#its past midnight so its officially his day

[ncutii-gatwa]

happy ncuti gatwa as the doctor day to everyone who celebrates it!

#random emma thoughts #dw #its past midnight so its officially his day #his day is finally here! #block me now this will be the only thing i'll talk about

[bat-boys]

domestic bliss

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 4.5k words

warning: suggestive language but no actual smut. just lots and lots of fluff!

summary: a series of scenes that give an insight into the domestic bliss you had built with your mate

a/n: oh my goshhh thank you so much for all the love and so sorry I've been a bit MIA. I'm in the middle of a couple of wips that I'm struggling to piece together so wanted to give you something quick whilst I get my act together. I hope you enjoy it loves 🫶🏻

Part 2

A soft breeze and warm sunlight trickled into the room through the open floor-to-ceiling doors leading out to your room's balcony. The sounds of the birds chirping outside and the busy city below created a peaceful atmosphere that soothed your soul as you lay stretched out on your bed, book in hand.

A noise akin to a purr escaped the lips of the fae male sprawled across your body, head resting gently on your stomach, as you combed your fingers through his luxurious midnight black curls. Your lips tilted up in an affectionate smile as you continued to soak up the words on your page. As you gently scraped your fingernails along his scalp, another deep groan elicited, leaving you giggling and your toes curling. 

Sundays like this were your favourite. Slow, lazy and steady. Filled with quiet moments of simplicity. When Azriel wasn't busy off doing god knows what, god knows where, and you didn't have to attend any stuffy meetings or pour over lengthy negotiations and treaties as the emissary of the Night Court. When your mate could spend the day with you lounging in bed, just enjoying each other's presence. 

"Why did you stop?" Az grumbled as you lifted your hand away from his head. 

"I was turning the page, dummy." You chuckled at him. 

"Well, hurry up."

"Big Illyrian baby," you cooed, a soft yelp leaving your lips when you felt Azriel gently bite down on the stretch of bare skin he was resting on. A satisfied sound left his lips—and caused your eyes to roll—when he felt your fingers back in his hair. 

You, however, couldn't help the pulse of love and affection you sent down the bond when the next time you had to turn the page, one of his shadows appeared to do it for you.

Another chapter of your book was read before he spoke again, dispersing the soft, comfortable silence that had fallen between you. You had been convinced he had fallen asleep as you played with his hair. 

"When do you go to the Court of Nightmares?" He mumbled against your skin, his lips pursing to kiss your hip quickly. 

"Tomorrow." You sighed. It was your least favourite job as the official emissary, the one you dreaded doing every couple of weeks. Like Mor, you had been born under that particular mountain, crafted in its dark shadows, a dreamer bred to be a nightmare. It had taken years of wit and cunning to get to a position to meet the High Lord, years of barely surviving until you could petition him for a job—anything to get out of there. 

"Do you want me to come with you?" He lifted his head slightly, his hazel eyes meeting yours. Silver nearly lined your eyes as you took in his soft, gentle expression. Azriel understood just how much going there took out of you. He knew that you would return home hollow and would require the rest of the night to be cooped up in bed with his arms around you. 

He also recognised that you could absolutely do it alone. That you didn't need him beside you. You were strong enough to face your past head-on and would leave whatever meeting you were attending with Rhys and Feyre with the winning cards in your hand. But that didn't stop him from offering a comforting hand to hold throughout your time there. 

"Please." You whispered. His lips stretched into a gentle smile as he lifted his body off you to scoot up the bed and press his lips to yours in a loving kiss. 

"Of course, my love." And you knew that was that. No explanations, no words needed to be exchanged with Rhys. When it was time to travel to the Court of Nightmares, you would find your mate beside you, a reassuring hand in your own as he stood quietly beside you. 

Azriel could see the tumultuous thoughts flitting across your brain, so he did the only thing he could. He bent down once again to press his lips to yours, pouring as much love and affection as he could down that beautiful, gleaming bond you shared. 

Kissing Az never got boring, even after all these years together. He captured your bottom lip in his plush, slightly chapped lips, tugging slightly to elicit a soft groan from you, which he swallowed with his mouth. You lifted your arms to circle his neck, gently playing with the soft hairs there - your book long discarded and falling to the floor. He sighed against you as he wrapped his arms around your bare torso, pulling your chest flush against his as he deepened the kiss into something fiery that had a slow, dull ache beginning between your legs. 

You could feel him against your inner thigh and smirked against his lips as you reached a finger towards his impressive wings and carefully dragged a fingernail along the underside of his right wing where they met his back, a spot you had discovered many years ago. A primal part of you stretched out in satisfaction as you felt Azriel shudder against you at the touch. 

"So eager to go again, my love?" He teased, alluding to the several times he had already taken you that day as he gently nipped your skin before torturously slowly pressing open-mouthed, hot kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

"Distract me, Az." You breathed, tipping your head back to expose even more of your delicate neck to him, groaning when you felt his canines skimming along your skin. 

"With pleasure, sweetheart."

…

The noise was almost deafening, the room packed to the brim with politicians, courtiers, nobility and High Lords and their entourages. It was enough to overwhelm anyone, but Azriel watched from the edge of the room as you dazzled person after person, drifting from one group of fae to the next, completely and totally in your element. 

You enjoyed nights like these when you got to flex the skills you had built up as an emissary to the Night Court, speaking to old friends, charming acquittances, and building friendships with those you had yet to meet. The beautiful deep black gown you wore also helped. 

Azriel watched as you stood amongst courtiers from the Winter Court, catching up with some of the gossip from one of your allies. A flute of champagne dangled from your fingers; half drank as you tipped your head back to laugh at something one of your friends had said. The dress you wore tonight was some torture explicitly designed for him. It was sleeveless, showing off the delicate curves of your shoulders and décolletage, the high swell of your breasts threatening to spill over the top of your dress every time you drew breath. The slit that every now and then gave Azriel the view of the smooth curve of your leg was maddening. But what was true torture was the choker around your neck, encrusted with gems the same colour as his siphons—a reminder of where his hands had been last night. 

He had almost sent a mental note to Rhys that the pair of you wouldn't be attending the party tonight when you had emerged from your bathroom and asked him to zip you up—favouring the idea of ravishing you right there and then. It was only the thought of watching you so expertly work the room, charming everyone so thoroughly, but knowing that only he had the privilege to take you home, that had him attending tonight.

As if you could hear his thoughts, your eyes drifted from the fae before you to lock eyes with your mate across the room. Matching smirks danced on your lips as he nodded at you, and you nodded back - an inside joke between the two of you started on that first official party you had been forced to attend when the mating bond was still so new. 

A fire built in your body, beginning in your stomach and dipped lower and lower as you watched him push off the wall he had been leaning on and stalk towards you. He never once dropped eye contact, his shadows twirling before him and telling him where to step, creating a direct path to you. 

You tracked him across the room, your skin burning from his gaze. When he stopped just in front of you, his shadows dispersed to dance among your skirts and play with the hair that cascaded down your back. 

"Emissary." He greeted, bending his body into a tight bow whilst that playful smirk danced on his lips. 

"Shadowsinger." You purred. 

"Rhys has asked to see you urgently." The desire swirling in his hazel eyes made the grin on your lips widen as your stomach dipped in anticipation. 

"Excuse me." You politely bowed your head to the people you previously held court with, dropping your now empty glass on a nearby table as you followed Azriel out of the room. 

Your heels clacked on the beautifully tiled floor as you closed the distance between you and Azriel. You were still walking behind him but close enough to brush your hand against his. He turned his head slightly to smirk at you, and you felt his hand beside you curl and unfurl as he resisted the urge to touch you in front of everyone. 

After moments of strutting through the House of Wind, you reached a part of the house away from the centre of the party, with fewer and fewer people milling around. It was only then that, with lightning-fast speed, Azriel's hand whipped out to grab yours and pull you into a shadowy alcove. 

With firm hands, he pushed you against the wall, his shadows swirling to hide you from prying eyes, as one of Azriel's hands dropped to your hips and the other reached up to grip your neck. You groaned in delight at the feeling of his hands on you, the messy, feverish kisses he was now peppering along the bare skin of your neck, shoulder and collarbones. 

"Az." You moaned as you felt his canines drag along that sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his tongue following to soothe the slight sting. 

"Fuck Y/N." He groaned into your skin, relishing in the way you tasted - so sweet. Even after years of being together, he would never get tired of tasting you, of his lips and tongue on your flesh, on your lips and in between your thighs. 

"What if we get caught?" You managed to say, your chest heaving as you breathed heavily, hands gripping Azriel's broad shoulders tightly. 

"That's never stopped you before, love." He teased as he ran his lips across the swell of your breasts, his touch feather-light, causing a shiver to run down your body and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

The hand that was holding your hips in his grasp moved to slip under the slit of your dress, skimming down the curve of your leg, tracing over your knee and down your calf before wrapping around your thigh to lift it and hook it over his hips.

"You were torturing me out there, Princess." His voice had become deep and husky, and he elicited a groan from your lips as he was able to press his hips into yours with the new angle. Your body was set alight as you felt his straining erection through the material of his pants as he pushed into you. 

"Looking delicious in that dress for everyone to see." His words caused molten lava to pool in your stomach, the throbbing at the apex of your thighs to become incessant, and the wetness gathering there began to drip down your thigh. 

Anticipation curled in your stomach as you felt Azriel's hand travel from your thigh to your hip, skimming so lightly it was pure torture down your bikini line before reaching your swollen and slick sex - freezing when he realised he had unrestricted access.

"You've got to be kidding me, no underwear? Fuck you're killing me love." He groaned against your neck, roughly nipping at your jaw and causing a moan of your own to slip past your lips.

"All for you, Az." You whispered, throwing your head back against the solid wall behind you as he traced your slit, gathering the wetness pooling there.

"There they are." Rhys's unbothered drawl broke through the hazy atmosphere you were creating in your shadowy alcove, shattering the moment and causing you both to freeze. 

"I knew those lovebirds hadn't gone far." Cassain chuckled from beside Rhys. You knew Azriel's shadows were keeping you covered, that they couldn't see anything and could only recognise you both because they knew how his shadows felt and what they looked like to the untrained eye. 

"Piss off, Cass." Azriel snarled as he slowly extracted himself from you, carefully dropping your leg and trying to straighten your dress. 

"Someone's cranky," Cassain teased, and you rolled your eyes as you watched Azriel's face turn into a murderous expression. Azriel was usually so calm and collected, not easy to rattle at all, except when it came to you. 

"You know not to interrupt a male and his mate." You sighed as you gripped the front of the dress and tried to rearrange it over your chest. You noted the still-hungry look in Azriel's eyes as he watched your every move. A promise in his gaze that told you this wasn't over. 

"If you wanted to enjoy each other's company in the hallway, that's totally up to you; we get it - looking beautiful as ever Y/N -," Rhys added as Azriel dropped his shadows once you looked presentable, "but we're doing a debrief in my office, and then you're all done for the night so you can move this to your bedroom if you wish…"

"We'll be there in 5 minutes," Azriel managed to grind out, his eyes still on yours, desperately trying to calm down. 

"Is that all he lasts?" Azriel's eyes flared, and you knew Cassain had overstepped. You gave them both an eye roll, territorial fae bullshit. 

"Cass," you warned as you heard your best friend chuckle at the snarl that ripped out of Azriel's mouth as he sauntered back down the hallway. 

…

Azriel padded through the quiet hallway of the home he shared with you. His feet were cool as they touched the dark wood floor, a nice contrast to the heat pushing up against the windows from the summer sun outside. His shadows flitted and danced around him as they coaxed him to follow them, to follow them to her. His lips curled up in amusement at their behaviour as he neared the kitchen, where he could hear you humming and the soft sounds of you bustling around the kitchen. 

He rounded the corner to lean on the doorframe; strong arms crossed over his bare chest as he took in the scene before him. His heart almost stopped dead at the sight of you standing at the large island in the middle of the room, mixing bowl in front of you and wooden spoon in hand, your glorious hair pulled half up into a messy bun tied at the back of your head - tendrils falling around your face and gleaming in the sun -, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. 

A deep and primal part of him purred at the sight of you in his clothes, knowing that it was unlikely you had anything under that soft cotton. The fit was incredibly baggy on you, the hemline falling to your mid-thigh, the collar threatening to slip down your shoulder, and the sleeves so long you had had to roll them up. He delighted in being taller than you, bigger than you. A small part of him always soared when he bundled you up in his arms, being able to protect you with just his body. He knew, more than anyone, that you could handle yourself. In a tight situation, you could take down as many enemies as he could. But there was something so delightful about your body being so much smaller than his. 

A soft melody slipped past your lips, and Azriel joined in as he pushed off the doorframe. Unable to contain the need to touch you any longer, he approached you. You jolted slightly at the feeling of his large, warm hands on your hips, and a soft yelp left your lips when you felt Azriel bury his head in your hair and press a chaste kiss to the skin of your neck.

"Morning, love," Azriel mumbled into your hair, breathing in your intoxicating scent. 

"More like afternoon, babe; we spent all morning in bed!" you joked as you turned back to the task at hand.

"And whose fault is that." Azriel teased as he pulled away from your neck to reach around and gently nip at your earlobe, which sent a lick of fire straight to the apex of your thighs.

"Yours." You shot back, angling your head slightly to look at your mate.

"Hmm, I'm not so sure about that," he smirked, his beautiful hazel eyes dancing with mischief and desire as he dipped his head to press your lips in a searing kiss. Kissing Azriel was like this: all or nothing. Either his kisses were chaste, quick things meant to convey a simple hi or, more often than not, a quick acknowledgement of you during conversations or as you passed each other in corridors or hallways. His other types of kisses were slow, leisurely and utterly torturous, and he poured every ounce of love he had for you into them. His lips moved lazily with yours, licking across the seam of your lips and begging for entrance before licking into your mouth - your knees almost buckling at the intoxicating sensation and the fire burning in your body. He knew what he was doing, as was evident when he pulled away with a smirk on his lips, "what are you making?"

He grinned when he watched your eyes drift back into focus, your body slamming down to reality after a kiss that was so heady but given so casually. 

"A lemon drizzle cake." You replied somewhat breathlessly, which made him chuckle, and you felt his chest rumble on your back.

"My favourite." He said as he returned to his spot behind you and wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing your back flush to his chest as you continued baking. 

"I know, love." You softly spoke as you began to stir the mixture before you. Judging by the smile in your voice, he knew you were thinking of that moment a handful of years ago when you had both accepted the mating bond with a lemon drizzle cake.

It had been your first time to the Court of Nightmares since you had escaped and been made part of the Night Court. You had been secretly dreading it, knowing that your usual skill set as emissary would all fall apart in that place when your eyes would land on your family and those familiar snarling faces. And it had. Everything had gone to shit the moment your family had spotted you beside Rhys' throne and had smelt that mating bond on you. It had started with shouting and had escalated to your family barging their way up to the throne and threatening to gut you for turning into a whore. 

Rhys had pulled rank and ordered everyone to leave, and you had been quickly winnowed to the safety of the townhouse, where everyone had rallied around you and tried to distract you. Rhys and Azriel had gone back to calm the situation and assess the aftermath. You had been cooped up in the arms of Cassain for the evening, a loving and supportive brother figure you had never had before. But deep down, you had wanted only one pair of arms around you to soothe you and remind you that your family do not dictate who you are. 

Everyone had eventually retreated to bed, but you had stayed, needing to see him, knowing he would return at some god-forsaken hour. He had found you then when he winnowed to appear in the living room of the townhouse, curled up on a sofa in front of the fire with a book in your hand. At his appearance, you slowly put the book down to look at him. 

The bond was newly snapped in place, but he could feel your emotions faintly and was so overwhelmed by the fact that you had stayed up for him that all he could think to say was, "Good book?"

He had watched fascinated as your lips curled into a soft smile, the first since the incident so many hours ago. "Couldn't put it down." 

He chuckled lowly but didn't move from his spot as you slipped a bookmark into the page and popped it beside you, swinging your legs off the sofa to sit facing him. 

"Az, I think we need to talk." He watched as you outstretched your hand, gesturing for him to come and sit with him. 

His heart had sunk as he had walked over to you, joining you on the sofa. He knew you needed to talk about the mating bond and how you moved forward—you had been friends for so long, and he had been yearning for you since the first day he met you. And now he was terrified that you were about to reject the bond, reject him, and he was going to lose the woman he loved and the friendship he cherished with you all in one go. 

"Y/N, you need to do the right thing for you - please don't accept something because you feel bad for me. We can work it out. I can perhaps get Rhys to station me in the Illyrian mountains so you can stay here, and I-"

"Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about, Az?" You stared, baffled, at the male before you as he rambled on. He couldn't look at you, and his expression conveyed such sadness.

"The logistics of you rejecting the bond—that's what you want to talk about, isn't it?" A bark of laughter left your lips, shocking him and causing him to snap his head up to look at you in confusion. 

"Oh Az, no honey, that's not what I wanted to talk about," you softly said as you held one of his beautiful, scarred hands in one of yours and brought the other to cup his cheek. You watched, fascinated, as he internally debated whether to lean into your touch, "Stay here a second; I'll be back."

He watched, confused, as you flashed him a warm, comforting smile before dashing off the sofa and disappearing into the hallway outside the living room. The wait may have been seconds, minutes at most, but it felt like hours to Azriel. His heart had stopped dead when you returned, a dish in your hand in which a delicately decorated cake sat atop it. He watched keenly as you walked back to him, smiling sheepishly and nervously, and sat back beside him on the sofa. 

"This is for you. I want to accept the mating bond." Those words, spoken so softly in the dead of night, in a house that had seen so much joy and heartache before, were enough to set Azriel alight. He had no words to describe the feeling that was coursing through him as he looked between you and the cake you held out towards him.

His hands moved on their own accord as he took the dish from you, noticing the sugar icing that had been meticulously drizzled onto the soft sponge and the sweet little decorative flower you had piped into the centre. Just from looking at it, he could tell you had baked this cake and poured every ounce of feeling into it, and he felt himself getting choked up at the thought. 

"Are you sure?" He whispered, and the vulnerable look on that face was enough to break your heart. 

"Yes. I have loved you for years, Az and the snapping of the bond in place made it seem as if the Mother and the Cauldron had finally listened to all those prayers I sent them. I baked this earlier to give it to you after we had returned from a successful meeting at the Court of Nightmares," his lips quirked ever so slightly at the sarcasm that dripped from your voice, "it may not be the moment I intended; but it's still perfect anyway. It's a larger version of those lemon sponges you love from that bakery we found last year. The owner gave me the recipe. I want you, Azriel."

Azriel had given up on finding his mate, resigned to always wondering. When you had crash-landed into his life a handful of years ago, he had silently hoped it would be you, and when he had tripped and fallen head-first in love with you, he had begun to beg that the mating bond would snap one day. So many years of yearning for you, unaware that you felt the same, that you were begging for it to be him as well. So many wasted years. And when the mating bond had finally snapped, when you had returned from a month-long summit at the Day Court and taken one look at him, he had almost fallen to his knees then and there. 

He had finally found you, and you wanted him back. Words would come to him later, spoken against the soft sheets of your bed, in between feverish kisses and in the afterglow of what was to come, so for now, he held your gaze as he lifted the small slice you had cut for him and took a bite. 

"Az, baby. I need to put the cake in the oven." Your words brought him out of the daydream he had been enjoying and back to the present moment. He chuckled and kissed your temple before unwinding from your body and taking a step back so you could move to put the cake tin in your hands and into the oven. 

He leaned back against the counter as he watched you carefully manoeuvre it inside before triumphantly shutting the oven door and turning back to him with a satisfied smile. 

"Come here." He held out his hand, a gesture so similar to the one you had given him all those years ago that a smile danced on both of your faces. You let him pull you against his chest, one of his hands falling to your hips and the other coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing some flour that had somehow made its way to your face.

"Happy 10-year anniversary, love." You whispered into the gentle silence, and the shadowsinger gave you a beautiful smile. 

"Happy 10 year anniversary, sweetheart." He whispered back as he closed the distance and gently pressed his lips to yours in a loving kiss that held 10 years of the most beautiful memories.  

Read Part 2 here!

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[myfictionaldreams]

Protect and Forget // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Life as the girlfriend of the Mafia boss and his second-in-command was not always smooth sailing, everything in life did not always go to plan. Two weeks before your birthday, a threat was made to your life. What happens when Steve and Bucky begin to push you away as they search for the threat?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, angst (LOTS!), fluff, smut, death threats, crying/anxiety, begging, alcohol consumption, confrontation, arguing (kinda), hurt/comfort, body worship, oral sex (m and f), fingering, anal, double penetration, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, size difference, praise kink, squirting

Words: 9k (oops)

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Steve and Bucky had been counting down to your birthday for the past month, leaving small hints for whatever it was that they were planning. This included travelling to a special destination and a multitude of surprises you could never even dream of. However, life as the girlfriend of the Mafia boss and his second-in-command was not always smooth sailing, everything in life did not always go to plan.

Two weeks before your birthday, a threat was made to your life. Luckily it only came in the form of a note, filled with threats and promises that neither of the boys would allow you to read. Nothing in the world was more important to them than your safety, this had been a priority since day one so this mean that for your protection, you were secured inside of your house until the target could be eliminated.

It wasn’t so bad, to begin with as the house you shared with Steve and Bucky was grand and the garden was your pride and joy but you were even banned from a simple walk. Even though there were multiple guards, cameras and security protecting the property, it was better to be safe than sorry in their eyes.

The loneliness only began to bother you on day 8. Like clockwork, as the morning alarms began to sound, Steve and Bucky would kiss your cheeks simultaneously before rolling out of bed, changing and leaving to continue their hunt to find whoever had threatened their girl, only returning in the early hours of the morning as you were fast asleep in bed. Luckily your bodyguard was stationed outside and he would regularly come in to check on you, spending hours talking about anything and everything just to keep you from going completely insane.

On the 13th day, you’d made it your mission to try and stay awake for the boys returning, a steady excitement humming in your stomach as it struck midnight and your birthday had officially begun! Then it was 1 am rolling around… and then 2 am, and still no sign of the boys or even a message. By the time 3 am was displayed on your phone screen, your eyes were almost burning with exhaustion, leaning your head on the couch arm, you began to drift into a light sleep from where you waited in the living room.

The light sleep soon deepened, enough so that you didn’t wake as Steve carried your sleeping body to bed as the mafia leader and his best friend returned at 4 am.

All three of you groaned as the phone alarm rang at 6 30am, the repetitive kiss on your cheek soon following the silencing of the alarm. Instead of falling back to sleep, you found yourself frowning, blinking a few times to clear the blur from your sight and then rolled over to look at them both. Neither seemed to acknowledge your questioning stare as they continued to get ready to leave.

“Steve…”, your voice was timid as you began to climb out of bed, sheets tangling in your limbs as you moved through the soft material.

The mafia leader’s head turned in your direction, eyebrows raised with surprise at seeing you awake. Steve finished buttoning his crisp white shirt as he approached the edge of the bed where you waited on your knees, his large hand enclosing around yours as you reached for him. “Morning baby, lie back down and get some more sleep”, he encouraged, his voice rough from its first use of the day.

Your shoulders dropped as you took him in, not realising just how much you had missed him and Bucky, both of whom had deep purple circles around their eyes through exhaustion but you could tell that just from the way that they were standing. You’d originally intended to find out if they were staying, it was your birthday after all and even though all the promises of travelling and presents were no longer happening, seeing them actually preparing to leave was not what you had expected. Your gut twisted in despair, feeling overwhelming guilt at being so selfish for thinking this, they were going above and beyond for your protection and safety but right now, you just wanted them to rest or even just acknowledge that it was your birthday, just some form of normality.

“Are you both really going in? I feel like I’ve hardly seen either of you”, you swallowed down the hope, trying to reach further up Steve’s body to hold onto his shoulders, attempting to pull him close.

Steve smiled sadly down at you, fingers gently easing around your wrists to pull himself free of your grasp. “I know Sweetheart, I’m sorry. We’ve found a trail of his whereabouts near Manhattan that we’ve been scoping overnight. We just need to get this son of a bitch and we’ll return to happy families”. 

You knew he was trying to make you better but it only confirmed the reality that they were once again both leaving for the day, your birthday. Had they forgotten? Or was it not as much of a big deal anymore that you had a special day, a day that was only once a year? Yes, there was a threat against you but it wasn’t like they were both doing the surveillance, surely this one day one or both of them could stay.

“I don’t think we’ll be much longer”, Steve continued, easing your body back onto the bed. “Get some more sleep, maybe see if Sam wants to watch one of your movies later, and order some takeout, make sure you use my card”. Giving a chaste kiss on your forehead, he returned to his section of the wardrobe, pulling out a navy tie, wrapping it around his neck and exiting the bedroom.

Before you could allow the sadness to take over, Bucky was approaching, wearing the same outfit as Steve’s except the shirt and tie were both black. “We’ll be back before you know it Doll, get some more sleep, get enough for the both of us”, he tried to joke but the light didn’t reach his eyes as he too kissed your temple and walked out of the bedroom door.

They were actually leaving, without so much as a proper good morning kiss or a ‘how are you?’, let alone a happy birthday. Attempting to still keep the tears at bay, you were swift to climb out of bed, following them out of the bedroom and down the stairs, seeing them both already at the front door, preparing to leave.

