was burrowed into your neck to breathe in your scent. Your mind still raced with the thought of Alastor not wanting to be sexually with you. You sighed and fell asleep. 

As you woke up the next day, you smelled fresh breakfast and noticed Alastor with a tray of food. He must have not woken up that long ago because his hair was standing on all ends. 

“Morning Love.” Alastor said in a deep voice. You felt a chill go down your spine.

“Morning Al.” You said lovingly as he sat down to eat with you.

The entire day was just you two staying in bed and talking about everything. Luckily television was a thing and you two could watch whatever shows you wanted to. As you two were laying in bed, you felt Alastor’s hand run under his oversized shirt you were wearing to rub your thick thighs. You blushed as Alastor began to pepper your neck with kisses. 

“Alastor.” You whimpered. 

“I won’t push you darling.” Alastor whispered against your neck. 

“Are you sure you want to be with me? Like sexually?” You asked as you felt something hard press against your ass. 

“I have been thinking about it for a while how much I wanted to make love to you.” Alastor growled in your ear and massaged your thigh. Wetness pooled into your panties as Alastor smirked. “And I can tell you have been thinking about it too.”

His hands began to go deep between your legs and you felt him tap your panties. He began to rub softly as his other hand was kneading your breast through his shirt. Your nipples perked through the shirt and you let out a moan.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop. But if you do not say a word, I won’t be able to stop.” Alastor growled as you spread your legs.

“Please Al, have me.” You whimpered as Alastor’s lips met yours in a harsh kiss. It warmed your body up immediately. Alastor pulled you to him as your eyes widened.

“I’m too heavy!” You exclaimed as Alastor yanked you onto his lap. His hard cock pressed against your panties.

“Fuck I can’t wait to show you how much you mean to me.” Alastor growled as he nibbled down your neck. He nibbled until he found a soft spot just where your neck met your collarbone. His sharp teeth bit down and you let out a deep moan. The blood dribbled as Alastor lapped at your neck. He left a large bruise on your neck as he left more hickies down your neck.

Alastor was already unbuttoning your shirt and your large breasts dropped out. You saw Alastor lick his lips as his red eyes blew with lust. He pulled you forward from the middle of his chest down so he could suck and nibble on your breasts. You felt more of your cum coating your panties as he began to leave hickies on your breasts. 

“Al please.” You whimpered as he squeezed your thighs.

“I am going to love every part of your body and I will show you.” Alastor growled as he tugged your panties off. You whimpered at the cold air as Alastor pulled you to straddle his face.

“But Al-”

“If you say you’re heavy one more time. I will have you begging for release.” Alastor growled before pulling you down onto his mouth. “Now let me between these beautiful thighs.”

Before you could think twice, his tongue began lapping at your pussy. He held your thighs tight against his face as he drank your cum like a man who needs water. He laps at your clit as his long fingers delved into you. He began to thrust his fingers in and out of you.

“Oh Alastor!” You moaned as he began to use his sharp teeth to nip at your clit. You were squirming as you felt a tightness in your stomach. You began to hump his face looking for relief as his fingers curled to hit your g spot.

The dam broke as you let out a scream and came hard. Your cum dripped into Alastor’s mouth as he continued to lap all of your juices. You were squirming away as you were oversensitive. As Alastor pulled back, he pushed you down onto the bed and his hard chest met your breasts. He bent down and kissed every part of you. From your inner thighs, to your plump stomach, to your perky large breasts, to the soft lips of yours. You could taste yourself in the kiss as Alastor began to drop down his pants. You noticed his red and engorged cock drop out and precum leaked from the top. 

Before you could ask him to let you up so you could pleasure him, he slammed his cock into your pussy. You yelped as it was your first time and Alastor began to kiss your tears.

“I know it hurts love. Tell me when to move.” Alastor said as you were digging your nails into his back.

“Please move! God Alastor move.” You begged as you saw his smile turn into a smirk. 

“Never knew my girl was such a begger. I’ll have to do this more often.” Alastor said as he began to thrust. “But now, I want you.”

His thrusts began to speed up just so Alastor could watch your body bounce with his thrusts and your eyes roll back. He spent most of his time thrusting and kissing every part of his body. 

“You are so beautiful Y/n. You are bouncing so nice on my cock. I love watching your breasts and stomach bounce. I love you so damn much Y/n. Fuck you are so tight and warm around my cock. I can’t wait to cum in you.” Alastor growled. 

His thrusts got harder as you were trying to meet his thrusts. Another orgasm ripped through you and caused you to scream his name. You were babbling his name as he rubbed and scratched your body to leave his marks. Alastor was growling your name and other dirty words as he came. A flood of his seed gushed into you and filled you to the brim. Alastor’s thrusts got sloppy as he sighed. He leaned down to kiss you as he pulled out. 

“You look so divine dripping in my cum. I’ll give you a break for now but there will be more rounds.” Alastor said as he nipped your earlobe. 

You sighed as you felt his cum drip out of you and down your thighs. He continued to leave kisses down your neck as fingers were rubbing your clit softly. You whimpered as Alastor continued to kiss you.

“Shush my dear. I will satisfy you for this entire week.” Alastor growled in your ear before kissing the first hickey. 

That entire week you were left satisfied and unable to walk. Alastor usually brought food and water to bed or to take a bath. You two would have to ask another week off just for you to recover and to keep Alastor sedated. 

[v3nusxsky]

Twofold ask about one topic, bear with me

1) If you can (no pressure), maybe a hurt/comfort with Larissa where we're able to save her life and look after her at the hospital/take her home and look after her there too? Poor girl is always looking after us and I wanna return the favor when she needs it the most

Or 2) If you can't work with that prompt or are too busy or w/e do you have recs for similar? Again no pressure, either is fine and I love your work. Arrivederci!

Anything for you

*Authors note ~ slowly but surely clearing the inbox hope y’all are enjoying daily gifts and the first instalment of love is the best medicine most definitely wasn’t wrote while in a lecture🫣*

Trigger warnings~ weems injury, Marilyn shade

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

You don’t think you will ever get the image of her out of your brain, laying there looking deathly ethereal but her limbs were bent at unnatural angles as the needle lay empty beside her. The shimming sapphire liquid was still oozing from her slender neck. Yet it occurred little over two hours ago before your wife was rushed into Jericho’s hospital as a matter of emergency. Paramedics flinging long drawn out medical terminology between them not caring you understood nothing. Apart from the word poison. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together to complete the puzzle, that Normie bounty teacher tried to poison your wife. But why? Why would anyone want to harm someone so wonderfully unique?

The steady beeps that flowed steadily from her heart monitor were all that was giving you hope, sat at her bedside praying to a god you don’t believe in to bring her back to you. It can’t be her time to leave the earth, you have too many plans to start a family and grow old together. It would be cruelly to take it away before it’s even really began. You hadn’t even made it a year of being her wife yet. This can’t be fair. All you could do was clutch her Snow White hand in yours and pray she would pull through this. Marilyn would pay for this as soon as you knew she was okay. All the pent up anger and hurt from this moment would be channeled into ridding the world of her crap. But for now your wife needs you to be strong, to fight for her just as she would you.

Thankfully the antidote that was administered via an IV seemed to slowly be repairing the damage done to the shifters system, due to her capabilities she was healing. You don’t want to imagine what would be life if she didn’t have them. If you found her moments later you could’ve been too late and that thought is enough to shatter your heart into millions of tiny shards.

The moment she opened those beautiful icy blue eyes you cried tears of joy. She looked like hell but she was alive. Your wife. A fighter. Instantly you smothered her in love, praise and physical touch. Tiny kisses pressed to the palm of her hand as you cried and thanked her for fighting. You’d never let anyone hurt her like this ever again. The amount of love you held for Larissa Weems was overwhelming to say the least. A long road to recovery lay ahead but it was one you could walk together. Hand in hand like always.

The day she was released back to Nevermore under instructions for bed rest you knew your stubborn lover would be anything but easy to handle. Duty practically ran in every vein of her body, Nevermore being her pride and joy and its complete disarray due to Marilyn only fuelled her fire to jump back into work. “My love, if you do not lay back down I swear to god I’ll tie you to the bed” you threatened as she tried to escape to her office for the fifth time in an hour, “Nevermore is in good hands baby. Rest please it’s all anyone wants.”

Every four hours on the dot you returned with some more antidote and pain relief just to ensure there was no trace of nightshade or pain to be felt. “Larissa? My love? It’s time to take your medicine” you cooed seeing the shifter frown like a petulant child. “I don’t need it. I’m fine now. Please darling, Nevermore needs me” she pleaded her case for the umpteenth time this day. All you wanted to do was wrap her in bubble wrap and ensure she was safe. Nevermore would cope for a few more days while she recovers, yet Larissa was never the type to sit back idly while others did work.

Nighttime was the worst, Larissa would be plagued with that fateful evening replaying every night, she would feel the poison entering her veins as she woke up shivering from the cold sweat, dried tears staining her cheeks as she gasped for air. “You’re safe my love” you’d whisper as you passed her a bottle of water that you’d stocked up by the bedside for this reason, helping her hold her drink to her mouth due to the shaking. It was truly heartbreaking to see her in this way yet you remain strong for her. Marilyn now finally receiving the punishment she deserves and with Weems getting stronger with each day you knew the time would come to return to normal.

Settling back into bed with Larissa curled up on your chest, your hands playing with her silver locks in a comforting manner, you soak in the fact she’s living and breathing. Whispering words of comfort as you hope to lull the older woman to sleep. “Thank you for looking after me darling” she murmured sleepily to you as her eyes fluttered closed. You would spend all night holding her, fighting off the trauma she experienced only to spend all day ensuring she had everything she needed and more and of course that Nevermore was running smoothly once more.

The day Larissa finally returned back to work you saw a light in her beautiful eyes that you missed dearly. To think you almost lost her and then she was as stubborn as they come about recovery, to see her now getting ready for the day you felt incredibly lucky. “I love you Mrs Weems more than you’ll ever know and I’m just so glad you fight to be here with me every day. Nevermore has missed you dearly my love” you mumbled before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips causing her to chuckle. “Darling? You have a little something right there” she signalled to her lower lip where her ruby red lipstick had transferred to yours. Normalcy once again causing you to smile, she definitely left a mark on you, one in which you would wear proudly.

Word count ~ 1013

[ivymarquis]

Blind Date

Me: “why the fuck is this fic taking so long to finish?”

The fic: *is the longest singular piece I’ve ever written for one chapter*

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 8.4k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Drinking (everyone is clear headed), run ins with a shitty ex, mentions of abuse from prior relationship, these two are incredibly down bad for each other, oral (m! and f!receiving), protected piv, squirting

There is a certain catharsis in lamenting your dating horror stories with men to a married lesbian who’s over a decade older than you. Kate is always willing to lend an ear, and you’re positive that she gets a kick out of your misadventures in the way so many married people did while listening to their single friends.

“I swear I’m this close to just giving up all together and embracing spinsterhood,” you grouse with a drink in your hand after the work day had concluded.

You like to think your standards aren’t unreasonable. Someone kind, with their head on straight. It felt like finding a man who respects you as a person is becoming too big an ask and you very simply would rather be alone than deal with the endless hoard of men who seem hell bent on destroying any confidence you have in yourself.

“What about the guy you went out with yesterday?” Kate inquires with her head tilted. Must be fun, listening to your ramblings with a devoted partner at home.

“Oh did I not tell you? He was engaged!”

Kate pulls a face like her drink soured on her, matching how you’d felt at the time.

“Even better- guess how I found out he’s engaged.”

“She showed up at the restaurant?” Kate hits the nail on the head on the first try.

“Bingo,” you raise your glass in a gesture of affirmation before finishing it off. “Somehow I ended up being the one getting yelled at in that situation. Un-friggin-believable.”

You don’t abuse your work privileges to creep on people you meet in your personal life, but public record could have spared you if he’d been married. Harder to find out about an engagement from a total stranger who was determined to not let you find out about it and didn’t have social media.

“There’s always the other side,” Kate teases.

“Women scare me too much, I get all nervous.” You could appreciate an attractive woman as much as the next gal but good God you just could not help yourself when it came to men. The subtle way their breathing would change before they made their move, that low timber growling in your ear. The sheer weight of one on top of you as he manhandled you into the bedding-

Dear Lord, you need to get laid. Maybe you’re fixating on it too much because you’ve had an over 2 year dry spell. That tends to happen after a baby though. Especially with a pain in the ass ex who thinks he can pick and choose when to be around (and becomes absolutely incensed each time you remind him he could be consistent or he could stay home).

Kate is thoughtful for a moment, clearly kicking around an idea she hasn’t fully committed to in one direction or another. You can see the moment she decides to proceed with the thought. “Depending on what exactly you’re looking for, I might know someone.”

—

And here you are on a Saturday night, nerves clawing at your belly like a rabid dog.

Most (well, all) of the men you’ve dated you met online. There’s almost additional butterflies beyond the first-meet jitters knowing that the date is set up by a mutual friend.

There’s more at stake, even if the stakes are relatively low pressure. If the guys you met online did something incredibly out of pocket you never had to see them again, and held no qualms divulging the events to friends. Your romantic life has been full of misadventures but has given you a handful of stories, and as strangers you never have to consider any possible fallout in telling those stories.

Your son is with your mother for the night, allowing you the opportunity to focus solely on yourself this evening. No concern about keeping an eye on him while getting ready, worrying about what possible trouble he’ll get into when your back is turned.

It is hard at times- striking that balance between wanting to be a good mom and also wanting to be acknowledged as a desirable woman who has needs. A lot of men are shitty about it. You’d grilled Kate for every detail of his reaction when being informed of your young son. You don’t need another ambush regarding your disinterest in making it work with your son’s father.

She’d soothed your nerves- he hadn’t batted an eye, was about as worried about your reaction to how often his job pulled him away as you were about him having a poor reaction to being a single mom. You both have responsibilities that have to be placed above a relationship, now go play nice and have fun.

You tell yourself you can have one drink while waiting at the bar of the restaurant you’d agreed to meet at.

White wine ends up being your pick- not quite so easy to suck down as a tasty cocktail full of liquor, but gives you something to occupy yourself with.

You’ve only had the drink a handful of minutes before hearing someone clear their throat slightly behind you, and then your name.

Kate has shown you a photo of what he looks like so you’re not caught off guard when you turn around.

He’s handsome. You expect that but it’s different seeing him opposed to just the photo. Kind eyes, a warm smile on his face as he takes you in.

At least you both seem pleased with the big reveal.

“I’ve got a table waiting for us if you’re ready, love.”

He holds out a hand to let you balance yourself as you dismount from the bar seating, allowing you to steady yourself in your heels.

His hand is warm on your waist as he guides you and you’re already smitten by the time the pair of you sit down.

You’re fifteen minutes into dinner when you decide that so long as he a) is willing and b) doesn’t say or do anything completely deranged, you are going to ride Captain John Price like a mechanical bull at a shitty dive bar at the end of the night.

Perhaps the bar is in hell but either way you have been utterly deprived the past few years and he is checking plenty of boxes for you.

“So you work with Kate?” Starting off on the easy footing- the common ground that leads you both here.

“I do. Not directly- I work more on the tech side. I’m an independent contractor, I basically built the entire system she runs off of.”

“Beauty and brains,” his praise warms you, an impressed expression on his face. “Would explain how we’ve never crossed paths if you were hiding in a backroom surrounded by monitors,” he teases.

“You’re actually not that far off the mark,” not that you hide persay, but keeping that contract keeps a roof over your head and food in your child’s mouth. That keeps you busy. The fewer people who know how to work your program, the harder you are to get rid of.

You may or may not have hidden a few kill switches. Job security you call it. Though it’s not exactly first date material to talk about how you’ve got a government agency in a mutual understanding- keep extending your contract, and the program continues to work.

Either way, you don’t have much contact with the soldiers. Maybe you have passed each other in the halls but probably not- you’re certain a face like that wouldn’t have escaped your notice, introduction via a mutual friend or no. But you decide to utilize that mutual friend to shift the conversation. He’s hedged around talking about his work- on his end, sees that as the thing that might be a deal breaker for you. Probably wants to delay that until you've at least gotten your entrees.

So you go from business to hobbies. And it’s probably not entirely fair, but you’re about to see what his sense of humor is.

“Kate mentioned you’re a big soccer fan?” You make sure your expression is wide and doe eyed as you ask the question.

His eyebrow twitches- caught, no doubt, between wanting to leave a good first impression and biting back it’s football over here, love.

You crack far quicker than you initially plan, the wide grin on your face as you let him off the hook he’s good naturedly trying not to bite.

“Beauty, brains, and a comedian, lucky me.”

“I’m sorry, I had to. In fact, it was in her terms for this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand.

“Trust Kate to wheel and deal just to get my blood pressure up,” he muses as he takes a sip from his drink.

The conversation rolls easily enough- an ebb and flow as one of you poses a question, the other answering before allowing the first to say their contribution to the subject and moving on.

He’s charming, attentive, and a good storyteller. The way he carries himself screams military without being overbearing. He’s relaxed back into his chair and something about the scene in front of you makes you want to climb into his lap like a domesticated house cat.

Being the field captain to a specialized task force it’s no shock that he’s in incredible shape and you find yourself slightly distracted on more than one occasion by his hands and forearms.

The food is wonderful though the company is better- you end up moving back to the bar for fresh drinks and to free up the table for the server.

You spend a good length of time just talking with him at the bar.

John’s attention is on you but it’s clear he’s proverbially chewing on something the further on you go.

“That is the look of someone with a question they’re not entirely positive they want an answer to,” you’ve got a habit of being a touch direct at times. Amazing how it streamlines a conversation though.

