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justauthoring · 11 months

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Running, Freedom, Salvation (Alternate Ending)

Prompt: “Run, run, run. That’s all we ever do. All we’ve ever done.” You paused, feeling the wind brush through your hair. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself and met his eyes. “Do you think it’ll finally stop?”

Maze Runner: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

Scorch Trials: one - two - three - four - five - six

Death Cure: one - two - three - four - five

A/N: I honestly cannot believe i'm adding another part to RFS... but i'm finally giving people the ending they deserve lol. I honestly had so much fun writing this and I just... ahhh I wish we could go back to when I first wrote this series.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Tag List: @blackbrokerosey - @some-fantasy-thoughts - @ilovemymoose - @alienadvocate - @itsfangirlmendes - @thatproffessionalfangirl - @nightingalethewriter - @143amberrose - @joycewrites - @floweryukheii - @hey-margot - @hippieballs - @wearegoldeninthenight - @betcoop - @crystalshines2909 - @darthweasley7 - @desired-love- - @honeymoonavenue - @legit-fandom-trash - @musicandbeat - @thespeedofwind - @sellinxhs - @sumlariss - @togetherlikepeanutbutterandjelly - @sarcasmdunbar - @strangerthingsluv - @mythicalamphitrite - @thisishowieroll - @independentgirl - @heathernsweets - @illumminated - @highly-uncomfortable-titles - @ktminn01 - @awkwardlyarts - @j-marvel-memester - @mdgrdians - @writingandhotcocoa - @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven - @verkyun - @luvelyxp - @minninugget

You don't think you've ever ran so fast.

The burn in your lungs was a familiar sensation, one you hadn't felt since you'd left the maze -- and that sense of fear? The one coursing through your veins, striking your heart and making it hard to think straight, eyes blurring with unshed tears... It was unlike anything you'd ever felt.

Please. Please make it in time.

You had... You had to make it in time. If you didn't, you didn't know what you'd do. The mere thought of losing Newt was enough to make your heart feel like it was ripping apart. He was your whole world, and you'd never once doubted that fact.

There was no time to think. No time to look back. The clock was ticking towards his inevitable death, and you refused to let the time run out.

You're gripping the serum so tightly in your hands that you're surprised it doesn't crack from the sheer pressure. But you were afraid of letting it go, of dropping it, of breaking it and every little chance of saving Newt disappearing within seconds right before your eyes. The serum in your hand was his last hope.

You can't breathe, but you continue to run. And you don't stop. Until you see Newt and Thomas, the both of them and there's a split second of relief, your feet slowing beneath you, before you blink and properly process what's happening in front of you. Newt's crouched over Thomas, a knife in his hands, inching closer and closer to piercing Thomas' chest.

And his name leaves your lips without thought, a deep guttural cry breaking past your lips that sounds so unlike you you barely register it as you screaming for him.

"Newt!"

Thomas looks at you at the sound of your voice, a sense of relief flooding his gaze, before a cry leaves his lips. The one second of him looking away had allowed Newt to gain the advantage, piercing Thomas in the chest and sinking the knife deeper and deeper in his chest.

You move without thinking, breaking out into a run once again as Newt's name leaves your lips in a shrieking cry.

This time, Newt hears you as well, head snapping to the right and eyes falling on you. You don't realize that it isn't Newt staring back at you, and rather the virus taking control of his body and so when he lunges at you, you're completely unprepared. He slams into you, you just barely managing to dodge the knife still held tightly in his hands, swiping across your face before you lose your footing, falling to the ground with a loud thud.

"Y/N!"

It's Thomas calling for you, but can't see him. Newt is on you, pressing on you enough that you can't breathe, unable to catch your breath as he moves to stab you; just like he'd tried to with Thomas.

Your hands come before you in a panic, the serum slipping from your hands and rolling away from you.

"Thomas!" You cry, using all your strength to hold Newt back; "the serum! Thomas, get the serum!"

You can't see him but you distantly hear him call out in response, before your attention is stolen back by Newt. He's too strong for you, you realize with a panic, the knife growing closer and closer, and you don't have the strength to hold him back anymore; your arms are shaking and you can't breathe properly with the weight of him on top of you.