“Can’t one of you stay today? Just for one day?” your voice was laced with desperation as you paced towards them, hands reaching to grip the back of Bucky’s shirt. The man sighed sadly, expecting this from you at some point, there was only so long you could be kept inside, not realising that you were also upset about them missing your birthday.

Bucky turned to rest his hands against the top of your arms, pulling you away slightly so he could look into your eyes. You had to quickly bite your lip to hide the quiver as more sadness rocked through you at seeing the sympathy in the crystal blue eyes looking down at you, already knowing that there wasn’t any way that either Bucky or Steve were planning on staying with you today. 

“Sorry honey, we really need to get this sorted so we can get back to normal. How about we call you later? Can have a catch-up then, how does that sound?”

A phone call. You’d been promised a holiday, surprises and most importantly, time with just Steve and Bucky without work interfering and now, all you were receiving on your birthday was a phone call.

“I miss you both”, your eyes flicked before both men as they looked down at you, hoping for something, any kind of hope that they would stay but you already knew nothing was going to happen. Steve leaned over Bucky first, kissing your cheek, waiting a moment for Bucky to do the same before twisting open the door handle.

Bucky moved you out of the way of the open door, keeping you hidden from the outside world, still trying to protect you as he also kissed your cheek quickly once more, “We miss you too, we’ll talk later. I love you”. You didn’t respond, too scared of completely breaking down and not even knowing what to really say. So to try and refrain from guilt-tripping them with your tears, you held your breath, the technique used to suppress your emotions.

Turning on the spot, Bucky followed after his boss, shutting and locking the front door behind him and then you were once again all by yourself.

The air you’d been holding rushed out of your lungs as you released a heavy sob, the tears openly flowing down your cheeks now. It was one of those cries where you were almost choking on your breaths, ribs aching from trying to keep control and not hyperventilate but it was no use.

You cried and cried. For the loneliness. The silence in the house. The lack of touch and affection that you were craving. Even forgetting your birthday, something as menial as this still had you feeling devastated. There was nothing Steve and Bucky ever forgot about you, always being their sole focus. But now, your protection had become an obsession to the point where they were almost neglecting you and even themselves, with minimal sleep, you weren’t even sure of the last conversation that you’d truly had with either of them.

You stayed on your knees at the front door for over an hour, curled up in a ball and releasing all of the pent-up emotions but now that you had started, you couldn’t stop. But as your knees started to ache against the solid oak flooring, you forced yourself to stand and get a hold of yourself.

This only meant instead of crying downstairs, you were now crying in your bedroom, the sheets pushed to the end of the bed and your body still curled into a ball. Not even bothering to catch the falling tears you allowed the front of your pyjama shirt to take the honours of being your makeshift tissue and become soaked through on your chest.

Eventually, your sobs subsided, your eyes red and sore and feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and turmoil of emotions.

Then suddenly the front door was opened, your heart thundering in the small hopes of the boys returning but then your bodyguard, Sam Wilson’s voice shouted from the floor below. “Boss lady? Where you at?”

Was it already midday? Glancing at your phone that was next to the bed still, your eyes widen to see that hours had already passed by unnoticed by you. In a rush, you were out of bed, trying not to stumble on your weak knees from being in the squished position for so long, and quickly hiding in the en suite bathroom, locking the door for safe measure.

You didn’t want Sam to see you like this, so hiding was the best option, even as you continued to silently cry, having had your hopes spiked for a second that they’d remembered what day it was and once again being let down.

“Sweetheart? You in there?” Sam asked on the other side of the door.

Trying to steady your breathing, you responded and hoped that your voice didn’t crack or give away the fact that you had been crying all morning. “Yeah, won’t be long.”

“Good, I’ve got a special cake out here that’s dying to be eaten!” You could hear the joy in Sam’s smile as you leaned against the door, the cool wood soothing your slightly swollen face from the immense crying.

“Cake?” you asked in a small voice, nearly a whisper.

“Yeah, a cake! Wouldn’t be a proper birthday celebration without cake, am I right?”

“You remembered…”.

Sam frowned at the bathroom door, noting the sadness in your voice, instinctively he stepped closer, “Of course, I remembered sweetheart, is everything ok in there?”

Your lip wobbled as fresh tears began to coat your face, “no…”. There was no point hiding it, otherwise, you’d be stuck in the bathroom all day and you needed to be with someone, not wanting to waste any more time by yourself

Unlocking the bathroom door, you opened it slowly, peeking around it to see Sam standing there. In one hand he held a gift bag and the string to an oversized birthday balloon, and in the other hand, he held what looked to be a chocolate cake with your name written across in cursive white icing. The smile dropped on his face as he saw your distraught, quickly placing the objects in his hands onto one of the dressers, letting the balloon float to the ceiling and then he was wrapping his arms around you.

You were instantly sobbing into his chest, hands desperately grabbing his shirt scared that he might disappear and leave you like everyone else seemed to be doing.

Sam rested one hand against your back, rubbing soothing circles and the other on the back of your head, keeping you close to his chest, giving you the time to let your emotions out. “Shh it’s ok, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere”.

He was so comforting and calm, but then he always was. Bucky used to be this crutch for you in times like this as he was previously your bodyguard but as your relationship with him shifted, you ended up becoming close friends with Sam.

Sam had already deduced what was wrong, from his quick glance around the house downstairs and the on his way up, with the lack of decorations and that he knew Steve and Bucky had vacated the house first thing in the morning, they definitely had forgotten about your birthday.

“Take a deep breath for me, that’s it, and another one. Keep breathing for me, sweetheart. Can’t have you crying on your birthday now can I?” It took a few attempts but you were able to slowly calm your breathing down until only small hiccups remained.

Sam pulled back from the hug first, moving instead to duck his head and cup your cheeks, wiping away the tears that remained on your first.

You laughed in embarrassment, trying to hide your face but he didn’t allow it so you just held onto his wrists, feeling ashamed, especially as you saw the mess left behind on his shirt, cringing at the sight. “I’ve ruined your shirt, I’m sorry”.

“I don’t mind, makes me unique to everyone else”, he joked for a moment before becoming more series, his facial features relaxing in empathy. “Did they forget about today?”

You quickly bite your bottom lip, feeling the emotions stirring once more. “Yeah, but it’s... It’s fine! I know they’re busy trying to keep me safe but… I feel like I haven’t seen them in weeks. I hate being stuck in here! I mean, this is the first hug I’ve had since they received that stupid letter, they’ve spent so much time at the office and then tired when they get back and I’m asleep anyway so I never get to see them. I haven’t even kissed their lips in two weeks Sam!”

Once you started your ranting, it all just came flooding out. At first, you were tentative with what you were saying, that guilt still lingering in your gut but the more you thought about it, the angrier you were becoming. Yes, you were in danger but that didn’t mean they couldn’t come home and wake you up, kiss your lips or even hug you properly.

As you came to the end of your rant, you had to take a deep breath, completely filling your lungs with air and then breathing out through your mouth, feeling the tension easing throughout your body.

“Better?” Sam asked referring to your rant, you nodded your head in response. “Good, come on let's go and eat cake and have a chat”.

You were on your second slice of delicious cake, a happy smile on your face finally, chocolate always made you feel happy though. Sam chuckled at your appearance, filling your glass of water that you’d downed in a few glugs, not realising just how thirsty you were.

“I’m not going to try and make excuses for my bosses for the way they’ve been acting but speaking as their friend, they’re scared. Scared of losing you and I know you understand that but from the brief times that I’ve seen them outside or on the phone, I just think that they don’t want to spend too much time here because they don’t want to get their hopes up that everything is ok. You make them feel whole and safe so spending less time with you, it's taking away that security for them, maybe they don’t want to relax and have affection when that asshole is still out there. Now, don’t repeat this to them because I’d like to keep my job but it’s a dumb way to go about this all, clearly. I don’t think they realised just how long it would take to find whoever sent that message to you”.

Sam’s explanation made sense to you. Steve and Bucky had never hidden their intense love for you, and would constantly remind you that they would do absolutely anything to keep you safe. They were proving this now but spending every hour physically possible to find whoever was trying to find you but the small punishment to themselves that they couldn’t hug or even kiss wasn’t just a negative for them but for you as well. You needed them just as much as they needed you.

It was a pitiful circle and today had been the icing on top of the cake, ironically.

“That makes sense”, you responded after another thoughtful bite of chocolate cake, already eyeing up a third slice, you were starving after having no breakfast or lunch. “So what should I do? Leave them to it? What if they don’t find whoever is doing this for weeks? I don’t think I can go that long without seeing them properly but then I also don’t want to confront them if this is their way of coping.” You admitted with a deflated tone. Even though you wanted nothing more than to call them and tell them to come home and simply just kiss and hold you but then you didn’t want to complain when everything they were doing was for your benefit in the long run.

“Well why don’t we-”, Sam was cut off as his phone began to ring loudly from his pocket. Pulling the device out, he saw ‘BOSS’ written across the screen. “Say his name and he will appear”, he joked before stepping away to answer the phone, not stopping until he was outside with the back door closed so you couldn’t hear the phone call. You didn’t think anything of it, knowing that it was probably just an update about the day, the same phone call that was had every day.

Lifting the phone to his ear, Sam was about to talk when Steve was cutting him off, “We’ve got him”.

Sam’s shoulders dropped along with the heavy breath he released. “Are…are you sure?”

“Yeah, his handwriting matched the letter and with some persuasion from Buck, he admitted to it. Scumbags excuse was that was the golden ticket to get to me, well he was damn right about that” Steve growled into the phone and faintly in the background, the man in question was begging for his life as Bucky brutalised him, something he had been hoping to do for two weeks. “We’ve actually got that asshole, Sam!”

“Thank god”, Sam sighed in relief, rubbing his eyes, looks like everyone was going to be sleeping well tonight. 

“How is she?” Steve asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

Sam chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking about his next words carefully. You had made it clear that you didn’t want them worrying about how sad you were but then on the other hand, he was your bodyguard, and your best interest was key. Also, they’d caught the guy so would be coming home to return to the normality they were all desperate for.

“Sam?” Steve asked with more authority, his shoulders squaring up as he glanced toward Bucky who had stopped his skilled knife movements to look back at him, wondering why Sam wasn’t answering.

“She’s not good, Boss”.

“And what do you mean by that?” Steve asked, storming out of the interrogation room and away from the asshole's ears, not wanting him to hear. Bucky followed swiftly behind, wanting to know what was wrong with his girl. “What do you mean not good?” Steve repeated, putting his phone on speaker so Bucky could hear.

Sam sighed again, tilting his head back to look at the sky before checking that the back door was still closed and you weren’t within earshot. “Listen, Boss, I understand you’ve been busy and I’m so fucking happy you’ve caught the bastard who threatened her but she’s not good. She’s been crying all day, it took nearly 10 minutes for me to calm her down as she was hyperventilating. She misses you both. She also does understand why you’ve both been reluctant to be around her and getting your hopes up for things being ok but god damn, I haven’t seen her cry like this in years.”

Steve and Bucky were overridden with guilt, not realising just how much they had been pushing you away with their desperation to find the guy responsible for this entire situation.

“That’s not the only thing…”, Sam continued with a tone of regret that he actually had to tell them this.

“Go on Sam”, Steve encouraged, it couldn’t get any worse, right?

“It’s her birthday today”. Sam had to pull his phone away from his ear as Bucky shouted ‘fuck!’ followed by the recognisable sounds of him punching the brick wall. There were hushed tones following this as Steve and Bucky furiously spoke to each other, frustrated with each other for forgetting the one day that they’d been looking forward to.

Eventually, Steve placed the phone against his ear, his voice clipped and determined, “Can you stay with her until we get back? I don’t think we’ll be here too much longer now anyway and just…”, he contemplated what to say for a moment. “Just tell her that we got the guy and we’re coming back and that we love her, please Sam?”

“Sure thing, Boss”. The phone line cut off as Steve hung up, following Bucky back into the room to finish the guy once and for all.

Sam entered your home, finding you tucking happily into your third slice of chocolate cake, fork pausing halfway to your mouth as you looked at the expression on your friend's face.

“What is it?” you asked nervously, placing the fork back onto the plate.

“They’ve got him, sweetheart”. 

It had been almost an hour since Sam had spoken those precious words to you and initially, it felt like you were going into shock, your bodyguard having to remind you to breathe again before it truly hit home. You were safe. They had actually found him and you were safe.

But now, you were sat just staring aimlessly at Sam thinking… what was going to happen now? Sam mentioned that the boys wouldn’t be back late and that they loved you and even though it gave you such peace in your heart to know this, there was still the underlying sadness. They’d still been ignoring you for weeks and forgotten your birthday, were you supposed to just carry on like this hadn’t happened?

There hadn’t really been a time in your relationship with them both where you’d actually been angry or upset by their actions so you were conflicted between wanting to celebrate and also remaining confident with your emotions of hurt.

Sam left you soon after to prepare de-escalation of the guards around your home and also give you the chance to have a long soak in the shower and prepare for their return. You’d ask him what you should do and he encouraged you to do what you felt was best which you only realised was an answer to cover his own back to not being fired, of which he laughed at, saying you were correct.

After showering and pampering yourself, the nerves returned, souring your mood once more. What did you wear? Did you dress up and greet them at the door? Did you wallow in self-pity in your bedroom?

But then the sight of Sam’s balloon and present caught your eye. It was your birthday, the one day a year when you actually wanted it to be all about you and here you were panicking.

Fuck. It.

You weren’t going to waste the remainder of the day, you didn’t need to be lost in your guilt and you for sure were going to have some damn fun before the consequences of the past few weeks came crashing down.

Finding something comfortable to wear which consisted of grey pyjama shorts and an old white t-shirt of Steve’s. Then you returned downstairs, linking your phone to the TV to play your music - loud.

One glass of wine turned into two and with the music, you were lost in the distraction, becoming increasingly more at ease and free, letting your body sway with the song. As each song played, you became more carefree, eventually dancing around the living room, the happy hum of alcohol in your veins, your throat aching with how loud you were singing the words.

Every thought of the past few weeks were diminisheds, until it felt like you were being watched from where you were currently standing on the couch, arms in the air, careful not to spill your wine in your one hand. Turning towards the door, your arms dropped down, breathing heavily as Steve and Bucky watched your happiness with smiles that could only be described as unfiltered love.

Neither of you was sure whether to approach the other, just staring for a few beats of the song before you stepped off of the couch and pausing the music, the silence deafening and unsettling enough that you were swift to down the rest of your wine for courage.

For a moment, you looked between Steve and Bucky, at their handsome faces, the overwhelming sensation to run into their arms almost taking over your body as you stepped forward but you stopped yourself abruptly. Deciding to stare at the spot on the floor and before fully thinking through your words, you began to spill everything you’d been holding in for two weeks.

“I’m… I’m so thankful to you both, for always putting me first and finding the person who was threatening me but I can’t pretend that these past two weeks haven’t been horrible and I need to tell you both now before I lose my courage. I understand why you’ve kept me hidden away but please, don’t ever shut me out like that again. We’re supposed to be in a relationship, one that is open about our emotions and supportive but I’ve hardly seen you in two weeks and you’ve not even given me the opportunity to ask how you both are because you’re both gone again at the crack of dawn and-”

You could feel your emotions rising again so taking a steadying breath, you looked up at the both again, “I do appreciate everything you have ever done for me and I love you both so much but, I can’t ever have a repeat of these last two weeks again, we’re a team please remember that before you decide to do things in my best interest when it’s going to be negative on all of us”.

Finishing everything that you wanted to say, your gut twisted with unease as neither said anything at first but Steve finally stepped forward. You straightened your spine as he approached, clutching the hem of your t-shirt to hide your trembling fists, keeping your eyes on his, not entirely sure what to expect until he standing only a couple of inches in front of you, your neck aching from having to look up at his taller stature.

Then he was dropping lower and lower until he was on his knees before you, eyes full of remorse, hands rising to cup around your wrists, gently prying your hands away from your shirt so that he could kiss the backs of them before resting his forehead on them.

“I’m so sorry my love, I don’t want to come up with excuses as to our behaviour these past two weeks but I think obsession and delirium from lack of sleep have caused us both to only want to find this guy and in the process have ignored you which was never our intentions. It’s just that… I can’t lose you-”, Steve’s voice cracked with pure emotions and it took everything within you to not collapse to your knees and hug him.

“I know, I can’t lose you either, both of you!” you emphasised, looking between the top of Steve’s head and Bucky whose emotions were written all over his face, regret, sadness and love.

“Tell us what we need to do, for you to forgive us”, Bucky finally spoke, taking a few steps forward and joining Steve on his knees in front of you, hands lifting to rest on your hips.

Here you were, with the leader of the Rogers Mafia Gang and the Second-In-Comand, both on their knees, looking as if you’d just ripped their hearts out and stamped on it, begging for your forgiveness.

“Just promise me you’ll talk to me next time, don’t ever shut me out”.

Steve finally looked up, the whites of his eyes shaded slightly red from his raw emotions, making sure to look you directly in the eye, “I promise, on everything I love, on you, Buck, the entire gang, that I will never make you feel this way ever again”. Your shoulders sagged in relief at his words, raising your hand to cup the side of his head as Bucky also promise his life that this would never happen again.

“I’ve missed you”, your voice was thick with emotions as you finally dropped lower, desperately kissing Steve and then Bucky on the lips. You consistently moved from one to the other, desperate, emotional kisses that were long, breathless and hard. Concentrating on every little feel, smell and taste of them both, a hand on each of their shirts, gripping tightly scared that they would move away. But they didn’t, they stayed and put as much passion into their touches and kisses as you did until all three of you collapsed back into the couch.

You were extremely breathless, greedily sucking in air as your head rested against Steve’s chest and feet over Bucky’s lap, all three of your lips were swollen from the bruising kisses, arms trapping your body into theirs.

The feeling of contentment was strong as the three of you just stayed like that for a while, your body feeling light enough that you could have fallen asleep but suddenly Bucky shifted slightly, sitting forward on the couch so you could see his face.

“That’s not the only apology we need to be making today, honey”, Bucky stated, lifting your daintier hand up to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips before rubbing his cheek against your palm. “We’re sorry for forgetting your birthday, there are no excuses for this, my love, we’re sorry”.

“It’s ok, I know you’ve been busy”.

“No, there aren't any excuses, you shouldn’t be so forgiving with us”, Steve mumbled against your temple, his lips soft and plump against your skin. “We need to make it up to you and even though our original plans are out of the window, we’ll start tonight and first thing in the morning tomorrow, we’re getting on that plane and getting out of here”.

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face, feeling excited about the plans tomorrow but then you contemplated his words a bit more, sitting up slightly in his embrace so you could look him in the eye.

“What do you plan on starting tonight?”

Something flashed in Steve’s eyes, almost as if the iris had darkened, momentarily they dropped to look at your mouth before looking back into your own eyes.

“We have a very long list of ways to beg for our forgiveness and make it up to you”, Bucky then responded for Steve. Looking at the hulking man now, you could see that he too was looking between your lips and eyes, almost like he was ready to eat you whole. “And…we aren’t going to stop until you say the words ‘I forgive you’.

Words seemed to fail you for a moment as you knew what they were planning, knew from the hardening lumps in their laps, the suggestive glances with their eyes and oh the wicked words he was saying. Bucky was giving you the ultimate power, all you could want for as long as you wanted until saying those words and the thrill of being able to have sort of control had your insides clenching in arousal.

They moved almost as one as if they shared the same mind as each article of clothing was removed by your body, freeing you of the confines of the material. The two men remained fully clothed but loosened their ties and unbuttoned the top button.

Steve and Bucky then proceeded to utterly worship every inch of your skin and body. It was almost overwhelming with knowing where to aim your attention, with Bucky nibbling on your thighs or Steve licking the column up your neck. Your body heated at the touches, their hands stroking areas where their mouths had vacated, mixing between kissing, sucking and licking depending on how sensitive the area they were located. Then their teeth would graze you and cause your breath to stick in your throat in an attempt to beg and moan for more.

You wanted to touch them too, missing the way their muscles and abnormally warm skin felt under your soft fingertips, but for now, you were more than content with having their sole focus be on you. Savouring every sensation they had to offer, even down to the way their facial hair roughly scratches your delicate skin, only to be soothed by their wicked tongues.

Then Steve’s huge body is hovering over your mouth, lips only an inch away from touching yours once more but the glint in his eye, he was in the mood to tease as you tried to lean up to kiss him, only to have him move away, staying that torturous distance away. “Please kiss me”, you’re pathetically begging, already giving in to the desperation, wanting more than just his warm breath on your face that smelt vaguely of the coffee he’d downed earlier.

Steve’s full lips form into a smirk, fingers gracing over the skin of your shoulders, eyes subtly glancing towards Bucky where you can feel him kiss against your inner knee.

“I want to taste you”. Steve’s statement was said in such a smokey tone that your hips rolled just to be near that beautiful mouth of his.

Your boyfriends swapped places around your body. Bucky held up your upper half against his chest as Steve settled between your thighs already had a light soaking of your juices caused by their well-skilled foreplay. Watching Steve closely, admiring his handsome face for a moment as a slither of his blonde hair draped into his eyes, you wish you could have kissed him again, tell him how much you loved him but his next words had your thoughts consumed with something else.

“Do you want my fingers or my tongue?”

You released a heavy breath, mouth hanging open contemplating between the two before the smartest answer finally tumbled from your lips, “both”.

Steve seemed to like that answer as his face descended, along with his right arm. Not that you could see as Bucky then tilted your head back against his chest, dipping down slightly to thoroughly kiss you, tongue pushing between your lips, completely dominating you.

Bucky then absorbed every single moan and gasp into the kiss as Steve’s tongue delved through your folds, licking a strip the entire length, tasting your beautiful juices that he’d been craving for the past two weeks. As one tongue distracted you, whether it was your mouth or cunt, then the other would be stroking a certain nerve that had you twitching and praising the men surrounding you. Steve began to concentrate on your bundle of nerves, firming the tip of his tongue to move it in a slow, methodical circle before flattening his entire tongue and licking against it.

Your hands wound into his hair and with the scrunched-up position, your elbows pushed your breasts together, something Bucky noticed from the corner of his eye, his nimble fingers reaching around you to perk the nipples, tugging at the same time as Steve sucking your clit for a few seconds. You forgot just how much you loved the feeling of his metal fingers, so cold against the sensitive bud that he twisted and pulled.

Bucky pulled back from the kiss, wanting to hear the noises you were going to make and, seeing Steve’s fingers moving to tease your hole, circling the entrance a few times before pushing two of his rough long fingers within. “Ahhhh!” You groaned, back arching slightly wanting Bucky’s hands to cup your tits more whilst also, holding Steve close against your pussy.

“I will never get enough of you”, Bucky rasped, his eyes almost hungry as he continued to look down at your body wrapped in his arms.

You held his eye contact, feeling the coil tightening in your abdomen. “Don’t stop”, you choked, body tensing as Steve’s fingers steadily moved in and out, matching the strokes of his tongue.

The mafia boss chuckles, releasing your clit momentarily, “Oh baby, I’m going to fuck you until you’re too tired to even speak”.

The promise in his tone had you feeling such an intense thrill that your walls clamped down harshly around his fingers as you came hard, hips rolling against his face, Bucky also continuing to squeeze and play with your tits until the waves of pleasure subsided. The three of you remained in place, both men giving you a moment to catch your breath, enjoying the post-orgasm glow that graced your expression.

Then they were both moving, you weren’t sure where they were going at first until Bucky began to lie across the couch in the same position as Steve with your legs thrown over his shoulder and Steve was sitting behind you, holding you in an upright position. They’d swapped places and all you could do was look down at Bucky with wide eyes as he looked directly at your sopping cunt, “It’s my turn to taste, oh how I’ve missed this”.

He then swooped in to do exactly as he stated, his mouth devouring your cunt just as much as he had your mouth, his warm fingers pushing into your tight cunt, teasing the spongey spot within. Then Steve was tilting your head back with a firm grip on your jaw, biting his lower lip in anticipation before he too was taking your breath away as his mouth crashed into yours.

You could taste yourself on his lips, the scent of coffee completely gone and this revelation caused your body to heat further, finding it thrilling with how much of your juices he truly had lapped up. Steve’s big hands were then rubbing against your breasts, squishing them before teasing the nipples, each movement causing sparks of pleasure to go directly in between your legs to where Bucky was eating you out.

Your fingers were already in his hair, holding him there and helping to roll your hips against his face. You were already a little sensitive from the first orgasm, embarrassed to say that your second orgasm was already building with increasing pace, thighs trembling as you tried to not squish Bucky’s head.

It took only a few minutes and your eyes were rolling back, face dropping slightly, stopping the kiss from Steve so you could moan Bucky’s name. Your pussy clenched repeatedly around his fingers as he teased you through the entire orgasm, only stopping when your hips were jolting with overstimulation.

Bucky didn’t wait for you to catch your breath now however as he sat up on his knees, both arms wrapping around your body to pick you up, manhandling your body with ease. A second later, you found yourself kneeling on the couch on wobbly thighs, your body leaning over the back as Bucky pushed gently on your shoulders, forcing your arse to lift into the air. 