“Observant one, aren’t you?” He pauses, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s probably none of my business, but ah- is your son’s father in the picture at all?”

It was your turn to take a drink. This was always such a fun topic of conversation. Frankly the number of men who took your ex’s side when the whole custody arrangement gets brought up alarms you.

But he has a right to his son.

Fuck that.

Your child is not property and you do not give a singular shit about your ex’s feelings- especially if it comes at the expense of your son’s safety. But it saves you a substantial amount of time not wasting energy on someone who could not understand the reason for your decisions.

“The short answer to the question is no. I had already left him by the time I found out I was pregnant, and given I left because he’s a raging alcoholic- with the emphasis on the rage-,” what a nice, polite way to say he is an abusive asshole. Your gaze shifts down towards the bartop, missing the way John’s expression softens as he reads between the lines of what you say. They’re not pleasant memories, but you’re not a wounded bird anymore- you’ve tended to your clipped wings and grown new feathers. “I didn’t want him involved.”

“He ended up finding out from a mutual acquaintance, and while he claims he wants to be around, he hasn’t done much other than blow my phone up at midnight trying to throw his weight around every time he gets a new girlfriend. So I get to be the cold blooded harpy that he gets to cry about- which is fine by me. On paper he says he wants to be involved, but he’s made absolutely no effort to arrange plans or anything while sober. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years. I can’t trust him to be a safe parent, and since he’s not on any official records I get final say unless he wants to go to court over it.”

Your whole little house of cards hinges on the fact that your ex wants everyone to bend over backwards for him while doing nothing for anyone else. All it would take would be one subpoena for a paternity test and your hands would be tied. He is an incredibly functional alcoholic, so there isn’t a criminal record or anything you can do to prove he would be unfit. There’s no proof of the abuse he inflicted on you.

Which means, if push comes to shove, you would be forced to relinquish sole custody and hand your child over for unsupervised visitation.

But that requires effort on his part. And that effort is the only thing keeping your little house of cards afloat.

“Sorry that’s probably way more information than you wanted-“ good job. Everything was going great until you laid out your drama.

“No apology necessary; I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

And there’s no lecture about how you should give your ex a chance, that the opportunity to raise his son could make him change for the better. No dissertation on how you owe it to your son to do whatever it took to make things work with his father (that had been a weird way to end a date, and the only reason you hadn’t gotten up sooner and left was because it was such a bizarre conversation you’d half convinced yourself the whole thing had to be a bad dream).

You’re not a wounded bird and on the one hand it’s a good thing to get everything laid out on the table, but on the other you don’t want to sit and mope about your personal troubles. You’re actually enjoying John Price’s company, and don’t want to think about your problems.

And yes you are enjoying the time for what it is but part of you can’t help but also keep an eye out for… any opportunities for a transition.

As hot under the collar as you are, John’s gaze makes warmth coil in your gut in a way that has nothing to do with the wine- he’s being a gentleman.

It’s sweet. He’s being polite and respectful and showing sexual discipline while making it clear he’s interested.

And for all your bemoaning of prior dates with other men who aren’t captains of specialized task forces about how they were too pushy and too presumptuous and a nice dinner paired with drinks doesn’t entitle them to you dropping your panties—

Yet here you sit, hours into a conversation when you’d decided 15 minutes in you want to jump his bones. And you have to be patient otherwise you’re a total hypocrite.

You’re not entirely subtle. The pair of you are perched on barstools again, much closer than the table allowed you to be with the two of you angled towards each other.

Your dress looks good on you. A jewel toned blue that compliments your skin beautifully, the hemline stopping above your knees and loose enough to bounce tantalizingly when you hit your stride walking.

It’s not exactly an olive branch, but it is an offering of sorts when you carefully take the leg closest to John and cross it over the other. The hemline of your skirt slips up your thigh, exposing more of your leg. It stops just shy of exposing the top of your stockings and the clip to your garter. It does show just a hint of the darker border to your stockings, the lace peeking ever so slightly before transitioning to the sheer material that covers the rest of your legs.

You’re incredibly pleased with yourself when his eyes flick down for a split second and linger before snapping back to your face. Got you. He tries to hide behind being caught with a sheepish clearing of his throat. It’s adorable, really.

Your cheeks are starting to get sore from all the smiling and laughing that’s occurred over the past few hours. But he’s pleasant company so it’s a discomfort you’re happy to deal with.

You look past him for a split second- nothing in particular catching your attention but just taking in the scenery of the restaurant behind you. Your eyes are back on him in a moment only for your brain to process what it saw after a delay.

There’s no fucking way-

Yes. Yes there is. Your ex is mingling in the background, and you don’t even realize the smile on your face has fallen to a flat line like all the previous giddiness is draining out of you and pooling on the floor below.

It would not take a captain of an antiterrorism task force to see your sharp shift in disposition, so John notices immediately.

“Everything alright, love?”

Maybe he won’t see you. Maybe, if there is a God and he is merciful, your ex won��t look in your direction, won’t see you, and you can continue your cheerful plan of trying to seduce your date.

And whether there is not a God or he is just not merciful- either option remains with you having the same shit result. He turns his head and makes direct eye contact. God damn it.

You look back to John. You’d hoped you could move past talking about your ex for the evening. “Remember how I said I haven’t seen my ex in over 2 years?”

There’s a twinge of relief on his face- the look of a man grateful to not be the cause of your displeasure.

“Let me guess- he’s right behind me?”

“Not quite “right behind”, but yes. Hopefully he’ll just-“ a short huff off agitation leaves you as you cut yourself off.

So much for hoping he’d simply mind his business and stay with his group. He’s making his way towards the pair of you at the bar, and you can tell he’s had a good number of drinks in his system just looking at him.

You’d become extremely proficient at gauging how drunk your ex is at a glance. A skill you developed while still with him and one that doesn’t seem to have faded.

This is, you know without question, going to end up being absolutely humiliating for you. You just know it.

“I am going to go ahead and apologize now for whatever is going to come out of his mouth,” you inform John.

His hand finds your knee, giving a light, reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright, love.”

“Well what do we have here?” is the warning shot letting you know he’s not going to show any form of civility.

“Hello, Michael,” you greet cooly, mind spinning a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“You don’t have time to answer my texts but you’ve got time to go out. That’s good. Good to know you’ve got your priorities in order,” he starts.

“Answering your texts isn’t even remotely on my priority list, you know that.” You’re trying incredibly hard to keep yourself from being outright nasty but a whole lot of old wounds float up to the surface at the sight of your ex.

Maybe your new feathers aren’t as filled out as you’d initially thought. You feel raw and exposed and it’s difficult to think. You know what you should do, how you should handle it- and there’s still that one little part in your brain that is keeping tabs on John and his response to all of this.

“Your priority should be my son-“ he starts,

“-who is with his perfectly capable grandmother for the evening, thank you,” you finish for him, jaw set tightly. “Why are you here?”

The direct question is aggressive but you know the cycle with him too well to allow him to steer the conversation. He’ll run you in circle after circle until you’re so frazzled you can’t discern left from right.

“Can’t say hello and introduce myself to your new fella? Come on now, where’s your manners?”

Your eyes widen as Michael reaches a hand out- there is no way this asshole is about to grab you in public.

Quick as a snake, John runs interference and drapes his arm across the back of your chair, his fingers holding the shoulder furthest from him lightly.

The entire length of your back and shoulders are blocked by the SAS captain, forcing Michael’s hand back as there was no easy place for it to land that wouldn’t also be touching John.

Up until now, John has been quiet and assessing the situation. Not bowing up or trying to assert himself- letting you deal with your ex and navigate the situation for yourself.

The look on his face is downright unpleasant to put lightly. This is the man in charge of an elite task force, who barks orders at soldiers who drop everything at once because he told them to-

-and you don’t feel so exposed anymore. You find yourself sitting up a bit straighter only for John to gently stroke his knuckles against your shoulder in a soothing gesture. The gesture isn’t a miraculously grand one, but one that makes you realize you’re not alone in this situation even as disorienting as it is. And if you’re being honest with yourself, the upright posture and shifting of your thighs isn’t so much a stress response to your ex as you keying in on John’s response to the whole situation.

“John, Michael- Michael, John. There, now you’re introduced.” Go away now please.

Your ex is too drunk and too full of himself to see the writing on the wall, and continues to poke the bear. “Well, since she doesn’t seem to want to give a proper introduction-“ he sticks an arm out, and you can’t help but notice how the simple gesture causes him to need to correct his balance. Good lord it was barely dark out and he’s already-

Well. Not your problem. Not anymore, at any rate.

John is sitting to your left, his right arm the one that’s draped across the back of your chair. The pair of you flash a quick look to each other, John lifting his arm from your chair to take Michael’s hand and-

God.

Damn.

It.

The exchange is actually as hilarious as it is embarrassing (You can’t quite decide if it’s all the second hand cringe variety, or first hand because Look, John! Here’s the father of my child! I sure know how to pick a partner! Is still coiling in the depths of your stomach). You’d prefer if it simply never occurred at all.

You can see your ex’s forearm flexing as he shakes John’s hand. The microexpression that flicks across your date’s face confirms your suspicion- Michael is (for some reason) trying to use an overexaggerated grip to establish some sort of dominance in the situation.

The quick really? that reads on John’s face rapidly turns to a bemused and subtle if that’s how you want to play then, a barely noticeable shift in his own grip resulting in Michael wincing.

“Captain John Price,” his tone is easy, betraying none of the pissing contest your ex instigated and is failing miserably to get one over on John.

Your ex mumbles his full name, clearly realizing that whatever his brilliant little plan is a) isn’t so brilliant to begin with b) he might just be alert enough to acknowledge the fact that he clearly has no true plan. He came over with the intention of being an asshole and has been flying blind the entire time.

There’s one woman from the group your ex split off from who is watching the three of you keenly. If you were to guess, she is probably his new girlfriend.

You can’t help but wonder- does she know enough to know that this is routine behavior for him? That he throws himself headfirst into a situation he hasn’t planned out- isn’t sober enough to plan out? Situations that don’t need to occur just so he can throw his weight around? Too petty to give a genuine “Hello, how are you? It’s been a while. I want to talk to you about Sam when we’ve both got some free time?”

Everything is vindictive. Constantly worrying about not being undermined and being respected to the point he gets in his own way. Actively sabotages his own opportunities. In dire need of therapy to work through his issues because you know the alcohol is how he copes and you’d sympathized at first but the reasons became excuses and then he’d started blaming you and-

-John places his arm on the back of your chair again and you pull yourself out of your mental spiral.

“I think your date is waiting for you, Michael. Best not to keep the lady waiting.” John observes, his tone neutral despite being a clear dismissal.

“You’ll be hearing from me later. I want to see my son.” Michael’s ignoring John’s presence but taking the hint.

You don’t fling a final barb at him. The venom has been drained out of you and you just want the interaction over and done with. Let him have the last word. You just want him gone.

You merely cast a look over at the woman who is Michael’s date for the evening and hope she’s got better sense than you did- that she leaves before he sinks his claws in her too.

The weight that settled in your stomach upon first seeing him is finally lightening up on you. You know you’ll wake up tomorrow to a barrage of phone calls and text messages that you won’t answer. It’s probably not good you’re so desensitized to the idea that it barely registers as a problem. Merely one of life’s many inconveniences.

“You alright, love?” John’s voice helps you shake the last of the tendrils that cling to you.

“Yes. Sorry. Wasn’t expecting to run into him of all people tonight, is all.”

“Never fun being ambushed, is it?”

You take a bit of a risk- you know enough about his job but he’s steered the conversation away from it every time the topic would naturally shift that direction. You know how Kate’s work can go and you assume his is very similar. “Well you’d certainly know more about that than I would.”

It works. The two of you break out in grins, and you find yourself no longer worrying about Michael and your focus readily settling back on John where it belongs.

At some point- long after the single cube in John’s drink has melted, and the condensation of your wine glass has soaked the bev nap underneath it, and more importantly long enough that you don’t feel that you’re fleeing the restaurant- the suggestion is made to go back to John’s. “No more surprises, hm?”

You gladly follow him. You’d taken an Uber to get to the restaurant, anticipating drinking and hoping to go home with him, so you have no worries about your own car.

You can easily see him being the type to give you a quick, chaste kiss on the doorstep after safely dropping you at home. In another universe you’d appreciate the restraint, enjoy fleeting touches over the course of a few dates that get more intense each time before finally finding yourself in his bed.

In this universe however, you don’t have to wait. Don’t want to, either. You get to indulge your earlier impulse of crawling into his lap, knees spread wide on either side of his waist. Lowering your hips allows you to feel him and what exactly he’s packing between his own legs. Your hips cant in short motions and heat coils heavy in your gut.

From the feel of things he’s proportional and John is not a small man. There’s a brief flicker that runs through your mind that you might be in over your head with him. The pent up lust and desire stifles that flicker. You’re more than game to see what a night with him ends up being like.

His hands are warm against your skin- one cupping the back of your head and keeping you close as the pair of you make out, the other settles on your hip and keeps you steady as you grind down on him.

You are possessed with the desire to get his cock in your mouth.

It’s cute how his face follows yours as you pull away from him.

“Help me with my dress?” Your question is perfectly innocent as you turn your back to him, presenting the zipper that runs down the length of your back.

His pleased laugh warms you, a shiver of desire and anticipation running down your spine as his breath fans across the back of your neck.

You’ve got a surprise waiting for him underneath your dress, partially revealed as one of his hands holds the top of the dress steady while the other draws the zipper down.

You gave him the hint you were wearing stockings when you’d baited him back at the restaurant, letting the heavy fabric of the dress fall to a heap around you before kicking it off to one side.

Turning back to face him, John seems quite enraptured with his surprise.

The lingerie set is a matching shade as your jewel toned dress, the garter belt clipping to the sheer black thigh high stockings.

There’s always that split second hesitation when revealing yourself to someone- the anxiety of if they’ll be pleased with what’s presented to them.

John is the first person you’ve been with since you’ve had your child, and the slight anxiety quells quickly at the look on his face.

John looks like he wants to eat you alive. Any insecurity is knocked firmly aside by desire quickly ramping back up.

Placing one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you lift a leg to take your shoe off, John is quick to stop you. “Leave them on for now, love.”

It’s a request but it’s not. Really that doesn’t surprise you- he is someone who is likely used to having his whims accommodated to. You find yourself having no urge to defy him, nodding in compliance. If John wants your heels to stay on, then they’ll stay.

He guides you between his legs, enough space between his knees for you to slot yourself in. With him sitting on the bed he’s shorter than you standing straight up in your heels. Bending down to give a quick, teasing kiss you let yourself drop to your own knees.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” you assure him with doe eyes and are rewarded with him settling into the bed as your hands go to work on his belt.

Unable to resist teasing him, you mouth at his bulge through the thick fabric of his pants. You’re rewarded with a soft cant of his hips, having his belt undone and working on the button and zip of his pants in record time.

Your earlier suspicions are correct. John is a big boy in more ways than one. You want him in your mouth- now.

While you’re occupying yourself with getting his pants off, John shucks his shirt and shoes.

He is, simply put, delicious to look at. From the broad muscling to the thick dark hair running from his chest down his abdomen. He doesn’t have the hard chiseled abs of a man who lives in the gym but the sturdy build that comes from having useful, functional muscle that’s put to work.

And that’s incredibly hot. He’s girthy as hell in your hand as you give a few strokes before putting your mouth on him.

You’re not entirely certain if deep throating him is going to be an option, but by God you’re going to try.

“Bloody hell, love.” John grunts while you bob your head up and down the length of him. You’re gauging just how much of him you can get in your mouth- where your threshold is before your gag reflex wants to kick in.

He’s petting you. Doubtless trying to fight the urge to fist your hair, his hips struggling to stay still on the bed.

You want him to. You feel feral, all the pent up sexual energy you’ve been storing for God-knows-how-long welling up all at once. You want this man carnally and your brain presently thinks having your hair held in place and your throat fucked is a fantastic idea.

John clearly has other plans, restraining himself and letting you work at your own pace. That low, deep breathing paired with his soft grunts and voiced encouragements stoke the flames of your arousal hotter.

Eventually you do need air, pulling off of him for a moment. Your hand works his shaft and teases the tip of him as you lean forward to run your tongue up and down the length of him, dropping a bit lower to lave at his heavy sac. He jolts which only encourages you to do it again.

You know your eyes are one of your better features- you’ve heard the compliment enough times both in and out of the bedroom, holding John’s gaze as you lick him back up the length of his shaft and circle the head once before having caught your breath enough to wrap your lips around him once more.

The second time around you’re able to get a bit more of him down your throat, but not all the way. What you can’t reach you stroke with one hand, the other resting on his thigh to help balance yourself as you work. You can feel the tension building in his thigh as he gets closer, pleased with yourself.

It’s a heady feeling. You don’t know exactly all the dirty details of his job but understand enough to know you’ve got a powerful man at your whim right now and that scratches a deep seated itch in you.

“Good girl,” his praise washes over you, warm and welcoming. “Just like that-“

You’re intent on sucking the soul out of him, all doe eyes and hollowed cheeks with those painted red lips. Eventually he gives into the urge to grab a fistful of your hair. He doesn’t do anything to interrupt the rhythm you’ve settled into, letting you move as you see fit.

He bites out your name and you feel the muscles in his leg drawn tight. “I’m getting close, love.”

It’s not quite a question. You give your not-answer by doubling down on him. You’re so close to having him in your mouth all the way to the base. You don’t want to back off. What you do want is for him to finish down your throat.

You get your wish. John’s fist tightens and you let out a grunt as his thrusting results in your nose pressed against his public bone.

The taste of him doesn’t really register as he spills inside your mouth, your focus on breathing through your nose and keeping your gag reflex down.