You see a shadow fall behind Newt, hope flooding you, just as your strength gives out and you just manage to shift in time, the knife lodging itself in your upper left arm instead of your chest. A cry leaves your lips in response, pain erupting up your arm, but as you blink, you realize the weight on top of you has lifted.

"Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?"

Thomas is suddenly in front of you. hands flittering from your cheeks to your arm, now profusely bleeding, helping you sit up as your eyes dance around, confused, until they finally settle on Newt beside you, slumped over.

"It's okay, it's okay," Thomas' breathes, pulling your gaze back on him, "I got the serum, look." He holds the empty vile in front of your face, you blinking at the sight of it before falling back on Newt. "You did it, Y/N. You saved him."

Lips parting, you turn to Thomas, feeling the tears in your eyes finally fall as you let out a sob.

"It's okay," Thomas soothes.

Your eyes fall back on Newt once again, eyes flickering across him, slumped over to his side; but you see the soft rise and fall of his body and it's enough to assure you he's okay.

Hot pain erupts from your arm, causing you to hiss, looking down only to see blood bleeding into your shirt, soaking it.

"Here," Thomas calls, moving to rip off a strip of his shirt, wrapping it around your arm, pulling it tight. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let him go after you like that."

Smiling softly, you turn to meet Thomas' eyes. "It's not your fault, Thomas. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here with the serum. If he'd hurt you..."

Thomas shakes his head; "all that matters is you did, yeah? Newt's okay."

You nod, letting your hand fall over your injured arm. Distantly, you see Thomas glance over his shoulder and you're reminded of Teresa's message. Smiling gently, you set your hand on Thomas' shoulder, pulling his gaze on you as you nod; "go," you assure. "I'll be okay."

"No, Y/N, I'm not gonna--"

"Go."

One more look at you, and then frowning, Thomas nods, moving to stand up. You send him one last smile before he turns, rushing off, and watch his figure disappear, you slowly shift, being careful not to put any pressure on your injured arm. You move until you're right next to Newt, pulling him back and towards you, right into your lap, until his face is staring up at your own.

With only silence surrounding you, you brush back the strands of hair that had fallen into his face, biting your lip.

The tears build up before you can stop them, a slight shake to your shoulders as you stare down at him, his peaceful expression staring back up at your own. The only trace of what had just happened being the sweat and grime stuck to his face, and the light traces of his veins popping over his pale skin.

"Thank God..." you breathe out, unable to stop the shake of your voice as you curl into yourself, letting your head fall on his chest as you sob. "Thank God you're okay..."

Rolling over, your hand instinctively reaches out, expecting to feel the familiar warmth of another body beside you, only to fall on the mildly cold, empty sheet.

Eyes peeling open, you sigh.

Pushing yourself up, you rub at your face, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you let yourself slowly wake up, taking in your surroundings. It's quiet, telling you that it's still early and nobody else is awake.

Eyes falling back on the empty spot next to you, you shake your head.

Except for one.

You move to a stand, relishing in the way the cool sand feels against your bare feet, before you push yourself up. You grab a sweater on your way out, wrapping it around you to protect yourself from the cool morning wind, pushing the flap of your tent open, eyeing both ways, before your gaze falls on a familiar figure off to the side, by the far end of the ocean.

Swallowing thickly, you make your way over, footsteps quiet so as not to wake anyone else up, silently sitting down right next to Newt.

He glances at you briefly, before looking back ahead of himself.

"You weren't in bed this morning."

"Couldn't sleep."

Frowning at his short reply, you bring your knees to your chest, hugging them. "I... I missed you."

Newt glances over at you, finally meeting your gaze, before he sighs; "YN..."

"No, Newt," you argue, shaking your head. "You've been so distant ever since we got here... and you won't tell me why. You wake up early, you go to bed late. You're always busy during the day that I never see you. You... You won't even look at me."

You can't help the way your voice chokes up, the distress of everything building as you bite your lip. "It's like you don't even love me anymore."

Newt starts at that, body straightening as he turns to look at you. His eyes are wide and his lips part, as if to argue, before his gaze flickers past your face, lower, and all the fight leaves his eyes as his shoulders slump.

Your lips part, to say something, most of all to ignore the hurt that burns deep inside of you at his complete dismissal of your words. But he's pushing himself to a stand before you can, avoiding your gaze and refusing to look at you as he walks off, without a single word.