Unsure where Steve was for a second but then you didn’t care as Bucky pushed two of his fingers back into your cunt, his large body standing directly behind you. He begins to fuck you, in and out with his fingers, positioned at his pelvis so from the front it looks like he was fucking you, and oh he was getting to that part soon but he just wanted to see you cum one more time before that.

The muscles in his arm flexed beneath his black shirt as he began to fuck you quickly with his fingers, your body automatically rolling back to meet him halfway.

“Do you like fucking my fingers?” Bucky huskily asks, staring down with wide eyes, the pupils looking almost completely black with lust.

“Yes, they feel so fucking good”, you responded, holding desperately onto the back of the couch.

Bucky held onto your hips, squatting slightly to have a better view of your cunt before he began to curl his fingers, gently tugging on them with each thrust, massaging directly against your g-spot. “That’s it, hot mama, let go for me”, he encouraged, knowing exactly what he was doing with his special trick as splashes of fluid began to squirt out of you, coating his arm and the couch but neither of you cared.

Your body was convulsing, thighs struggling to hold up your weight as Bucky was now fully kneeling on the floor again, his tongue sticking out to its fullest length to try and catch any of your squirts, groaning as flecks of liquid coated him.

You were cumming through this entire moment, the sounds of the sloshing from your cunt caused my Bucky’s fingers were like music to Steve’s ears as he watched you completely explode through your orgasm.

This time, Bucky allowed you a few moments to gather your bearings, gasping for air as you tried to sit up more, your arm and head hanging off the edge of the couch as Bucky licked his fingers clean.

You were exhausted that much was true but you’d been so touch-deprived over the last few weeks that you couldn’t help but beg for more. “I want you to fuck me”, you sighed over your shoulder at Bucky.

The man smirked devilishly, taking his sweet time to undress completely, also giving you just that little extra time to gather your senses, trying to ignore the wet feeling under your knees from where you’d soaked the couch.

Then there were suddenly hands on your hips, helping to push you back up as a long thick cock was rubbing at your entrance. “Bucky…”, you sighed as finally, his cock was stretching your cunt, the sensation was so much more intense after the long wait and thorough foreplay.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well, Doll”, Bucky praised as you took most of his cock, there still being an inch that never seemed to fit.

A hand began to stroke a gentle touch across your cheek as Steve was suddenly in front of you. As Bucky began to fuck you with long, strong strokes, Steve caressed your phase in a praising manner, letting you know he was there and even giving his thumb to suck on, the stimulation of which was causing your cunt to clench around Bucky.

Reaching out with a lazy hand, you attempted to grab Steve’s belt, wanting more than just his thumb to suck, no, in fact, you could definitely say, you needed to suck on his cock right now.

However, you groaned in annoyance as Steve pushed away your hand. “No, I’m supposed to be making you feel good”, he informed you as his large hand moved down your naked spine.

“But I want your cock so bad, please, I won’t ask for anything else ever again”, you exaggerated, knowing it was a complete lie.

Steve did too, even though he relented as he stood to his full height, “ok, Baby”. His fingers which were once inside of you, were now swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his belt and you watched in fascination as he began to undress. Fuck, his body was unbelieve, just as Bucky’s was over your shoulder. But then, all thoughts disappeared from your mind as you were suddenly eye level with the veiny, red hard cock of Steve, his voice low as he commanded, “Open your mouth for me”.

You do as instructed instantly, earning a soft stroke against your cheek in praise before he was resting his heavy tip against your tongue. His salty taste splashed around in your mouth, you swallowed harshly, wanting to taste more of him as you held your weight up with one hand, and the other gripped the base of his cock.

All the whilst, Bucky continued with his deep thrusts that also caused you to jolt forward, almost like he was doing the work for both of you as with each one, you were taking Steve deeper into your mouth. Your warm tongue was teasing the underside of his cock, taking special time to stroke against the area under the tip that had Steve gasping and holding the back of your head.

There were so many sensations going through you that you hadn’t even noticed that your eyes were closed until Steve spoke once more. “Let me see those eyes”.

Once again you did as instructed, opening your eyes to look at Steve. His eyes were flicking between what your mouth was doing and also watching the area where his friend was fucking into you.

“You look so good beneath me”, Bucky grunted, slapping his hips harder into you, his hold on your hips almost bruising but the mix of pleasure and pain was blissful. You gagged around Steve’s cock as he hit the back of your throat with the powerful thrust from Bucky, your eyes were instantly watering but Steve was quick to wipe away any tears that fell, whispering sweet praises down at you.

This was when Bucky licked his own thumb and began pressing it against your asshole, not pushing in straight away but allowing the momentum of his thrusts to slowly inch its way in. With the way you began to moan, the sensation vibrating around Steve’s cock, he knew you were loving it. Finally, his thumb slipped in and he stayed there, resting his other fingers on your lower back and almost using this as his grip to fuck you.

“You like sucking on his cock whilst I take you from behind?” Bucky asked, knowing you couldn’t verbally answer with your mouth full of Steve but the brunette smirked when he heard you groan in pleasure.

“You are doing so well”, Steve continued with his praises, the apples of his cheeks pink, mouth gaped open, releasing moans between his words. Bucky could feel you were adjusting well to his thumb, pulling it out and replacing it with the two fingers that he had been fucking you with earlier.

You felt so full in every hole, the sensation near overwhelming as you couldn’t prepare for the orgasm that consumed you. It took your breath away so much that you had to pull your face back and off of Steve’s cock to suck in air, a thin strip of drool connecting your lips with the tip of Steve’s glistening tip. “Oh baby, you’re drooling everywhere”.

Bucky had also paused his thrusts now, letting you calm down from the orgasm and the way your cunt was twitching around him, he nearly shot his load already. Attempting to sit up further on your knees, you looked up at Steve with a cock-drunk expression, eyes glazed, lips swollen and chin covered in spit.

“I want you both”.

Steve cupped your face, smiling slightly at you already forgetting about your declaration only moments ago that you wouldn’t ask for anything else. “Baby girl, we haven’t prepped you and it’s been nearly two weeks, you won’t be able to take us both”.

You make an annoyed face, “I can take it please! Please don’t say no to me!”.

Steve looks at Bucky over your shoulder, seeing what he thought about it and with the distraction, you purposefully clenched your cunt around Bucky’s cock, causing the man to curse and grip the globe of your arse in a firm grip.

“We’ll try but it if it hurts, we’re stopping”, Steve finally decided for the three of you and you couldn't be more thrilled, displaying a shit-eating grin across your face. Bucky was the first to move, snaking an arm around your waist and swapping the two of your position so that he was now sitting on the couch and you were practically sitting in his lap, your sweat-covered back against his toned abs.

Bucky was able to easily hold up your legs as the two of you watched Steve walk around the couch and stand between your legs.

Holding out two fingers under your mouth, you smiled before spitting onto his fingers. He smirked at your obedience, moving the wet fingers down to your asshole, and seeing as Bucky didn’t have a spare hand, he gripped his member, guiding it to your wet hole.

“Nice and slow”, Steve encouraged Bucky and you, watching your expression for any signs of pain as well as any tension that arrived in your body. However thankfully, you were so thoroughly aroused and had to couple of fingers from Bucky that it wasn’t painful. It did still take your breath away with how far you were being stretched but once he was past the thickened part of the tip, the rest slid in fine, even being able to take that extra inch with this position.

It was intense and you were thankful for the time they both gave you to adjust your ass was fluttering around Bucky as it tried to go back to its original size. “You’re doing so good for me”, Bucky breathes into your ear, kissing just below, showing his appreciation to you.

You nod to show that you’re good to carry on and Steve is lifting one leg next to Bucky’s hip on the couch, using it to position himself and gently ease his cock into your eagerly awaiting cunt, your juices naturally lubing his path.

The two of them began slow, mostly with Steve doing all of the thrustings, the sensation of his cock brushing against your walls and brushing against Bucky’s, even with there being a barrier, was enough to have you all moaning. But then Bucky began to tilt his hips up slightly, still holding up your legs in the process.

You’d felt full before but now, you were being stretched in all of the right places. Your hands rested around Steve’s waist, nails digging into his back as he moved at a steady pace, even though you didn’t need much prepping, you weren’t such that a hard fucking whilst being double penetrated would have been the best option right now.

Especially as with his perfectly timed strokes, you could feel every single drag of his cock along your walls and the way he rolled his hips meant that his pelvis brushed your clit. It was more than euphoric, feeling like you were constantly at the height of orgasm with everything being so stretched.

“Fuck, look at you, taking both of us like a good girl. Do our cocks feel good baby?” Steve asked in between pants, his body gleaming with sweat as he was trying to hold back his own orgasm but already knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Yes! Feels so good”, you babble, lead lolling back against Bucky’s shoulder, loving the feeling of being sandwiched between their hard bodies. “Want you both to cum inside of me”.

Hearing such dirty words from your mouth had them both groaning deeply, their thrusts deepening slightly, Steve’s hand now resting gently against your throat so all you could do was look up at him.

Bucky came first, his fingers tightening around the hold on your legs as his thighs tensed beneath you, hips fucking up once more, “ah fuck!”, was all he was able to grunt as he coated your asshole in his cum.

Steve fucked you a little harder as he stopped holding back his own orgasm, his lips parting, “Gonna fill you up baby, fuck - yes!” You didn’t stop the eye contact as Steve came, his eyebrows furrowing as he too stilled, his cock hardening with each spurt of his seed, it spilling out around his cock and dripping into Bucky’s lap.

Your body felt completely useless as Bucky eased out, more cum dripping out and mixing with Steves, and gently he simply moved you onto his lap, cuddly you close, keeping you warm as you all attempted to catch your breath.

A smile crept onto your face however as one thing came to mind.

“I forgive you both”, you admitted and truthfully, you’d forgiven them the moment they had dropped to their knees in front of you but it was nice for them to give you the opportunity to decide when you’d forgiven them. They both kissed your temple, smiling against your skin.

“Happy birthday”, they both whispered, causing you to chuckle at the late hour at which they were saying it but at least they didn’t completely miss the day.

Steve reached to the floor, picked up his trousers and found his phone, checking the time, not quite realising just how late it now was.

“Let’s get you to bed, we have an early start in the morning”, he informed the two of you as he began to stand.

Glancing down at your body, you tried to move your legs but all they did was tremble as you still hadn’t the full sensation back from how hard you’d been fucked. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk in the morning”, you joked to them both.

Steve chuckled, bending down and placing one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back, lifting you up and into his arms. “That’s fine with me, I wasn’t planning on you walking anywhere over the next few days, I’ll just carry you on the plane”.

You smiled giddily at his words, arms circling around his neck, feeling fucked and dazed as he carried you up to the bedroom, Bucky smiling at you over Steve’s shoulder as the three of you returned to the comfort of your own bed.

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #mafia steve rogers #mafia au #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #mafia bucky #bucky smut #bucky barnes one shot #marvel smut #marvel one shot #mine* #request

[noacfapologyst]

birthday wish - matty healy

(the birthday party; day one)

summary: matty, as his very best, has one of the best birthdays of his life and receives one of the warmest surprises he has ever had, with all the people he loves.

warnings: flufly stuff, sickness mentions. nothing more than this, is tender as well.

a/n: thank to @abiiors and @the1975attheirverybest for organize this incredible project! both are such an angels. the dates do not coincide in reality, so do not expect truthfulness in it, 'cause the tour continues in this universe and there are no haircuts, and also the english is not my first language.

wordcounter: 5,1k

Matty wants you to be with him at the exact time when the clock strikes midnight. It doesn't matter if you're an ocean away, just wait to hear you sing her happy birthday.

He knows that even if he wants you to, you can't come out the door. This shouldn't make him sad because it's something he's been facing for years.

You work for the UK's most influential finance company, and while the insistence on doing the work outside has been almost unbearable, Matty knows that you love being in your office or doing the work in the house where you both live together. God, that sounds good.

Officially he's a year older, and without wanting to touch sentimentality, he just feels tired when he rests his head on the white pillow in the hotel room. He doesn't look at his phone screen for a long time, just think about how you're going through the flu that kept you from coming with him to New York.

In the meantime, you have other plans that doesn't involve fever, soup, and phlegm.

You look at your phone screen, you know it's past 12 in New York, so Matty is oficially 35 years old.

It's four in the morning in England, and once again you confirm how much you hate such an abysmal difference in schedules. You could call him now and tell him you still have the flu, but he'd end up figuring out the trick.

Maybe when it's six o'clock in the morning you can greet him with more credibility.

For now, you finish arranging the house and the final touches before taking the suitcase as you sigh out of the house.

--

"Honeeeeeeeeey" Matty literally jumps into bed making them both jump. You rub your forehead and he gives you an innocent smile. It's not an argument at all, but he's gone dumb. "Come on, fly with me to York.

"Matty, I can't." You straighten up on the mattress, giving it room to rest its head on your trunk. "I would love to go, but it's impossible." You wrap your fingers around her hair and massage it into circles. You hear him purr like he's been waiting for him all day. "I have a lot of work, we have like fifty new clients or something like that. I can't apart myself from the company, i really sorry."

"I'm not saying you get apart, you still can work through your computer." He turns to see you with a pretty sad look in his features. "I don't want to be annoying, it's just…it will be my birthday. The first with you as my girlfriend."

"Hey, i can't even say how much i'm sorry, but i really do." You grab his right hand and squeeze his, on your way to kiss his head a desperate fit of coughing interrupts you. "Shit, I'm ill."

It doesn't sound so convincing, but if all goes well, an idea begins to form in your head that might consecrate you as bride of the year.

"But hey, babe, I'm going to reward you when you return. I promise." You see him unravel at your touch, watching him as he indulges in sleep. While he is awake closing his eyes, you whisper into his ear. "You're going to have an incredible birthday, Matty."

- - -

Even though spring has been running through London for over a month, the dawn suddenly turns cold. Not only because you got sick in the course of two days, (even if you did it on purpose and forced yourself to sneeze around the corners), but also because everything feels a little tense in your room. Matty's not mad, obviously he knows he can't get you out of the country in the middle of a flu outbreak let alone by force, but he's pretty sad about getting used to the idea of spending his birthday away from you. It's satirical to him, they've officially been together for nine months, but you've spent more birthdays near him than it looks. By chance or fate, they were always in the same bars or pubs where they celebrated their years of life.

What's ironic, too, is that they met after a financial argument. It was 2017, you were relatively new to the company and Dirty Hit needed a safe backing, betting on the company you still work for. At first there were no complaints, until a money leak was triggered and backing the company you basically went to the studio to talk to Jamie in pretty strong terms.

In the end, there were no dead to bury, everything worked out. What you did bury was your washing soap shirt, thanks to Matty literally spilled his coffee machine on you when you were about to leave. It wasn't a good day for anyone, your folders just fell off and picking them up you bumped into Matty, in a semi-sleeping state with coffee running over your skin and a cheap apology as he opened his eyes surprised enough. Then it just happened for some reason, they both found fun in the same places. It was too many years of seeing each other at nightclubs maybe four times a year, saying hello from afar and going on, until a year and a few months ago they needed an insurance upgrade, which gave you another visit to Dirty Hit, no spilled coffee this time.

Matty asked for your number, then he bought you a drink, and here they are, saying goodbye to each other.

"Hey listen, call my mom if you feel bad or if you need something. At least promise me this." Kiss your head as they both walk towards the front door, you wrapped in a blanket and him between bags and suitcases.

"I'll do." You reassure him with a broad smile. "Stay safe, love you."

"See you soon, love." You and him kiss quickly as he presses his thumb on your cheek. "Love you, too."

"Matty."

"¿Yes"

"You're forgetting something, dude." You unlock your chain with a small white stone hanging, to lock it around her neck later. "Now it's okay." You steal a hug and when they finally part, the taxi comes to the door. "Bye."

"Bye." He greets you with hishand and throws the first accessory he has at hand, his bracelet.

You hate to say goodbye to him when he goes to the airport, and even though you'll see him in two days, you still hate him. You're so used to waking up with him, having its scent all over the house, that when that bubble disappears, you hate what it's created at some point. It hasn't been five minutes and you miss him like you haven't seen him in months.

You squeeze his bracelet. It's their little tradition. Every time one goes on a journey, both exchange accessories in a way to show the other that they are still there even at a distance. You don't remember when it started, but you like the sentimentality of the issue.

Now, of course Matty's right: you'll call Denise. You already have, actually. She's aware of all the deception and she's the one who's most excited about it. He talked to Tom and Louis while you talked to Adam, because he's the least likely to reveal it to your boyfriend. It's not that you don't trust others, it's just that he's wiser for this.

- - -

You touch your head down because actually if you feel sick, maybe you've been too extreme, but you hope it's worth it. Denise calls on your portal with the car horn pulling you out of the trance, you get in the car and when you want to say something else you just fall asleep in the backseat.

Half an hour later, she wakes you up gently rocking you. She's so much like Matty you could cry, you love everything her family is and how you've been treated from the first day you walked through that door. Even if she's your mother-in-law, they get along incredibly well considering how fast they've connected.

"Are you sure about this?" She asks, handing over the car keys and lowering the suitcases from the trunk. "I mean, you look really tired."

"I know, I know. I spend the day thinking if i had everything, and thinking about the gift, and trying to organize the things with Adam, meanwhile i tried to not being colapsed by the numbers." The two laugh, she looks at you with a more relaxed expression and just lets her walls fall down.

"Matty is so lucky to have you." She murmurs with bright eyes and genuine happiness. "I don't know if I've ever met someone capable of getting sick just for surpise his boyfriend in his birthday…on the other side of the world." You think she's about to get emocional when her eyes start stinging, and she notices it. "I get a bit emotional but you know, my son is growing up next to someone who truly loves him, and as a mother you don't know how important it is to know that."

Well, now you'll cry.

"Oh god, I love you Denise." You drop your bags and embrace her with the greatest affection you've ever had. "I'll might cry."

She laughs tenderly. "Keep the tears for the show, darling."

----

The belief that it would be a seven-hour flight (plus the check-in hours, obviously) that would be somewhat exhausting and that it would take time to pass becomes part lie and part truth. You actually have a lot of fun with Denise telling you anecdotes of her life in the span of waiting time to board, you can't lie, but then on the plane you start to get bored after a few hours: you've seen a movie, you've slept, you've saturated your Spotify and you only think about how Matty will be. You feel guilty about the birthday message because you know he'll be worried thinking that something is up, but later you'll ask for forgiveness.

Happy birthdayy Matty. I love you so much, i hope you ́ll always be happy.

This is too short, but i feel totally sick. I'll send you a large text later.

Matty tosses and turns in bed heavily after waking up with that message as his first course. He sighs as he goes to the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror running a hand through his hair. It feels terrible.

Well, you haven't forgotten his birthday, but he feels that you have. Maybe it's not that.

He knows you don't like him smoking too much, but you're not here and it's the only thing keeping him sane so he doesn't yell at you if he's done something wrong. He opens the window and collapses on the balcony floor, a cigarette between his lips. He exhales, he can't believe he's spending the time like that on his birthday.

He feels like he has a dagger stuck somewhere in his body, he feels tense and knows he's not in the bliss mode that someone should have on their birthday. But God, he hates to blame himself and blame you for things.

You've been weird for days, and yes, maybe you're sick, but in the months you´ve been with him you've never been this weird. Overthinking things isn't something he likes or does too much, but now he's debating whether something has happened and you don't want to tell him. He exhales again and relapses into the state of his cuticles, but as a cumpulsive reflex he bites them. Has he done something wrong? Has he crossed any limits? Did you get angry about something he didn't do? Did he forgot your birthday? No, he hasn't forgotten that.

Trata de no permitirse pensar en la pregunta más dolorosa para él: ¿Hay alguien más? ¿Estás cansado de él y de su vida de poca estabilidad? Bueno, en cualquier caso te merecerías algo mejor.

Adam knocks on the door as an answer to problems. He knows he has to take care of him until you make your appearance, but everyone is aware that he may not be in his best mood.

"Hey, birthday boy, how did you wake up?" When Matty opens the door, he hugs him and Adam knows his best friend needs him. "Matty, tell me."

"It's just…No, it's a silly thing." He regrets it fluttering his eyes, but collapses on the bed tiredly. "I'm tired, that's all."

"No, it's not. Something is affecting you, so definitely there is something more than being tired. You dońt have to fake it with me, you know." Adam knows the reason why he is like this, and although he wants to tell him that she's really on her way, he can't.

"It's her, Adam. She ́s been in a distant mode for days, acting strange." He shrugs, Adam sits on the other end of the mattress, sinking it. "Her greeting was a bit cold, or too generic. It's not typycal for her.

Adam feels really bad lying to his friend, he feels like a traitor, and he really struggles to find the right words. "Didn't you tell me she was sick?" He asks, and Matty sighs, nodding. "Should be this."

"yes, but.."

"Listen to me, really." Adam cuts him off and thinks about how much he can take this like this, he can't allow his partner to collapse before the show, much less the surprise. "She loves you, i d on't know the reason for his behavior and I would love to know so I can tell you, but unfortunately I don't know." Guilty, liar. "Despite that, you just turned 35, it's too early for the midlife crisis for a congratulation. The day is not over yet

Matty slurps as he swallows without the strength to continue the conversation, not in this tone at least. He doesn't have any argument to play in his favor and that makes him a little angry.

"You have a birthday show tonight, it will be nice."

- - -

Madison Square Garden will never cease to amaze you and seem practically huge. You do not manage to make the connection between the measures of the venue, it seems much bigger than it is. You have entered more than once, both as a spectator of shows or as you are now, as an accompanist of the band that presents on the day, and still it leaves you breathless how massive it is. Not in your best dreams would you imagine having the chance to tour it.

But, what makes you more sensitive is to hear so many people divided into the branches and sections of the seats and the standing field cheering, shouting and even crying with a euphoric amount of adrenaline in the body by the celestial and pink lights that illuminate the stage, decorated in its scenography representing a house with all the rooms. It's still hard for you to believe that you're dating the lead singer of a band that has mobilized so many people around the world for years. They have come to see the four of them, they have come to hear what is the story they have to tell and to show them their affection and loyalty as they identify themselves in tears in the four chords of their best songs.

In a way you think that's everything a singer expects, and that by the same token, it's the most sincere reason for the fans in front of Matty's birthday. Because even though you don't spend too much time on the floor, you manage to see posters related to her birthday.

The whole Healy family, followed by you, take refuge in George and Adam's dressing rooms, because even if you came out of a cake in Matty's dressing room when the delivery changes, you'd lose the idea you planned. Now, you just hope Matty doesn't find it weird enough that they switched The Birthday Party to Act 3, and Guys is almost after. I wouldn't have to do that, in fact, since it's a pretty emotional and pretty setlist to play on your birthday.

When Matty's nightmare act ends and he descends from the second stage you try to make as little noise as possible next to his dressing room, mainly because you're going to scare him. The one you're scaring is George, but he's covering it up by saying there was a spider in his dressing room. Then with a thumb sign him shows that everything is ready for the next step. When the act of Still at their very best (the last of the show) begins with If you ́re too shy, you get ready, two songs later you have to get the whole audience to see you, but not Matty.

Then, It ́s not living reaches the middle with a consecrated closure between the drums and the guitar. Cheers fill the place. The action then begins when all the screens change focus and signs appear saying that, in front of the people you will see now, keep quiet because it is a surprise for both Matty and the fans. There are confused looks, intertwined, nobody understands anything but they keep singing so as not to show that the screens have changed again.

The crowd wants to go crazy, and some screams escape when it's you who's seen go behind the scenes. For the sake of greater care, you go behind George's drums and ask everyone with your fingers to be silent on the subject. You sit behind the biggest drum and you see it over your head.

There he is, dressed up in his black pants, his white shirt and previously the suit jacket with the pants. His tie's almost untied, and it makes you laugh, you don't think he knows he tied it wrong. The curls fall in front of him out of control due to tiredness and sweat, but you think he's never looked better in years.

"Thanks for coming to see the greatest band in the world, the 1975!" The sticks resonate on the drum, the play of grey lights makes everything a little psychedelic. The crowd bursts into cheers without differentiating the why. "And today it's my birthday, so thank you for coming here. I love you guys."

There's a mixture of exasperated emotions all over the compound. Even you have glassy eyes to see him smile in such a pure way, his place has always been and always will be the stage in front of the fans, when he is freer than ever and where he feels comfortable. This particular show is not just important because of this event, but because in fact, it's the end of the tour. It's emotionally sad, the melancholy is reciprocal in the stadium because nobody knows when there will be a new tour of them.

"Yeah, I know, this is sad. It ́s ironic that my birthday will be the last show of the tour." He grins and laughs showing his teeth to the audience. "But, thanks for being here, is my biggest gift."

So, Matty freaks out when he hears a noise behind him.

"And it's not over yet, friend of mine." Absolutely everyone is surprised to hear George through the microphone resonating in the stadium, Matty doesn't understand what's going on either. "Ladies and gentleman, please everybody look at the screen."

What happens next is the best and the worst that Matty has had in front of him, cataloging it as the worst because when pictures of him appear when he was little with his mother and father, playing guitar or just being a kid, it makes him wiggle and feel like he could really die right there from the excitement. Without looking away, dazzled and uncertain but motivated to keep seeing him, he sits on the edge of the stage.