He’s petting your hair again, praises falling freely from him and soft apologizes. “Lost myself for a moment there, love. You alright?”

You keep your mouth hilted on him for a moment to prove a point- you’re fine, he didn’t push you past threshold- before finally releasing his softening cock.

He’s pulling you up to him after that, an open mouthed kiss that flusters you considering he just came in your mouth. “You’re just a treasure,” his voice purrs in your ear. “Only fair I return the favor, hm?”

He guides you to lay on the bed, knees hanging over the edge before he turns to settle between your legs.

He starts at your neck. You’re ticklish at one spot his lips, squirming in his hold with a giggle. “Sensitive, hm?”

You nod out a “mhm,” that breaks into a breathy moan as he works his way down your chest. Rather than removing your bra his hands work to pull your breasts free from the cups before paying particular attention to your nipples.

His hands are warm as they roam your ribcage, the heat of his body seeping through the lace of your outfit as his fingers trail across your skin and the delicate material.

“You’re so soft, love,” you don’t quite know how to respond to the compliment, mewling wordlessly in pleasure at the attention.

That seems to appease him as he kisses his way down your sternum and to your belly, the expanse of most of it covered by the fabric of the garter belt.

His eyes flick up to your own as his lips travel closer to the apex of your thighs. Where you’ve been lying patient and pliant in his grasp, the eye contact draws something tight in your core and you squirm again.

The next thing you feel is teeth as he nips you. “Be a good girl for me,” he tells you, soothing the soft throb of his bite with his tongue.

You force yourself to still as he moves lower, lower, lower- taking his time and having you thoroughly worked up before moving to the next patch of skin.

When he’s down far enough he slides one of your thighs over his shoulder, that arm looping under your arm and banding across your abdomen.

It’s his turn now to mouth at your clothed sex.

He pulls the gusset of your thong aside after a moment of teasing, his lips descending on you.

“Oh,” your hand immediately finds purchase in his hair, a pleased whimper escaping you at the feel of John’s tongue.

John feasts on you. There’s not much else that can be done to describe it. It’s lewd and wet as he laps at you, the flesh of his tongue doing little to soothe the burning ache inside you and only ramping it up.

Those eyes are wicked as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. The hand resting on your lower stomach is pressing ever so lightly, like John wants the pressure there but not too much yet and you’re once again struck with the idea you might be in over your head with him.

“John, please,” you beg. It feels good but you need more, lust clouding your brain as your hips rock against his face.

“You need to be patient, love. I’ll take care of you. Just relax, hm?”

It dawns on you that he’s probably running down the clock until his refractory period is up. That he doesn’t want to get you going too quick and then be stuck not quite ready to perform.

It’s an assumption, and you’re not 100% sure that you’re correct, but it’s a solid enough option that you move forward with that in mind.

The thought almost makes it easier to relax into the bed- the idea that John is going to pleasure you with his mouth until enough time has passed and he can get it up again. That he’s not just mindlessly toying with you with no end goal in mind.

It feels good you’re just stuck being greedy and wanting more stimulation despite knowing that won’t happen until John decides he’s ready to give you more.

You almost jump when the fingers you’ve been waiting for make their presence known. His mouth moves to focus on your clit, lips making a seal and sucking on it. You cry out, hips canting as his fingers gently rub at your labia.

He starts with one, gently sliding it in and out of you. Your back arches in satisfaction of having something to clench on and rub against. It’s more satisfying than just one of your own- that was for sure.

“That’s it love,” John praises you while easing a second one into you.

The second finger is what you were looking for, stimulation wise. John pets and strokes you, thumb gently working over your clit in soft circles before putting his mouth back on you.

He doesn’t just find your g-spot. John’s fingers are placed so they hone in on that spongy bit of tissue tucked inside you. He doesn’t let up on it, tongue working on your clit as you arch your back helplessly and moan.

That pressure is back on your abdomen, the hand not currently stroking you to nirvana pressing down on your belly.

You moan and buck against his hold. Your orgasm is creeping up on you and it’s like he’s determined to make you squirt.

“You keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess,” you warn him- not entirely certain how he’ll respond to the prospect of you squirting on his face.

John looks delighted and you realize that yes, you are in over your head with him.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls back from you, “You promise, love? Don’t tease me.”

Oh dear God- Next thing you know he’s reaching over you to pull a pillow from the top of the bed, wedging it underneath your hips before returning to his place between your thighs.

You’re flustered at how eager he is to see you squirt. His mouth is back on you, sucking on your clit and making your legs shake as two fingers go right back to abusing your g-spot, his free hand pressing on your belly increasing the pressure that is mounting by the second.

There’s nothing else for you to do but grab a fistful of his hair and hang on. “Please- oh! J-John! Right there,” at your encouragement he locks in on the spot that’s got you arching your back and your thighs trembling.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me,” he’s moaning encourments against your skin and you feel like a bow drawn tight and ready to snap. You’re so, so close.

The sounds he draws out of you- both from your mouth and between your legs- are filthy and vulgar and you don’t care at all as he gets you teetering just on the edge.

You’re practically gasping for breath, eyes screwing shut as the hand not buried in John’s hair fists the sheets next to you. You babble his name, chants of John all your brain can muster.

All that pressure coiling in you snaps and gushes out, literally and metaphorically.

“Good girl, making such a mess for me,” John’s praise has you flushing hot while his fingers work you like he’s making sure he can wring out every single last drop.

He stops when you have nothing left to give him, a trembling mess shivering in his hold.

Your brain at some point made the windows shut down noise, needing a moment to settle as you process what John just did to you.

This is the hardest you’ve cum in ages, certainly better than the orgasms you’ve given yourself during your little dry spell.

You return to the land of the living with his lips on yours, tasting yourself as he soothingly strokes your side. “You back with me?” He asks, eliciting a nod from you.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” your tone is pleading. You still want to ride him but you’ve learned your lesson about practicing safe sex. Once was, in fact, all it took for things to go off the rail.

“I do,” he stands, moving to the nightstand and opening a drawer.

Now that your legs feel somewhat compliant you sit yourself back up.

No sooner than John’s got the condom on then you’re guiding him back down, having him lay on the edge of the bed.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, getting yourself situated so your heels don’t catch on his sheets, but you’re straddling him with the leg closest to the edge of the bed hanging over the side as the opposite leg folds underneath you. You hover over him while getting everything lined up. The position of your legs allows you to alternate which one is supporting the brunt of your weight, a factor that is going to be fairly important once you’ve hilted yourself on John.

Even with how pliant your body is it takes a moment for the head of him to breach you.

“Oh,” you let out a breath as you sink down on him. You’re not able to get all the way to the base of him on the first go, getting your weight underneath yourself and lifting almost completely off of him before dropping down again. You get a little further this time, a moan escaping you.

“That’s it, love. Nice and easy,” his voice coos in your ear, that low timber having you liable to melt.

He’s thick. Not in a way that’s insurmountable to manage, but you have absolutely no complaints with how he fills you and anticipate being pleasantly sore in the morning.

Two more slow bounces have you sinking low enough to hilt yourself on him, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of sitting fully on his lap.

One of his hands braces on your hip, the other his thumb circles your clit. You squirm at the stimuli, relishing in the feel of him before getting to work.

This is what you’ve been drooling over all night. Your reward is very well earned in your opinion. Moaning lowly as you bounce up and down, your movements are initially slow and languid but pick up speed as you get your bearings. John’s heavy exhales and grunts when you clench only serve to wind you tighter.

“You feel good, pretty girl? Hm? You like bouncing on my cock?”

You flush- a ridiculous notion given how you’re quite literally hilted on his dick-, face hot from the dirty talk.

The hand on your hip helps guide you to a pace that’s pleasurable for the both of you, eyes rolling as he thrusts his hips in a way that makes you see stars. “Yes! John- yes! Oh it feels so good,” your voice a low purr as he delivers on every fantasy you’ve had this evening.

The stretch of him in you feels absolutely incredible, knocking the air out of you on each bounce. It doesn’t take long until that knot begins to form again, growing steadily as you rise and fall in his lap. The press of his finger circling your clit draws staggered moans, bracing on him for support.

“Been thinking about this all night,” John grits out. “Wanted to flip you over the bar top and have my way with you right there on the dining room floor.”

You moan at the confession, feeling less like a rabid dog with no impulse control now you know you’re not alone in the intense desire that had struck once you’d laid eyes on him.

“Probably wouldn’t have- ah! st-stopped you,” you tell him. The grip on your hip tightens at that, another moan escaping you as you bounce on him.

Your eyes roll in pleasure, cunt practically fluttering from the way he keeps getting you to clench. The thickness of his girth doesn’t just let him keep hitting that spot in you with lift of your hips so much as the mushroom tipped head of his cock drags across it.

“Aren’t you just a fucking treasure,” he praises.

Your thighs are burning, eased by the position of your legs and John’s grip helping you but becoming more present with each wet clap of your sex against his lap. It almost helps you tip closer to another climax.

Your eyes squeeze shut, a staggered breath escaping you.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you and you comply immediately.

“John, please I’m so close,” your thighs are shaking again, threatening your already precarious balance.

“You need more, pretty girl?”

You shake your head. “No-no. Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

And bless him, he doesn’t do anything to fuck up your rhythm. The fingers circling your clit keep the same tempo and pressure perfectly, his free hand still helping guide you up and out of his lap before sitting you back down.

You know you’re about to come but are caught off guard by how sharp it is as you squirt for a second time.

The sight of you spurting across his abdomen nearly severs any control John has left. The next thing you know John’s abandoned your overstimulated clit in favor of rolling you onto your back, your heels clattering to the floor from the motion. Your legs go instinctively to clamp around his waist for security- only one of them does, the other stopped by wet fingers gripping your thigh by your knee as he spreads you open. His weight is held on the forearm bracing next to your head by the time you process the shift in position.

“You alright, pretty girl?”

You can’t quite get your words out but manage a nod. “Ye-yeah,” you eventually stagger out as he waits for a verbal confirmation.

With the comfort that you were fine, that gives John the assurance he needs to seek his own pleasure.

More than satisfied with your two climaxes, you lay limp and pliant in his grasp while he chases his own end.

The wet squelch of his cock splitting you open with each thrust was loud and obscene although you were too far gone in the blissed out pleasure to care. Your whole body feels delightfully tingly, your head swimming pleasantly.

You clench down on him a few times, more for his benefit than anything else. You’re spent but more than willing to help him across the finish line as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muttering praises that are punctured with short, sharp thrusts before he stiffens as his own climax hits.

The two of you have both broken into a light sheen of sweat by the end of things. After a moment to recuperate John stands with a “I’ll be right back.” (And you unabashedly enjoy the view of his ass while he retreats to the bathroom.)

True to his word he returns shortly, evidently having disposed of the condom with a towel in hand for you.

The pair of you get yourselves clean and sorted. Before you can decide how you want to ask, John seems to already know what the question is.

“You don’t need to leave, do you?”

Again it’s not entirely a question, but still gives you an out if you want to take it.

You don't want to take the out.

[starlightsreigns]

that's my girl | t. tonga

summary: malia just needs a breather, and the MFT is here to give her just that.

warnings: smut! mdni!

word count: 937

author's note: it's exam week for me, but here's something short & sweet while i get those done xo

I love watchin’ you take it

To trust a man is to put your pride aside. To trust Jimmy Uso is to watch his every move because he plays too fucking much. Malia loves him, and that’s why she knows him all too well and knows that this dinner tonight could all go to hell if he didn’t let up on the tiny black remote that he had in his position. what would possess her to wear the vibrating thong under her dress tonight and then give him the remote to control it? She must’ve been drunk when it happened because now, she was sitting between Jimmy and Tama, pressing her legs together to keep from exploding. 

malia swallows some water, squirming in her seat as the speed goes up. The conversation was lost on her as she shot Jimmy a quick glare. He smiles innocently, turning to talk to his brother from across the table. 

“you good, lia?” tama studies her for a moment. “I can feel your leg shakin’ against mine.” 

that is embarrassing and Malia just gives him a curt nod, “Yeah, just a lot in my head.” 

That is enough for now for him, and Malia bits her lip. She crosses her leg to try and find some relief, but that has the opposite effect. she grips the table and quickly uncrosses her leg. Jimmy smirks in her direction, then looks past her at Tama who eyes them suspiciously but full of interest. 

Malia rests her head against the table, but that makes Jimmy increase the speed. fuck, she wants to kill him in the middle of this restaurant but all she can do is straighten out and look at him. 

“Baby, please.” she whispers, punching his thigh from underneath the table. “I can't do this.”

But that’s not enough as Jimmy shakes his head. malia takes a deep breath and skins further into her seat. tama, who smirks knowingly, scoots closer to Malia. He whispers into her ears. 

“you know, he’s gonna make you cum right here on this seat.” his voice was like honey in her ear. 

it takes a moment for her to meet his eyes. She nods slowly. Jimmy's not the sharing type, but for some reason, he bent the rules when it came to Tama - not that Malia completely understands or opposes. It was a conversation out of the blue one day about how she felt about Tama joining them one night because of a simple comment she made once. The man is attractive, she’s not one to shy away from saying so. It was only once, months ago, but right there in his living room and in the middle of the dinner, she could see there was a plan involved. 

“I'll be right back,” malia murmurs as she stands from the table. 

Her walk upstairs to the bathroom felt like a million years but she needed to get out of sight of everyone. As she reaches for the bathroom door, a hand grabs her and pulls her into the bedroom. malia lets out a soft moan as the volume increases again. She can’t take it anymore and when her eyes meet Tama’s, she collapses into his chest, gripping his shirt as the euphoria washes over her. 

“How was that?” Tama smirks, showing her the remote. “When Jimmy passed me this earlier, I knew I had to get you alone.” 

Malia gawks at him, “you two are pieces of shit,” 

Tama chuckles as he moves her to the bed. She watches as he hikes her dress up and slips the panties off and tosses them behind him. He stands up between her legs and drinks in every curve of her body while she lays back on her elbows. Malia motions him over. There was nothing else to wait for and her horniness had taken over. Malia knew exactly what the men planned, and she wants it now. 

“Are you gonna take whatever you and Jimmy agreed on?” She flicks her hair off of one of her shoulders.

It takes no time for Tama to be over her, deep in her guts without a care for his guests who were downstairs. Malia holds onto him as he pounds into her, hiding her moans in his neck. His fast pace made it to where the only sounds in his massive bedroom were from their skin as it slapped together. Tama continues driving into her, balls deep, as she squeezes her eyes shut. 

“This what you wanted? You ain’t gone beg me, Malia?” He grunts in her ear, as she moans in response. Tama slams into her, causing all thought to leave her brain. “C’mon, say my name while i’m in it.”

Malia can't think straight let alone form a coherent sentence, but she finds herself moaning his name as he speeds up. Her fingernails were deep in his back, leaving scratches that she knew he’d have to hide at work. Her back arches off the bed and her toes curl, lost in the rush of everything happening - she felt like she wasn’t in her body anymore. His dick slams against her g-spot like it was its home. And as her eyes flutter shut, Malia has to find all the power in her weak body not to scream at the top of her lungs. 

“That’s my girl, let it go.” He coaxes in a soft voice.

“Fuck, Tama, fuck!” She moans, feeling her body go limp. Tama bites her shoulder before quickly pulling out between rugged thrusts to cum on her stomach. They go quiet to catch their breaths. “This what you wanted, Tama?”

“More than anything, Malia.”

xx i love tama so much, help me. until next time x

[muzaktomyears]

Mimi and Paul

I immediately wrote Mimi of the news [of John leaving Yoko]. “If your news re: Y. is sound, well that’ll please me I can tell you. It’s his only hope of getting on an even keel again,” she responded.

Someone had sent her recently taken pictures of John and they made her sad. She thought he looked lost somehow and might be wishing The Beatles would get back together. It was those times she thought he missed all the happy times the group had together. He began phoning her again and had told her that Paul was coming over and that he would be seeing him. She hoped that happier times would be coming out of their meeting.

Mimi seemed to hear from John on a somewhat regular basis again while he was separated from Yoko. If he didn’t phone, he wrote and she was always pleased when she heard from him. He seemed much more like his old self, she thought, and he had continued hopes that he and Paul might get back together again.

---

Mimi had talked to John (before the Paul [getting arrested in Japan] news had broken) and determined that he would never tour again. He and Paul had just spoken on the phone and Paul had been complaining “how hard the tour was”. So John had asked him “why the hell do you do it then?” The honest answer, according to Mimi, was that he simply could not give up the publicity.

---

“…I was talking to Neil Aspinall – Apple. He too is furious about the book ‘Shout’, such a pathetic liar for money. I had a good ‘shout’ about Paul too. Behold! A couple of hours later a phone call from Paul! He was nervous of me… I told you… many excuses. Thought I was annoyed with him. And so I was. Also Paul seriously thinking of going after Philip Norman over ‘Shout’. If ever I see Philip Norman I’ll pitch into him. Paul advised me not to do it myself. It is monstrous that this scandal monger can write such things.”

---

[re: Paul ringing in April] Mimi had truly been upset that he’d not called her before then and she had bent Neil Aspinall’s ear one Sunday afternoon. Two hours later all was forgiven with a phone call from Paul. She said she scolded him, telling him he should have known she wasn’t thinking of any ridiculous slight he might have been worried about. It had been John who had been killed and Paul should have known she was thinking of nothing else. I don’t know what he said but they both cried, she said, and any resentment was gone.

She said she could hear children in the background and asked him if all those were his. “Yeah, we’re like rabbits around here.”

They discussed the book Shout! by Philip Norman and how they resented parts of it. He told her not to get involved and that he would handle it, though what he intended on doing or what he actually did, I have no idea. Since Norman is now writing a biography on Paul and claims to have received a rather conceptual OK, I would assume all is forgiven there as well.