Lips left parted, the hurt bubbles up enough to pull a sob from your lips, chest burning at the fact that he'd just walked away from you like that. Without a word.

It had been on your mind for weeks since you'd all arrived here... the second all of you had made it to the safe haven, Newt had been distant. What had started from just being quiet and avoiding your touches occassionally, had turned into him refusing to talk to you, avoiding you at all costs and all together ignoring you.

You hadn't wanted to believe it, but it really was starting to feel like he'd... just fallen out of love with you.

You sit there for a while, holding yourself as you let yourself cry, listening to your own raggid breathing and the sounds of the ocean waves, before the distinct sound of chatter reached your ears and you realized everyone else was getting up. Getting started with their day.

Sniffling, you hastily wipe at your tears, brushing your fingers along your cheeks and ignoring the heavy weight in your chest as you move to stand.

You promised you'd help Brenda with breakfast this morning, so there was no time for tears.

Brenda can tell there's something wrong but any time she tries to ask you, you just brush her off.

She liked to think the two of you were close, that being the only two girls of your group had helped the both of you bond. And if she asked you, you would of course say the same -- but, she didn't know you like the rest. And if you weren't going to tell her, she figured the next best bet was them.

It wasn't hard for anyone with eyes to tell that you and Newt had been distant, estranged and Brenda had a pretty big suspicion that that was the source of your problems. She'd known enough not to talk to Newt, but the boy had been pretty isolated recently, so it wasn't hard to reach Thomas and Minho alone.

"I need your guys' help."

The two boys glance at each other, before turning back to Brenda. "Yeah?"

"There's something wrong with Newt and Y/N."

Minho's eyes instantly light up in recognition, and his shoulders slump; "you noticed too, huh?"

Thomas, ever so oblivious, blinks; "noticed what?"

Both Brenda and Minho turn to him with deadpanned expressions. "They've been weird with each other. Newt has been distant with all of us, but it's like he's avoiding Y/N. He ignores her whenever she tries to talk to him, and I can tell it's hurting Y/N."

"She barely spoke this morning while we were making breakfast. She also looked like she'd been crying," Brenda explains with a frown. "And she wouldn't tell me what's wrong. But I could've sworn I saw Newt and her at the beach when I woke up this morning."

Thomas frowns; "I didn't see them."

Brenda rolls her eyes; "that's because you were half asleep."

"I'll talk to Newt," Minho offers, frowning. "Neither of you were there, but this is just like after Y/N had her accident in the maze."

Brenda's brows furrow; "the maze?"

Thomas nods; "back in the glade."

"She'd just been promoted to runner," Minho explains, "and we got separated. She said she saw a griever, but it hadn't attacked her, just stared. And then when she moved, it did, knocking her off a high pillar. I'd found her, passed out, with a broken arm and leg. I thought she was dead..." Sighing, Minho shook his head; "when I brought her back to the glade, Newt was a mess. Nobody could calm him down until we knew she was alright and then..."

"And then?"

"And then he just stopped talking to her," Minho shrugs, "he would avoid her, like he was scared of hurting her or--" Pausing, Minho's eyes widen.

Thomas shakes his head; "what?"

"He's afraid of hurting her," Minho repeats, "when he was infected, before he got the serum, Thomas, didn't he hurt Y/N?"

Blinking, Thomas nods; "yeah. He lunged at her before I could stop him, trying to kill her. Then, just as I stabbed him with the serum, he stabbed Y/N in the arm. She still has the scar." Then, pausing, Thomas adds; "but it's not like he did it on purpose. It was the flare."

"Yeah, but Newt would still feel guilty."

Brenda nods, "that's gotta be it. Minho, Thomas, you talked to Newt, i'll find Y/N. Get him to talk to her, okay?"

They both nod.

"Brenda--"

"Y/N."

Huffing, you roll your eyes; "I promised Aris I'd help him with dinner, I can't just--"

"I'll help him," Brenda cuts you off once again. "You looked tired this morning. You've been working so hard, you deserve a break. Me and the guys decided it."

"No more then everyone else," you sigh, "and besides, Minho and Thomas don't know what they're talking about. I'm pretty sure i've not seen Thomas stop moving all day, so really--" You pause your own rambling as you reach your tent, blinking in confusion as both Thomas and Minho make their way out of said tent. They look briefly panicked at the sight of you, you missing the glare that Brenda sends them, before they offer a smile and a wave, rushing off.