The atmosphere is automatically warm, but even the noise does not break it. The screen now changes, and begins with a greeting from George, pointing to a picture of when they were 13, how they have grown up so far and how you can't imagine a life without him, then closes Charly telling how much she enjoys talking to him, and how much fun he is in any situation. Then comes Adam, along with Carly, telling how he is the youngest of the group, but how important he is for both of them in their lives. Finally there is Ross, who talks about how fortunate he is to have him as a friend, how proud he is of everything he has accomplished and how much he appreciates his friendship.

Screen in black. Matty takes care of the tears because he suspects it doesn't end there, but his eyes turn to candy, all his factions calm down and he refrains from leaping into the arms of his friends.

You can't tell how many, but suddenly fans appear in the video, talking about how they've saved their lives through the band, the refuge it's for them and how much the band has done in terms of connecting them with their closest friends, and giving them a reason to keep fighting. Everyone laughs when they hear the reactions of the fans appearing in the video, realizing it.

Now yes, everything seems to indicate that it's over. Matty tries to stand up, but something stops him.

Her mother. On the screen.

Satirically, her greeting begins by asking if she thought they had forgotten about her, but without giving any room to react, Louis and Tom appear on the screen, their entire family in one place.

Really, Matty feels like the luckiest person in the world to have so much affection around him, he doesn't know if he deserves it, but he accepts it and feels like the feeling of familiarity and brotherhood envelops his body as his brother and his parents talk about how he's changed everyone's lives, the support he's been in his brother's life, and how the little boy who played the guitar off-tune at four o'clock in the afternoon has become a man made and upright, able to love and defend his people, with a exemplary talent.

Matty blinks, doesn't know how to go on now. He simply knows that he cannot ask for anything else for his life, he is loved by those he loves, and is reciprocated.

The screen lights up for the last time. You and Mayhem.

You look the at George, who cries just like you. He notices your gaze but responds only with a quick smile.

"Hey, honey, this will be short because I hope you know how happy I am to have you in my life." Matty stops controlling the tears, bathes in them, his shirt is full of water right now. So he remembers your message today, and he knows that you were behind all this, no one else would have done it this way otherwise. He sees his dog move his front legs and really misses him: "Happy birthday, I love you more than my words can prove. Thank you for being the most amazing, sweetest human being I've ever met. You're an angel and I love to agree with you." The greeting ends when you send a kiss to the camera, followed by Mayhem's osico in the foreground with a heart, with an M drawn.

The legend of The End stands on top. Everyone has cried, the makeup has gone off but this is the most intimate thing that everyone has experienced today. Everybody's grateful for coming to celebrate Matty.

"Could you please close your eyes?" Adam asks, and Matty is not the one who could say no.

Matty continues sitting, not moving. He can't process everything his head is telling him miles per second. He knows that he can't speak well enough after crying and will only say silly phrases, But it has to. Ross comes to his rescue and has a hand to lift him up. They hug with Matty crying on his shoulder while continuing to repeat that she loves him. Ross pats him on the back and points to Adam on the microphone.

He smells something as smoke, and he's right. Behind the scenes of the three entrances appear his mother, his father and Louis beside him with a rectangular cake with porcelain figures of the little house, and the four figures of the band, with a 35 as a candle.

Ross lets Matty go, and when the distance is unbearable, you're the one who runs to grab his hands when everyone screams to open his eyes. He opens them and finds you embraced to his body more tightly than ever. By inertia, he tightens the grip on your waist without ceasing to hug you. Now neither of us knows who to blame for the water running down the Briton's white shirt.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." You whisper incessantly, as he stabilizes in front of you, trying to get out of the surprise and accepting that you're actually in front of him, it's not a dream, he looks at the cake and cries again. He watches the audience feeling their heart pouring out into their hands. "Happy everything, my love."

He pulls you away from the grip when the birthday song rings out and has the cake in front of him without realizing it, but holds your hand in his fist. He coins it, and he protects it inside him. His smile is sadly short, but he has never had a greater look of genuine love on him than now. His wet eyelids, his face full of dry tears and his eyes glowing like never before. All thanks to you. He looks back at the cake and makes a face of utter surprise when he sees his figure made of porcelain sitting on the piano.

"Hey, that's me!" He's chirping like he's a kid who just ate a paddle he's seen in the store. Its essence is discovered there, that immeasurable happiness that creeps through all present.

He couldn't even think about how much he loves you because everything happens too fast, but he knows that after this he could never leave you. He doesn't know it yet, but this is the moment when Matty would close everything else. After this he would decide that you would be the woman of his life, that he would marry you and that they would have a family. You just kind of signed a sentence saying that he would never let anything happen to you and that if he had to lay down his life for you, he would.

George, Adam and Ross approach Matty as well, along with Polly, John and the rest of the band, all standing in a semicircle in front of the stage. The fire lights up Matty's face who has refused to block the touch of you two. You literally have to whisper his name in his face with a silly smile so he'll let you go and be the only one in the middle of the round.

The flashes of the phones illuminate the scene, there is the same chorus symphony composed of dozens of voices that work at the same time without prior coordination. No, it's not a movie and it's not a dream that someone's going to wake up from, it's really happening.

The fire dissipates, again the sound of clashing palms comforts the place. Denise leaves the cake on the piano and hurls herself at her son. She loves him so much, and is so happy that he can be really happy being who he is. The sequence is quite fast, his family hugs him, then the four hug and the difference in height is noticeable between the four males. Then goes Polly, Jhon and everyone else who's there. The show is delayed for the same reason, but nobody really cares about sacrificing a song to be part of this moment.

He opens his arms towards you and makes you fly through the air for a second before giving you his best Chesire Cat smile. Seize the moment to steal a quick kiss leaving behind the expanse of euphoria that surrounds them. For Matty there really is nothing else right now than him and you on the whole ethereal plane he's met at the age of 35. Fans disappear, the band and their parents too, as long as it merges into you in touch can only feel how they function the same way, being really a single soul trapped between two bodies. God, he's lovesick of the love he has for you, and he could throw it up right now, but surely all he could do is throw up his heart.

The contact ends, and finally he approaches the microphone.

"I really have the greatest persons and the greatest fans in the world. I ́m incredibly glad about it." He runs his hand through his hair and laughs, shedding his last tears. "Saying thanks it wouln ́t be enough, and I could never finish thanking you for all this, but i love each and every one of you, honestly."

Matty grabs his acoustic guitar almost the second he says that. The chords of The birthday party are heard. Everything is extremely special about this song and it is something narrow and deep, there is a truth to count on the song at this moment so charged with sentimentality.

Matty has spent years of his lost life without having a reason to keep him going, floating around while surviving, or trying to. He has come and gone as far as anyone could imagine, has suffered perhaps too much to expose his vulnerability. Indeed, he felt lost in hell during the most unbearably difficult years of his life. He's driven so many people away by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows.

He has alienated so many people by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows that although he may be late for some, he has enough with him. All your friends are here, in the same scene, no matter what that means.

The following of Guys in a much calmer tone makes everyone end up crying, their most personal song as a band. Matty feels the same as before, his friends have been the best thing that's ever happened to him, and they've saved his life thousands and thousands of times. He could not get used to the idea of lose them, because he would crumble without them in his life.

Just like he would do without you.

In the end, Matty makes fun of himself for being so bitter all day. He really had the best birthday of his entire life.

in my head this is a tender idea of ​​how much I would give way to see matty happy, so I hope that was achieved. also, happy birthday weekend matty you are the best.

let me know what you think, also let me know if you want to be on my tag list <3

#matty healy #matty the 1975 #the 1975 #1975 band #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fluff #matty35 #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x oc #birthday matty #i might cry

[welldonebeca]

Housewife Halloween (I)

Summary: Sam hates Halloween. When he catches his girlfriend dressed up and playing as his wife, he realises the day might not be so bad, after all. Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female!Reader WC: 1.3k words Warnings: Stanford times. Fluff. Teasing. Wife kink. 

Masterlist

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Sam scoffed as he walked past the Halloween decorations. The whole month, Stanford was just decorated up and down with skeletons, witches, ghosts and all that crap, and now... now it was officially Halloween.

And God, he hated it.

He didn't even get what the big deal was. It was like all of a sudden everyone was five again, and wanted to go crazy for the holiday.

Jess had been asking him non-stop to do some group costume and go bar hopping, but he had said no so many times she gave up after a few too many of them. Most of his friends called him a buzzkill after that, but he didn't mind. He had you, at home, a loving girlfriend who didn't judge him and respected his boundaries.

Sam just wanted to go home, cuddle you and pretend it was November or something. Watch something that wasn't scary at all, without even looking at any candy, and let Halloween pass by without noticing it.

When he unlocked the door of your shared place, he was surprised to find you standing in the living room, dressed like you'd come straight back from the fifties, with your hair curled and pinned and a very round dress.

"Honey, you're home!" you quipped.

He stood, frozen, on his feet, taking in your look as you walked over to him, standing on your tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

The two of you had been living together since he moved out of his old dorm - a bit over a month after the incident when he hurt his back.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here so early," you walked behind him, taking off his jacket before Sam could even think of what you were saying. "Take a seat, dinner is on its way."

He blinked, following you into the kitchen, sniffing around, surprised at the great smell.

"Did you order take out?" he asked. It smelt really good.

You just giggled.

"Of course not, silly," you grabbed an apron from your side, and he raised his eyebrows at how it was stained with red. "I cooked for us."

Alright, this was weird.

He looked at you and then the stove, and stood up, stopping you by grabbing your shoulders.

Either something very dangerous was going on or you were up to something.

"What is going on?" he asked, careful.

You rolled your eyes, laughing, and your shoulders relaxed.

"Alright, you got me," you rolled your eyes. "It's a costume. What do you think?"

He frowned, looking at your clothes.

"What are you supposed to be?" Sam asked.

You stepped back and twirled in front of him.

"A murderous housewife," you smiled.

He chuckled. Well, now the apron was explained.

"I found this dress and those petticoats in the thrift store, and they are actually vintage," you explained. "And I didn't want to ruin it with blood, so I just did that with the apron and borrowed one of your knives."

Sam lost his smile, glancing at the knife on the counter. It was one of the knives he kept for safety reasons.

"That is not a toy," he reminded you.

You pouted.

"But Sam," you whined.

"If you told me you wanted a knife for your costume, I could get you a toy one," he told you, emphatically. “But not that one.”

His former life as a hunter was something he had touched very little on. Yes, you knew he had some sketchy things in his childhood, but never pressed him on it or said anything when he made sure you and your home were protected.

Your pout grew more, and you flushed, looking guilty.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled.

Sam sighed. You looked so cute like that.

"You're forgiven," he assured you. "And why are you dressed up?"

Your lips curled in a shy smile.

"My Sorority is having a Halloween party," you explained. "It's gonna be at midnight."

Sam nodded along. You were part of one of the sororities there, and while you didn't live with them, you were always involved in their events - be it in presence or planning.

"I know you hate Halloween," you told him and bit your lower lip. "It is really quick.”

He watched your face, and his eyebrows knitted together in a frown when he realised you looked like you really wanted to say something.

“What?’ he asked.

“I was… you know… thinking you could come, maybe?” you asked, softly. “You don’t even have to dress up.”

His shoulders sagged and Sam had to stop himself from scoffing, knowing his face didn't look very happy.

"Baby..." he sighed.

"How about I serve us dinner?" you stepped away from him. "And if you don't want to go after that, we won't."

He sighed.

"Alright," you walked back to the table. "Do your best."

You giggled and Sam watched you go, stepping to the counters in the tiny kitchen of your home, puffy skirt swirling around and tight curls bouncing on your shoulders, causing his cock to swell the littlest bit.

He shouldn't get horny seeing you like that.

Sam was a feminist, for fuck's sake! Perhaps, it was the part of him who wanted the stable home he never had, or maybe you just looked too sexy in that dress, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking of the future, of living in a nice house in the suburbs where he would come home to see you making dinner or folding laundry, and welcoming him in that same voice, sweet as honey with your little 'welcome home, husband'.

It was such a caveman idea.

And yet, here he was, trying to will his cock into staying soft.

His thoughts were interrupted by the clanking of plates and looked down to see a meal of chicken and rice, along with steamed vegetables on the side.

"I hope you like it honey," you leant in his direction, kissing his forehead before moving back.

You sat by his side and he had to mask his surprise. Yes, he knew you had been trying to get better at cooking, but this was the first time you presented him with a full homemade meal, and it just looked delicious. It wasn't like the greasy diner food he was so used to getting, it was actually made at home and with love.

He ate it hungrily, unable to even pretend he wasn't used to it, trying to savour every bite.

Sam didn't even realise he had gotten carried away before he raised his eyes and found you staring at him, blushing deeply, completely flushed.

"Sorry," he said quickly, laughing nervously. "It's just... it's really good."

You smiled, very embarrassed.

"It's just chicken, Sam," you shrugged.

He shook his head.

"It's amazing," Sam insisted. "You made it really well. You are... such a good wife."

Your cheeks flushed even more at the little quip, and you lowered your gaze, looking just like you did anytime he praised or degraded you during sex, or even teased you about it.

Sam was glad to see your reaction. He had worried he might have scared you with such a declaration, but seeing you look a little meek, all flushed, was adorable.

You leant in your direction, rubbing his nose on yours, and smirked when your eyes drifted closed and your lips parted, waiting for a kiss that he didn't place on your lips, sucking in a breath when you reached for your neck, holding it gently and placing his lips on the other side of it.

"My good wife," he whispered. "My perfect little wife."

You whimpered, moving your face as Sam pulled back, reaching for his lips, but he just moved back.

"Sam," you whined. "Don't be mean."

"I'm the man of the house," he reminded you. 'I know what my wife needs."

You whimpered, and he pushed his chair back, spreading his legs, thinking of what he was going to do next.

"Put dinner in the fridge," he instructed you. "I'll be waiting for you in the living room."

…

“Housewife Halloween” was posted on Tumblr on May 2022. To read it fully now (and the prequel, “Plough Pose”), subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month and I post 6x a week!

…

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​ @amythyststorm33​​ @shaelyn102​​ @yknott81​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​ @kgbrenner​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @magpiegirl80​ @mogaruke​ @shadowhunter7​​ @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever​ @deemoriarty​​ @05spn18​​ @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​ @widowsfics​ @frozenhuntress67​​ @averyrogers83​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​ @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega Supernatural tags: @its-daydreamer23 @imagefanfictionlover @smalltowndivaj @tayrae515imagines @afanofmanystuffs @oneshoeshort @andkatiethings @wakanda-sometimes @akshi8278 @xoxabs88xox @izbelross @isabelle-faith @flamencodiva @lyarr24

#Welldonebeca's Housewife Halloween #sam winchester #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader fanfic #sam winchester x reader fic #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester x reader fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x you fanfiction #sam winchester x you fic #sam winchester x you fanfic #sam winchester x you smut #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x y/n fanfiction #sam winchester x y/n smut #sam winchester x y/n fic #sam winchester x y/n fanfic

[starseungs]

➳ this is how to be in love with you. hjs

pairing — han jisung x gn!reader

synopsis — dating han jisung was something you had never expected to happen, but now you wouldn't have it any other way.

genre/s — fluff. and i actually mean it this time. (a pinch of angst at the start but its over quick) • 2.1k words

warning/s — cursing, mentions of drinking

note — tbh i wrote this with a fever and dont know wth im writing aside from the fact that im so in love with han jisung it physically hurts

ⓒ written by starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

It was almost frightening how easy it was to fall in love with Han Jisung.

Who would've thought that the cute part-timer at the convenience store across from your apartment building would have such a huge impact on your relatively boring life? You certainly didn't, and yet his presence alone still hit you hard like a truck.

Everything started on one particularly hard day that ended with you fighting back salty tears in the midst of your dimly lit room. It was not the best sight, nor will it ever be, despite the shimmery streaks of moonlight seeping into the space in a pathetic attempt to provide lighting around you. The clear night sky would've been beautiful to gaze at if only it didn't remind you that your day would be ending soon without a single positive thing happening in the entirety of its hours. You were so so tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep until the sun rose for another day—a fresh new start for you to leave the past behind like you've done just this morning. But it seemed like fate had other plans that prompted you to storm out of your apartment in spite-filled rage.

Admittedly, you didn't have a plan at that time—only knowing you'd be damned if you continued to swallow your frustration alone. The weather outside was average at best; there was nothing too special going on. However, it was for that exact reason that the fluorescent "open" sign of the humble convenience store right across the street seemed to attract your eyes more than it ever did before. And who were you to say no to its obvious invitation? Beggars couldn't be choosers, after all, and you desperately needed something, anything, to distract you until the day officially came to an end.

So here you were, curiously slipping inside the store to find anything that might interest you. You faintly registered the chime of the door when you stepped inside and the polite greeting of whoever was behind the cashier at the back of your mind as your sight immediately zeroed on those eye-catchingly green bottles of fun.

It was just what you needed.

You hurriedly snatched a few bottles of soju with childish glee, already thinking about how perfect this was to end your less than ideal day. Maybe you could still sneak in some enjoyment in the remaining minutes until midnight—not that you thought drinking your problems away was exactly good, but it was certainly better than bottling up your sadness when you could open another type of bottle instead. It was an okay plan, or at least in your books, it was.

"That's quite a few bottles you've got there."

The sudden voice startled your train of thought, bringing your focus back to the real world. "Wait, shit, sorry if I scared you," the voice continued in a panic. "I didn't mean to, I swear. Damn, I'm not even supposed to comment on a customer's purchase."

You blinked dazedly at the person standing in front of you. When you raised your head to find a face to connect the voice with, you didn't know, but you quickly found yourself wishing you had done so earlier.

Because, wow. That face was very attractive.

"Oh, uh—it's fine," you shook your head lightly in an attempt to stop blatantly ogling at the guy. "You're good."

Unfortunately, that only seemed to send him into another spiral of misplaced guilt since he threw out a sudden offer of, "I'll give you a discount."

Your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets at the sentence that came out of his mouth. "What? No! You don't have to, really!" was your hasty reply, to which the guy only hummed as if it were no big deal.

"Would you let me do it if I say it's because I find you cute?"

"I'm sorry, come again?"

You watched as his eyes widened comically, almost like he didn't expect those words to be said out loud—and if you were to say, that might actually be the case. "Okay, yeah, that totally backfired," he exhaled shakily; you could almost hear him screaming internally. Honestly, you couldn't blame him. You would too. "This must be so creepy—I'll place these in a bag and get out of your hair in a moment."

After a few more seconds, the situation finally dawned on you. "Hold on," you wheezed like you just heard the funniest shit ever. "Are you seriously hitting on me right now?"

"No! I mean, yes? Kind of?" The guy ended up groaning in embarrassment at his own answer, running a hand through his hair while awkwardly avoiding your eyes. His actions were oddly charming, forming an unconscious grin on your face. "I meant it when I said I find you cute. You don't have to say anything, though. Just take it as a compliment or something."

"Why thank you, kind sir," was your amused response before composing yourself and giving him a genuine smile. "I needed that."

He snorts at that. "With five bottles of soju? Who would've guessed?"

"I suppose you're not wrong," you went along with his observation, eyes trailing along the bottles he had just finished placing in a plastic bag. "Also, what the hell was I thinking? I can't finish all of this tonight."

"You can give some of them to me if you want. I'll pay you back the amount."

You quirked an eyebrow at him as you handed over your payment. Thankfully, you had half the mind to bring money with you when you stormed out earlier. "Is that really fine with you?"

"My shift is almost over, anyway. A drink after would be nice," he shrugs nonchalantly. The information had you thinking. You'd hate to be drinking alone right now, so perhaps having him as a companion for a while wouldn't be too bad.

You bit your lip lightly before asking, "Do you want to drink a bit with me?"

"Oh," he reacts blankly at first, clearly not expecting the offer. His face revealed his thought process like a window, the gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together what you had just said. It wasn't long until he caught up, though, and with a shy grin he finally answered, "Sure."

You beamed brightly for the first time that day. "Sweet. I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Jisung. Han Jisung."

And the clock strikes twelve.

Just like Cinderella, everything started changing after that night. You had gained a new friend—or at least that was what you called him for now, even if you damn well knew friends certainly did not feel this kind of attraction towards each other. It was almost embarrassing to admit how much your heart leapt in happiness whenever you two were together, and you swore that if it continued any longer, you'd end up floating amongst the clouds. His gaze alone already sent a buzzing shiver all throughout your body, your mind going into overdrive at the sheer amount of emotion Jisung was able to pull out of you with somewhat concerning ease. He could melt you to a puddle on the ground with a single word, no questions asked. Maybe it was his frustratingly smooth voice, but the guy charmed his way into your heart in a matter of literal days. Either he knew what he was doing or you were just a hopeless simp—and no, you refused to ever admit the latter out loud.

So it was to no one's surprise when you agreed to his request to take you out on a date. And after the first one, more followed. Jisung's plans were, as one would say, straight out of fiction. Stuff that you knew existed in real life but never thought would have the same spark as its literary counterpart. Well, you really should have expected it, but Jisung certainly proved you wrong. The guy was an absolute romantic, and that translated well into everything he did between you two. Though you found out through your talks that he had a big love for the angsty stuff—to which you could only wish you wouldn't find yourself in that situation too soon. It was only when you felt a warm hand casually slipping into yours with a reassuring gentle squeeze that you realized.

God, you may have already fallen for Han Jisung.

There was no doubting it. When the night sky you had just cursed out weeks ago for reminding you of the dragging day you had was replaced with waves of affection and happiness, you knew there was no way you could doubt it even if you wanted to. That whenever you closed your eyes to rest, the darkness only brought images of you and Jisung screaming each other's name into the distance in an attempt to replicate a cliched scene of professing one's love during one of your many nightly picnic dates. Joyful laughter echoed under the stars as hands held each other's, a silent promise that didn't need to be said out loud for you to know what it meant. The moon was a witness to the blooming portrait of memories being painted at the very moment when you two had made it official.

You also particularly loved the moments that you shared indoors, where it was just you and Jisung. The comfort of being alone together was one of the things that came more naturally, especially with him leaning on the introverted side. This was where you found him thriving best, and it warmed your chest to see him so in his element. Whether it was his place or yours, there was never a dull moment, even if you two weren't doing anything. Then there were also the times where you did do something—quickly developing a soft spot for your domestic activities with Jisung. The sound of the oven working its magic was faintly heard in the background while he danced you slowly in the flour-covered kitchen from your earlier baking shenanigans.

Loving Jisung felt like second nature to you, as if you'd been doing it for years. Perhaps you did. The concept of soulmates wasn't new to you; only that you hadn't given it any more attention than mere acknowledgement. Yet, something about Jisung made you feel like changing your stance on the matter. Slowly but surely, he had taken over you.

And you didn't fight it one bit.

His lips were an inviting shade of pink as he went on about his newest interest. You really didn't mean to stare, but he made it a challenge for you to not have your full attention on him alone. To the point that you hung onto every word he said, whatever topic he brought up, you made a mental note of it to bring up at other times when it might be appropriate. Oh, how you wanted to stop time and just continue to admire the man Han Jisung is.

Sometimes you couldn't even believe he was yours. You knew your eyes dripped with love every time you had your gaze fixed on him, but it always caught you off guard when you noticed the same look in his eyes—and it was directed towards you. They always shone with tender gratitude and warmth mixed with fondness, making your breath hitch at the sheer intensity. If this was all a dream, you hope you'd never wake up.

"Hey now," you heard Jisung's voice call out to you softly. Warm hands cupped your face gently to ground you back to reality. "What's with that look, baby?"

You sighed dreamily, leaning in more towards his touch. "How are you real?"

"This again?" Jisung chuckles at your misty gaze pinned at him as if he could disappear in the blink of an eye. "I am. And I'm right in front of you."

"You're so good to me," you mumbled in a quiet whisper, starting to feel drowsy from the comfort he provided you at the moment. You could hear Jisung's heart flip at your honest words.

"Which is what you deserve," he leans in closer to press a light but passionate kiss on your lips before pulling away to stare at you with eyes containing hundreds of unsaid dedication. "I love you."

"I love you more."

Dating Han Jisung was something you had never expected to happen, but now you wouldn't have it any other way.

mastertag 🔖— send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶

@tyuniiz @lhskokoro @bookishcalls @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @jeonginwrld

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[anothermansjeans]

karma

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: none!

word count: 946

a/n: it’s been 84 years… but ANYWAY… miss taylor swift has infiltrated my mind once again and i just had to a fic inspired by karma because it’s one of my favorite songs on midnights! im sorry if it’s a little rushed (its currently 1:16 a.m when i write this but i am also excited about it)! i also apologize for any mistakes!

inspiration: karma by taylor swift

masterlist

++

Aaron Hotchner has been through a lot. Between being stabbed, hearing his ex-wife being murdered, being blown up, and having to go into witness protection with his kid, you would think he would be a cynical man, but recently that’s changed. He now believes in karma.