Before ringing off, Paul said he would be down to visit her one day; something she was still waiting to see happen.

The Guitar’s All Right as a Hobby, John, Kathy Burns (2014)

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

A hungover Harry in her bed

Full oneshot also on AO3.

Ginny woke up with a low throbbing in her head. She had too much to drink last night, but that probably meant it was one hell of a new year celebration. She was currently still a little fuzzy on the details. Something shifted beside her and she froze.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling wondering if she had imagined it. Then she felt something move again and she became aware of the shape beside her.

“Wha—?” Her head snapped to the left and she saw the mop of black hair, the shape of a man. “Aah!”

“Aah!” the man yelled, pushing off the bed in surprise and landed on the carpet beside her floor with a loud thud.

“Harry?!” she said and quickly glanced down, but to her immense relief she was not naked.

The poor guy looked at her in complete terror and then to the door as it swung open, and his eyes widened with even more terror as Ron appeared.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Ron noted calmly as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Ginny gaped at him. “Why are you not more surprised about this?”

“Trust me, I am enjoying your utter surprise right now,” he said, pointing between the two of them.

Harry groaned and let himself drop back down on the carpet and stared up at the ceiling.

“But you two snogged last night. Well and properly...” Ron eyed them knowingly as he mimicked pulling someone in for a kiss. “Face-sucking... French kissing, German... a whole world tour...”

“Oh, Merlin,” Ginny let out and some vague memories of what they had done was starting to seep back into her mind.

Harry let out a strained, garbled sound from the floor.

“And you let us get in bed together when we were that drunk?” Ginny asked.

Ron nodded happily. “Yes, after I put a no-sex spell on you.”

Harry muttered a ‘thank, fuck’, muted a little because half his face was buried in the fluffy carpet.

“How do you know how to do that spell?” Ginny asked.

“Mum asked,” Ron told her with even more glee. “After you gave her the happy news when she came home at 2 AM, announcing Harry was your new—”

“Don’t even say it,” she cut him off. “Mum knows?”

Ron nodded happily. “Oh, yes.”

Harry groaned.

“If you are planning on puking, I suggest you don’t do that on my carpet because there is no amount of scourgify to get it from out of all those strands,” Ginny told Harry.

He glanced at her for just a moment and then continued to stare ahead of him, his eyes glazed over. “I’m not.”

Ron smiled at the two of them. “You make quite a pair. I’ll leave you to it... Oh and before I forget...” He ducked into the corridor for a moment. He came back with two potions. “Hangover potions. I think you’ll need them.”

Ginny grabbed one of them and Ron placed the other on the floor in the vicinity of Harry. Then he slowly closed the door. Ginny could hear him go down the stairs.

She took up the potion and gulped it down, the sooner she drank it the better, and perhaps the queasy feeling would leave her. She gave it a moment to settle in her stomach and she immediately felt some relief. She stepped out of bed, picked up Harry’s potion, and handed it to him.

He sat up enough just to drink it and she leaned against the side of her bed. He emptied the vial and set it down. He rested his head back on the carpet.

“Cute underwear, Harry,” she said.

He shook his head. “Don’t.”

“Maybe it’s for the better we didn’t have sex,” she said.

“I wouldn’t want to have sex with you and then not remember,” he replied. Then he frowned. “That came out wrong.”

She bent over, her face appearing above his. “Think that came out as you meant it.” She lay down on the carpet beside him. “If my mum thinks we’re together...”

“You announced it,” he retorted. “Apparently.”

She groaned. “Ugh, I’m such a tattler when I’m drunk.”

“You do a pretty good job at it too when you’re sober.”

She slapped her hand towards him without looking and aimed a little too low. To her surprise her hand bounced right off before it even touched him, like a shield. “Oh.” She did it again and the same thing happened. “I guess that spell is still working.”

Harry turned his head. “I would really appreciate it if you would stop aiming for my junk.”

She chuckled. “Sorry.”

***

After a very awkward breakfast where the both of them tried to pretend like nothing was out of the ordinary, Harry stepped out into the garden.

Ginny finished washing up and then pulled on her coat and scarf. She picked up her boots by the door and quickly slipped into them. She walked to the bench he was sitting. “Can I?” She pointed at the vacant spot beside him.

“Sure,” he said, adjusting his position so his arm was out of the way.

Ginny sat beside him, only leaving a little space between them. “That’s not how last night was supposed to go.”

“No,” he agreed.

She offered him an amused smile. “I never thought you’d look so terrified to find a girl in your bed.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “Yeah, well. It was your bed in your parents’ house. Your whole family...” he trailed off. “It’s a little daunting.”

“Suppose it is,” she said.

“I must admit,” Harry started carefully. “That I’ve sort of started to fancy you over the last year.”

Though he wasn’t looking at her, she offered him a smile. “I have fancied you for a really long time.”

 Harry’s arm came around her shoulder and she leaned towards him, resting her head on his shoulder. He rested his head against hers.

“You have a hickey on your neck,” she said after a moment of silence.

“I know,” he said lightly.

She closed her eyes, resting against him enjoying his body heat. “If your hands are cold, I’m happy to hold them.”

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 29 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: I'll just leave this as a small gift to all of you....enjoy! And as always, let me know what you think!

It took two more days before her uncle and cousin were sent on their way—with passes straight from Sink all the way back to England and to Thorpe Abbotts.  Ruth was grateful for the passes and the additional help.  She wasn’t sure if she would be able to take the heartbreak of having to fight for visas at a time such as this. 

And then after those two days, she was on her way to the last standing Stalag in Germany.  The only place where Abe or Robby could possibly be—and her heart just felt like a weak and fragile thing.  

Ruth hadn’t spoken since leaving those camps.  She couldn’t find the proper words.  But she had been writing.  Writing like she was running out of time and there was no tomorrow. Because for every single one of those people in the camps, they might very well pass from sickness or malnutrition—and they deserved justice.  They deserved the opportunity to live and to love and to thrive and to find their families and to be somewhere safe.  

She was hell-bent on ensuring that at least.  

Further into Germany, it was cold and there was still snow on the ground in some parts.  Shouldering her coat tighter around her shoulders, Ruth tried not to focus on the fact that Abe could be mere miles away and freezing.  Starving.  Bleeding.  Or already dead. 

Overhead, the planes went shooting by.  Ruth resided at the very back of the procession, a borrowed man from Easy Company at her side for the time being—she wasn’t sure how she had convinced Lew to come with her for at least a day or two—but here he was, sitting at her side and shaking his head. 

“It’s about to get loud,” he warned her. 

That was what Ruth had been counting on.  In the distance, she could see the Tower of the Stalag.  Residing just beyond the treeline and in a clearing, Ruth could almost taste the victory that the Allies were about to achieve.  As the shots opened up on the Stalag, Ruth covered her ears and ducked her head down in the car.  

It was the strangest feeling—this was the closest to combat Ruth had ever been but she felt calm as a summer’s day.  As if nothing were wrong and people weren’t about to surely die.  She just felt at peace. 

Lew’s elbow nudged her from her thoughts and she glanced up.  “We’re entering the clearing.  Well, the front is.” 

Ruth kept a steady gaze on the camp ahead of her. She was almost scared of what she would find once she was there.  “And into the tanks it is,” Ruth murmured as they carefully climbed down inside of the rolling thing.  They had been watching long enough and now they were going to engage with the enemy. 

A silent and never-ending prayer was in Ruth’s heart as the tanks rolled their way across the field.  Lew kept a steady hand on her shoulder.  He was acting as an anchoring force to her at the moment.  Truth be told, she wasn’t sure what she would have done without him.  She knew that she was lucky Sink had even allowed him to leave for a few days—given his vital intelligence that he was keeping up with. 

But he was one of the closest friends she had ever had.  And she trusted that if she was with him, then everything would work out fine.  And that’s what she was hoping for at the moment. 

Her lunch almost came up as they rolled over another bump and Ruth just tightly clung to her seat, waiting for the entirety of this shit-show to be over.  She had no idea how photographers for the military did it—or reporters—or nurses.  There was a reason why she had never been to the front.  She wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing and everyone knew it. 

“Please, please, please,” Ruth chanted the words under her breath like some sort of prayer. 

Let it be over soon. 

Let Abe be there.  And let him be okay. 

Let us come out of this together. 

It didn’t really stop until the flag had been placed atop the flagpole in the Stalag.  And not just any flag.  But the American Flag.  “Holy shit,” Lew mumbled, gazing through the guns.  “They got a flag up.  We’ve taken the Stalag.” 

Ruth’s head shot up.  “We did it?” 

“I mean, in a manner of speaking, yeah.” 

Her heart felt like it was going to wildly beat out of her chest.  It threatened every breath of hers and she knew that until she was on the ground in the Stalag and able to look at the men in there—until her gaze had found her youngest brother—she would not be able to breathe properly.  She wouldn’t be able to do any of it. 

Lew took her hand in his. Immediately, the tremors and the shaking just stopped.   “Let’s go find your brother.” 

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

It wasn’t until the German Commander had surrendered that Ruth even began looking around the place.  The only problem was that she wasn’t all that tall compared to most of the men in the camp and there were so many people—it was going to be impossible to find anyone in this mess of people. 

Frenchmen, Americans, British—how the hell was she supposed to find Abe in a place like this? 

Ruth glanced over at Lew and then over at the tanks.  “I have an idea.” 

“Something tells me I’m not going to like it very much, am I?” 

“Probably not.” 

A few minutes later, Lew had begrudgingly boosted Ruth atop a tank.  As soon as her feet were on the solid metal, she was on her feet and ripping her helmet from her head.  Damn the fact that she was a woman and she wasn’t meant to be here.  

“Abe!  Abe!” Ruth shouted out the name. 

But it just drowned as though it was caught in a wave itself.  With the cheering and the way that everyone was gathered to see the Germans march out of the camp, it would have been a damn surprise if anyone had heard that. Ruth began to feel a pit of desperation growing in her chest like a damn weed.  

Come on, come on—

Just as her hope was dying out in her chest, Ruth heard a loud whistle that caught her attention.  Her head snapped around and when she turned, she found a group of familiar faces sitting atop a roof.  “RUTH!” 

And right there was Abe. 

Ruth didn’t even hesitate in leaping from the tank and sprinting through the crowd to get to her brother.  She shoved and pushed and he did the same.  Ruth ran—she ran as though the war had ended and everything was suddenly going to be alright.  And it wasn’t until she had collided with her brother and felt Abe in her arms that she let out a sob. 

“Oh you stupid, stupid—underaged—high-school dropout—shithead!” Ruth exclaimed, shoving at his arms and then taking his face in her hands to look him over.  He had a few bruises on his face and a cut near his eyebrow, but other than that, Abe Sharpe looked absolutely fine.  Better than fine—though he was crying just as much as she was at the moment.  

“How the hell are you—” 

“I missed your birthday!” Ruth realized in horror, pulling him in for another hug.  “You’re 18 now, you stupid, stupid—” 

“Well there’s a sight I thought I’d never see again.” 

Ruth couldn’t help the fact that she froze on the ground at the sound of the voice.  The sound of her brother John’s voice.  John, who she hadn’t seen since 1942—John, who was supposed to be KIA.  John, whose locker she never picked up in London. John Sharpe, her other brother—who was standing a few feet away, a tired grin on his face and bundled up in a coat. 

“Oh my god!” Ruth scrambled to her feet and pulled John into the fiercest hug of his life.  He had gotten taller and bigger since the time she had seen him last—and given the fact that it had been a few years, she wasn’t altogether surprised by that.  He just held onto her so tightly, head buried in her mass of curls.  “How the hell are you here?” She demanded through a choked sob. 

John just gave a grin.  “Made it to a lifeboat and got picked up by a German U-Boat.  I’ve been here for a while.  Not as long as David though.” 

If Ruth thought for one second that she was done being surprised, she was sorely mistaken.  Because the next person who pulled her into a fierce hug was her cousin David, who she hadn’t seen in years.  He and Abe were roughly the same age and she thought for certain, he had been lost in the mass of executions in Europe. 

“How—” Ruth breathed out, just holding onto the three boys in utter relief and shock. 

“I made it out of Germany back in 40.  Traveled up to Denmark, then to England—took a while to get my citizenship for England but I was part of the RAF,” David explained, a beaming grin on his face. “Imagine my surprise when John here shows up and then Abe!” 

“And now you!” Abe added. 

“OH!” Ruth exclaimed.  “I found Uncle Yosef and cousin Sveta!” 

“Seriously?” John blurted, eyes nearly the size of saucers.  “You found more of us?” 

“I found you,” Ruth couldn’t help but letting the tears stream down her face.  And then the thought that she had not seen Robby yet occurred to her.  “Where’s—” 

“He made it onto the Russian side,” Abe explained.  “He’s probably back at Thorpe Abbotts right now wondering where the hell you’re at.” 

“Well I’ll be damned,” A new voice joined the conversation.  And whether it was because she was feeling utterly sentimental and over-emotional, Ruth wasn’t sure.  But she sprinted straight at Bucky and hugged the living daylights out of the man. 

 “Thank you for taking care of Abe.” 

He just grinned into the hug and gave her an awkward pat on the back.  “I mean—I figured if he showed up here, you weren’t going to be far behind.  I gave it, what?  40 days, gentlemen?” 

The other pilots from Thorpe Abbotts had slowly begun to trickle over.  And Captain Brady, solemn as ever, just shook his head.  “He called you the Jewish Jesus—showing up in 40 days and whatnot.” 

“Jesus was Jewish,” Abe pointed out, crossing his arms as he stared down Brady. 

“Argue later, boys,” Ruth insisted.  She turned, giving Bucky an exasperated pat on the cheek.  “Sacrilege, huh?  Do better.” 

“I did.  You showed up, didn’t you?” 

[metacrisisdoctor]

sorry but i'm feeling crazy about how special rose is to the doctor. how different their relationship is to every other. such a massive part of the doctor/companion relationship is that he has to leave them behind at some point to keep moving. he was never going to leave her behind and how that terrified him! the soft way he smiles when he asks how long she's gonna stay with him and she says forever? after the satan pit he had accepted that he is in love with her, that he will crawl up from hell for her if he has to, that he will never, ever leave her behind, that he will choose her over time and space and the tardis.

he asks her how long she is gonna stay because he knows that she is the one in complete control now, and he has made peace with that. and maybe it would have destroyed him, maybe she would have died in his arms on some planet eons away from earth in x amount of years and the universe would have suffered for it, but he was DONE searching at the tail end of s2. that's why the universe had to rip them apart, because she was at the very core of his being so deeply that they could not stay together. and that moment where she looks at him and says "i made my choice a long time ago and i'm never gonna leave you." he looks so shocked, as if on some level he did not believe her. because who stays for him? it's not the travel or whatever she wants at that point, she just wants to be with him.

the full circle from "traveling with you, i love it!" and then her realizing how terrifying and lonely it all is and can be and still choosing to sacrifice things she does want, things he has seen her want: a house and a job, her mother that she adores, the father she so deeply grieved. she would leave that all for him, and that both horrifies and humbles him. and it causes him pain because he doesn't want her to give those things up; because he was born out of wanting all of those things too. so much of his pain is that he is not human, not that she isn't immortal.

the power of tentoorose is that he somehow, subconsciously, bent the rules of what should be possible so he could stay with her. he split himself in two so she would never be left behind because she was begging him not to change, and he can never say no to her. he created a version of himself who could give her everything she wants, and he goes mad because of it, because he is tentoo as well. and he needs her, but the only thing that matters to him more than anything else is her happiness, so ten accepting that rose is happy with tentoo is the most peaceful ending they could get.

everything that made their relationship special and stand out from the rest, for the audience and for the timelord, stay forever intact. she makes him better just by existing and he never wants to leave her behind- so he never does. he gets to be human and happy in just one life, and how unhappy ten was when he was without her just serves to fortify that being with rose is what really mattered to him.

and despite the fact that the doctor almost never mentions rose after the end of time, i know that in their hearts there is corner that will always, always belong entirely to her. and i know that part of rose still resides in the heart of the tardis. forever.

they are inseperable.

[orcasoul]

Am I too late to love you?

Summary: Reader and Joel are in an unestablished relationship. Joel breaks her heart when being asked to admit his feelings and she leaves their shared home. Reader gets into trouble while on patrol without Joel causing him to face his own truth and go in a desperate search for her.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, Joel being well.... Joel lol, clicker attack. Use of Y/N.

Italics indicate inward thinking.

Word Count: 4,200

"I love you Joel.... and I know you love me too!"Joel's expression turned cold. "I don't love you! I never have and I never will," he hissed, fixing you with an icy stare. Even though you know Joel was the type person to bury his feelings deep down, hardened by 20 years of grief, a part of you believed (somewhat foolishly) that maybe you meant enough to him for him to finally let his walls down and allow you into his heart. It seems you were wrong. "I don't believe you," you reply, trying to stop your lower lip from trembling. "I've seen you take down infected and other people to protect me. I've seen genuine care and concern from you countless times, and the way you look at me. People don't do that for people they don't love!" You realise how pathetic you sound right now but you're past caring. Your mind is awash with confusion and disbelief at his hostile reaction. A part of you expected him to react with some form of hesitancy, being Joel and all but you didn't expect him to look at you like he is now; with anger and scorn.