"What were--"

"No worries," Brenda cuts you off, again, "just get some rest, okay?"

With a simple slap to the back, she all but shoves you inside, not giving you any time to argue before she flips the flap of your tent shut behind you. "What the...--" Pausing at the sound of someone else, your head turns, panicked, before falling on; "Newt..."

Thomas and Minho...

It all makes sense then.

"They forced you in here, didn't they?"

Meeting your gaze, Newt nods, but doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, not sure what else to say. You haven't spoken to him since this morning, and even then it hadn't been much of a conversation. Not to mention, anything before that had been short and brief as well.

You didn't know how to talk to Newt anymore.

"I don't know what they were thinking or Brenda for that--"

"I still love you."

Lips snapping shut, your body tenses at his words.

"I do love you," Newt continues, voice soft. "I'll always love you."

Shoulders falling, you glance at your feet; "then..." and you trail off, but you know Newt knows what you're talking about.

He stands then, crossing the short distance of your tent over to you. Your eyes fall on him as he stands in front of you, oddly feeling nervous, choosing to say silent as he simply reaches forward, taking your hand in his and pulling your arm up. His free hand pushes up the sleeve of your shirt, before his fingers trace across the scar there.

"I hurt you."

Confused, you shake your head; "but you weren't in control... it was the flare, Newt."

"I still hurt you," he argues, "something I promised I'd never do."

"Newt..."

"I can't be around you because I hurt you... I can't forgive myself and... i'm better off de--"

"Don't," you cut in, eyes falling shut as you shake your head. "Don't you dare say that."

"But it's true."

"It's not," you cry, unable to stop the way your voice rises, desperation sinking in. "It will never be true." Reaching forward, you push Newt's hand away from your arm, moving to cup his cheeks. "I thought I was going to lose you, Newt and if I had, I don't think I would've been able to live. You are... everything to me. There is no one I trust more, no one I would rather be with. You are my whole world."

Eyes shining with unshed tears, Newt shakes his head. "Y/N..."

"Please, Newt," you cry, "please..."

Breath shaky, Newt finally allows himself to lean into your touch. "I didn't mean to hurt you...."

"I know," you whisper, "I've never once blamed you."

"I love you so much."

The relief that coarses through you at that is undeniable. Just to hear those words, the words you've been so desperate to hear, is enough to make everything better.

"I love you too," you whisper, glancing up at Newt. "And nothing will ever change that."

"Well, that was a success."

Smiling, Minho nods at Brenda; "a complete success."

"He's getting a little handsy, though, so--"

"Dude," Minho huffs, grabbing Thomas' shoulder and tugging him back before he can go stomping into your tent. "Leave them alone."

"That's my sister--"

"Yeah, yeah."

#the maze runner #maze runner #the maze runner x reader #maze runner x reader #tmr #tmr x reader #tmr imagines #newt #newt x reader #tmr newt x reader #tmr newt #thomas brodie sangster

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ebaylee422 · 1 year

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I Want Your Video

Steve x Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: Steve won the poll, when I first started really reading fanfiction on tumblr early 2020-2021 there was a fic with mutual masturbation with BestFriend!Steve Harrington and this plays into the very heavy. I’ve been wanting to fuck you forever part for inspo. Also just love Djo’s music so a lot of my WIPs have titles of his music. Requests are open if you want more sexy Steve, thank you for reading!

Summary: Family Video just became a little less family friendly with the new addition of the 18 and older erotic video room. You are more curious than your co-workers about what a dirty movie includes, the sexual tension between you and dreamboat Steve Harrington does nothing for your pent up frustrations.

Characters: Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Family Video Worker!Reader, Dustin, Lucas, Mike, Max, El and Will love to pester Steve at his jobs, and gross mentions of Keith.

Warning/Tags: SMUT (Minors DNI), Steve has a huge cock, dry humping, marking, fingering (f receiving), blow job, overstim, small nubbins of insecurities with reader and Steve, Steve and reader share playful banter, a ruined Armchair, dirty talk, pet names, riding (save a horse ride Steve Harrington), we all love boobies, creampie, cum play? As always lmk if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 6.2k

"Well I knew they called it Family Video for a reason, I just never thought they'd take it so literally." You said as the three of you looked to the closed door with the new 18 plus warning sign, taking away your break room.