It was a year after leaving witness protection when he had his first dose of good karma. He took Jack to a bakery after school and the woman behind the counter offered them each a free cookie since it was the “bakery’s birthday”. It was trivial, he knows, but the way the woman’s eyes lit up when both him and Jack praised the treat made him feel good. It was a feeling that was always fleeting in the past, but this feeling seemed to stay.

It stayed because the next week when he took Jack to the same bakery, the same woman was standing at the counter and had an even brighter smile when she saw them. This time, the visit went a little differently. After he and Jack had gotten their baked goods for the day and started to head out, he stopped at the sound of her voice calling out to him.

“Sir, you left your card!”

He didn’t have time to walk back up to the counter, because she was making her way up to him, and the moment her hand slightly touched his, he swore his body was shocked with one of the most intense feelings.

And he knew she felt it too, her eyes said it all.

“Um… h-have a nice day…?” She trailed off, not knowing his name.

“Aaron”, he responded, giving her a nod. “You too…”

She stared into his eyes for a moment longer before leaving her trance due to the sound of the be above the door ringing. “Y/N.”

“Y/N… have a nice day Y/N.”

That was his second dose of good karma.

The third time karma was in his favor happened a lot sooner than anyone would ever expect. He was alone the next time he went into the bakery— Jack having an after school activity— and when he saw Y/N at the counter she looked more nervous than happy to see him.

“Hi!” Her voice was pitchy, and she fiddled with her fingers as he got closer. “No uh… Your son— I’m assuming— isn’t with you today?”

“No, no. Jack had a school thing. I still wanted to pick something up for him, though.” And then they continued their routine— talking about the specials, picking out two to three treats, paying for it, and saying goodbye. The only difference was… Aaron stayed a minute longer.

She told him to have a nice day, he said the same, but he stood there, standing at the counter, wanting to stay in her presence just a moment longer. He didn’t know how weird it looked until after they stared each down for a good minute, proceeded by her clearing her throat.

“Is there um, anything else… that I can help you with?”

“No… no.” He tried to stay stoic, but he saw her face slightly fall, and he felt something in his stomach make the same movement.

“Okay, well you probably have someone waiting for you—”

“Actually, there is something.” He cut her off, knowing exactly what she had been implying, but he didn’t want her thinking that. “I want to take you out. On a date.”

It was impulsive, and Aaron Hotchner didn’t do impulsive. Until that moment apparently.

She looked shocked at first, but a delicate smile danced on her lips seconds later, and she grabbed a napkin, writing her number down and giving it to him. He used it almost immediately when he got home.

They had gone on several dates after that. So many that they were officially together, and the next step was to tell Jack, which coincidentally was Aaron’s fourth strike of karma.

Jack was ecstatic the moment he heard the news. He loved Y/N. She gave him baked goods whenever she went over, she always talked with him about his current hobbies, and she made his dad happy. Jack loved Y/N.

Seeing this love from him was one of the best things Aaron had witnessed in a long time. The way she would interact with him, the sparkle in Jack’s eyes when he’s told Y/N would be joining them, the overall sense of happiness that radiated from him at the mere mention of her— these were things Aaron was grateful for.

He was so grateful for them that months down the line, after a long day of family activities, he was able to settle on the couch in his home with her once Jack had gone to sleep and have nothing but adoration in his gaze down at her.

And that feeling was so strong— strong in the sense that he hadn’t known the next words coming from his lips.

“I’m in love with you.”

She was laying between his legs, back pressed up against him. Her head was tilted up at an angle, literal stars could be seen in her eyes. “Really?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her question. “Yes, really.”

“Good.” She shifted up a bit and kissed under his jaw, lips lingering as she spoke in a soft whisper, “because I have never been so in love with someone in my entire life.”

And right then and there, he noticed something.

Karma is a good feeling. Karma is an electric touch. Karma is getting a date. Karma is seeing his son happy. Karma is the love of his life. Y/N is his karma.

++

tags: @sylvieofasgard @jhiddles03 @skyyyreads @captainamericasmotercycle @gothwifehotchner @ssamorganhotchner (i tagged people who interacted with my recent post so i apologize if you didn’t want to be tagged!!)

let me know if you would like to be tagged in future work!!

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x female reader

[dearreader]

hello fellow members of the tortured poets department.

today i enter into evidence so long, london and analyze it.

previous days: fortnight, THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT, my boy only breaks his favorite toys, down bad

oh… where to start.

so long, london is a song we’ve all discussed and talked about so much (because it’s so beautiful and heartbreaking) so most of what i’ll say might be redundant. but i still have stuff to say.

the song is done with so much intent to not only connect it heavily back to songs on reputation/lover/midnights etc. but also to really show just how much work taylor was putting in over the years and give hints into what led the relationship to ending.

the opening sound like the echos of church bells that you’d hear on a wedding day because she was left waiting at the alter for him to follow through on his promises and prove he loved her… similar to the reimagining taylor did of her life in its nice to have a friend where it ends with her being carried home from the wedding by him (and since that was a reimagining it can almost now be interpreted as a dream she was telling herself as she waited because she expected the end to be real but maybe none of it actually was).

the repeating of “so long, london” as if she’s telling not only him but herself, over and over, that it’s over… like they’d called it off before but he came back so all the past goodbyes are coming forth all at once

of course the repetitiveness being similar to the opening of death by a thousand cuts with “my” where in that song she would list parts of her he had touched so it felt like she just kept saying my over and over describing the loss. and with how taylor left all she knew for this place and made a new life here it would be like he touched every aspect of her life.

and even the first official line of the song reaffirms the idea of taylor picturing the future of past to get through the present

“i saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist/i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away”

fairy lights here can represent two things:

a bright warm and safe future. like in christmas tree farm where taylor closes her eyes and is taken away from the stresses of the modern world and imaging a cozy christmas with her lover surrounded by fairy lights or the christmas we see in the lover music video with the future of her lover and her with their child. so even through the worst moments where doubt was clouding her mind and worries for the future she just kept thinking if that warm bright future and kept trying to fix their issues while he was pulling back or glancing at others and possibly cheating on her. she just kept their future in her mind to keep pushing through the now

it’s another reference to how she constantly rewrote and looked back on how the beginning was to get through now. that he may be pulling away but he came in on a white horse with the winds of fate and he’d come back around if she kept trying. she just kept reminding herself of their love in its purist form before it started to die so she could keep trying to revive it

another interesting line connection i can’t stop thinking of is “stopped trying to make him laugh, stopped drying to drill the safe”//“stealing hearts/and running off/and never saying sorry” because taylor was doing everything to get his heart because he had stolen hers but he wouldn’t let her in to either let him love her or help him. also with cowboy like me in mind this hits hard because taylor saw herself in him and that’s why they could work and fall in love together… but he was the conman who didn’t leave his boots underneath her bed.

another one being taylor saying “i left all i knew/you left me at the house by the heath” because not only did she runaway with him but she left her country and old life behind. being an incredibly public celebrity who had her life monitored constantly to a life of complete solitude and finding different ways to get around together without being seen to not draw attention to them. this hurts harder when she says “and im just getting color back into my face/im just mad as hell cause i loved this place”. she is using london the place as a metaphor for him as she was living in his world for years and she did it because she really loved him. she would’ve stayed forever if he’d been there but he never came back…

and i’ll lastly touch on the boat line that i mentioned yesterday in down bad’s post. “and you say that i abandoned the ship/but i was going down with it/my white knuckle dying grip/holding tight to you’re quiet resentment.” this line feels like it’s referencing titanic, where rose was with jack until the end, even as the ship sank deep into the water and and was floating on a door that could only fit one and lost her love. it feels like taylor was on the boat until the very end and with the added line, didn’t even give up on it until she was taken away by someone else. who then kicked her off his ship and her waving desperately for him to come back but he left her alone to.

this song has so much more that i can’t touch on cause it’s so straight forward that i just say it and you know as well as just being an all around masterful song. it’s a truly gut wrenching track five. and with taylor’s monotone singing where she just sounds deflated and defeated through out it. just everything about it was done so perfectly and i can’t explain anymore without it being over kill cause like… yeah you get it when she says two graves one gun or saying she was the odd man out in her own lovers life. like even some stuff i said here is so straightforward i don’t need to add more cause you get it. its plain and straightforward cause at the end everything was so obvious to her.

list of parallels that i didn’t elaborate on/plan to elaborate on in the future:

“fighting in only your army/front lines/don’t you ignore me”//“my spine split from carrying us up the hill/wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill”//“i just don’t understand/how you don’t miss me in the shower/and remember how my rain-soaked body was shaking”

“is this the end of all the endings?/my broken bones are mending/with all these nights we’re spending”//“i think there’s been a glitch/five seconds later im fastin’ my self to you with a stitch”//“for so long, london/stitches undone”

“and the old widow goes to the stone everyday/but i don’t, i just sit here and wait/grieving for the living”//“you swore you loved me/but where were the clues?i died at the alter waiting for the proof”

“i can’t find a pulse/my heart won’t start anymore/for you”//“i stopped cpr. after all it’s no use/the spirit was gone. we would never come to”//“and my friends said it isn’t right to be scared/everyday of a love affair/every breath feels like rarest air/when your not sure if he wants to be there”

#kelly babels #so long london #ttpdminutes #song analysis #taylor swift #the tortured poets department

[fullscoreshenanigans]

I’m never going to be over Ray and Emma both having visions of Norman when they both desperately needed the comfort of his presence.

I could have gone with manga panels for both of these for uniformity, but yet again CloverWorks takes advantage of the medium shift to add such beautiful nuance to (hallucination!)Norman and Ray’s exchange in the S1 finale—Norman speaking to Ray so, so gently in both the English and Japanese dubs with his final remark featured here, Ray being so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the past hour already and now topped with seeing one of the two people who was most important to him reappear, after he thought he’d never see him again, that he nearly cries at his words. I can’t express how much I adore the way they handled this scene.

By turning out to be a hallucination/dream as opposed to a ghost, we’re shown Norman’s departed spirit isn’t actually guiding them as its own independent entity with an agenda in another incorporeal form, but instead how they both internalized his character and personality and, most importantly, how they wished to see him again that manifested his appearance (see this post for further differences between their perspectives of him on this particular night).

Ray has spent over half of his life utterly loathing himself for the choices he made in order to save Emma and Norman. So much so he built up a bravado around the act of his self-immolation for years, resulting in the manic fervor he displays when giving his speech to Emma in the few minutes before the clock strikes midnight on his officially listed birthday (this is also fueled by his fraught relationship with Isabella, but that’s for other posts). He not only believes he deserves to die for his actions and perceived inaction, but that he should do so in a violent, agonizing way.

Ray knows Norman, knows his sense of rigid morality well enough to account for him discovering his alliance with Isabella and using that to his advantage, to further push Norman away so he’ll be more comfortable with using him (he even chides Norman for not keeping his original plan to do this a secret) and so his death will hurt him and Emma less. And for roughly the entire back half of October 2045, Norman did genuinely hate Ray for his betrayal in the same way he hated Isabella, his reaction so visceral at being deceived and hurt by people he had loved all his life. He would have been willing to sacrifice Ray if not for intervention from Emma, which opened him up to directly confronting Ray and, in turn, led him to discover Ray’s true motives. He was so humbled and taken aback by the depths of Ray’s love and loyalty he returned to his original categorization of him: a dear friend who needed to be saved from his intended fate in their cruel world. Even if saving him came at the cost of his own life; even if he desperately wanted to live.

One could argue Ray hallucinating Norman up on the wall was to assuage his own guilt at being unable to save him as he originally planned (something that, on his darker days, I think Ray himself would believe), but I prefer to view it as the final marker of his truly internalizing one of the deepest desires in his heart that he had locked away for so long. After living under that oppressive reality of dehumanization and exploitation and believing that there was nothing else for him, that this was all there was, that things would never get better and after everything he did up to that point, he didn’t deserve better, on top of Isabella throwing him completely off balance by shipping Norman out early and just being this incredibly conflicting and painful presence in his life, to have his siblings come together for this escape plan and without putting it explicitly in words convey “you’re worth saving, Ray, and we love you,” and that they gave him hope back

(Chapter 36)

it fucks me up something fierce.

Emma’s hallucination of Norman is much more brief during this time.

No words are exchanged, but none are necessary.

(Chapter 31)

After two and a half months of grappling with the real, palpable grief she felt at his death, seeing him around every corner and hearing his voice, and sublimating it into her efforts to ensure the success of the escape, she’s able to find solace in her vision of him before the wall.

(Chapter 119)

It’s why she sheds no tears for him until their reunion nearly two years later.

(TPN Light Novel 1: A Letter from Norman - “The Day Emma Cried”; translated by @1000sunnygo​​)

But up until that point, she repeatedly draws strength and comfort from his memory.

Even before chapter 93, she’s unconsciously reaching for him in her fevered dreams.

(Chapter 45 Side Scene)

Him and Isabella, predominantly in black due to her belief they’re dead, and Ray and the rest of the escapees who she hopes are still alive, predominately in white.

(Chapter 50)

Though she had to compromise on their original plan by only bringing along those over five at its outset, she’s committed to their end goal. She was the spark that pushed them to strive for the ideal outcome instead of settling for the safest one that would be tinged in regrets, and he gave up everything to facilitate it.

(Chapter 53)

The three-panel overview of her thought process ends on her final handshake with Norman. It’s painful enough for this man to be insulting her living family, but when her thoughts drift to the boy who had given his life so they would have a chance to live freely, who came to believe in all those things the man was disparaging, it’s the final straw that breaks her silence. She won’t stand and let her family be disregarded so casually or let Norman’s memory be desecrated like that.

(Chapter 64)

She eventually brings him up to Yuugo in an attempt to connect with him over lost friends, and her framing of it is interesting because while viewing Norman as having agency in making his choice (as much as they can have under the circumstances in that he went willingly, which isn’t much, but from her perspective as a traumatized child), she states simply that she let him go. (Shoutout to the way SKATES delivers said line in the manga dub. Wonderfully heartbreaking. </3)

(Chapter 30)

After she and Ray both knew how much he wanted to see the world beyond their walled existence and live on with them.

So when we get to chapter 93 where she’s on the brink of death, having visions of all the suffering experienced on the grounds of Goldy Pond before finding refuge and strength in visions of her family, the one who catches he when she begins to sink is Norman.

Unlike with the hallucinations at the end of the escape arc that were meant to obfuscate his fate, at this point we as an audience know he’s alive at Lambda, so this is all coming from the perception of Norman Emma holds deep within her heart. Even from beyond, even if it meant being separated from her longer, she sees him guiding her out of the unknown, murky depths so she can continue fighting to actualize their plan. (To say nothing of the way she imagines him delicately intertwining their fingers upon reaching her as the way he catches her. The association with safety and gentleness is always present and yet another valued refuge in light of the violence she’s in the middle of.)

Minor tangent to end on, but it’s interesting to me how when Emma brings up Norman’s name among people she misses, during the only time they privately mention him, Ray takes a beat to gather himself before focusing on what’s still obtainable in this life.

(Chapter 55)

There’s zero chance she blames him for Norman’s shipment, but he’s still not ready to look her in the eye and delve into it where they could potentially draw attention from others when he considers it a failure to his two most precious people after years of meticulous planning.

(Chapter 65)

But Norman’s still in his thoughts too as he adamantly refuses to fail Emma again.

(Chapter 93)

Though he comes very close.

(Chapter 123)

And he’s the one to remind Emma of how special their bond is when she’s having doubts about voicing her disagreement with Norman’s plan.

#The Promised Neverland #Yakusoku no Neverland #TPN #Full Score Trio #TPN Emma #TPN Norman #TPN Ray #Norrayemma #Noremray #Norray #Noremma #Emma #Norman #Ray #TPN S1 #Goldy Pond Battle Arc #TPN 093 #Long Post #FSS Chatter #Escape Arc #TPN S1e11 #TPN S1e12 #Shirai can i give you $100 for a bonus scene of these two talking about how they both had visions of him #at some point during their search for the Seven Walls i refuse to believe it didn't happen B L S #also huh @ how the the two times the NE handshake is redrawn instead of copypasta'd like in Ch64 #Demizu making the correction of him going for a two-handed one if he's not holding his suitcase #reason no.55 they truncated S2: they knew people would've lost their shit at the NE dream sequence #thinking of all the little nuances they could've added to it in the way their eyes shown or their minute movements #with the ethereal and fantastical whimsy afforded by it being a dream and the gorgeous Obata track that would've accompanied it #they knew the world was not ready

[dc418writes]

A Home for the Holidays✨

✨Pairing✨: fighter!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Since he could remember, the holidays were never merry or bright for Curtis. That is until this year

⚠️: 18+ NO MINORS!, mentions of past childhood/domestic abuse, bit of angst, cursing (only 2 words), ends in fluff tho because it’s the Holidays💕 lol

A/N🎙️: timeline wise this takes place years before the events of “Where’s the Love?” Hope everyone enjoys! I’m gonna try to put out more holiday themed pieces that I’ve had ideas for, but then again we’ll see since I don’t have much free time 😬

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual/collage made by me, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of media used as they were all found via Pinterest and Tumblr*

Curtis was pleasantly surprised entering his bedroom to find his side of the bed occupied by you beautifully resting in his white tank. The one you usually slept in when you stayed the night

Presumably, you must’ve let yourself in whenever you were done with your family’s holiday festivities and he was still working the shipyard

Quietly - to not wake you -, he slides off his coat then work boots before discarding them in his closet. The rest of his clothes are shed in the adjoining bathroom before stepping into the lukewarm shower to wash the day’s work away

As soon as he gets his blanket over your body, you’re sleepily turning to face him with squinted eyes and then a tired smile. Curtis adoringly chuckles sweeping your wild curls from your face with his warm fingertips

“Thought I could wait for you.”

“S’alright. Go back to sleep,” he replies pulling you closer to kiss your forehead. You answer by placing a couple pecks under his bearded jaw before your even breaths signal you’ve fallen back asleep

Curtis’ rest isn’t as quick to come though, which isn’t a surprise. Working at all hours, throughout his life, it was fairly difficult sticking to a scheduled bedtime

However, having you here in his arms, he didn’t mind the restlessness tonight. Curtis took it as his limited moment of peace savoring your sweet scent as his fingers slowly glided along the span of your back. He stayed this way - occasionally leaving loving pecks to the top of your head - until the digital clock flashed midnight officially bringing Christmas Day

And with it, all the memories and trauma Curtis couldn’t seem to get away from

-

The monotonous, high pitched beep of the fire detector has Curtis jumping out of bed before he can even register what’s happening

His head a bit fuzzy and swimming from the fast movements so suddenly as he stops just outside the bedroom watching you stand on a chair trying to fan the smoke away from the detector

“You okay?”

“Yea,” you sigh letting him help you down - with arms wrapped around your legs - before he easily stretches up to remove the device from the wall permanently ending its annoying sound. “I was trying to make you toast in the oven, but then I got caught up prepping for dinner and burned it. I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Eyes now fully focused, he notices the eggs and strips of bacon waiting on a plate. A carton of orange juice on the counter beside it along with the cup he usually used

On the opposite counter behind you, a small roast along with potatoes, carrots, and cans of stewed tomatoes

“What’s all this?,” he softly asks. Clearly you stopped by the grocery store as well since he definitely didn’t have all these ingredients when he left yesterday

“Breakfast,” you smile nervously twisting the hem of his tank on your body around your finger. “My uh family usually makes a big one on Christmas Day and I wanted to do that with you…if you’re hungry that is.”

He’s silent for a few seconds with strong arms crossed on his equally built chest, which makes you even more nervous that maybe your surprise isn’t being well received

“They know you’re here?”

The gruff question catches you off guard causing a confused tilt to your head. “They know I’m not with them…” you slowly answer. “Why?”

“‘Cause I don’t need them knocking down my damn door trying to find you,” he retorts as if your presence is now a bother.

So much for that perfect Christmas morning you envisioned

“Sorry to intrude then.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You sure?,” you ask, with a quivering bottom lip, before brushing past him towards the bedroom. Curtis manages to grab your arm, but you pull free with the jerk of your shoulder.

As his tone rises calling you back, the voice leaving his mouth is no longer his but instead his father’s. With that same timbre of aggression and roughness used on him, his mother, and his younger brother.

In that moment he’s reverted to one of his earliest holiday memories. Him watching his two-year-old brother, Carter, in their shared bedroom while their parents argued in the adjoining living room. Well moreso his father.

A slight slur to his words - thanks to his trusty flask - he claimed the decorations were ridiculous and “a waste of the money they already didn’t have”.

His mother just brushed him off with a roll of her blue eyes so similar to Curtis’ and unfazed by the addition to her husband’s daily complaints. The older man didn’t take too kindly to such disrespect though.

Loud smacks turned into yelling and fussing then cries as his mother pleaded for him to stop.

“You mind your husband!,” he yelled - always needing to have the final word. Turning to walk away, his strong hand yanks down the string lights hanging on the wall along with the brightly lit tree making the plastic ornaments bounce and clatter on the floor. Meanwhile his mother sat crumbled on the shagged carpet with hands covering her probably already swollen face.

When his dark eyes locked with then four-year-old Curtis, rightfully filled with fear as he protectively held onto his baby brother, his father dared chuckle. Lightly shaking his head before walking out the front door going God knows where.

From then on, Christmas was cold inside just as much as the weather was outside. And it only seemed to get colder with each passing year.

Duffle bag on your shoulder, you finally exited the bedroom quickly wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks as you steadily walk towards the front door. All the while acting as if he wasn’t there when stepping past him. You’re nearly out the door with hand gripping the metal knob when the low rumble of his voice breaks the silence surrounding both of you.

“I don’t want you to go Dex.”

You hate how that nickname passing from his lips - and only his - instantly makes you soft. Your shoulders less tense and grip loosening until your arm drops to your side while you continue to look forward

“What happened between last night and this morning?”

A heavy, frustrated sigh leaves his lungs as he leans against the bar in front of the kitchen sink searching for his words

“You know I’m no good at this.”

“Try,” you respond turning to meet his sincere eyes containing a hint of sadness

That was always your response whenever your relationship came to a bump. Admittedly, usually caused by Curtis and his bad habit of pushing you away.

At times he hated when you said it, wondering why you didn’t just leave like the few who tried to be with him before. Instead, you challenged his resistance and wouldn’t back down unless necessary.

And deep down he appreciated it. You weren’t giving up on him, or your relationship, seeing something more in him than he could see in himself.

“Your parents don’t want you anywhere near me-,”

“And like I’ve said I don’t care what they want for me. This is my life to live and I wanna do that with you Curtis.”

“How can you truly say that? I mean look at you,” he begins, gesturing at everything you’ve done so far. “You’re waking up early trying to cook Christmas breakfast and dinner for me like some movie. Probably even have a gift for me somewhere when I can’t do this holiday shit. I never have.”

“I’m not solely with you because of your holiday cheer Curtis,” you reply stepping closer. “And what do you mean you can’t? Because you’re not rich? That doesn’t matter.”

“No, because..,” he pauses not wanting to explain any further, but with your concerned, brown eyes gazing into his the uncomfortable itch beneath his skin from such vulnerability begins to slowly disappear. He knew you loved him and bravely took all his baggage as if it were your own trying to help him through it.

You were proving that now, just as you’ve tried since you first got together.

“You’ve met my dad so you’ve seen how he can be. That was only a portion though. The first Christmas I can remember, he trashed all the decorations and tree before leaving my mom crying and bruised on the floor and me holding my little brother.”

“Holidays only got worse each year and after all this time part of me wonders…”

You toss your bag towards the wall before stepping in front of him to comfortingly place your hands on each bearded cheek. Just a small gesture showing he had your full attention. “Wonders what?,” you whisper.

“Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be for me,” he shrugs. “That the twisted part of me sharing his DNA only has so long until he’s showing his face.”

His confession has you close to tears as you immediately stretch up to place your lips on his. Your tender kiss warming him from the inside out while his arms wrap around your back pressing your body against his.

“For you to think about that, and be concerned, that shows you’ll be nothing like him Curtis. You think if I saw him in you I’d still be here?”

This makes a huff of a small chuckle leave his lips as he shakes his head and forehead falls to touch yours. Yes you were kind and the sweetest woman he’d ever met, but after watching you stand up to his father - not afraid in the slightest - he knew you’d go to hell and back for those you cared for.

It was also then he could feel himself fall even more for you.

“And no, that’s not how it’s ever supposed to be,” you add pecking his lips again. “I’m sorry he made you believe that.”

“Can’t pick our families can we?,” he simply replies in that nonchalant attitude he typically wore.

“Not our biological ones. But we have chosen families too.” This time it’s him capturing your lips with his and leaving little nips that make you giggle.

“I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t want you here. That’s not true.”

“I appreciate it, but I should’ve texted first. Might’ve saved us from all this,” you nervously laugh.

“Dex you never have to ask to come here, alright? I want this to be your place like it is mine.”

Looking up at the man in front of you, your eyes excitedly gleam and face brightens - reminiscent of a child opening a present - hearing those words. It tickles Curtis watching you immediately try to calm yourself and play it cool replying with a relaxed “okay” as you switch your focus to the pendant hanging just below the dip at the base of his neck that sat perfectly in your line of vision.