Since meeting Joel and Ellie a few months ago you began to feel that maybe there were things worth living for. And after all the dangers the three of you faced to get Ellie to the Fireflies and to get back to Jackson you realised that you loved these two people more than anything in this world and would do anything for them. Shit what have I gone and done? You were sure that if you told him how you really feel that he'd finally admit his feelings for you too. You'd both been through so much together for whatever this was between you two to mean nothing. Surely saving your ass on numerous occasions and fucking you until you're a trembling mess in his arms meant something to him! "I've watched your back just like you've watched mine. That's what it is, nothing more." The tone of his voice cold and distant. "And fucking me every night?! What's that to you Joel? what?... Was I just a way for you to blow off steam?!" "That's right" he retorted emotionlessly. Your eyes widened and your heart dropped to your stomach at that revelation.

All you could do was stare in disbelief as his words sank in, crushing your very soul. "I thought...." you chocked out but Joel cut you off "What? You thought we'd fall in love, get married and play happy families? You've been reading too many of those romance fairy tales. This isn't a fucking fairy tale darling, you need to grow up!" A loud sob escaped you as your head dropped and you brought your arms in to wrap around yourself, as if to somehow find comfort in your own embrace. If you had looked up at that moment you would have seen Joel's expression turn from indifference to sorrow, his eyes beginning to fill with tears at seeing your own, knowing he alone is responsible for them. But as soon as he felt the sting behind his eyes he blinked them back, keeping them locked away with the feelings he has for you. Feelings he won't admit even to himself so how could he admit them to you?

It was easier for him to just ignore what his treacherous heart harboured. Deep down he knew he loved you, more than any woman he'd ever known. He'd do anything for you. Anything to keep you safe, to hear you laugh, to make your life as comfortable and happy as possible. So why is he so hell bent to break your heart now? He know's why; He's not good enough for you. He's done things, terrible things in the past to survive and he knows without a doubt he'd do them again if he had to. He's damaged goods and you deserve so much better than him. He's also nearly 20 years older than you. How much longer could he protect you for? You deserve someone younger and stronger who can keep you safe and someone who's not emotionally closed off. He hates himself in this moment for hurting you, for making you cry. He never should have let things go this far. If making you hate him meant you could move on with your life he would do it, even if it would torture him for the rest of his life. After all he would do anything for you.

You've never felt heartache like this before, except for when you lost your family not long after outbreak day. But that was different, they had no choice but to leave you alone in this world once they became sick, but this man whom you loved and foolishly believed loved you is choosing to leave you as if you mean nothing to him. You could physically feel your heart breaking. It was like he had ripped it out of your chest and cruelly smashed it to pieces in front of you. How could you have been so stupid? How could you have been so naive to believe those moments of what seemed like tenderness meant anything? Anger begins to rise in you as you contemplate everything that Joel has said. How dare he treat me this way after everything!

Glaring up at Joel through puffy and strained eyes you thought you saw a glimmer of.... sadness? But you don't care now. He's made it clear where you stand. "Fuck you Joel!" you scream at him while pushing him back by his shoulders. But him being much bigger and stronger than you he barely moves, making you feel even more insignificant to him! "I thought we had something here. I thought the three of us were a family.... or the closest thing to a family. You used me and made me believe you were somebody you're not! I'm done, I'm fucking done with you!" The room suddenly felt suffocating and in that moment you needed to be anywhere he wasn't. You storm out of the house grabbing your coat as you leave.

The night is quiet. Snowflakes are gently falling making Jackson look like a picture from a postcard. Walking down the lit street, kicking the freshly fallen snow on the ground, your mind begins to drift back to all those mornings you'd wake up with Joel's arms around you. Feeling the warmth of his bare chest against your bare back and feeling that there's no where else you'd rather be. You remember all the times he made you feel loved and wanted. You sigh and shake your head realising none of it was real. You wipe away the tears and rub your cheeks in an effort to warm them up in the chilly air. As you approach the main street of the town your hear the familiar sounds of music and laughter coming from the Tipsy Bison. Even now you sometimes can't believe that life can carry on as normal (or as normal as normal can be in a post apocalyptic world) and you find yourself appreciating these moments more and more.

Having walked almost the whole length of the town you decide to sit on a boardwalk sheltered from the snow outside the grocery store. Lost in your thoughts you didn't even notice Ellie and Dina approach you. "Hey Y/N, you missed a great movie tonight," Ellie beamed at you but her smile dropped when she saw your bloodshot and weary eyes. Clearing your throat you force your most cheerful voice passed your lips. "What one was it this time?" you ask while looking over to the movie hall which was beginning to empty, the sounds of happy children making their way home with their families. Ellie glanced worriedly at Dina before sitting next to you. "Oh, it was just about a kid who travelled back in time in a car and crazy scientist who had to help him get back to his own time," she said as if it was no longer important. "Huh..." you laugh halfheartedly. "I always loved that film growing up."

After a few moments of silence Ellie asks "Are you okay?" "Yeah I'm fine." You couldn't sound any less convincing if you'd tried. "You're obviously not fine Y/N. What happened? Is Joel being a dick again?" At hearing his name the floodgates opened. Ellie wrapped her arm around you as you leaned into her shoulder. "Ellie I'll see you tomorrow," Dina awkwardly said with a wave over her shoulder; Ellie nodded in reply. "Tell me what happened," she whispered softly. "It's over. Whatever me and Joel had... it's over. I told him Iove him and he ...." The tears won't stop flowing and you bury your face in your palms. "He told me he never loved me and that he was basically just using me. He made me feel so fucking stupid for believing he actually loved me." "I'm gonna fucking kill him!" Ellie was seething. "No." you gently grab her wrist before she can get up. "It's pointless Ellie. There's nothing you can do. It's over and that's that." Ellie shook her head in disbelief. "It can't be over. Anyone can see how much you love him and how much he loves you!" "He doesn't." You sigh in defeat. "I thought he did but I was wrong the whole time."

Ellie furiously jumped to her feet pulling your hand with her. "Come on, we're going home and you two can talk this through," she demanded but you remained sitting. "I'm not going going back." Ellie dropped your hand "What?.... but that's your home Y/N! Where else would you go?" Her voice began to crack when she realised how serious you are, and your heart started to break again, this time for her. "I'll go to Tommy and Maria's. I'm sure they'll put me up for a few nights and we can arrange for me to have one of the empty properties. I'm so sorry it's come to this." "Joel's the one who should apologise, not you!" she replied, her fists balled at her sides. "You should get going, Ellie. You know how Joel worries when you get home late." You muster a small smile for her. "That's gonna be the least of his fucking worries tonight!" There was a promise in her tone and you couldn't help but chuckle quietly to yourself. That kid could be so fierce when she wanted to be. She turned her head towards you with a sadness in her eyes. "I'll come and see you tomorrow morning."

Joel tossed and turned all night, replaying not only every moment of your conversation but also Ellie's reaction when she barged through the front door. She was so angry she almost knocked it clean off it's hinges. "What the fuck have you done, Joel?!" Ellie roared at him but he just sighed "Ellie, just leave it...." "No I won't. I just spoke to Y/N, she's devastated! Why would you say those things to her?" Joel shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes "I just told her the truth." "That's bullshit and you know it!" Ellie spat the words out "I know you by now Joel. I know you push people away when you start to care for them. She's the best thing that's happened to you in a long time. She's done so much for us both and you've thrown it back in her face and broken her heart. You've ruined everything!!" Joel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He couldn't argue with her when he knew every word she had just said was true. "Where is she?" He asked calmly, trying to ease the tension simmering in the room. "She's gone to Maria's and she's not coming back!" Ellie stomped upstairs, slamming her bedroom door shut behind her, leaving Joel alone to drown in his guilt and sorrow.

The moonlight spilled through the bedroom window illuminating your empty side of the bed. It was as if nature itself was torturing Joel, taunting him with the obviousness of your absence. He slowly rubbed his hand over your pillow as if doing that would somehow bring him closer to you. He missed seeing your calm silhouette beside him in the dark, hearing your gentle breaths as you slept. All he wanted right now was to have you back in his arms but he realised that would be selfish of him. This is for the best, he kept reminding himself. He found it impossible to relax. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was your heart wrenching expression. Eventually exhaustion overtook him and sent him into a fitful sleep.

Waking the next morning, groggy and heavy lidded, it took a moment for you to remember where you were. The memories of the previous night hit you with a fresh wave of grief and you can't keep the tears at bay. KNOCK! KNOCK! "Y/N?" Maria called to you from the other side of the door. "Breakfast is ready if you're hungry." "Thank you," you call out trying to steady your voice. "I'll be down in 5 minuets." After visiting the bathroom and donning the same clothes you had on yesterday you make your way to the dining room. Tommy and Maria were waiting for you at the table. Judging by the sympathetic looks they were giving you, you realised you must look like shit! Not surprising after spending most of the night crying into your pillow. Tommy broke the silence. "Did you sleep okay?" You just shrugged and gave him a small smile.

He sighed, rubbed his hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Something you had seen Joel do a million times. The familiarity of that action made your heart clench and you missed Joel all the more. "I'm gonna talk to my asshole brother later and sort this out," he exhaled in frustration. "It won't change anything Tommy," you reply in a small and tired voice. "He made his feelings... or lack of them very clear." Tommy looked at you with raised eyebrows "I just ... I just can't believe he'd go and do this. We all thought you guys had something solid." "So did I," you shrugged with a small, wistful smile. "I want to thank you two for letting me stay here. I'm sorry I came to you both so late. I just couldn't go back there last night." "Hey..." Maria spoke softly while placing her hand on yours. "Joel or no Joel, we're family." Tommy nodded in agreement.

Tears pricked at your eyes at that reassurance, only now realising how much you needed to hear that. That you hadn't lost them too. "You've both already done so much for me but I'm afraid I have to ask more of you," you say almost ashamedly. "Anything," Tommy replied gently. "Could you prepare one of the vacant houses and give me a new patrol partner? Please, I just can't face him again." "Are you sure you want to make these decisions right now?" Maria asked worriedly "Yes, I have to." You almost break into tears again. "Okay, we'll see what we can do," Maria soothed as she gently squeezed your hand. "Thank you," you whisper squeezing her hand in return.

You tried to keep yourself busy all morning and true to her word Ellie came to visit. She brought over some of your clothes and toiletries. You couldn't help but laugh when she told you how she 'ripped Joel a new one when she got home. "You know Ellie, no matter what happens between me and Joel I'm always here for you. Nothing will ever change between us," You gesture between the both of you. Ellie nodded with a look of relief on her face as you continued "And I don't want things to be awkward between you and Joel. Just because he doesn't care for me it doesn't mean he doesn't care for you. You know you mean the world to him, right?" "I guess," she mumbled. "I'm just so angry with him right now!" her voice raising in intensity causes you to put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it'll be okay." You're not sure if you're trying to reassure her or yourself.

Joel made his way to the gate, ready for his patrol shift and ready for the shit storm that Tommy would inevitably rain down on him as soon as they were alone. After he and Tommy separated from the larger group to patrol different areas Tommy spoke, his tone accusatory and judgemental. "So, you wanna tell me what the fuck happened or are we going to pretend Y/N didn't show up at my door last night bawling her eyes out?" "It's nothing." Joel gruffly replied, shrugging his shoulders. He knew this was coming and between the lack of sleep and the resulting headache he was in no mood for a lecture. "Didn't seem like nothing Joel," Tommy pressed. "Look i'm sure she already told you everything so why are you asking me?" Joel's patience was wearing thin. "Because I want to hear it from you. I want to know what the hell you were thinking," Tommy scolded.

Joel answered him with silence. "Joel!" Tommy shouted, clearly annoyed at his brothers stubbornness. "You're such an asshole on times! Don't you realise how much she loves you and after everything you two have been through together, this is how you treat her. She deserves better than that!" "Exactly!" Joel snapped, turning in his saddle to face Tommy. "She does deserve better and she's not gonna get that with me. That's why I let her go. She should be with someone who doesn't have the blood of countless people on his hands, someone who can protect her and make her happy." Silence hung in the air for a few moments, the only sounds being the chilly winter wind and birds in the distance.

Tommy knew what Joel was doing.... again. He knew Joel had been plagued with self doubt and hate since he lost Sarah, so he chose his next words carefully, hoping to drill some sense into his brothers' thick skull. "You think you can't protect her but you've kept her and Ellie safe all this time. You think you can't make her happy but I've never seen you both as happy as when you are together, and who doesn't have blood on their hands these days?" Joel remained silent, contemplating Tommy's words when the next question made his heart freeze and his body tense. "Do you love her?" Joel straightened in his saddle, gripping the reigns tighter and wishing for a distraction right about now so he wouldn't have to answer. Hell he'd even take a horde attack just to avoid that million dollar question.

After a few moments and with a shake of his head he replied "It's not that simple, Tommy." "Actually it is," Tommy said drily "Either you do or you don't." Joel sighed. "Jesus Christ Joel, just tell me!" Tommy barked slapping his hands on his thighs in annoyance. "Alright I love her! Is that what you want to hear?" Joel couldn't hold it back any longer. The usually cold and emotionless man began to crack... "I love her so much that it physically hurts knowing the pain I've caused her." Tommy looked understandingly at Joel, realising they were finally getting somewhere. "So why did you do this?" He asked softly but it was more of a disappointed statement than a question.

"Why did you tell her you don't love her? She's heartbroken." It's just better this way," Joel replied in a cold tone. "Better this way?" Tommy repeated his words "Tell me how this is better for any of you. Even Ellie has been hurt in this." A new wave of guilt coursed through Joel. He knew Tommy was right and he hated himself for hurting Ellie too. "Look..." Tommy sighed. "I know how easy it is to doubt yourself. We can be our own worst enemy on times and even if you don't have faith in yourself I do. You are allowed to be happy, Joel. We all deserve a second chance. Just talk to her before it's too late." Joel didn't answer him. He knew he had a lot to think about tonight when he got home.

Beep! Beep! Beep! "Fuck sake..." you groaned while reaching over to the bedside table to switch the alarm clock off. You hated the 5am patrols in the dead of winter, at least in the summer it was warmer and lighter. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed you at least felt relieved that you had a new patrol partner, even if it meant taking the earlier shifts. You'd been paired up with a new guy called Andy, tasked with teaching him the ropes. He still had a lot to learn but he seemed more than eager when Tommy suggested you both patrol together. You know he did this for your sake so you wouldn't have to face Joel and for that you were grateful. After dispensing with the usual pleasantries and saddling up you and Andy left for patrol.

"Where are we going again?" Andy asked "We're patrolling by the river today. It's one of the easier routes. Tommy thought it would be the best one for you to learn the basics," you informed him "Well, I don't mind where we start as long as you're the one showing me what I need to know," Andy replied with a wink. He was obviously flirting but you just nodded silently, not encouraging him to continue in any way. He got his horse to match your horses pace, riding silently side by side. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but miss Joel. It felt so wrong to not have him beside you. You'll have to get used to this you sadly told yourself.

The patrol went well.... at first. You showed Andy the route and how to check and reset the traps. He seemed to learn quickly and he talked, a lot! Or maybe it seemed that way because you hardly spoke a word. You were honestly in no mood for chatting so you just let him do the talking while nodding along. After resetting the last trap it was time to head back to Jackson. But before you could tell him it was time to go you heard a sound that made your blood run cold. Click...click...click! You both snapped your heads up, looking at each other wide eyed. Click...click from another direction and then another. Shit! how many of them are there?! "Quick!" you whispered, pointing to the horses.

It would be safer to shoot them from horseback in case you had to make a quick escape. The clicking got closer as as you both mounted your horses but before you could grab your rifle in the saddle holster the horses began to panic. Deafening, high pitched, inhuman screeching filled your ears. "Shit!" you cursed while reaching for your rifle as one of the clickers charged at you, no doubt attracted by the horses' whinnying. More screams echoed as another three clickers ran towards you both from different directions. "Go!" you screamed desperately, still fumbling to get your rifle out. Andy's horse took off in panic. You kicked your horses sides but it rared up, throwing you to the ground as it sped off.

The impact on the hard frosty ground took the breath from your lungs but as your adrenaline kicked in, giving you a much needed burst of energy you immediately sprang to your feet. Your only thought was to get to your rifle but that damn horse had run off with it and now you are defenceless. You look around in panic, your heart beating out of your chest as you see your death approaching fast. Death with rotting skin, infested with fungus and gnarled teeth. You had always hoped that this wouldn't be the way you'd go out. Before you had the chance to run gunfire echoed as a clicker dropped to the ground, staining the frost and mud crimson. "Y/N run!" Andy called out, Riding back to you from a distance.

The only direction you could run was to the river. You run as fast as you can, trying to ignore your screaming muscles and the tight burn in your chest as you heave desperate, deep breaths. Bang! Another clicker down but there are two more hot on your heels. Andy fires again but misses. They're still coming, that horrendous screeching drowning out the sound of your frantic heartbeat. You stop for a moment as you reach the river bank, looking behind to see how close they are. That's when you're faced with a hard decision: Either be torn apart or jump into the river! In this moment of desperation drowning seemed like the better choice. With Joel and Ellie's faces flashing in your mind you jump!

Part 2

[sparrowsong-7]

FFXIV Write Day 22: Time (Free Day)

Time was fickle

Some days it seemed to stretch on into agonizing eternity, with each minute dragging its feet into the next as Lady Fay begged them to hurry along. Today was not one of those days. Today was a day in which every minute screeched into the next, every hour going by in a blinding flash.

She was running out of time…

She was able to smell them before she could see them; rotted corpses stretched and mangled and horrific Voidsent hell bent on breaching the walls of the keep. Just the forward vanguard to be sure, simply fodder meant to wear down their White Mages so the higher rung commanders could swoop in and finish the job. Lady Fay felt a small pang of shame as she fled the front lines.