"Please stop mentioning it.” Robin pinches at the bridge of her nose

"What? At least people don't like, deal porn or try to find it at a public library." Steve adds setting the return tapes on the counter.

"Why would someone go to the library for PORN?" Robin boasts turning to her best friend,

"I don't know Buckley, people are stupid when horny." Steve admonishes

“Does that mean your always horny?” You tease, Steve opens his mouth to retaliated but Robin stops him.

"No, now we just have Keith, who was already always in the back room. Potentially watching adult films on the clock and putting them back." Robin shakes in disgust.

"Like a trial run, he’ll be able to give great recommendations." You add nose scrunched with laughter bubbling in your chest.

"Ew gross." Robin said nauseated

"Look he's creepy, but Keith is not that brave. Any one of us could walk back there." Steve says pointing to the ever closed office and backroom where Keith either naps or throws together a schedule.

"Maybe he wants to be caught?" you nod, taking new tapes to stock in the romance section.

“Maybe he wants you to catch him?” Steve wiggles his eyebrows following you,

"Maybe you want me to smack you in the face-" You turn to find him closer than you anticipated only a few inches separating your body from his.

"What? Don't be a prude now, you're the one who made the conversation interesting." Steve cut you off, chest puffed in challenge. His woodsy, ash, and vanilla smell intoxicating you as the spearmint on his breath floated you back to reality.

"That's because I'm interesting." You dare with a raised eyebrow, as his eyes flicker to your cherry lips.

"God please stop flirting in front of me or I'll get a cavity." Robin whines behind the counter.

"We're not flirting-" You scold, "Okay-" Steve holds his hands up in defense at the same time. You huff and continue down the aisle to stock, red in the face with embarrassment.

Towards the end of your shift the school rush dying down, you sit on the counter with Robin inventorying returns in the computer. Steve is holding the door open for a blonde girl popping her bubble gum with glossed lips. Giggling as Steve makes a fool of himself her chest rising with the laughter, over a Star Wars joke she didn’t understand. Explaining how she had been looking for the film in Alderaan places, and how he was always happy to help a pretty girl like her.

You understood the joke, just because he didn’t know what Ewoks were didn’t mean he never paid attention when you talked about your favorite sci-fi series.

“Stupid.” You mumbled under your breathe, rewinding tapes.

“Huh?” Robin asked, her doe eyes floating along the computers interface confused her mouth hung open.

"Robs, have you ever watched an adult film?" You asked, aggravated and pent up.

"Yeah but there's not a lot in my area of attraction so I just stick to the magazines." Robin motioned toward herself, still clueless to your annoyance.

"Uh-huh, well I want to watch one." Finally being decisive on the embarrassing topic,

"Are we seriously still talking about this?" Steve chips in

"Did you seriously just strike out? You talked with her for like 30 seconds." You said infuriated, turning around to see him leaning over the counter with his stupid fluffy hair and tight polo. Sans a phone number written on his arms or a torn piece of notebook paper.

"Just remember Y/N that's all a man can give sometimes, porn isn't realistic." Robin added knocking her head into your leg in frustrated groan.

“How would you know that?” Steve scrutinized his best friend,

“Is it true?!” Robins eyes were blown wide in astonishment, they immediately started arguing with you the only barrier between them.

"Okay, I'm just gonna go back there and pick one." You slide from the counter, move Robin out of your way, they paused mid-argument to poke at you.

"Go for it, have fun." Robin called

"But not too much!" Steve yelped when she pinched him,

Opening the cliché room, of neon lights with each film had it’s own space on the shelves you began to read some of the titles. Private Teacher, Taboo, I Like to be Watched, Educating Nina, Talk Dirty to Me 1 and 2, 8 to 4, there's honestly too many. So let's just say that the first one, Private Teacher, sounds like it has some plot. You slip it into your vest, walking out of the room to find Steve surrounded by his children.

“Please Steve what’s back there?”

“We just want to take a quick peak!”

“For the millionth time, no. You’re barely 13!”