“Y-You mean it?,” you quietly ask carefully tracing the intricate lines with your fingernail. You sounded so delicate and fragile, making him squeeze you comfortably tighter while he kissed the top of your head.

“Of course. You’re all the family I have.”

Being there in his arms, you can’t help but contently sigh snuggling your face deeper in his chest. Your heart warm and full standing with the man you loved so dearly.

#curtis everett x woc!reader #curtis everett x black!reader #curtis everett au #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett #snowpiercer #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-it Friday

It is just past midnight where I reside, so that means its officially Friday. Normally I don't post till the sun is shining, but I am traveling today and visiting with family, so I won't have access to computer time till much much later.

Tagged by the always lovely @panbuckley, who posted a very steamy snippet. So I am going to continue this trend myself, or try to at least. Here is some very vague smut from NFL Buck.

Eddie is on the precipice of tipping over into orgasmic bliss, but a tight grip at the base of his cock, snaps him back. He cries out, "Buck please." Behind him with his own cock deep in Eddie's ass and lounging back on the dark blue sofa, Buck chuckles. Eddie feels the vibration of his delight more than he can hear it. "You didn't answer me." The younger man states. The hand not withholding Eddie's pleasure, hits the rewind button on a small black remote. The projected film in front of them reverses, pulling the figures of the players of the Chicago Bears and the Minnesota Vikings back to their pre-snap formations. "Two high safeties, 5 man rush, what should I call?" Buck repeats his earlier question with a swivel of his hips, grinding up against's Eddie's prostate. A whimper is pulled from him and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, relishing the stimulating euphoria mixed with the pain of being held at the edge. The warm plastic of the remote is dropped on his thigh and Eddie can't hold down a moan of appreciation as Buck grips his hair, yanking his head back. "I told you to keep your eyes open. Don't want to miss anything, now do we?" He growls in his ear, nipping at the cartilage. Fuck. Having his eyes on the footage of the Chicago Bears was the whole reason Eddie joined Buck in the first place. He liked to help his boyfriend with his studies, give advice, and his own opinion on what the defense is doing and how Evan should respond. The reward for doing so, usually came after pages of a notebook had been filled and several hours of film had been watched. But the first game of the Ram's season with their new shiny quarterback was just days away and Buck was a ball of nervous energy. Working out did little to take the edge off. Video games with Christopher (and losing horribly) just added to the problem. Not even a pep talk from his personal trainer Owen Strand could help. So Buck turned to film hoping that being over prepared would ease his mind just a little. Eddie ventured into the screening room wanting to give him some relief and Evan immediately showed him how he could. A sloppy blowjob lead to Eddie's first orgasm. A seat in Buck's lap, his chest pressed tight against Eddie's back, and stretched tight around Buck's cock, has Eddie on the edge of another. He just needed to focus. Give Buck a play to beat the scheme. He needed to open his eyes and see past his pleasure. Just for a moment and then Eddie can finally fall into the inferno, with Buck just behind him. The sharp trill of Eddie's phone breaks his focus and has his eyes opening for all the wrong reasons.

Never really written man on man smut before, so I hope I'm doing something sort of right? Idk. I just wanted to put the fuck in fuck-it friday lol. But this is a scene I've had in my notes for awhile for this fic. Hope you all enjoyed!

If you want to see more NFL Buck just search under the tag nfl on my page.

Tagging (no pressure): @prince-buck-diaz @thekristen999 @thewolvesof1998 @hippolotamus @monsterrae1 @bekkachaos @911onabc @911-on-abc @alyxmastershipper @brokenribsdiaz @cowboydiazes @cowboy-buddie @lizzybizzyzzz @glorious-spoon @oliverstaark @cowboy-buck @starlingbite @housewifebuck @devirnis @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @forthewolves @transbuck @wikiangela @rogerzsteven @bigfootsmom @try-set-me-on-fire @homerforsure @sibylsleaves @shortsighted-owl @spaceprincessem @heartbeatdiaz @barbiediaz @princessfbi

#fuck it friday #tag game #my wip #911 show #911 fox #911 abc #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #nfl #quarterback buck #firefighter eddie #secret relationship #film study #smut #maybe not great smut #i tried #the fuck in fuck it friday truly

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer - Part 7

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 11k (you guys i'm sorry i tried)

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence/death (get Vecna'd), some angst, some fluff

A.N.: Babysitter!reader part seven! The shit has officially hit the fan ...

You silt bolt up in bed from a dead sleep, screaming and shattering the quiet calm of the morning. 

“Eddie!” you cry out, but there is no one is there to hear you.

The sound of your own voice bounces off the walls of your apartment and echoes back to you, and you sit trembling with residual fear as you do all you can to come back to yourself … It was only a dream. A terrible, terrible dream. 

You had only managed a few hours of sleep in the first place, caught in the quagmire of the dreaded closing shift made that much worse by the Hawkins Intramural Boys Basketball team — now apparent state champions — descending upon the diner to celebrate their victory.

They’d trashed the place, and it had taken you the better part of two hours to get the diner anywhere clean enough to call it a day. To his credit, Lucas Sinclair (ever the sweetheart) had begged you to let him stay and help you clean, but considering the fact that he could barely stand for how drunk he was, you’d sent him away with the rest of the Tigers and promised not to tell his mother. 

It was well past midnight by the time you got home. You hadn’t managed to do more than get out of your shoes before you’d slipped into the vice of Morpheus’s grasp, and you were dreaming by the time your head hit the pillow. 

And then your mind swam with visions of Eddie.

You still dream about him most nights in one way or another, and you imagine you will more than likely continue to do so for years to come if not for the rest of your life, but this had been a nightmare, and it had felt so real.

Something terrible had happened, not to him, but with enough proximity to put him in danger, and there was nothing you could do to save him.

I can’t save him.

Of course, as you eventually come back down, you try to rationalize the feeling by telling yourself that it’s not your job to save him, considering how he’d broken your heart, but it is an intrinsic instinct that has proven very hard to unlearn, putting yourself between Eddie and any sort of threat. 

It’s only natural to want to protect the ones you love, and you do still love him, as much as you hate to admit.

It only sends you into a downward spiral of guilt and anger and all the other nasty little emotions you don’t have the presence of mind to dredge up on some random morning in April, running on maybe three hours of sleep and already late for your next shift.

Spring Break, your mind informs you rather unhelpfully. It’s Spring Break. 

Adrenaline has made you dreadfully nauseous, and you breathe a shaky sigh as you press your hands into your eyes until you see colors. 

You suddenly have to work very hard to ignore the terrible sensation it dredges up as your dream fights to make its way to the front of your mind again. 

Lights winking on and off with enough gusto to be seizure-inducing, illuminating the scene of eyes wrenching back from their sockets and limbs twisting up unnaturally, snapping out of place… 

You’re fine, it’s fine, everything is fine… just breathe. 

Somehow you can’t quite convince yourself it’s true.

It is hard to feel anywhere even remotely in the realm of fine when you wake with the sudden and desperate screaming notion to run! 

The feeling only persists as you rise from your bed and try to go about your morning, jumping at every slightest sound.

Run! Your brain tells you, and you have no idea where it is you ought to be running to, except maybe the Forest Hills trailer park, as your irrational mind tells you that you won’t be fine until you know Eddie is fine, and you’re not about to go banging down the door of the Munson trailer just because you had a bad dream. 

That would be wildly embarrassing, even for you. 

It takes you the better part of an hour to banish the residual fear of your dream, showering away the sweat that has dried tacky on your skin, wolfing down a quick breakfast, getting dressed and ready for the day in your scratchy grease-stained work uniform, all the while trying to deafen yourself to the ubiquitous echoes of cracking bones, silently willing yourself to calm down, calm down, calm down. 

It isn’t working.

Even outside the realm of your dreams, you can’t stop thinking about Eddie. Though perhaps more importantly you can’t stop thinking about the fact that it’s spring break, which means it’s been nearly a year since you’d last seen him.

You’re having a very hard time trying to suppress the nagging feeling that wherever he is, Eddie needs you and you’re borderline obsessing over the thought that if you don’t find him, something very bad is going to happen. 

Of course, that line of thinking puts you in a rather awkward position, because you’re still not quite sure you’re physically capable of handling the concept of seeing Eddie again. This is made all the more evident considering the way you’d thrown your telephone across the room like it had jumped up and tried to bite you after having inadvertently found yourself on the phone with him last month. 

It leaves you feeling hopelessly stuck, so to try and distract yourself from the crushing sense of impending doom, you indulge yourself in a little self-harm, recalling how last year you had planned to spend Spring Break road-tripping...

 It took the two of you weeks to plan the trip, mapping out the route, everywhere you would camp, all the roadside attractions you would hit, budgeting your pooled money down to the penny. You would be flat broke by the time you got home, but you had convinced yourselves it would be worth it. 

It was never meant to be.

Beyond the fact that the heavens had decided to open up and dump what you assumed must have been all the rain for the rest of the entire year in one weeklong downpour, the van’s transmission went out the day before you were meant to leave, stranding Eddie and the band on the highway halfway between Hawkins and the next town over, as is always the way. 

So you drove an hour and a half through the torrential downpour to go and rescue him at the random interstate pay phone he'd called you from. He slid into your passenger seat, soaking wet and positively fuming, ranting and raving about the piece of shit van and his stupid friends and the whole goddamn situation as you went and collected the rest of the band, left to sit huddled in the relative warm but most importantly dry van.

Then, with Gareth, Jeff, and Adam crammed like Sardines into the back of your little Toyota, the heater cranked up and the stereo turned down, you’d all sat shivering in relative silence as you followed the tow truck back to Hawkins, taking with it the van and all the money you’d saved for your trip. 

The guys pooled their money to cover the tow, as they came to figure was only fair (with a little prompting from you). The repairs themselves came out to cost a whopping twelve hundred and sixty-seven dollars and thirty-nine cents, quite conveniently the exact amount of money you and Eddie had saved between the two of you, though that price only came to be after the mechanic overheard your hushed conversation about what you could afford — don’t you hate it when that happens? 

So, road-tripping dreams dashed to oblivion, you’d spent Spring Break sitting on Eddie’s couch. You’d assigned yourself the role of his sick nurse, making sure the cold he’d caught while waiting for you in the rain didn’t develop into pneumonia, all the while tirelessly assuring him it was fine that you didn’t get to go, that there was nothing to be sorry about, the road and all its attractions would still be there next year, and no he absolutely was not allowed to pay you back.

“Consider it back-pay for all the gas money I owe you.” You’d told him, brushing his hair back from his clammy forehead as he lay pressed into your side, coughing and sneezing miserably.

 All things considered, it hadn’t been too terrible a way to spend a week off from your last year of school, building a massive blanket fort in the living room in which to marathon movies, play board games, eat your weight in snacks, and fool around once Eddie felt a little better. 

(Funny how he always seemed to be miraculously healed of whatever ailment held him in its clutches at death’s door when sex was on the table.)

It was one last hurrah of adolescent fun, stretching the Endless Summer just a little further before having to face graduation and the impending threshold of adulthood… well, at least for one of you. 

It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since all that. One quick turn around the sun and suddenly it’s Spring Break, and Eddie needs rescuing again – or so insists your subconscious.    

You should go see him, a tiny nagging voice inside of you presses, You should go check on him.

“No, thank you,” you tell the stupid little voice as you snatch up your keys and head out the door of your apartment. 

You’ve got to go to work, and somehow getting verbally abused by the patrons of your shitty waitress job is so much more appealing than the thought of trying to make awkward small talk with Eddie after eight months of nothing. 

You can’t imagine he’d be pleased to see you, considering it all.

You can only just picture yourself standing at the bottom of the steps, trying your best not to look at him while wringing your hands and struggling to explain that you’re standing on his doorstep because of a feeling.

Boy howdy, doesn’t that just sound like the best time a girl could possibly have? 

Still, it feels a little too much like denial, deluding yourself into assuming he’s fine just because you don’t want to go see him. It does nothing to settle your nerves, and by the time you get to work, you’re just about ready to puke for how your insides have twisted themselves into a Gordian knot. 

You bid an absent hello to your co-worker and skirt around the back of the counter to stash your things, ignoring the way she berates you for how she had to finish cleaning up what you had left undone the night before.

She doesn’t like you much anymore since you’d had to tell her you wouldn’t be watching her demonic children, and she is not shy about making it known. 

Normally you would have said something to try and defend yourself, told her to blame the Hawkins Tigers, but you are understandably too preoccupied to consider doing so. 

Maybe Wayne can check on Eddie for you…

“Stop it.” You hiss at no one in particular, biting the inside of your cheek and reminding yourself for the hundredth time in the last half hour that Eddie is still a jerk and that you and Wayne have made a silent agreement not to talk about him.

 It was a very complicated way of simplifying the weird patchwork friendship you’d built up with the elder Munson in the ashes of your relationship with his nephew, but that is how you preferred it remains. 

You are not going to ruin your streak of very successfully avoiding the topic of Eddie by asking Wayne about him just because you had a bad dream. 

A really, really, really bad dream.

Of course, it’s a highly plausible scenario considering Wayne is due in today for your weekly session of catch-up. You could very easily get an indirect report on Eddie’s wellbeing if you really wanted to, but you banish the thought before it can fully form. 

You know if you ask, Wayne is just going to tell you to go see him, and you are not going to go see him. 

You tie your apron tight enough to dig uncomfortably into your sides and clock in and try every mental exercise you can think of to try to stop the constant loop of Eddie Eddie Eddie passing through your brain like a weather report scrolling along the bottom of the television screen during the morning news. 

It is unbearably slow at the diner, just like it is every day, though today there is a patent strangeness to how particularly empty the dining room is. Benny’s has never gotten much traffic to begin with, not even when Benny himself was around, but even the morning regulars seem to be missing today.

It’s wholly bizarre and does nothing to quash your nervous feeling, particularly as the first hour of your shift comes and goes without a single customer.

“Kinda slow, huh?” You hum, hoping a little conversation might aid in distracting you. 

Your coworker stands leaning against the counter, filing her lacquered nails. She gives you an uninterested look. 

“There’s some kinda commotion going on at the trailer park.” She says flatly, “Folks probably all went down to see what’s what. They’ll be here soon enough, don't you worry your pretty little head.” 

You ignore the biting sarcasm dripping from her tone and swallow hard to banish the spike of anxiety that grips your stomach and forces a knot up into your throat. 

Trouble at the trailer park. 

Oh no.

You struggle to keep your voice steady as you speak, almost too afraid to ask yet unable to keep your mouth shut. 

“What kind of commotion?” 

Your coworker shrugs, not bothering to look up from her filing as she answers you. 

“Who knows.” She huffs, and before she can elaborate, the cook, who also happens to be your boss, pipes up from the kitchen.

“Some girl got killed or somethin’,” he calls, and you feel the blood drain from your face.

You dig your nails into your palms to try and ground yourself as you are struck with the hideous feeling of deja-vu. 

Your coworker is apparently less affected by the information. She heaves an angry sigh and throws her hands down, chunky plastic bracelets clacking loudly and sounding much too similar to snapping bones for your liking as she does.

“Now, how in the hell could you possibly know that, Earl?” 

“I got my sources, anyways, I seen them cop cars go roarin’ down the street. They only haul ass like that when there’s a body. Like when they found that Byers kid down in the quarry.” 

You suppress a shudder as once again your dream rushes to the front of your mind. You retreat from it, electing instead to hide in the memory of the night they’d thought they found Will —

—you’d been with Eddie. It was one of the first times you’d really hung out together, not a date, just one on one time in the earliest stages of whatever it was going on between you. More than a friendship, not quite a relationship, back when all you knew was that he was so strangely different than all your friends had warned you, and you had a ridiculous crush on him that you’d hoped beyond hope was mutual.

You’d seen that exact procession of cop cars go whipping past you on the road, and Eddie – who had just been very glad he wasn’t being pulled over – made a flippant comment along the lines of “guess they found that missing kid,”

He hadn’t meant anything by it, and he’d been very chagrined when you called him up later that night after learning they had in fact found Will. You couldn’t have expressly explained why you called Eddie that night, except that your parents weren’t home, it didn’t feel appropriate to be at the Henderson’s right then, and in the mire of your reeling mind, your empty house was suddenly terribly frightening. 

You suppose you called Eddie because he made you feel safe. 

“Do you want me to come over?” He’d asked, quickly and quietly, and when you sheepishly asked if you could go over to his place instead, he’d agreed to come and get you without a moment's hesitation — you could hear his keys in hand before he even hung up, promising to be there in five minutes.

That was how you’d found yourself sitting on your front steps, shivering in your pajamas while you waited for him, making the excuse that it would be easier to lie about where you’d been rather than try to explain what a random boy was doing in your house if your parents happened to come home.

 Of course, that line of thinking suggested that anyone could have stepped in to comfort you that night, and that was just patently untrue.

Even then, you only wanted Eddie, pulling up to your house and driving you back across town to spend the night glued to his side, lying in his bed, whispering back and forth conspiratorially like kids having a sleepover, like you’d known each other for years and were privy to the deepest secrets of each other’s hearts.

You were barely even friends, and yet somehow you knew, from flipping through the yellow pages to find his number to drifting off to the hushed sounds of his voice while he read aloud the first few chapters of some fantasy novel, you would never want anyone else but him.

You are vaguely aware of how you’ve been subtly pinching yourself to try not to think about how, if you were really honest with yourself, that had been the night you’d fallen in love with Eddie — it only makes your chest ache with anxiety as you remember the crushing sense of danger from your dream like suddenly the whole world is bearing down on him. 

I have to find him… 

It is an intrusive thought, new and terrifying as the notion of needing to find Eddie indicates that somehow he is missing. It is enough to move you to panic.

Behind you, your coworkers continue to bicker, but you don’t hear them. You’ve moved to stare out the window, at your car sitting lonely in the lot, watching for any kind of traffic, any sign of things to come … any sign of Eddie… 

The trailer park is not far from here, maybe half a mile at the most, and you rationalize that you could feasibly make the distance in less than five minutes if you ran.

You aren’t sure why your brain decided to deliver that information to you, only that if you were the religious type, you would have been praying to whoever might be listening that whatever trouble is happening down at the trailer park has nothing to do with Eddie. 

I have to find Eddie. Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie—

And then, like a part of your brain has clicked off, suddenly all you know is action. 

Somewhere in the very far distance, you think you can hear your boss calling your name, but you don’t hear him, not really. You don’t hear anything but the skipping record of your mind moving you.

You don’t think, you just go.

Out the door and practically sprinting, the hoarse shouting voice of your boss falls on deaf ears as you skirt right past your car and disappear into the woods.

You don’t care about your pride or your hurt feelings, or whether or not Eddie will be happy to see you, all of that nonsense is the furthest thing from your mind as you run. You’ve got to see him, you’ve got to find him, no matter what.

If there are cops at the trailer park, they’re going to be blocking the road, so you convince yourself that you can avoid them by going through the woods, exiting the treeline and making a break for Eddie’s bedroom window. 

Twigs snag the skirt of your dress as you move through the thicket at a pace, the crunching of leaves and detritus is thunderous under your sneakers as you go.

It is only a matter of minutes before you emerge from the first line of trees, flying across the backroad without a second thought for traffic and pushing through the last stretch of the woods until finally, the trailer park opens up before you. 

You pause a moment to catch your breath, doubled over resting on your knees and listening for a hint at whatever lies ahead. 

It’s eerily still, despite how beneath the gentle flapping of laundry on the line and the hum of generators, you can hear the buzz of movement, voices speaking, and crackling radios much closer than you’d accounted for.

You’d never been much for trouble before you met Eddie. Your experience with the Hawkins police begins and ends with distracting them so that he could slip away undetected, and it occurs to you perhaps too late that this could very easily end with you being arrested, which would be at best very inconvenient and at worst?

Your parents don't live in Hawkins anymore, so who would be there to bail you out if that happened? Claudia Henderson? Wayne? How would you make sure Eddie is okay if you’re sitting in a jail cell?   

Still, you can’t let your wariness of trouble stop you now, not after you’ve already come most of the way. 

You would always rather come running to Eddie’s rescue when he doesn’t need you than risk not being there when he does, and it is enough to refill the well of your courage. 

You bite back the same urge to run you’d felt that morning when you woke up and stay low.

Despite having not set foot on these grounds for the better part of a year, you retrace the path through the park with patent expertise, like no time has passed at all. Then again, nothing ever changes down here, and you are sure you could find your way to the Munson trailer in the dark with your eyes closed if you had to, and suddenly there you are.  

The police are there as well, much to your dismay, right on the other side of the trailer, milling about the circular drive at the center of the park, talking amongst themselves and into their radios. 

You know you’ve only got a very brief window of opportunity to slip inside unnoticed, and your heart is hammering in your chest as you rap your knuckles on the glass as sharply as you dare.

The only person you need to hear you is Eddie, though of course that would only be possible if he happens to be in his room, which you’re willing to wager he isn’t, especially with a heavy police presence right on his front step.

If he isn’t the cause of the trouble, you can be damn sure he’s standing on the porch, watching the trouble unfold.

He’s nosy like that.

Disappointingly, your knocking garners no response.

You swallow hard and push up on your toes to grip the windowpane, tugging on it. It takes a few tries before it finally slides open with more than a little resistance. 

You bite your lip against its harsh sound, metal scraping on metal, and quickly brace yourself on the pane to hoist yourself up and over before anyone can investigate and find you there.

Your world briefly goes topsy-turvy as you tumble forward into the room and land with a hard grunt and muffled utterance of “ow – fuck”, sending tapes and other knickknacks tumbling to the ground around you.

In days past when you’d done this exact thing, you would have had the benefit of the bed to break your fall, but of course, in those days you were just as likely to land on top of Eddie as an empty mattress.

As much as he liked it when you snuck over like that, he was not partial to being kicked in the head, and you’d both decided that it was better to knock over a side table and make a mess than it was to risk giving him a concussion, so you’d made the executive decision to move the bed into the position where it rests today, sans Eddie. 

You have to sit for a moment to catch your breath, because beyond the sprinting and the acrobatics you’d just engaged in, it’s been eight months of nothing but memories, and suddenly you’re in his room. 

You hadn’t accounted for how that was going to affect you — strangely it’s like no time has passed. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust against the relative dark, but it’s easy to see that the room remains unchanged since last you were here, all metal posters and discarded clothes and papers, the two guitars, the amps, the unmade bed.

It smells like weed and tobacco and dirty laundry and the pervasive undertone of something that is so wholly Eddie that you suddenly forget why you are here, sitting where you landed beneath the window. 

You look around the room, surveying the familiar mess, and, unable to help yourself, you reach out and pull a t-shirt from the overstuffed dresser drawer, sitting ajar where it had been forced unsuccessfully back into place.

You hug it to your chest and repeat one of Eddie’s five stupid jokes to yourself. 

“When is a drawer not a drawer?” He would have said, grinning ear to ear like he was about to blow your mind with the oldest joke in the book. 

“When it’s ajar…”

You can’t help the disappointment that lances through your midsection not to have found him there, because as much as you try to convince yourself that it doesn’t expressly mean something terrible has happened to him, part of you had hoped it would be that easy.

You turn the shirt over in your hands and trace the faded script spelling out the name of the band you can barely make out – you think at one point in time it must have said “Misfits” – and without really thinking, you bury your face in the fabric, breathing deep and flooding your senses with him.

 Once again, all you can think is Eddie Eddie Eddie, and before you know it you’re drunk on his smell, familiar as childhood and tugging at your heart. Like being wrapped in a security blanket, you feel a strange sense of calm wash over you, not daring to promise that anything will be okay so much as assuring you that you are on the right track.

You heave a sigh and slump back against the wall, kicking your leg out – your foot collides with something.

There is the corner of a box peeking out from beneath the bed.

Were you in your right mind, you might have thought twice about investigating, considering you know all too well what kinds of things teen boys keep stashed under their beds, what Eddie has had under his bed in days past, but you recognize your own handwriting scribbled across the side of the box and very suddenly you’ve surged forward to pull the box free before you even realize you’d moved. 

It’s all pictures, posters, polaroids, band-tees, memories, and other things you don’t expressly remember packing into that box back in late August.

It’s everything that had been Eddie in your life with the addition of everything that had been you in his, carefully tucked away, miraculously still here — not trashed or burned or even remotely destroyed.

Preserved.

You marvel as you pluck at a long polaroid strip of photos with the Starcourt Mall logo splashed across the top and fail to stifle the water laugh that bubbles up from somewhere inside you.

You turn it over in your trembling hands and see the two ticket stubs for Teen Wolf stapled to the top.

You don’t remember a moment of the movie, but you vividly remember the day, sliding into the booth to take photos, laughing and playing, and pulling at each other while the camera flashed away. 

It’s Eddie giving you bunny ears and you sticking your tongue out, followed by Eddie pretending to bite your face while you laughed, followed by Eddie kissing you, and you kissing Eddie, and Eddie kissing you… 

It’s just a little bit too much, suddenly having photographic evidence of the things you had almost convinced yourself had never actually happened after almost a year of wallowing in self-pity and denial and anger and everything in between. 

It makes you feel a little crazy.

You’re just about ready to come apart at the seams when you hear sounds coming from the front room, the screen door swinging open, heavy footsteps thumping across the floor. 