“I thought I would have more time…” she thought, breaking into a sprint. She didn’t stop until she found her two apprentices shuffling along with their peers towards the ramparts. “Vinia, Corin, to me” she commanded as she stormed past. Wordlessly the two novices filed out of the line and took up their positions on either side of their master. They walked around the corner before Lady Fay spoke aloud, wanting to be out of ear shot of anyone else before saying anything. “We are running out of time…” she muttered before turning back to face L’vinia, “Vinia, I need you to get to my study and grab the supplies from the chest. It is time.” The doll nodded, knowing what its master meant, and took off in the direction of the study, leaving just Lady Fay and Corin in the halls. Lady Fay took a deep breath and turned toward her other ward, kneeling down to her eye level. “Corin…” she started, knowing what came next, “No matter what may happen next, I need you to trust me, do you understand?”

The girl was scared, trembling at the thought of the horrors that besieged them, though she nodded regardless. “Y-yes Lady Fay…”

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

“Stand there” Lady Fay commanded her apprentice, pointing with her cane at the intricate pattern scrawled upon the floor of her bed chamber. The girl nervously approached, carefully stepping over the lines and into the center. “Good, now stay there while I prepare some things.”

L’vinia came barreling into the room, sack in hand. It handed the sack off to its master before taking up a position at the desk mixing reagents together. It started crying…

“Why is it crying?”

The thought left as quickly as it came when Lady Fay snapped her finger in Corin’s face. “I need you to listen to me Corin” she said, her voice commanding yet quivering, “This is all going to happen very quickly, and I will not ask you to forgive me for it.” She wrapped a pink scarf around the girl's neck and gave a weak smile, tears welling in her eyes. “Just promise me you will remember that I love you, forever and always.”

“Lady Fay-” Corin started before she was bound in the crystalline walls of the spell. She tried to move, to scream, but found that she could do nothing against the bindings.

L’vinia scrambled around the pattern, dropping reagents in precise locations before scrambling away again to a safe distance. “I’m sorry Corin” it muttered to no one but itself and gave Lady Fay a nod.

The rune began to glow a soft orange, slowly engulfing the crystal in a brilliant light. Lady Fay touched the end of her cane to a section of the rune and began whispering some kind of prayer. She finished it by muttering, “Please send her somewhere safe” and sighed, her amber eyes wet with tears.

“Be safe dearest…”

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

One thousand five hundred and seven years.

Corin floated through the rift for one thousand five hundred and seven years.

She wouldn’t know it though, she stopped counting after the first three.

She stopped retaining memories after one hundred and two.

Her mind failed after three hundred and seventeen.

And still she floated, no sense of self left.

And then she fell.

And then she was safe.

[dearweirdme]

https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/756052918840573952/company-content-mediaplay-fan-service-if?source=share

"Birthdays", "awkward", "Taennie", "imagination", "TAE", "liar, attention seeker". If these words do not leave your mouth or a jikooker's, you’ll have a stroke.

There. Fixed it for ya 😘

Also, literally no one here is having a stroke over any jikook video. Maybe anon you need to "get out of your imagination" . Y'all so desperately want us to feel something about those teasers and clips that you are willing to imagine that we are having strokes over them. It's a fckn entertainment show, not a "day in the life of an idol couple" vlog series. They went to those locations with a crew, those aren't clips from their private trips. Why tf would we feel anything bad about a travel show? We've seen multiple seasons of BV and ITS. We know the drill. The only difference this time is that instead of the seven of them, it's just two. That's it. It might be a huge deal for y'all, as it should be (would've been for me if it were taekook), but trust me, we really, really aren't bothered.

Btw, didn't jimin travel to the US for hobi? He shows up for all of them bcs that's who he is. He is a very caring friend. What you forgot to mention is, jimin himself said that he hadn't met jk on his bday last year, infact he met yoongi on his own bday eve, who brought a cake for him. Why do y'all always ignore all the other members in favour of proving your narratives? Jimin himself said he was only close to yoongi and hobi last year. As for jk's bday in '22, hobi, jin and jimin all went to wish him. Y'all really need to stop singling him out. Just like how jungkook only saw jimin and hobi. Similarly in solo era, jimin only met yoongi and hobi. Seems like y'all are trying to downplay his relationship with yoongi here.

"Jungkook said “speak to someone” and not himself because they couldn’t even sit down and have a heart to heart" 🤣🤣🤣🤣. Sure love. Believe this if this gives you happiness. Why tf would they want to have a heart to heart infront of cameras??? Or do y'all really believe that anything and everything that's shown on tv is real and unscripted?

"For all you know jennie was probably the reason he became a little bit happier. " Y'all really need to stop using taennie. Proving anything in regards to tae ain't doing shit for your ship. Why is your side hell bent on proving him straight and involved? What does it have anything to do with jikook? Someone does have something to do with jikook though, and she's been a bit quiet since dropping those bombshells. But you'll never see us even talking about her after that. Bcs we really don't care about jimin's dating life. But jikookers are weirdly interested in tae and his alleged relationships, going so far as to pair him with his wooga squad friends.

"You’ve turned these boys lives into a lie so that you could force a reality that isn’t true onto them" No love that's all on you and your fellow dummies. The people who believe that a queer couple will enlist together. The ones who refuse to believe that jk and tae are very close, closer than any other pair in BTS. The ones who've oversexualize jikook to the point of not even understanding the difference b/w reality and ff.

You have an entire series coming in less than a month and instead of being happy about it,here you are, picking up unnecessary fights. Are y'all ever satisfied with your ship? Does your ship even exist without mentioning taekook and tae?

Hi anon!

It's always the same things with them. Just like they have their chosen moments to proof Jkk (GCF Tokyo, RoseBowl, Hickey-gate, enlistment, coupledays... some weird number theories... you know the drill) they also have their chosen topics to disprove Tkk (Taennie, Get out of your imagination, ITS talk). I think a lot is about contesting with Tkkrs for them? Like.. the usual rebuttle to a Jkk debunk is to come with something about Tkk. As if Tkk being not real would make Jkk real suddenly.

I have seen the birthday talk so much it gets boring... and the thing is, it's always about Jm going to Jk's birthday and not the other way around (I am actually unaware of the times Jk spent Jm's birthday with him outside of when they were together because of band stuff... anyone know?). But Jk actually does not always spend Jm's birthday with him right? When they were in Busan it was clear they were with their respective families.. and not spending Jm's birthday with their families combined. So how does all of that hold?

I'm very tired of Jkkrs saying things like... you are turning Jkk into fanservice and reducing their relationship to only that. No we are not! Not around here anyways.. and I'm not going to be held responsible for whatever it is other Tkkrs are saying.

[magnoliabutters]

• WHERE IS HE? •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her, 18+) reader

summary: emptiness, hopelessness, that's all she has to go on now - but that won't stop her from finding him.

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; mention of dwugs, anxiety, trauma; all the season 4 spoilers you can handle (have you not watched it yet? seriously? i mean no judgment 👀); long distanced affection and fluff, panic attack, hints of depression, not the best coping skills, violence, etc.

word count: ~8k

stories of eddie munson series •  season two • 

notes: hello! welcome back to our season two. exploring how our baby eddie has now become daddy kas. i roughly followed the timeline listed here for season 4's events. i would def recommend (re)reading season one to understand some references and fall back in love with eddie ♥️

“Please,” you say, exhausted from all the groveling. “I need to know where he is.”

Gareth looks up at you as he kicks his feet against each other. His shiner on full display behind his wavy locks. “Last time someone came looking for him, I got this,” he grumbles as he points to his eye. You take a deep breath. All you cared about was finding him. You did not care what happened to Gareth, not if it had nothing to do with giving you a clue as to where he was.

A day has passed since you saw the news broadcast, since they declared the love of your life as a satanic murderer. There was no doubt in your mind that the stories were ever true, but you needed to find him. To be there for him, during this dark time. To help him get out of it, no matter what it takes.

“I’m sorry that happened, Gareth,” you say, thinking sympathy will gain his compliance. “But I need you to tell me something, anything.”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. Your heart sank, convinced he wouldn’t budge. “Who even are you to him? I’ve only seen you a few times in the caf. Why do you care so bad?” he asks as though the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

This is not the first person who has asked you this on your journey to find him. You feel stupid, knowing you could have been introduced to all these important people in his life but you couldn’t.

You were too scared.

With another deep breath and your eyes closed, you plead, “Please. Tell me something.” Your eyes begin to well, so close to the truth yet so far. You’re not sure if he showed pity or if he just didn’t want to be bothered anymore.

Gareth leans in, a certain distrust clear in his face. He whispers, “Jason’s looking for him too. He’s got a head start on you.”

Your swallow, hard. It made sense. He was accused of killing Chriss - her. You are desperately trying to stay away from acknowledging the reality of her death.

“Go to Wayne. He might know something. Those Munson’s protect their own. He probably has him in hiding or something,” Gareth mutters as he takes a step back from the doorway.

You nod, grateful. “Thank you,” you say with a waver to your voice. He rolls his eyes and closes the door before you. Still, you cannot help but smile. You initially thought to get in contact with Wayne, but knew it would be difficult right after the news broke out.

It should be easier to get to him now.

You get back in your dad’s car. You grab the map resting on the passenger seat. Quickly, you cross off Gareth’s house with your red pen.

You haven’t been home in the past 24 hours. You’ve barely slept, not that you even wanted to. You are hell bent on finding him. Not a single second can be wasted on you. No, it is all about him.

As you place the car in drive, you reach for the handheld radio in the center console. “Baby,” you say as you pull out of his driveway. “I need you to answer me. I need to know you’re okay.” You move your thumb from the receiver to take a harsh breath.

“I know you didn’t do this, baby. Please let me help you,” you say into the frequency with a shaken tone. During one of your first nights together, you both decided on a channel to check in to if you were ever separated. You have been checking that frequency since this all began.

“I’m heading to the trailer,” you continue as you pull onto the main road. “I’m hoping Wayne’ll tell me where you ended up.” In hopelessness, you press your head against the seat’s headrest. “I have my radio on me. Please reach out,” you whisper as your eyes land on the familiar trailer park sign.

“I’m crazy about you.” You bite your wobbling lip, desperate not the cry - not when you are about to speak to the eldest of the Munson’s.

The road to the trailer park has been worn out, much more than usual. You’re sure it has everything to do with all the news trucks and bystanders. The road that used to make you smile, gave you butterflies in your stomach, now solemn.

And it wasn’t just about Eddie.

You used to see kids playing about and having fun at the playground right at the entrance. Now, there are no kids.

The people you see are the neighbors that usually wave “hi” to you when you drive down. Now, they watch you with suspicious eyes - no doubt, curious as to what you are doing and why you were here.

As you pull up to the Munson trailer, you watch Wayne lighting a cigarette on the steps of his front deck. His eyes on the ground, stuck in a disassociated state. Not even the sound of your car pulling up was enough to draw his eyes.

You get out of the car, hooking the radio onto your jean’s back pocket. Carefully, you close the door to not startle him. You slowly walk towards the trailer.

“Hi Wayne,” you greet hesitantly. He quickly sniffles, rubbing his nose and eyes. “Hey, you,” he replies with a faked smile. You grin, as you awkwardly stand before him. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” you ask, wanting to give him space if he needs it.

“No, come on down,” he lightly laughs and grabs hold of a beer bottle beside his right foot. He takes a swig with eyes staring forward. You sit beside him, breathing slowly as you lean a shoulder against the trailer.

It’s been a while since you’ve had your hands on something of his, something he loved.

With your eyes down, you whisper under your breath, “He didn’t do this.” He shakes his head, then shrugs as he takes another swig of his Holsten. He hides behind his baseball cap. Shortly after, he takes a puff of his cigarette.

“My boy wouldn’t be capable of something like that,” Wayne mutters. “He would never do something like that.” He points his cigarette forward, as if he was burning those thoughts into the ground.

You place a hand on his forearm. Your brows pull together in pain. Eddie would have hated to see this. “No, he would never do this,” you whisper. He turns to look at you with widened eyes, as though you were the first one to say that to him. He then scoffs and shakes his head, looking down.

“I’m glad he had you when he did,” Wayne mutters against the bottle’s mouth. You look down to your feet, feeling the tears settle in your eyes again. With a hard swallow, you look back to him, “I’m looking for him, Wayne.” His eyes slowly fall upon yours in disbelief.

“I-I thought maybe you would’ve known where he is,” you hoped. He laughs, the first genuine smile you have seen since that Munson dinner.

“I would’ve,” Wayne starts. “I would’ve taken him so far from here in a heartbeat.” He waves his arm across his body, accentuating how far he’d throw him if he could.

“The justice system is bullshit. No matter how innocent he is, they still would’ve called him guilty for just playing that dragon game he likes.” He scoffs again, shaking his head before burying it into his hands. “But I didn’t get to him first,” he whispers.

Excitement bursts through your skull. Your eyes widen. “Do you know who did?” you ask as you adjust your seat so that you face him.

Wayne looks over at you with hopeless eyes. He painfully watches as the happiness fades from your face. “I don’t,” he mumbles. “I keep thinking he’ll reach out some how.”

You place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I keep thinking the same thing,” you soothe. “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t come find me. Let me, or u-us, help him.”

You turn back towards Wayne to see a smile slowly form on his face. You cannot help the grin that grows on yours. “What?” you ask with a chuckle.

“Sometimes it’s hard to think outside of the box with so much shit is hitting the fan,” he looks up at you with excitement. A lot that reminds you of him. A warm feeling fills your chest. “What would be the only reason he wouldn’t contact us?”

You feel an overwhelming wave of love flood your body. “He’s protecting us,” you nod, thankful for how much Wayne loved his nephew.

Wayne nods back, then shakes his head with a laugh. “That boy is the very first Munson with the purest of intentions.” He smiles as he takes another swig of his beer.

“I’m not going to stop looking for him,” you say with certainty. Wayne chuckles as he places a hand atop yours. “Me neither.”

You let out a soft laugh as you stand. “You let me know if you find him?” you ask. He beams with a side smile. “You do the same.”

With hope, you walk towards your car. You grab hold of the map, noting just one last place to check. Thank god you got the clue you’ve been waiting for.

Your body slowly begins to show signs of exhaustion. Had the adrenaline finally worn off? You lightly smack your hand against your cheeks in attempt to wake up. Your hand tightly grips onto the wheel as your head floats back and forth. It didn’t help that the sun was starting to set.

In what had felt like forever, you finally pull into the Hawkin’s High parking lot. You drive to the very back of the lot, heading towards the football field. You park and grab hold of your jacket.

You make the all too familiar journey towards the woods. You love these woods. You adore what happened in these woods. The place where you fell in love. You hope that this very love will bring him back to you.

Your eyes fall upon the clearing of trees. The infamous table sitting right in its center. You lightly brush your hand against its wood, remembering the incredible memories that came of it.

Without a second thought, you grab your walkie. You step onto the bench and sit atop the table. You click the receiver on, placing all the good energy you have left into this little radio. Hoping this time he will finally answer.

"Baby," you whisper. Your heart already broken when seeing the lack of Munson in the forest. "I'm back where we first started." You look around at the trees, the fallen leaves on the ground.

"I thought you might be here," you start. "Or maybe I just thought this would be the place I'd feel closest to you." You pull away from the mic, holding it against your forehead. Rushes of pins and needles flood your brain as you try your best not to cry. You are so exhausted. Every effort is spent on finding him, and not necessarily breaking down.

With a quick breath, you say, "Eddie, please. We can go to Chicago, or Paris, wherever! I have been ready to start my life with you before I even met you." You rest back onto the table.

You watch as the light in the sky fades darker and darker. "You don't have to protect me, baby," you sigh. "You don't have to go through this alone. You don't have to be the strong one here." The stars begin to shine brighter behind the marbled clouds.

March 24th, 1986.

Little did you know, Eddie has been listening. He's been listening since he stole that radio from the construction crew by Reefer Rick's. He goes back and forth between channels, listening out for Dustin or Wheeler's call.

But he always checks back to the station you both decided on, an "in-case-of-emergencies" broadcast, hoping that you would reach out.

All he wants is to hear your voice. To know you are okay. That you don't suffer the consequences of loving him, Hawkin's latest murderer. That whatever happened to Chrissy never happens to you. And for that, he knew he had to hide - to protect you.

The first time he heard your voice, you sounded frantic. It felt like a blade through his heart. His stomach tied up in knots. "Baby," you said. "Baby, please tell me where you are." You followed with, "I know you didn't do this. Please just let me help you."

Eddie misses you with ever fiber of his being. In the last month or two of knowing you, he has had the best time of his life. He got something he never even thought of wanting, being loved so dearly by you. He wouldn't trade it for the world.

And he definitely wouldn't risk your life so that you could help him - even if that meant nonstop panic attacks and endless amounts of fear.

God, he wished he had a nugget or two to get him through this. He thought Rick would have something, but the butt muncher's house was clean.

The second time he heard your voice, you held onto the receiver while "Take on Me" was playing in the background. He couldn't help but smile, knowing that you were smiling hard on the other end too.

You both wouldn't say that this was your song, but it definitely sparks incredible memories.

Next, you played "Master of Puppets." For Eddie, it was like listening to the soundtrack of your love for each other. He misses your dance sessions, and listening to different types of songs on records and cassettes. The way you both share and love Miss Betty and the high that follows.

Sometimes he talks back to you, pretending as though you could hear him.

As your check in's continued, it became harder and harder to listen in. To know that you were desperately looking for him. To know the truth of what happened to Chrissy. To know that if you were to find him, there is a really good chance you would die.

Eddie would never do that to you.

His heart breaks every time he hears your call. Your shaken "baby" through the radio. His eyes water as he knocks his head back onto the wood of the shack. He felt every ounce of your pain, on top of his own. He wondered whether the pain of not reaching out to you would be worse than death.