And of course, because you aren’t in your right mind, you make a leap in logic and ignore your better judgment as you decide who you think it is that just walked through the door. 

“Eddie—” you gasp.

You shove the box haphazardly back beneath the bed and scramble to your feet, absently stuffing the photo reel into your apron pocket as you crawl over the bed and throw open the door.

You fly into the living room without a second thought about who or what you are going to find there.

You are woefully unprepared.

Eddie is not there, only a handful of police officers who you have just given what might have perhaps been the worst scare of their lives had it not been for the mutilated, twisted body of what you think must have very recently been a girl, lying on the floor in front of the open door. 

You stagger and stop and freeze, unable to tear your eyes away as you immediately come to recognize her, despite her ruined state.

Red blonde ponytail tied with a green scrunchie, half wrenched out of place, heavy blue eyeshadow stained and shadowed where her lids droop down into empty eye sockets, ever so slightly crooked front teeth on display where her mouth hangs open in a silent scream. 

It's Chrissy Cunningham.

The police react to you with appropriate alarm, considering the way you’d come hurdling out of the back room and the blood-curdling scream that wrenches itself from the depths of your core, like you were some kind of banshee.

The sound tears itself from your lungs without your consent, but you don’t think you could have stopped yourself from screaming at that moment if your life depended on it.

Suddenly you can see it so clearly — the flashing lights illuminating Chrissy’s body as it rises from the ground, trancelike and trembling, her limbs twisting themselves unnaturally, snapping and cracking before her eyes wrenched themselves back into the depths of her skull. 

This is what you’d dreamt — your nightmare.

Chrissy is dead and Eddie is missing. 

+++

Dustin sits perched on the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the television. He barely hears what the reporter is saying for how loudly the blood is pounding in his ears.

There is a cold lump in his stomach.

Beside him, his mother sniffles as the anchorwoman drones on about another dead girl, and he knows what she’s going to say — it’s too much for her poor nerves, she can’t take it. 

He can’t help the way his mind strays to the terrible possibilities of the moment, what could have happened, who it could be laying dead in the Forest Hills trailer park. 

Dustin fights the urge to look out the front window, to the house across the street where you don’t live anymore. In days past he would have run across the street and pounded on your door, just to make sure you were home safe and not dead on the other end of town, but he tells himself that he’s just being paranoid.

He can almost hear you telling him not to worry about you, but how can he not worry about you when he’s made it his full-time job? 

Dustin sits and silently works out the logistics of what going to check on you would look like and very quickly decides there is no cool or casual way to go about doing that.

He’d have to haul ass all the way into town to your apartment, and even if he did there was no guarantee he’d even find you there.

He tells himself there’s no way he’s going to go check on you just because he saw something on the news. 

You're probably at work anyway — he glances reflexively at the clock on the wall — ten-thirty on a Saturday morning? Yeah, you're definitely at work.

Still, he can’t help but imagine the scenario in which he did, how touched you would be if he came riding in like a knight in shining armor. 

He imagines you smiling big and broad, brows turned up with emotion, and clasping your hands together.

“Oh, Dustin,” you would say, “You came all this way for me? You didn't have to do that, you could have just called—”

He should just call you.

Dustin leaps up from his seat, thoroughly startling his mother as he runs for the phone.

“Dusty what on earth?!” She cries, twisting around to try and see what has put a fire under his ass, “Where are you going?” 

He’s already punching in the last digits of your number as he answers.

“I gotta make a call!”

The phone rings and rings and rings. He stands and listens to the droning sound with mounting anxiety, holding his breath as he waits to see if you will answer.

He hopes beyond hope that you’re just at work, that nothing has gone terribly wrong – they said it was a high school student, but nobody ever accused the Hawkins local news of being accurate when it came to the facts. 

Disappointingly, the phone clicks over to play the message on your answering machine. Your sweet voice rings through the receiver to vibrate against Dustin’s ear, telling him to leave a message after the tone, and he heaves a dejected sigh, when…

BANG BANG BANG

Dustin’s head snaps around as suddenly there is a thunderous pounding at his front door. He slams the phone into the box hard enough to make it chime and flies across the room. 

“I’ll get it I'll get it I'll get it!” He says in a rush, fingers closing on the doorknob before his mother can even think to get up.

He wrenches the door open, half expecting to find you there, and can’t deny how summarily disappointed he is to see Max standing there, looking particularly out of breath.

Her face is flushed, eyes wide, chest and shoulders heaving as she openly pants like she’d just run a great distance.

Rode her bike was more likely the case, Dustin surmises as he glances over her shoulder to see where her bike lays on the lawn, wheels still spinning, clearly having just been thrown down.

He hardly has the opportunity to wonder what’s got her so excited before she's pushing past him to force herself inside

“I need to talk to you,” she says, stalking down the hall toward Dustin's bedroom at a pace.

He follows her, having to jog to keep up, then shuts the door, and listens as Max tells him everything — about Chrissy, about Eddie, about what she’d seen and heard last night and this morning.

It paints a terrible picture, and it horrifies Dustin to hear what Max is suggesting, but he can’t help the wave of relief that floods his body to hear the dead girl isn’t you.

He knows he ought to feel bad about it, but all he can think is Thank God it’s not you – that’s when the confusion sets in.

“Chrissy?”

“Yes.” 

“Chrissy Cunningham...”

“Yes.” 

He folds his arms over his chest and tries to make sense of it, because Chrissy and Eddie? 

“...Are you sure?”

Max furrows her brow and gives him a much more intense version of the same look you would have given him when you thought he was condescending or being sexist or a male chauvinist or whatever you would have called it.

On you it would have been mere admonishment, on Max, it warns him that he is very close to getting punched, so Dustin backs off. 

Still though, the arguable Princess of Hawkins High and the Freak? It doesn’t make sense outside of some kind of cliche Hollywood romance, not in real life though.

He can’t get his head around it. Dustin doesn’t think he’s ever even seen them in the same room – then he remembers. 

He has seen them together. Thursday afternoon. Fifth period.

He’d been on his way back from the bathroom and stopped to get a drink at the water fountain to kill a little bit more time when hushed voices drew his attention.

That’s when Dustin saw them standing together at the far end of the hall.

Eddie and Chrissy.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see Chrissy smiling shyly, and he’d been very confused not to see Eddie’s typical manic energy – it’s like he was calm, for once in his life.

If he had to describe it, Dustin would almost say that he thought they were flirting, but that can't be right... because Chrissy Cunningham? And Eddie Munson? How does that math add up?

It had been one of the stranger things Dustin had witnessed in the past few weeks, and he’d fully meant to ask Eddie about it, but with how vicious he’d been over the potentiality of postponing the Cult of Vecna, Dustin had completely forgotten it.

And now Chrissy is dead. 

And Eddie is missing.

His stomach is in knots at the thought. Like the weight of the world is suddenly bearing down on his shoulders, he sinks onto his bed.

He thinks back to the news report, to the trailer sitting in the distance behind the anchorwoman – was that Eddie’s place?

Dustin can’t remember, he’s only been there a handful of times, always in the dark, and he’d never thought to pay much attention to what the facade of the trailer looked like… it could have been Eddie’s place, but it could also have been any number of nearly identical trailers in the park.

Still, he can't shake the sick feeling that is settling in his abdomen.

Christ. Was it Eddie’s though? 

Dustin shakes his head to stop that line of thinking before it can really get going. He can’t go there, he can’t afford to let that seed of doubt plant itself in his mind.  

Everyone is going to blame him, because of course they are – there’s a dead girl in the trailer park and he’s Eddie Munson, the town Freak. 

Dustin can suddenly hear Eddie’s words in his mind, see the persecuted look he’d had on his face that day at the campus phone – I guess that’s enough in this town, huh? 

He has to do something, he has to try and help him. 

“He didn’t do it,” Dustin says immediately. 

Max scoffs.

“We don’t know that…”

It leaves him reeling and suddenly Dustin cannot believe the words coming out of his friend’s mouth. Sure, he supposes Max doesn’t know Eddie like he does, all she has to go on is the facade he puts up, that first day he’d approached them in the lunchroom way back in November.

Even so, he’d never in a million years think she’d just assume he was guilty along with everyone else.

Max should have known better than that. 

"Don't say that!" Dustin gasps.

"Well — we don't."

He’s fully aware of how he is gawping at her, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. It makes her uncomfortable and suddenly Max is fidgeting.

She makes a show of throwing up her hands, shrugging her shoulders.

“Dustin… come on,” She says, “I saw him–”

It’s his turn to cut her off then.

“No, you come on. Come on! You don’t know what you saw!” Dustin surprises himself by snapping.

Max’s eyes widen and she recoils, and he immediately begins to backpedal

“...Look, I know you don’t think much of him, but Eddie is –” He sighs, “When we got to school? He was the only one who was nice to us. He’s the only one who gives a shit about losers like me and Mike. Now he’s in trouble and you want to just let that go because you think you saw something? No way. We can’t just sit back and let this happen. They’re gonna tear him apart, we have to do something.”

For a long moment, nobody says anything.

Max rolls her eyes, but to her credit, she is clearly chagrined enough to hang her head in a way that could almost be construed as sheepish. 

Regardless of what she decides to do, Dustin knows he has to save Eddie, find a way to clear his name, he just doesn’t precisely know how to do that — and then something tiny in the back of his mind pipes up with your name. 

Maybe you will know what to do.

It’s like a lightbulb clicking on, and Dustin leaps up from his bed.

“Holy shit.” He says.

"What?"

He's beaming at Max when he answers.

"Lady Midnight!"

The reference goes right over her head and she stares back at him, uncomprehending. She doesn't play D&D with them, she doesn't know, but Dustin does, and more importantly, you would know.

“What – hey!” Max has to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled as Dustin goes tearing down the hall to the phone.

“Holy shit holy shit!” 

Of course, you'll know what to do, you're the purveyor of secrets and forbidden knowledge. You always had creative solutions to seemingly impossible problems.

You'll help them find Eddie, or at least help them approach the situation from a new angle with a fresh set of eyes.

"Dustin, where are you going?" Max calls, her voice lilting with annoyance as she follows him back down the hall.

He doesn’t answer. He’s already halfway through dialing your number again before he remembers that you aren’t home, and he hangs up with an aggravated growl.

More frustrating, he doesn’t know the number for Benny’s off the top of his head.

Adrenaline surges through his body.

“Mom, where are the yellow pages?” He shouts.

His mother, still glued to the television, twists around and gives him a funny look, then her face brightens as she regards Max, like she hadn’t even realized she was there.

“What– oh, hello Max.” She says wetly. 

Max shuffles on her feet and gives an awkward wave, and Dustin makes a harsh sound of annoyance.

They don’t have time for this. 

“Mom! The yellow pages!”

His mother furrows her brow and immediately gets huffy with him.

“Don’t shout, Dusty! They’re right there in the kitchen drawer, for goodness sake!”

Dustin rounds the corner of the kitchen island and rips the drawer open with enough force to tear it off its slide.

Pens, paperclips, rubber bands, and other pieces of clutter go scattering across the linoleum along with the yellow tome listing every registered number in Roane county.

Dustin drops to his knees and begins flipping through the pages like a man possessed while Max stands looking on in a mix of horror and confusion like she is witnessing him have a complete and total breakdown. 

“Who could you possibly be calling?” She demands.

Dustin looks up at her and says your name incredulously like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It does nothing but deepen the confusion spread across Max’s face, so Dustin goes on to explain.

“She’s probably already at work, so I need to number for Benny’s–”

Max shakes her head.

“She's not there.”

“Well I already tried her at home, and she didn’t answer–”

“No, Dustin, you don’t understand.” Max insists, “I just saw her, she’s at Eddie’s.”

The gravity of her tone is jarring and Dustin immediately forgets the phonebook as he looks up at Max. Suddenly his mind is spinning at Mach-five trying to process all the information that has been fed into it in the last two minutes.

“...What?” He splutters.

First Eddie and Chrissy, somehow together, now you, apparently at the trailer park, at Eddie's place where by all accounts he should be and you should not? Where Chrissy is dead? He can't make heads or tails of it.

“What’s she doing there?”

Max hesitates and bites her lip like she’s not entirely sure she ought to say – Dustin has to prompt her to get her to finally spit it out, and when she does, he feels like he’s going to faint.   

“Honestly? I’m pretty sure she was getting arrested.”

+++

You’re dragged out of the trailer by your elbow, like a naughty child who needs to be disciplined.

It’s then that you finally see Wayne, standing off to the side being interviewed by a number of officers.

You’re half frantic as you call out to him – for help or just relief that he’s there, you can’t quite be sure, but it does nothing to help the crazed energy of the moment. 

“Wayne!”

His eyes widen in alarm to see you, and he makes like he means to move forward, do something to help you, but the officers stop him before he can start.

“Hey– hey leave her be!” He shouts. 

It’s startling. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never once heard Wayne raise his voice. 

Chief Powell follows you out, positively fuming as he crosses the small strip of grass that serves as the front lawn. He thrusts an accusatory finger at you as he addresses Wayne.

“Mr. Munson, I do believe you previously told us that nobody was in the house.” 

Wayne nods.

“Yessir, that’s correct,”  

“Explain to me, then, why this girl just came running out of the back bedroom like a bat out of hell?”

All eyes are on you then. You struggle against the hands that hold you and feel your heart palpitate – it’s a very good question, you hate to admit, one you don’t have a great answer for.

Somehow, it seemed like a good idea at the time, just doesn’t seem like it’s going to cut it. 

The Chief is waiting for an answer, and Wayne finally has to just shake his head, because of course, he doesn’t know why you were in Eddie’s room either. 

Powell reels on you then, and your stomach bottoms out. He gives the officers restraining you a harsh look and they release you.

You stagger, struggling to stay upright on your feet and tug on your dress to straighten it. You brush your knuckles across your nose and avert your eyes, shrinking under the Police Chief’s hard gaze.

After what feels like an excruciatingly long time, he finally speaks.

“How long have you been hiding in there?” He demands.

You shrug your shoulders in a way that is perhaps too flippant for the gravity of the situation you have found yourself in.

“Like two minutes.” You sniff, “And I wasn’t hiding, I just came in through the window.”

He gives you an incredulous look. 

“Why?”

“I was looking for…” you trail off and glance over at Wayne, staring at you with his features screwed up in patent confusion.

You begin to fidget with your fingers, twisting at the cheap silver ring you’ve since started wearing to make up for the one you’d packed up with the box of everything else sitting under Eddie's bed.

You clear your throat to try and sound a little less like a whiney child.

“I was looking for Eddie…”

“Eddie Munson?”

You nod.  

Powell stares at you a little longer before he sighs and shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he rocks back on his heels.   

“So you don’t know what happened in there?”

You shake your head and try not to glance at the crumpled figure of Chrissy you can still see lying in the doorway. 

Powell sighs again, rests his hands on his hips, casting his gaze down to his feet before looking back up at you.

"And I don't suppose you would know where Eddie is?"

Again you shake your head.

The police chief levels you with another hard stare, like he’s working something over in his head, trying to decide or understand, you can’t be sure. For a long moment, it is all you can do but focus on trying to remember how to breathe as you wait to see if he’s going to put cuffs on you. 

He doesn’t. 

Instead he turns and stalks back across the grass towards Wayne.

“Do you know this girl?” Powell asks.

“Yessir,” Wayne says quickly, then proceeds to rattle off basic information about you, including but not limited to your name and an explanation about how you’re a friend of his nephew’s who he sort of looks after you since your folks moved away.

For some odd reason, your stomach goes tight and fluttery to hear Wayne refer to you as Eddie’s friend.

That’s how he’d addressed you when you’d first met.

“So, you’re a friend of Ed’s, huh?” He’d said. 

You’re suddenly wracked with guilt – this is not how you imagined this scenario going at all.

You’d imagined you were going to be this big hero, swooping in to pull Eddie out of a trouble you’d only known about through some kind of bizarre clairvoyance.

Instead, turns out you’re a stupid fucking idiot who should have taken a moment to think before you went climbing in through windows.    

You force yourself not to look away this time when Powell looks back at you – he stares, you fidget, and then he returns his attention to Wayne. 

You don’t hear what he says, as he’s dropped his voice to a low tenor and you can’t see his face to try and read his lips. 

You watch as Wayne puts up his hands defensively.  

“Listen to me,” He says quietly, “She’s a good girl. I promise you she didn’t have nothin’ to do with this.” and the guilt you feel becomes all-encompassing. 

Stupid girl, more like.    

It’s another few excruciating minutes of back and forth before the tension finally breaks. You are, however, not turned loose, much like you'd expected to be. 

After it’s established that you’re not an immediate threat, standing there in your torn up sneakers and waitress uniform, you’re set to lean against one of the various cop cars parked on the lawn. 

You know Eddie, so they’ve got to interview you, much to your chagrin. 

This is exactly what you’d been trying to avoid by climbing in through the window. 

Great job. 

It’s Officer Callahan, in all his insipid glory, who comes sauntering up to you shortly after, hands resting on his gun belt in a way you suppose is meant to be intimidating. 

It doesn’t come across.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” He starts, fishing his pad of paper from his belt and making a point to loudly click his pen. He uses it to point at you, “You know, you’re in a lot of trouble, Missy.” 

You stare back at him and hope he feels every bit of disdain you hold for him.

Callahan sucks his teeth. “So, what were you doing hiding in the bedroom like that?”

You heave a frustrated sigh. 

“I already told you, I wasn’t hiding. I climbed in through the window to find Eddie.” 

“Right, so you said.” He huffs, glancing up at you from his pad briefly before doing a halfway comical doubletake.

Something like recognition flashes across his face and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes because of course this dingus wouldn't recognize you.

You'd always wondered how Clark Kent could get away with disguising himself with a change of clothes, turns out most people are just patently stupid, Officer Callahan included.

“Oh, wait a minute, I know you – you’re Munson’s little girlfriend.”

Bingo. 

Bizarrely, it sets your teeth on edge and your mouth is moving before your brain can catch up.   

“I’m not his girlfriend,” You say perhaps too quickly. 

It draws the attention of everyone within earshot, Chief Powell and Wayne included. 

You shrink under their gaze and kick yourself for how you realize too late that it sounded like a renouncement of Eddie. It was only a knee-jerk reaction, an intrusive thought built up to defend yourself from the random waves of grief that still hit you now and then. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud.   

Officer Callahan side-eyes you and snorts with humorless laughter. 

“Coulda fooled me,” he scoffs. 

You would argue, except suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you’ve been with Eddie when he’s been pulled over and hassled by the Hawkins police. By Officer Callahan and then still Officer Powell specifically.

He’s technically right – just not regarding the current state of affairs – because you had been Eddie’s girlfriend during all those previous incidents.  

Still, you cross your arms over your chest and avert your gaze. 

“Not that it’s any of your business…” You start, confident at first before you second guess yourself and a misplaced sheepishness creeps into your voice, “...but we broke up,”

Officer Callahan scoffs and the reaction leaves you indignant. 

Rude.    

“Okay, so I get it now. You break his heart, and he’s pissed but won’t take it out on you, so he takes it out on poor Chrissy in there, huh?”

Callahan gestures to the open trailer door with his pen, and you can’t help but get a little stuck staring at the body still laying there – you start to wonder why they haven’t covered her up yet, but then he snaps to draw your attention back.

“That sound about right?”

You furrow your brow.  

“…It sounds like you’ve been watching a lot of true crime documentaries.”

He glares at you. 

“It’s motive.”

“It’s bullshit.”

Officer Callahan’s eyebrows jump up from where they’d been previously hidden beneath the thick rim of his glasses.

The brusque nature of your answer seems to stagger him a bit. You’ve never had so much bite behind you in all the times you’ve interacted, electing instead to try and kill them with kindness so as not to get Eddie into any more trouble. 

It leaves him stammering for a response.  

“Hey now—” He begins, thrusting an accusatory finger at you like he means to lecture you.  

“No.” You insist, and when he puts his hands on his hips and glares, you hug your arms tighter around your midsection and double down, “No – he broke up with me, okay? So no motive. Eddie didn’t do this,”

“How do you know?”  

“Because I know him,” 

Callahan rolls his eyes, missing the hateful look you throw his way as he does.

Somehow you know nothing you say is going to matter when it comes to Eddie. They’ve already decided his guilt.   

“Oh, you know him?” Callahan huffs sarcastically, “Okay, fine … since you know him, when’s the last time you saw him?”

Shit. 

You bite the inside of your lip and fidget under his condescending gaze, knowing well enough that your answer is going to do nothing to help your case. 

“… August.” You mumble. 

He chokes a little and shakes his head, blinking rapidly like you’d said something outrageous… and honestly, it was a little outrageous, but you didn’t appreciate the attitude he had about it. 

“Aug- August?” He splutters, “August.”

You breathe out slowly and nod. 

“Yeah…” 

���You’re telling me you haven’t seen him in eight months and you’re trying to — you’ve been broken up … for eight. Months. And you just come running at the first sign of trouble? You expect me to believe that?”

“I do.”

“Why?” 

You stick him to the spot with a dour look. 

“You don’t know much about the human heart do you, Officer Callahan?”

Behind him, you see Chief Powell cough to try and cover the laughter threatening to burst out of him.

He clears his throat when Callahan twists around to glare at him, and you take the opportunity to steal a glance at Wayne. 

He’s like a caged animal, fidgeting, pacing – you assume he must have been the one to put in the 911 call. You can’t even imagine what he must have thought coming home and finding Chrissy like that in his living room, and now he’s got to worry about vouching for you?

Your heart thumps in your chest when your eyes meet and for lack of anything better to do, you offer him a subtle wave. 

He shakes his head – not the time. 

“So, how do I know you’re not just covering for Munson again?” Callahan says, bringing you back to the annoying moment you have found yourself in.

Your eyebrows jump and you feign innocence, gesturing to yourself like you could never imagine doing that two years ago at a party after they’d busted Eddie for possession and you’d made a scene to draw their attention so he could run away. You would never.  

Officer Callahan narrows his eyes and crosses his arms,

“How do I know you’re not involved?”

In spite of yourself, your heart leaps into your throat. It’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard, but suddenly your brain is screaming – this is it, this is how we get arrested. 

Luckily, Wayne immediately jumps up from the porch and tries to come to your rescue.

“Hey, no. She’s not—” He begins, but Officer Callahan cuts him off with a wave of his hand and a roll of his eyes. 

“Thank you, Mr. Munson, if we have any further questions for you we will let you know.” He sighs when what he really means is “go away”.

You clench your fist and resist the urge to knock that smug look off his face when he turns back to face you, looking very much like he’s caught you red-handed and is so pleased to have figured it out. 

“So, here’s what I think happened.” Callahan begins,

This should be good.

“You said that Munson kid broke up with you? Okay, fine. So maybe he does, and he gets a new little girlfriend. And you’re jealous. You come to confront him, find her here, things go a little too far, bada-bing-bada-boom, poor Chrissy ends up dead."

You're fully aware of how you're gawping at him.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He continues.

"And since you’re apparently such a good little girl you don’t want to ruin your reputation, so you take steps to make it look like he did it–”

You have to suppress the shudder that threatens to tear through your body at the concept of Officer Callahan referring to you as a “good girl”, even if it is done so under the guise of mocking Wayne.

Luckily your disgust is overwhelmed by the patent hilarity of what he is suggesting: you killed Chrissy and are trying to frame Eddie… yep… way too much true crime in Officer Callahan’s diet.

“Did you even see her?” You ask, “Look at me. How the hell do you suppose I did that?”

Callahan opens his mouth to respond and comes up short. 

“...Forensics will get back to us on the cause of death after the autopsy…” 

“Okay, fine. Riddle me this, Dick Tracy, if I was trying to frame Eddie, why would I be sitting here telling you he didn’t do it?”

Officer Callahan pulls a face.

“How do you know who Dick Tracy is?”

Then it’s your turn to pull a face. You’ve never missed Jim Hopper more than you do at this moment. 

“Can you do me a favor and try to be a little less condescending while you’re accusing me of murder?”

Another cough from the chief of police to cover another laugh, it turns the tips of Officer Callahan’s pink.  

“Alright, smart ass, you got an alibi? Because things aren’t looking so great for you right now. You’ve. Got. Motive,”

Each word is punctuated by his sharp prodding fingers poking you in the shoulder. You breathe out hard through your nose and swallow the rage boiling up from the pit of your stomach.

Trespassing is one thing, mouthing off is another, but you don’t need to be charged with assaulting an officer. 

What follows is a rapid-fire back-and-forth volley of questions and answers, each one more charged than the last as you count the seconds ticking past, time wasted when you could be out there looking for Eddie. 

“Where were you last night?” 

“Benny’s.” 

“Why?” 

“I work there.” You huff, tugging at the skirt of your uniform. 

Officer Callahan gives you a dismissive look, like he wants to argue but expressly cannot because you’re still wearing your nametag and your goddamn apron. He clears his throat and shifts on his feet.    

“Can anyone confirm your presence there?”

It feels incredibly stupid to say, but only because of your crazy stupid luck – yes, there are in fact many people who can confirm your presence at the diner last night.  

“The Hawkins Tigers.”

He gives you an incredulous look.

“The Basketball team?” 

You nod, and very quickly you can feel him losing steam. Every single one of your answers thus far seems to have flummoxed Officer Callahan beyond his ability to comprehend.

He turns from you and crosses the grass to hold a hushed conference with Chief Powell. You watch them, struggling to try and read their lips as you stuff your hands in your apron pocket – you brush the sharp edge of the forgotten polaroid strip stashed there and curl your fingers around it.

You have to find Eddie.    

They make you sit and wait another twenty minutes finally – finally – you hear the words that set you free. 

“She’s just a dumb kid, send her home,” 

You would protest the notion if you weren’t feeling so summarily stupid for this whole endeavor, but you’re just happy that the interrogation is finally ending.

With Powell’s prompting, another officer steps up to escort you out of the trailer park, much to Callahan’s chagrin. You can hear him begin to argue against it.

“Chief, I don’t think it’s such a good idea turning her loose.” He says, “I mean look at her. She probably knows exactly where Munson is hiding.” 

“...No,” Powell says after considering it for a moment, “I don’t think so.” 

Callahan shakes his head, 

“I just think–”

Then the chief cuts him off.  

“Maybe don’t think about it so much. She’s not going anywhere, right?” He says it loud enough for you to hear. 

It’s not a question so much as an order, and he makes a point to stare at you, clearly waiting for your answer. You glance at Wayne, who at this point has moved to sit atop the nearby picnic table, chain-smoking to try and calm his nerves – he glances at you, then looks away.

You don't blame him.

Somehow, this suddenly feels like it’s all your fault, like it all traces back to that terrible night in August. You should have fought a little harder for Eddie, you shouldn’t have stayed away.

You turn your attention back to the officers, then finally you take one last parting glance at what you can see of poor Chrissy, still lying uncovered in the doorway.

There is a cold lump forming in the pit of your stomach, under the hard gaze of so many people, that same sense of impending doom slowly crushing down on you. 

Somehow you manage to shrug. 

“Of course not.” You say, “Where am I gonna go?“

To find Eddie, before anyone else can. 

The officer escorts you off of the trailer park grounds and sends you on your way down the road and around the bend.

You scuff your feet in the dirt as you walk, the sounds from the trailer park steadily fading into the distance. You run your thumb over the sharp edge of the polaroid strip in your pocket until it hurts, using the unpleasant sensation to keep you grounded as your brain spins.

Where in the hell are you meant to start looking? Who might even know where he is? You don't know where Hellfire meets these days, or where the band practices, you don't know even who his friends are anymore. Adam and Gareth maybe? Jeff was always borderline with Eddie, you wouldn't be surprised to hear if they'd had a falling out. Maybe Dustin knows something, he's in Hellfire now, along with Mike and Lucas... but you can't imagine Lucas is even going to know his own name after last night so that rules him out...

It's an insurmountable task, finding Eddie, like trying to find a needle in a haystack that is gunning for said needle, but you don't have the option not to try.

Who else is going to do it if not you? You have to find him first.

A shrill whistle draws your attention and your head snaps up to the person jogging up the path to meet you.

Wayne. 

You slow to a stop to let him catch up with you, half wondering how the cops ever let him follow you – surely that is a conflict of interest, letting witnesses speak to each other, but you barely have the time to give him a proper greeting.  

“You haven't seen him, then?” Wayne asks quickly, his voice is hushed and tight. “You don't know where he is?”

The way he says it makes your chest hurt, like he'd spent a great deal of time and energy hanging all his hopes on the possibility that you might know where Eddie was, that he might even be with you.

Hadn't you been doing the same?

You shake your head, and it breaks your heart a little to have to disappoint him like that.

“No... but I’ll find him.” You say, your insides are knotted and squirming with anxiety — you don’t know how you’re going to find him, you just know that it’s going to be you who does.

It has to be you.

Relief passes over Wayne in a tangible wave as his shoulders drop and he stands a little taller.

You can’t imagine what he must be going through, what it must have been like to come home and discover that waiting for you in your doorway. You suddenly feel very stupid for how precious you’d been all day about having a nightmare while Wayne was living one. 

You know perhaps better than anyone that Eddie is all he has – he can’t afford to lose him any more than you can.  

Wayne sniffs and clears his throat, casting a wary look over his shoulder like he’s worried someone might be listening. 

“Good — good.” He hums, like he’s trying to convince himself that it’s going to be alright, then he leans into you and drops his voice, “When you do, I want you two to go. Just… go. Take him and get out of town.” 

It startles you. You don’t know what you’d expected him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. You know you must be frowning for the way he doubles down. 

He fishes his wallet from his back pocket and flips it open, pulling a stack of bills from the fold and closing it in your hand. He squeezes your fingers tightly around the money.

“I don’t care where you go,” He says, shaking his head, “California, Timbuktu — it doesn’t matter, send me a postcard when you get there — you just find him and get him as far away from here as possible, you hear?”

It is too much to ask, you know he must know this – he’s asking you to leave your life behind, your apartment, your job, everyone you know.

For all the time you’ve known him, everything he’s ever done for you, Wayne has never asked you for anything, but he’s asking you now — that much you understand – he’s asking you to choose Eddie, in spite of everything. 

It’s an easy decision to make. 

You close your fingers over the money and nod, gritting your teeth to keep yourself steady as you watch Wayne’s eyes shine with tears.

“I will.” 

He breathes a shaky sigh and blinks back the emotion, banishing it as quickly as it arrives.

You’ve never seen him like this — he is so afraid, and whether it is in response to the horror of what has already happened, in his home, to his family, or the uncertainty of what is going to happen, you cannot be sure. 

The Munsons have already lost so much. 

You have to find Eddie, if only so that you never have to see this look on Wayne’s face again.

His hand comes up to grip you by the shoulder then, and your spine stiffens under the directness of his gaze.

“Don’t leave him.” he says quietly. “Promise me you won’t leave him.”

You shake your head in defiance of the thought.

Never, you want to say, you would never leave him.

Why else would you still be here after everything that happened? But of course, he knows this, so you push forward and throw your arms around Wayne’s neck, startling him with the act of hugging him. 

“I promise.” You say against his shoulder. 

He hesitates, tensing ever so slightly. After a moment he pats you awkwardly on the back, and you take it as your signal to let the moment end.  

Eddie always said the Munsons weren’t huggers. 

Wayne sniffs and wipes his knuckles beneath his nose — he coughs.

“Okay,” he says gruffly, “Get going.”

Wayne nods towards the road and you follow his gaze. You know what he means; find Eddie, get out of town, don’t come back, and you can’t decide if the feeling welling up too big in your chest is fear or determination.

Your mind begins to work on its own, drawing a map of all the possible places you might find Eddie.

You can do this, you’re fine, it’s going to be fine.  

When you turn, Wayne has already started back down the road, and you’re hit with the sudden and overwhelming urge to call out, to say something to somehow make things okay.

You wonder briefly if you're ever going to see him again.  

“Wayne —” you call, he turns and glances back at you with big, watery eyes, “…I’m gonna find him.” 

“I know, Sweetheart.” He huffs, “I'm counting on it.” 

So, no pressure, right?

Taglist: @harrys-tittie @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @itsrainingbisexualfrogs @thicksexxualtensionaltension @ganseysgff @scoopsr0binn @peanutbutter-y-jams @audhd-dragonautagonaut  @clilxlxx  @alexandriaemily20 @averagestudent03 @but-vanessa @cosmictime45 @timelordfreya @forever-war @munsonzzgf @chervbs @irisabrams

#cruel summer #cruel summer fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #hilarious how i said i was going to cut this down and only ended up cutting 6000 words #oh well #all this is doing is getting me really excited to get to the fluff #because i'm fully planning a second sister fic to this one that is all the sweetness

[mockedandmonitored]

Mocked and Monitered, Armada edition (PT.1)

This has been- Long overdue after these guys won the poll.I was here I thought it was gonna be a tied- so you want more stuff on the toilets themselves huh? Fine by me! This is going to be more leaning on what the toilets as a civilization do now that the war is over rather than specific individuals such as G-toilet or wrinkly prune.

Modern day M&M AU (20 years After the official end of the war.)

Mostly everything is rebuilt within current date of the timeline and has expanded past our modern technology to a more Sci-fi situation. With the war effort being over with and a new workforce under their control, to sum it up to a comparable game? Overwatch environments with that level of tech. They have many settlements and cities scattered across the world however they keep to a large circle of a megalopolis surrounded by cities. Titans forbid I try to name it right now at midnight but you get the idea.

Society has rebuilt to what you imagine a normal city to be like, new generations of Skibidi running around, going to school, having hobbies and free time. Most heavy work is forced upon hardware leaving the toilets to do whatever they wish! Being artists, chefs, actors? You can name it! Don't have to worry about Labour heavy tasks when you got trusty non-sentient robots running around. well so propaganda goes anyways. Skibidi have gotten rather squishy and complacent since the war, with hard work going to the alliance members. Those who actually participated in the war more prepared then those after them, treating the Alliance members more then mindless beings. They've seen the damage they can do and know not to underestimate them.

There are of course still enforcers within a new world to maintain order. Our policemen which ensure everyone (mostly hardwares) abide by the law. Think the police toilets from the early days of the show then buff them up around six to seven times. These folk work alongside the Whistle Blowers and keep rebellions from arising, occasionally "reminding" disobedient units of their place. The older Armada soldiers which were dissatisfied with the end of the war possibly turned to this to as their new jobs.

Finally we have sympathizers, while somewhat rare, they are still present. Whatever you do though, try not to say it aloud or get the attention of the enforcers. With enough sympathizers, things could start changing for the hardware, and No one sensible wants that right? Most sympathizers hide their beliefs when public eye a well kept secret example of a sympathizer would be DJ toilet, His Night Club while also being THE place to be, it has also sheltered plenty of rebels and strays before. "It ain't groovy how the Speakermen are stuck to one type of music, its like getting stuck to country, eugh, it just ain't right!". (Someone has asked this soo! Might as well put a little something here.)

Finally, with the time skip (EST updated to 20 yrs), there are new generations of the armada, those untouched by the war and bloodshed. How toilets make more toilets? Its best not to question it. Look to the left, whistle a bit then ignore those intrusive thoughts. Most merely listen to the generations before and believe that the units are nothing more than dumb robots. But of course, sooner or later questions are gonna come into play, perhaps new Sympathizers or more Enforcers, it's truly dependent on the environment.

Thats all for now! Have a nice Day , Noon, Or Night! Don't forget to ask questions if you're curious or just drop around and interact,

#mocked&monitored #skibidi toilet #Skibidi AU

[mypoorsanity]

𝗼𝗵 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗱 𝘀𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗳𝘂𝗹

𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗸𝘆𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃!𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗮/𝗻, 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : ‘𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸' 𝗯𝘆 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲, 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱.

"staring at her, can't help it, thinking 'bout her 'cause oh my god, she's beautiful"

“are you fucking deaf?”, his classmate's voice is heard, but tuned out. of course, you’re in front of him, it makes sense. your body moving swiftly as you turn to pick up your jacket from your chair, grab your bag, make your way out the door and give a smile towards your teacher, you didn't feel real, but more like an angel that had arrived from the heavens, a goal given to knock his breath away. sure was working a charm.

– matsuno chifuyu, inui seishu, mitsuya takashi, baji keisuke, hanemiya kazutora

“i never understood, why me? ‘cause she’s just so good, my god she’s beautiful”

clinging to him, him. not anyone else, just him, on his bike, fully occupying his thoughts. he wishes you would never let go, he knows if he said this out loud, he’d be made fun of till his end, but the truth was the truth. he speeds more past the other cars just to impress you, taking a glimpse in his rearview mirror to see your glowing face admiring the view of the bridge you're crossing over. sharp turns take place and he fucking loves it when you subconsciously hold onto him tighter, he loves you trusting and feeling safe around him.

– haitani rindou, kawata nahoya, hanma shuji, ryuguji ken, sano manjiro, sano shinichiro

“but what if she finds out i’m a loser no, i don't wanna lose her to someone else, i hope she loves me”

he sometimes wonders, no, it’s something that plagues his mind every day. he thinks about why you chose him, there were definitely other people who would pine over you constantly. thinking about you when they saw your favourite food, or your favourite song would start over the radio, and they’d turn it up just because it reminded them of you. but he never doubts the things he’d do just to see you smile another day. he never doubts the things he’d do to make sure you’re kept safely by his side and never in fear of him. all just for you.

– hanma shuiji, hanemiya kazutora, sanzu haruchiyo, kurokawa izana

“figure out how to ask her if we’re on the same page am i allowed to be thinking ‘bout forever? don’t wanna waste her time.”

it was just supposed to be one of the midnight walks you’d both take to the local convenience store until a little friend showed up. your giggles filled his ears as the cat that had approached you pushed its head further into your hand. god, you looked and sounded like a pure angel. your excited claims continued to reach his ears as his usual thoughts about the future you would both have plagued his mind. he wanted to start approaching a more domestic phase, slowly thinking about maybe looking for a new home, a home you both choose and a place where you maybe make your relationship official by law. it all sounded like a dream, something way too far out of his reach, something you may not agree to for more than a few reasons. but he knows damn well it’ll be a great idea if you agreed.

– kakucho, haitani ran, mitsuya takashi, shiba hakkai, sano shinichiro, haitani rindou, kokonoi hajime, ryuguji ken

#Spotify #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev #tokyo rev x reader

[welldonebeca]

Housewife Halloween (I)

Summary: Sam hates Halloween. When he catches his girlfriend dressed up and playing as his wife, he realises the day might not be so bad, after all. Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female!Reader WC: 1.3k words Warnings: Stanford times. Fluff. Teasing. Wife kink. 

If you like my work, consider supporting me or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Sam scoffed as he walked past the Halloween decorations. The whole month, Stanford was just decorated up and down with skeletons, witches, ghosts and all that crap, and now... now it was officially Halloween.

And God, he hated it.

He didn't even get what the big deal was. It was like all of a sudden everyone was five again, and wanted to go crazy for the holiday.

Jess had been asking him non-stop to do some group costume and go bar hopping, but he had said no so many times she gave up after a few too many of them. Most of his friends called him a buzzkill after that, but he didn't mind. He had you, at home, a loving girlfriend who didn't judge him and respected his boundaries.

Sam just wanted to go home, cuddle you and pretend it was November or something. Watch something that wasn't scary at all, without even looking at any candy, and let Halloween pass by without noticing it.

When he unlocked the door of your shared place, he was surprised to find you standing in the living room, dressed like you'd come straight back from the fifties, with your hair curled and pinned and a very round dress.

"Honey, you're home!" you quipped.

He stood, frozen, on his feet, taking in your look as you walked over to him, standing on your tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

The two of you had been living together since he moved out of his old dorm - a bit over a month after the incident when he hurt his back.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here so early," you walked behind him, taking off his jacket before Sam could even think of what you were saying. "Take a seat, dinner is on its way."

He blinked, following you into the kitchen, sniffing around, surprised at the great smell.

"Did you order take up?" he asked. It smelt really good.

You just giggled.

"Of course not, silly," you grabbed an apron from your side, and he raised his eyebrows at how it was stained with red. "I cooked for us."

Alright, this was weird.

He looked at you and then the stove, and stood up, stopping you by grabbing your shoulders.

Either something very dangerous was going on or you were up to something.

"What is going on?" he asked, careful.

You rolled your eyes, laughing, and your shoulders relaxed.

"Alright, you got me," you rolled your eyes. "It's a costume. What do you think?"

He frowned, looking at your clothes.

"What are you supposed to be?" Sam asked.

You stepped back and twirled in front of him.

"A murderous housewife," you smiled.

He chuckled. Well, now the apron was explained.

"I found this dress and those petticoats in the thrift store, and they are actually vintage," you explained. "And I didn't want to ruin it with blood, so I just did that with the apron and borrowed one of your knives."

Sam lost his smile, glancing at the knife on the counter. It was one of the knives he kept for safety reasons.

"That is not a toy," he reminded you.

You pouted.

"But Sam," you whined.

"If you told me you wanted a knife for your costume, I could get you a toy one," he told you, emphatically. “But not that one.”

His former life as a hunter was something he had touched very little on. Yes, you knew he had some sketchy things in his childhood, but never pressed him on it or said anything when he made sure you and your home were protected.

Your pout grew more, and you flushed, looking guilty.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled.

Sam sighed. You looked so cute like that.

"You're forgiven," he assured you. "And why are you dressed up?"

Your lips curled in a shy smile.

"My Sorority is having a Halloween party," you explained. "It's gonna be at midnight."

Sam nodded along. You were part of one of the sororities there, and while you didn't live with them, you were always involved in their events - be it in presence or planning.

"I know you hate Halloween," you told him and bit your lower lip. "It is really quick.”

He watched your face, and his eyebrows knitted together in a frown when he realised you looked like you really wanted to say something.

“What?’ he asked.

“I was… you know… thinking you could come, maybe?” you asked, softly. “You don’t even have to dress up.”

His shoulders sagged and Sam had to stop himself from scoffing, knowing his face didn't look very happy.

"Baby..." he sighed.

"How about I serve us dinner?" you stepped away from him. "And if you don't want to go after that, we won't."

He sighed.

"Alright," you walked back to the table. "Do your best."

You giggled and Sam watched you go, stepping to the counters in the tiny kitchen of your home, puffy skirt swirling around and tight curls bouncing on your shoulders, causing his cock to swell the littlest bit.

He shouldn't get horny seeing you like that.

Sam was a feminist, for fuck's sake! Perhaps, it was the part of him who wanted the stable home he never had, or maybe you just looked too sexy in that dress, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking of the future, of living in a nice house in the suburbs where he would come home to see you making dinner or folding laundry, and welcoming him in that same voice, sweet as honey with your little 'welcome home, husband'.

It was such a caveman idea.

And yet, here he was, trying to will his cock into staying soft.

His thoughts were interrupted by the clanking of plates and looked down to see a meal of chicken and rice, along with steamed vegetables on the side.

"I hope you like it honey," you leant in his direction, kissing his forehead before moving back.

You sat by his side and he had to mask his surprise. Yes, he knew you had been trying to get better at cooking, but this was the first time you presented him with a full homemade meal, and it just looked delicious. It wasn't like the greasy diner food he was so used to getting, it was actually made at home and with love.

He ate it hungrily, unable to even pretend he wasn't used to it, trying to savour every bite.

Sam didn't even realise he had gotten carried away before he raised his eyes and found you staring at him, blushing deeply, completely flushed.

"Sorry," he said quickly, laughing nervously. "It's just... it's really good."

You smiled, very embarrassed.

"It's just chicken, Sam," you shrugged.

He shook his head.

"It's amazing," Sam insisted. "You made it really well. You are... such a good wife."

Your cheeks flushed even more at the little quip, and you lowered your gaze, looking just like you did anytime he praised or degraded you during sex, or even teased you about it.

Sam was glad to see your reaction. He had worried he might have scared you with such a declaration, but seeing you look a little meek, all flushed, was adorable.

You leant in your direction, rubbing his nose on yours, and smirked when your eyes drifted closed and your lips parted, waiting for a kiss that he didn't place on your lips, sucking in a breath when you reached for your neck, holding it gently and placing his lips on the other side of it.

"My good wife," he whispered. "My perfect little wife."

You whimpered, moving your face as Sam pulled back, reaching for his lips, but he just moved back.

"Sam," you whined. "Don't be mean."

"I'm the man of the house," he reminded you. 'I know what my wife needs."

You whimpered, and he pushed his chair back, spreading his legs, thinking of what he was going to do next.

"Put dinner in the fridge," the instructed you. "I'll be waiting for you in the living room."

. . .

"Housewife Halloween" was posted on my Patreon on April! To read it now before anyone else and have access to its Patreon-Exclusive Prequel of how you and Sam met, subscribe to my page. It's just $2 a month!

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​​ @amythyststorm33​​​ @shaelyn102​​​ @yknott81​​​ ​​ @maximofftrash​​​ @kgbrenner​​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​​ @magpiegirl80​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @shadowhunter7​​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​​ @deemoriarty​​​ @05spn18​​​ @malindacath​​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​​ @widowsfics​​​ @frozenhuntress67​​​ @averyrogers83​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @giruvega​

Supernatural tags: @its-daydreamer23​​ @imagefanfictionlover​​ @imagefanfictionlover​​ @smalltowndivaj​​ @tayrae515​​ @afanofmanystuffs​​ @oneshoeshort​​ @andkatiethings​​ @wakanda-sometimes​​ @akshi8278​​ @xoxabs88xox​​ @izbelross​ @calstielwinchester​ @isabelle-faith @flamencodiva @lyarr24

Supernatural BDSM Fics (+18): @littlecassisub @stoneyggirl2

#Housewife Halloween series #housewife kink #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fic #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader fanfiction #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester smut #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester #sam winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester smut

[rist-ix]

do you think we could have another tbhtbh sneak peek pretty please 🙏🏻 🤲🏻

Ok, but after this one I’m officially out of snippet material, the rest I’m saving for the final product! It's continuing straight from where we left off in the last sneak peak:

It doesn’t matter, she thinks, rushing past the lower layers of floating vehicles and zooming east, where the greenish tint of a distant dawn is beckoning her closer. Valtor already knows where she is. She has nothing to lose.

Something zips past her ear, and again past her shoulder; people are shooting at her. She doesn’t check to see whether it’s the marks or people in it for the money, or maybe even law enforcement that have orders to arrest her — she evades another car and drops down, between the cars on the actual road, using them as cover as she flies backwards in order to send balls of flame at the attackers chasing her. Rolls sideways in the air to avoid crashing into oncoming traffic, dives beneath a transport’s floating trailer and hears projectiles hit the hull above her.

She wonders if they know that killing her won’t make them rich, only just as dead.

But she doesn’t have the time to ponder on that. Just when she has finally cleared the open traffic, back on the upper layers, when she can see the forest peeking out behind the silvery skyscrapers, a pillar of deep red light bursts up in front of her.

No.

It shoots her clean out of the sky, her wings like lead behind her. The towering buildings turn into streaks of brightness around her as she falls, the world reduced to blurs of gold and blue and midnight black.

No, no, no!

Sensation returns to her limbs just above the ground, and her wings slow her descend enough so she doesn’t break any bones when she lands. The next attack comes immediately after the last, but she manages to throw herself out of the way at the very last moment. Heart racing and shields raised, she scans the street for its origin.

There’s pedestrians backing away from her, cars swerving to the side to avoid hitting her — or being hit by her. People gathering in the cover of storefronts or behind parked cars, waiting to see what happens. If there are marks among them, they make no move to close in on her.

And they don’t have to, either. She blinks and he’s there, silver eyes blazing with wrath, a spell in his fist that shatters her glowing shields into a thousand sparks.

Valtor doesn’t often fight head-on. He opts to manipulate his surroundings instead, to use their environment against his opponents. But she is suddenly, brutally reminded that it is a matter of preference to him, a question of style and elegance, not skill.

He is perfectly capable of brute-forcing his way to victory, when he feels like it.

His next spell isn’t so much magic as it is fury taking shape, and she can only cross her forearms before her to catch the blow. The force of it pushes her backwards, her boots leaving steaming trails on the wet asphalt as she tries to remain upright. She barely gets the chance to return fire; when she looks up he’s already summoned another blast of magenta flames that cuts off any escape routes, singes her sleeves.

The last time they’d fought on this planet had been Council Hall. Once again, he is proving that if Stella hadn’t pulled her away from the fight, she would have been captured that very same day.

Stella is not here, now.

“You,” he seethes over the roaring of the flames, “will regret this.”

It takes two more spells and she’s hurled over the asphalt once more. Shooting spells at him with both trembling hands accomplishes nothing, it’s like he doesn’t even notice. Brushes past them with not even a flinch; jagged, furious magic coiling around him like wings. If there was any sign of intoxication left in him, after she chained him to the wall, there’s certainly none now.

He looks deadly.

She knows, then, that there is no way she is going to win.

It’s that thought that makes the fear in her veins settle. Something inside her goes cold and still, reminding her of the mirror-like surface of Lake Roccaluce, just a few miles to the north.

The spells in her hands flare, make the air hiss and simmer around her as she stands up straight, faces him.

She is not going to win, no. But she’ll be damned if she goes down without a fight.

“Regret?” she snarls, and feels her hair start to to float behind her. A comet’s trail, brilliant before it burns up in the sky. “You don’t even know what that means.”

She rockets off of the ground, the force of it coming from her legs just as much as her wings, and there is nothing pretty in the way she fights. Nothing weightless or elegant in the flames she calls from thin air, a meteor shower concentrated on a single target.

“What any of this means.”

The spells don’t even make contact; he is too fast, his shields too strong. It doesn’t stop her.

“You took it all away like it was nothing, because it was nothing to you!”

Her next blast cuts through the shroud of his magic, sets fire to his sleeve all the way up to his shoulder. The flames are reabsorbed into an attack of his own before she can give herself any delusions of triumph

“Everything and everyone I love, this entire life I fought for over and over again, this life I had earned,” she roars against her failing shields, desperation and fury tight in her throat.

“You took it from me, in a single day.“

#asks #fic: to be hunted to be haunted #listen I love it when these two flirt #but I also love it when they are fighting to the proverbial death u know? #just going STRAIGHT for the throat and foaming at the mouth style combat #they should be feral and violent more often