But what if he died and never spoke to you again? What would that mean for you? What life would you lead after something as traumatic as that? Would you even know if he died? Or would you think he left you behind?

These conflicting thoughts continued to burn inside of his skull, behind his eyelids anytime he closed his eyes. However, these thoughts were his only break from seeing Chrissy die over and over in his dreams.

Despite over 24 hours without sleep, Eddie continues to stay strong in his will to keep you safe. He’s thankful when Dustin or Steve stop by. It gives him a break from the nonstop pull of the tether between you two.

But when he’s alone, it’s the absolute hardest. He sits in the full shack, wondering how long he will stay here. Will the canoe be his new bed? Will he have to hide in darkness forever?

Will there be anywhere safe from Vecna?

“Baby,” he hears your voice. His head shoots up as he clumsily runs over to the radio. “I’m back where we first started.” His heart skips a beat. His eyes close, remembering your gorgeous self walking to the clearing between the trees.

How you were always the beauty he looked forward to seeing. He was so thankful for having the balls to kiss you that day. The day everything changed.

“I thought you might be here,” you say. Eddie quickly stands to look out the dirtied window. It’s getting pretty dark. You shouldn’t be there.

His heart starts to race. “Or maybe I just thought this would be the place I'd feel closest to you,” he hears you scoff near the end. A smile forms on his face. God, he misses seeing your smile - making you smile.

“Eddie, please. We can go to Chicago, or Paris, wherever! I have been ready to start my life with you before I even met you." His heart breaks hearing you call out to him.

Every atom in his body is begging him to respond. To make you smile one more time. To give you what you need in this moment. To give him what he needs - you. The worry in your voice is enough to make his skin crawl. Those conflicting thoughts pop in again.

Is it better to leave you deserted, or protected?

“You don't have to protect me, baby. You don't have to go through this alone. You don't have to be the strong one here." Eddie’s brows pull together in complete agony. He feels weak in his legs. He slides down the wall, his fists clenched as all hell.

He misses you so much. Your eyes. Your smile. Your dimples. Your hair. The way your nose crinkles up when you're laughing. The way your brows push together when he makes a stupid joke. The way your body collapses into his chest with your arms around each other. He would do anything to hold you again.

Eddie's smile floods across his face. His eyes close as he grips the radio against his chest. Desperate to feel that sensation again. In his tight embrace, his thumb presses harshly against the receiver.

"Eddie? Eddie, is that you?" you call out with increased excitement. "Shit!" he whisper-screams. His fingers fumble over the radio. You must have heard the feedback. “Eddie, baby,” you cry into the radio. “I heard you. Just - can you give me two clicks if you’re okay?”

He thinks about this. The risks, the rewards. He can’t put you in danger, he won’t - but would clicks really be putting you in harm’s way? With a bit lip, he clicks his thumb against the receiver twice.

Eddie imagined your gasp and classic nervous giggle. He beams so hard that his cheeks block his vision.

“Eddie, baby,” you whisper. “I’ve missed you.” The laugh that erupts from his chest excites him. He clicks it again, thrice this time.

“Hmm,” he hears you hum. “I love you too, baby.” He is so thankful you understood. His heart fluttering with anticipation, hoping you will speak forever.

Eddie ponders the thought again. What’s the harm of you hearing his voice? Of you two having a simple conversation? With a harder bite to his lip, he holds the channel open as he struggles to speak.

“Babe,” Eddie whispers, like a boy who knows better. But he couldn’t ignore the feeling of his heart being so full from bring able to finally respond to your call. To be speaking to you. “Eddie,” you patch back in. Your smile audible in your voice.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he whimpers. He sucks in his lip as he tries to hold back the water forming in his eyes.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you reply. Your voice so soft and comforting. “But you’re okay, right?”

Eddie weakly sighs as he knows he has quickly arrived to the point where he must lie to you. It was much easier with clicks, much harder to convey over a radio channel. “I’m okay,” he says quickly. You believe him, of course you do. He is usually a man of his word.

“Good,” you say in relief. “That’s all I care about.” A silence allows his to take in a shuddering breath. His body hot, sweating and slightly regretting his impulsive desire - even though it’s brought him so much joy.

“Where are you?” you ask. The undeniable and heartbreaking question he’s been wanting to avoid.

“I can’t tell you, love,” Eddie mutters. He bounces the radio against the side of his temples. His jaw tightens as he worries where this conversation may lead.

“You don’t have to protect me, Munson. I’m a big girl,” you joke, but he isn’t laughing.

“I do,” he starts. “You have zero clue what has happened. I cannot, will not bring you into this.” He sighs off the receiver, defeated. His heart sinks, not being able to tell you everything.

“That sounds like a lot on your shoulders,” you coo. “You don’t have to do this alone, Ed’s.”

“I’m not,” Eddie responds quickly. He doesn’t want you to worry, but his body winces when realizing how badly he just messed up.

“Who’s with you?” you ask in a mixture of shock, anger, and hurt.

“I can’t tell you,” he whispers. He knocks his head against the radio three times. Hating himself for keeping this from you, leaving you in the dark - where you’re safest. A few seconds have gone by and the channel remains quiet.

“My love?” Eddie reaches out worriedly. Shortly after, he hears two clicks on the feedback. Oh - okay. Non-verbal coms, got it. You’re okay, but you’re clearly not ready to talk after hearing that. Understandable.

“What happened with Chrissy,” he begins but chokes up. His throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. His entire body rejecting the idea of talking about the experience. Sobs burning through his chest, tightening his mouth so they don’t get out.

With a few coughs, Eddie is able to speak again. “It was more than just me. Other people are affected by it too, and - and that’s who’s helping me,” he shares. He hopes that will be enough to bring you back to him.

“We’re going after the thing that killed Chrissy.”

Eddie hears your feedback click in and then gradually out. You must have had something to say, and decided to let it go. He closes his eyes and keeps breathing. His muscles tightening across his chest.

“That sounds dangerous,” you reply softly. “It is! That’s why I want you nowhere near this,” he agrees. “But I’m supposed to be fine with you risking your life?” you ask in disbelief.

Eddie shakes his head. His index fingers pressed against his temple. “If it means keeping you safe and getting justice for Chrissy, yes. I hope you will be,” he retorts.

“But I want to be there with you,” you cry into the radio. Eddie’s lips begin to quiver. He hates when you cry. His entire body feels on fire, determined to stop who or whatever is hurting you.

He never thought he might’ve been the one to hurt you, never in a million years.

With a shivering breath, he answers, “I know baby. I want you here. I would want you here with me, but only if it meant you wouldn’t get hurt.” As thoughts swarm his head, Chrissy’s ending some how becoming yours - he breaks. “You don’t know what happened to her,” his voice breaks. “That cannot happen to you. It can’t.”

Eddie hears you take a deep breath. “I will try to understand,” you say slowly. It sounds as though the words are painful to get out.

He takes a deep breath before returning to his protector duties. “Love, you should go home. It’s not safe to be out in the woods right now.” He hears the receiver click on, but then only the silence that follows.

Eddie takes in a shaky breath. He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. "How long have you been listening, Eds?" you ask quietly.

Another crossroads. Another moment to choose the truth or to lie.

“I've been listening since earlier today," Eddie mutters, ashamed. You click on the channel, "Good thing you slipped on the receiver, huh?" A soft chuckle with your playful tone.

Eddie laughs, pushing out the remaining tears he had. God, you knew exactly how to make him laugh. How to exactly cut through the awkward and fill it with laughter. He loves that about you.

"This is the best thing that's happened to me since the shire started burning," he mumbles. His voice deepens as he struggles not to feel.

"Same here, Eds.” Silence. “Just please be careful, Jason and his band of freaks are after you too," you whisper. Eddie laughs incredulously - of course they are. "Thank you for letting me know. I'll add that to my list of assholes on my ass," he scoffs.

"Well, now that you've broken radio silence. Can you keep checking in?" He blushes. He is so grateful and thankful for your love. He is reminded every day of how much you truly care for him. He doesn't know what he did to deserve you.

“No matter what, I will meet you here, on our channel, at 4:30p every day," Eddie says. This is something he can do for you, something he's happy to do for you. To give you some sort of comfort in this quiet apocalypse that Hawkins is enduring.

"Thank you," you murmur back. "I wish I could hug you. I could really use one of your tight ass hugs right about now," he mumbles into the receiver.

"I would be there in a heart beat," you reply sweetly. Luckily for you both, Vecna seemingly took the night off from harassing the dear, Eddie Munson.

He encourages you to travel home and stays on the infamous channel until you are tucked underneath your covers - safe and sound. You grab hold of one of his old Hellfire shirts laying across your comforter. You share how you wished he was there, snuggling up next to you. He desperately wishes he could be and helps you pretend, until you fall right asleep.

Finally.

You wake up to a radio indented across your right cheek. Quickly, you check the your clock to see that it was 3:46p the following day. "Shit," you mutter under your breath. You really needed the sleep. You were able to rest once you found him, once you spoke to him.

Last night felt like a dream. You pray it was real. You pray that you will hear him again at 4:30p.

You sleepily crawl up the stairs of your room and open the door to your family's kitchen. Pete turns to stare at you, his eyes like daggers. At this point, rolling your eyes to your younger brother is beyond natural.

As you open the fridge door, Pete scoffs behind you. "You know they found another kid." Your heart sinks as you slowly turn to look at him. "Some kid named Fred. He was a part of your school's newspaper," he says as he harshly throws today's paper into your arms.

“Killed just like the first girl apparently. By your boyfriend."

Your face squishes together in horrific disgust as you push the paper back into his chest. "No, Pete. Not my boyfriend," you sternly respond. You quickly lose your appetite and slam the fridge door.

You close your bedroom door, locking all the bolts, and rush down the stairs. You wonder who exactly this Fred is. Did you know him? If they’re saying Eddie did it, how would he know of him?

Suddenly, you hear three clicks on the radio. You rush over, a smile beaming on your face. “Eddie?” you ask. “Hello, my love,” his sweet, tender voice comes back. “How was your day?” you ask.

You feel light on your feet, completely head over heels for him. “It was something,” he starts. “Did you hear about Fred?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, do you know him?” you ask. Your mind already trying to prepare for how the police will stupidly try to pin this on him.

“No, I honestly don’t think I’ve ever met him,” Eddie shares. “He was on the other side of the lost sheep spectrum.”

His shaken voice rings clear through the radio. “Please, for me, just stay home. This is only getting worse.”

You sigh, hating the fact that the only way you can help him right now is to ensure your own safety. You just need to stay alive, for him.

“I’ll stay inside,” you promise.

“Thank you.”

Silence fills the air, as you sit down on your favorite reading chair. You feel hopeless. Almost as though his voice is now a reminder of everything you’ve lost.

“What did you do today?” Eddie asks with glee. You always appreciated how energetic and full of life he is. “I slept today,” you chuckle. “Ooo,” he gleams.

“Mighty impressive, y/l/n.” You shake your head, a smile forming despite your desire to be sad. “What about you?” you ask, as you cross your legs.

“Well, I’ve been just hanging around doing absolutely nothing,” he starts. “Dustin managed to get me a Yoo-hoo.”

Dustin, your mind sparks. You hate to get excited, especially when he wants to keep his location from you.

He quickly speaks again, “Forget you heard that.”

“What? The part about how you’re having a Yoo-hoo without me?” you ask, trying to make him feel better. Eddie scoffs, “Yes, I forgot I’m not allowed to have Yoo-hoo’s without you.”

“Darn tootin’,” you add.

“Okay, well I’m sure you’ve smoked without me so…” he inquires.

“Actually, I haven’t,” you quickly respond. Your eyes wonder as the channel remains silent.

In a deep, quiet voice, he asks, “Do you have some left?” You laugh. Your eyes shooting towards your bookcase where a joint rests perfectly against the ashtray. “Yes,” you lead, curiously.

“Take a hit for me?” Eddie asks gently. You cannot help but burst into laughter. “Dustin can’t get you that?” you ask with a raised brow. “Henderson? Yeah, no,” he snorts.

“Okay, well fine. I’ll do one for you,” you say as you stand to walk to the shelf. “Okay, but keep the mic on so I can hear,” he replies excitedly. “Hear what exactly?” you chuckle.

“Well, I’m going to count you through it,” he whispers.

“Oh god, no,” you scoff.

“Oh god, yes,” he replies. “You light it yet?” You smile, flicking your lighter. “It’s lit,” you confirm.

“Alright. Breathe in - 1, 2, 3,” he starts. You follow his instructions, leaving the microphone on. “4, 5, 6,” he continues. At this point, your eyes are watching the radio. How long is he planning on going? “7, 8, 9-”

You immediately burst out coughing, waving the smoke that falls from your lips. Eddie laughs hysterically. “You only made it to nine?” he giggles. “Damn, I thought I taught you better than that, baby.” You roll your eyes and scoff. “I wasn’t thinking you’d be counting forever,” you whine.

“God, I miss you,” he murmurs.

“I miss you too, baby,” you respond. You take a deep breath, wishing he was here with you.

“Y/n,” Eddie starts. “I have to go, but I’ll meet you here at what time tomorrow?” he asks. “4:30p, baby,” you reply confidently. “Good girl,” he says smoothly. “No matter what.”

You gasp, wishing he’d call you that more often. A warm to your lower stomach that you weren’t expecting.

“Do you know how much I love you?” he questions. “Hmmm,” you answer, pretending to think. “Probably not that much.”

Eddie laughs, sucking his tongue against his cheek. “I love you with everything I have,” he shares through his smile. “I love you more,” you add playfully.

“I love you more infinity +1,” he responds.

“What does that even mean?” you choke out through a laugh.

“It basically means I will love you more forever,” Eddie answers. “By rules of math or some shit, you technically cannot love me more than I love you,” he smirks.

“I’ll have to check the math on that but it’s questionable for sure,” you laugh.

“I’ll let you go, baby. Bye, Eds. Stay safe,” you share. Your heart breaking between clicks of the receiver.

“No goodbye’s,” he says hurriedly. “Only see you later.” You smile. He is constantly reminding you of how perfect he is.

“I’ll see you later, alligator. I love you,” you murmur. “In a while, crocodile. I love you so much, y/n,” he coos.

Your heart feels so full. Just a few minutes of talking to him and you feel like you’re on the moon. Eddie Munson is the absolute love of your life, and he always assures you that you are his.

It's 4:57p and you still haven't heard from Eddie. He said he would be here yesterday. No matter what. He told you how dangerous this would be. How hard he would need to fight to ensure not just your safety, but everyone's in Hawkins.

Eddie tends to exaggerate, but this felt real. It was a matter of life and death. You hated not being a part of it.

Around 6:30p, you start to reach out again. You wonder if he's in a place where he is unable to talk. Maybe he has headphones? Maybe he can just listen. You play your favorite songs - the ones you love to dance to together. You hope it will give him solace in whatever horrific things he is now a part of. You manage to keep your head down from all the ridiculous news and suburban family outcries surrounding the love of your life.

You hear a knock at the door. Your three heavy duty locks bolting it tightly shut. "Y/n," your brother calls out. "There was another one last night."

A deep breath almost leaves you lightheaded. You swear, every time another body appears you are terrified it might be Eddie's. You rush upstairs and unbolt the locks.

"Patrick," Pete says as he gently hands the paper to you. Your eyes fall upon the basketball team's picture, finding Patrick right beside Jason.

"Shit," you whisper under your breath. You read deeper into the article, desperately looking for the location.

Found at Lover's Lake, you read. Carver swears that Munson used his "satanic powers" to murder McKinney in front of him.

"Shit!" you say aloud. Your hand rushes to your forehead as your body goes limp. You lean against your doorway as all these intense emotions rush through your appendages.

With a breath, you continue reading, Carver claims Munson escaped on the other side of the lake.

"He's alive. He's alive. He's alive," you whisper on repeat, trying to calm yourself down.

Pete watches you with concern. A part of him is starting to realize that Eddie Munson's involvement in these murders is not lining up. There is a crap ton of coincidences, but barely any factual evidence. Plus, Pete's played dungeons and dragons before and it's fun game. But definitely not fun enough to make you start killing for the devil though.

"It's going to be okay, sis’," he says as he pulls you into his chest. Sobs get stuck in your throat while you are too busy trying to be strong.

Abruptly, you pull back and suck in your lips. "Thank you," you mumble. You turn around and close the door behind you. You bolt the three locks and rush down the stairs.

With a single twist, you collapse onto your bed. "Where are you Eddie?" you ask into the open channel. "Just give me those two clicks." You click on the receiver twice to let him know you are okay, but all you hear is silence.

You set an alarm for every 30 minutes to try Eddie again. You spend the entire night waking up and barely sleeping, just in case you might miss him.

Maybe he will have changed his mind? Maybe he would have wanted you to come meet up? Or he'll finally take you on that road trip to Chicago? A list of maybe's, but you refuse to miss any possible moment he may reach out.

The day feels colder. You haven't eaten since you last spoke with him. Your mind feels clouded. It feels crazy. You don't want to do anything and accidentally miss his voice.

Pete continues to knock on your door, begging you to come out and eat. He often leaves a plate at your doorstep. However, you leave that plate to rot.

Another 4:30p passes and you feel like your heart might stop. Every knock at your door shakes you. Thoughts rush through your mind. It may not be food anymore. It's Pete coming to tell you they found him. Eddie Munson, the town's satanic freak, was dead. You were terrified within every second that passed. Not knowing what may have happened to the love of your life.

Suddenly, the floor begins to shake. Your mind is slow in acknowledging it. There are no earthquakes in Hawkins, Indiana. Then jolts, harsher and harsher and it became undeniable. It’s impossible to ignore now.

You rush to your handheld radio and hook it to your back jeans' pocket. You grip tightly against the stairs' handrails as you struggle to get to your home's main floor.

When you finally make it to the kitchen, you yell out, "Pete!" Quite frankly, the only family member you care about.

"Y/n!" he yells back as he slips back onto the stairs in the living room. "Is this an earthquake?" he asks, confused.

"I don't know what this is," you say as you hear the scariest sounds you have ever heard come from your home's walls. You look up to see cracks forming across the doors' thresholds.

With a loud siren, the TV quickly shifts channels to an emergency station. You and Pete rush towards it. "HAWKINS FAMILIES. EVACUATE TO THE SCHOOL. EVACUATE NOW," a stern voice yells over the speaker.

"Where's mom and dad?" you ask as you grip tightly against his shoulder. "They're at some manhunt thing at the town hall," he breathlessly answers. His eyes darting to the ceiling, hearing the cracks and breaks within the walls.

"Let's go," you say as you pull hard against his shoulder. You drag him out to your father's car and jump in. The car feels as though it is rolling against endless amounts of waves.

You push the radio into his hands. "Hold it open," you say. Pete quickly presses against the receiver. "Eddie, I don't know where you are but there's an earthquake. They're evacuating us at the school."

Suddenly, a tree falls right onto the road before you. "Shit!" you yell as you press hard against the breaks. The radio flies out of Pete's hands and snaps in two against the dashboard.

"Are you okay?" you ask, your hands white knuckling it on the steering wheel. "Yeah, but -" he says, looking down at the broken radio.

You take in a sharp breath and look back towards the road. "It's okay. Let's get safe," you say. You press on the gas and swerve around the large oak tree. As you drive, you see deep cracks in your beloved town, so deep you swear you could see lava.

The shaking stops. You pray it's over.

You try to keep your mind from thinking about Eddie, not until you get your brother safe. You begin to smack your hands against the wheel as you hit bumper to bumper traffic upon the windy road that leads to the high school.

Once you finally park and ensure a safe cot for your brother, you rush around desperate to find a radio. After you ask, most people ensure you that your parents will be fine. You feel dead to their kind intentions. You wish they would say them about Eddie.

You watch as the police and firemen offer assignments to the destitute group. You rush to take the food bank assignment, hoping that keeping busy will keep your mind off of him.

It wasn't working.

You finally fall back into your cot at 1:28a. Your sleeping brother beside you. Your heart feeling empty and desolate. The color purple begins to seep into the skin under your eyes as you continue to rack your brain with insomnia.

You close your eyes only to pretend that Eddie can hear your thoughts. Hear the sweet words you were saying in your head. That he is still alive. That he will come back to you.

All of a sudden, you begin to hear another voice. The voice in your head that reminds you that he won't.

After a laughable attempt to sleep, you wake up to your brother shaking your arm. "Look, it's snowing," Pete says excitedly. You look up with a squinted eye to see others and their families crowding to rush the front doors.

With curiosity, you stand and walk over to the front of the gymnasium. You look up to see grey snow - wait, no. Not snow, ash. Others' faces seem to perk up in happiness and excitement. You knew better.

These were the ashes of Hawkins.

As you follow a falling spec, your eyes fall upon Dustin in the distance. His face solemn, concerned. His brows pushed together. His mouth straight and stern.

Without thinking, your legs started to bring you towards him. Memories of Eddie accidentally saying his name, acknowledging that Dustin Henderson was helping him in whatever dangerous journey he was in, rush back.

Before you could stop yourself, your hands grab tightly against his collar. You pull him around the corner, away from the naive families, and push him against the wall.

Your peripherals pick up quick movement beside him, but you don't give a damn. "Where is he, Dustin?" you ask through your teeth. "W-where is who?" he worriedly asks. His hands up as he desperately seeks for something behind you. "Where is Eddie Munson?!" you yell. "I know you were taking care of him. You were helping him."

Suddenly, you feel a hand upon your wrist and another set of hands upon your shoulders. You don't care enough to pull your eyes away from Henderson. "Where is he?!" you scream.

"Hey, hey. I'll let you know, but you need to let go of him," you hear a soothing deep voice say. "Yeah, j-just let go," a nervous voice comes from your left. You turn to meet the eyes of one, Robin Buckley. You look the other way to see the one, the only, Steve Harrington.

Your nostrils flare as you look back at Dustin. Your grip on his collar becomes tighter. "Tell me," you seethe through your teeth. His eyes become watery as he mumbles, "Get her off of me."

Steve quickly pulls you away, pushing you back. "Who the hell are you?" Steve asks. His hands and body tight, protective over Henderson. Robin stands back, watching the horrible scene unfold before her. "That doesn't matter," you say. "I need to know where Eddie is."

Steve's face winces in pain, as he slowly looks back towards Dustin. Following his gaze, you note the tears that were falling down the boy's cheeks. Your heart sinks, deeper than it ever has before.

Your eyes begin to water as your body begins to accept the possible reality that Eddie really might not be coming back. You feel lightheaded and stumble back against your feet. Robin quickly rushes for you, catching you before you land backwards on the concrete.

Your breathing begins to rush. Your heart races as you flop over to lean against your knees and thighs. "Oh my god," you crack as you struggle to take in a deep breath. "Breathe," Robin says as she holds you up. She worriedly looks towards the boys. "Breathe, in and out," Steve says with concern as he demonstrates the breathing.

Dustin slowly walks up to you. He starts to remember all the times Eddie would disappear in the cafeteria. How he would always rush over to the same girl. The same girl who was always having difficulties breathing. He would help her breathe, just like Steve is.

In that moment, Dustin knew that you were not one of the dickwads that Jason riled up to find Eddie. You were special. "What's your name?" he asks softly as you finally are able to follow the rhythm of Steve and Robin's breathing.

"Y/n," you spurt out. Your eyes raising towards his.

"Y/n," he whispers. Dustin’s lips begin to quiver, as tears roll down his chubby cheeks once again. "He's gone." Steve's head shoots towards him in shock. He did not agree that this was the time to tell her, or anyone, this.

Your eyelids begin to flutter, as the life inside you slowly dies out. You slowly rake over his body until you meet his eye line.

"I asked," you snarl. "Where is he?"

You have no trouble with your breathing now. The anger fuels your heart. You are determined to see him yourself.

"You don't want to go there," Steve begins to protest.

"Where is he, Dustin?" you ask again, pulling your arms from Steve and Robin's support.

"In front of his trailer," Dustin answers with a monotone. He has no more tears to cry.

You take in a shaky breath as you close your eyes. "Thank you," you say.

You then turn around and walk towards the town. Dustin's eyes widen in horror. "No! You can't," he yells out. Steve holds him back from running after you.

The Munson trailer was only a short 15 minute walk away from the high school. Your body pulls you towards him. You aren't sure what you will find, but you need to find him. Your entire body feels weightless, almost as though you can float up to the sky and disappear.

You might want to after this.

Hawkins is unrecognizable. If you take away the hardened cracks within its surface, it’s still chuck full of new things. These black, thick veins that cover practically everything. You are careful to walk over them. They look slippery to the touch.

Even the air feels different. It’s stuffy, dark, full of the ashes you witnessed before. Everything looks the same yet absolutely doesn’t. This wasn’t just an earthquake…

Luckily for you, the pain wracking a hole in your chest saves you from the fear of this new unknown Hawkins. You come across the Forest Hills Trailer Park sign. The words are barely discernible. You turn down the road, just to see a storm forming in the distance. As you quietly walk past the familiar trailers, you begin to feel the sensation of being watched. Goosebumps begin to track up and down your arms.

A crash forms atop of you. It is so loud you place your arms atop your head. You look up to see a red aura flashing through the storm with each crash of thunder. Your eyes widen. Finally, you reach the small field between the Mayfield’s and Munson’s. Your eyes slowly fall upon the rather large pile of blood seeped into the concrete in front of Eddie’s trailer. You begin to shake, losing your breath again.

“Where are you?” you whisper with trembling lips. You look around for any sign of movement. Any indication of where he might have gone. Or if something took him.

Fear spreads across your body. Maybe this was a mistake? Maybe you should’ve listened to Henderson? He could’ve helped you do this more safely. Maybe … whatever got Chrissy is still out here?

The thought reminds you of how much Eddie wanted to protect you. To keep you far far away from the thing that destroyed his life. But the love you feel is determined to know his fate. Determined to know if you would see him again. You begin to hear his voice your head, “Run.”

Without a question, you run. Run back up to the road as fast as you can. You try your hardest to dodge the slimy vines, but you slide against them here and there. You can hear your heart thumping in your ears.

You can also hear rustling behind you.

A clear sound of something running behind you. You try to run faster. You need to live. You need to live for him or all of this shit was a waste. You run as fast as your legs can take you. Your feet screaming at you in the process.

The noises that form behind you become louder and louder. You spot a car on the side of the road. You rush towards it, quickly jumping into the driver’s seat. You pull down the visor, praying the keys were stashed there. Nope. You drop open the glove compartment. No. You reach below the steering wheel. You pull against a set of wires.

Eddie briefly spoke of how to hot wire a car. How his father taught him. How it was one of the few happy memories he had with him. You try to remember the steps while continuously listening out for something behind you.

With the hit of a few wires against each other, the car’s engine ignites. Shock is written all over your face. You rush to put the car in drive and step heavily on the gas. But before you knew it, you were outside of the car again.

You watch as it rolls into a ditch. You feel familiar hands at your waist and neck. The cool touched figure pulls your hair to the side, exposing your skin. You are terrified. You try not to cry in the face of death, but you learn you are not that courageous. You stand there with trembling lips, tears down your cheeks, and shaken, sobbing breaths.

With a quick movement, you feel an intense pain against the crook of your neck. You scream at the sensation. Then begin screaming the names of those who may be able to help you.

Eddie, Steve, Robin, Dustin!

But no one could hear you scream. No one would hear you die, but him.

Just how Kas likes it.

notes: god, i missed this. i missed baby eddie and man, oh man, do i miss leaving y'all with a cliff hanger 😈 miss you all! welcome back! ♥️

next part • the devil of hellfire •

taglist: @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @perle1990, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @hiscrimsonangel

comment on any series posts or message to be added to the taglist!🤘🏼📻 ♥️⚡️

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Smut (2) Masterlist

part one

Daisy (ao3) - boomerluke luke/ashton M, 121k

Summary: The last thing Luke expects when he wakes up hungover in the bed of his latest one-night stand is to come face to face with a freaking kid. But there she is all wild curls, thumb-sucking, and nonstop questions. Luke can't get out of there fast enough.

Ashton isn't the type to have one-night stands. He's a parent, after all. It was a mistake, and it won't happen again. At least that's what he tells himself when he comes back from his shower to find the naked college kid still in his bed, arguing with Daisy.

They couldn't be more opposites. At 25, Ashton has the responsibilities of two parents, raising his daughter and trying to pretend like he has everything figured out. At 21, Luke is a self-proclaimed Grindr god who doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself. So why is the universe (with the help of Michael and Crystal) so hell-bent on seeing them together?

do it better (ao3) - lourrygum ot4 N/R, 8k

Summary: takes place during the time michael lost his passport and was stuck in the US while his band performed in the UK. He feels upset about it and stops answering their calls and may or may not unfollow them on twitter, leading to questions and anxiety.

or, ¾ of 5sos go to the US to see michael and end up fucking him senseless.

five stars every time that you come through (ao3) - tutorgirl luke/ashton E, 6k

Summary: date night is a tradition in their relationship that ashton takes very seriously.

for you are not beside but within me (ao3) - elysianhood luke/calum E, 11k

Summary: Calum pulled Luke up with his blonde locks by his right hand and wrapped his left tightly around his throat, restricting his airway, and leaned in close to the teary blue eyes, hissing threateningly, ‘You never – ever – speak to me like that ever again, you filthy slut. Ever. You don’t fucking tell me what to do. You’re just a fucktoy, remember? A dirty, fucking whore. That’s all you’ll ever be.’

or; Luke was a bad boy and Calum isn’t happy.

Grabby Hands (ao3) - antisocialhood calum/ashton, michael/luke/ashton N/R, 7k

Summary: Ashton likes wearing big sweaters, curling up with his daddy and sucking him off while they watch TV, and sometimes Calum likes to treat his princess to something special.

Green Light (ao3) - SpencerKnight OT4 E, 181k

Summary: Class is an age old concept--almost as old as the concept of human slavery, and in a world where buying humans is a standard behavior by those who can afford it, Luke's only hope as a member of the lower class is that he falls into the hands of a decent buyer--the hands of Ashton Irwin and his partners. Luke knows he has one chance to please his buyers or he risks getting put back on the market, but he's thrown for a loop when Ashton admits that Luke is the one that gets to call the shots. In an attempt to find security with the trio, Luke braces himself and gives them the green light to do whatever they want with him.

He had no idea they would refuse.

(This isn't a slavery au in the way that you think it is.)

Howdy, Partner - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) calum/ashton, michael/luke E, 7k

Summary: When Ashton slipped on that tasseled jacket and those boots, he fucking knew what he was doing.

When he strolled into the party with a bright dimpled grin, put two long fingers on the brim of his hat and tipped it to Calum with a gruff, “Howdy, partner,” he’d known full fucking well what he was doing.

If Walls Could Talk (ao3) - boomerluke luke/ashton, ashton/ofc M, 43k

Summary: The last thing Ashton ever wanted to do was hurt Luke, but he couldn't help it. The singer was just so beautiful, so ethereal and otherworldly that it took his breath away most of the time. Everyone felt that way about their best friend though, right? It was normal. No use getting unnecessary feelings involved, it was better this way. Luke understood.

Luke wasn't sure when this thing between him and Ashton started, or how it started, but it didn't matter. He was in too deep to go back now. So Luke would let Ashton use him, hurt his feelings and crawl back with apologies. Because at the end of the day, even when Luke had to watch Ashton leave the bar with a new pretty blonde each night, he knew the drummer would eventually end up back in his bed. And Luke told himself he was okay with that.

I Only Wanna Talk (ao3) - dafeedil michael/calum E, 16k

Summary: He thinks it should feel wrong, kissing Calum here in the dark, when the thousand dollars he paid to have this is sitting neatly in its envelope just feet away. But it doesn’t feel wrong, not at all. In fact, it feels unnatural not to be kissing Calum.

Or, more simply, Michael falls in love with a prostitute.

like a prayer (for which no words exist) (ao3) - satellitesunset (awkwardcaterpillar) ot4 E, 2k

Summary: It's overwhelming, being kissed, grazed, and revered in a manner not unlike worshipping like he's something divine and holy, someone worth praising and devoting to, he's both the saint and sinner, the painting and temple being venerated.

- or ashton-centric ot4 gang bang

Lipstick Stains (ao3) - gonefornow luke/calum T, 3k

Summary: Luke flirts with a fan. Calum uses unusual tactics to get his attention back.

Looking In Your Eyes And They’re Burning Fire (ao3) - fourdrunksluts luke/calum E, 8k

Summary: Luke doesn’t think he’s very good at sex, so Calum helps him practice, and maybe learns a few things along the way.

Midnight Memories (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance michael/calum E, 3k

Summary: It was Calum’s birthday and Michael wanted to be the first one to wish him. He also decided to wish him in a different way. In a different way meant in a way that Calum would not expecting. To carry his plan out, he got a few stuffs of his own that he was impatient to try.

passionately curious (ao3) - cliffakitten luke/ashton E, 17k

Summary: 'Luke Hemmings'

At this, he nearly choked for the second time that morning, since he just happened to know someone with that name. That someone being, his next door neighbour, the very hot neighbour, who Ashton may or may not have a huge crush on.

Yeah, that Luke Hemmings. Who apparently orders sex toys online…who knew? Definitely not Ashton.

The best kind of trouble (ao3) - CliffordAffliction michael/luke E, 71k

Summary: After Michael is sent to a strict Preparatory school he meets the school troublemaker, Luke Hemmings, and his world begins to change

Tinder Boy (ao3) - boomercal luke/calum N/R, 10k

Summary: After a few fateful swipes Luke and Calum ended up hooking up from Tinder, then they went their separate ways… at least they tried to.

you drape your wrists over the steering wheel (ao3) - spaces luke/calum M, 2k

Summary: the one where calum and luke have sex. in a car.

You Gon' Have To Do It At My Tempo (ao3) - senioritastyles luke/everyone, michael/calum, michael/ashton, calum/ashton E, 4k

Summary: "Why don't you have another competition?" He suggests, his voice small and unsure.

The boys seem caught off guard by that, all glancing at each other in a silent conversation before Calum bites his lip and looks back at Luke. "Alright, what kind of competition did you want this time then?"

Luke's surprised that they're going with his idea, so he needs another second to think before he's got another decent idea that mostly benefits him and his neglected dick. "Why not like, a blowjob competition?" The boys look confused now, their heads tilted to the side like puppies, so Luke explains. "Like, you get a minute to blow me and whoever does the best gets to touch me first."

Or: The boys have a competition to see who gets to touch Luke first.

You Got My Permission To Do What You Like (ao3) - senioritastyles OT4 E, 3k

Summary: "Ashy, you haven't stopped working since we came home." Luke mutters from his place near Ashton's head, tugging gently on the oldest boy's curls. "You never spend any time with us anymore and you're running yourself into the ground here."

"Yeah, babe when was the last time you weren't alone down here working on a song?" Calum wonders, although his tone says he already knows the answer and that Ashton really isn't supposed to say anything.

Michael sighs loudly and stands up. "You're coming with us right now and we are going to force you to relax."

Or: The boys help Ashton relax.

Your Hips, My Hands, You Swing, and You Dance (ao3) - lashtonaf luke/ashton E, 3k

Summary: Luke ends up meeting a pretty & giggly boy at the club, and they get acquainted quickly ;-)