“We’re actually 14 and or older Steve.” Max says deadpan standing arms crossed next to a girl you think was named Jane or El you weren’t 100% sure.

“Yeah kids leave the guy alone just because he would sneak you into the movie's at Scoops does not mean you get free rain of the porno’s.”

��Porno’s?!” Dustin yells as the rest of the kids shush him, looking around the other Family Video patrons.

“Yeah that’s enough Steve’s posse, your scaring away paying customers.” You shush them out the door,

"Come on, I bet you have some criticism about at least one of these dirty movies." Robin asks Steve who is using every fiber in his being not to embarrass himself in front of you.

"Actually, I haven't watched any of them yet," Steve says while he re-faces the horror films the kids probably messed with earlier.

“Bullshit-” You butt in, Steve turns to defend himself but is saved by Robin’s blabbermouth.

"I do but mostly for the... well you know, porno's aren't progressive in my territory yet." Robin held up the one, where the woman's boobs were almost completely out of her bra and there was a string of spit from her mouth to them.

"Well we could change this week's movie night at my place? This one seemed well loved. 3 rents already, and it’s only been a few weeks." I grabbed 'Private Teacher' walking over to Steve, the man had the woman bent over the desk, one of his hands pulling her hair so show her face for the camera. Her school girl costume left a tasteful amount of skin on show just for the cover. The tagline read ‘Sometimes A Little Private Instruction Is All You Need To Make The Grade’

He only glanced at the cover, "Yeah I'm good, I get my fill with my right hand and watching sappy some romance movies over and over again."

"Ewwww," Robin drones behind the counter. You laugh at his in response holding onto your sides while walking back over to her.

"Obviously, not in that order!" He follows, you pull out some rental money setting on the counter as Robin rang it up.

"Oh come on now, Stevie don't be the prude of the group. Robin will be there too and I know you don't have anything better to do. Since you're always at my house anyway." He scoffs hiding the tape under his elbow when another customer walks in.

"Yeah to get away from my asshole Dad, not to watch porn with you."

"I think he would enjoy the fact you're actually finding a hobby," Robin says, putting the tape into a plastic bag, brushing some hair out of Steve's face. He sticks out his tongue mocking her.

"Yes Robin, you're a truly hilarious comedian of the century. What do I have to do for you both to drop this? Especially as my best friend and basically my boss." You giggle at the obvious answer.

"Just come by tonight, Steve. I don’t wanna watch this alone. And like always bring your tissues for the movie," Robin almost falls over laughing, when you lean over the counter pressing a kiss to his heated cheek before waving goodbye. You spend the rest of your night picking up the apartment, filling the fridge with your friends favorite snacks, and vacuuming. You thought about lighting a candle, debating if that was too romantic to watch a Porno with your co-workers. Lighting it against those thoughts because it made the place smell nice. A knock at the door took you away from the sink of dishes from your breakfast.

“Come in! It’s open guys!” You yell turning off the faucet,

“What if I was a serial killer, Y/N? You’d let me wander about your living room?” Steve brushed his front past you setting a six-pack in the fridge.

“The only serial thing you are Steve is a serial pain in my butt.” You stick you tongue out, head lurching towards the direction of the living room only to find it empty.

“Ha-ha, ha.” Steve mocked, taking off his grey jacket to lay it across the counter before nose diving into the fridge again.

"How was your day? Where’s Buckley?" You pondered wiping your wet hands, the moving his jacket to a chair at the small four person dining table.

“Hanging out with a girl. And other than this chick at work begging me to watch porn with her, it was actually really busy." He threw a grape at where you were at the table, tossing a handful into his mouth with a crunch.

"I totally forgot about it until I was grabbing my wallet at the store, I was kinda embarrassed when I rediscovered it. The lady probably thought I was high as a kite!"

"Because you are," he drooled a little bit, speaking with a full mouth, raiding the fridge full of groceries.

"There's nothing wrong with blowing off some steam with a bit of erotica. Everyone does it," you turned tossing the soiled grape back at him, joining him in the kitchen again.

"Yeah that's gross, it's unspoken. Even creepy old men who can't get it up do it." He swallowed his mouth full then making an obscene gesture with his hand.

"Ew, gross Steve.” You say hands held up in disgust,

"See-"

"Well I'm not a creepy old man," You argued, taking the tape out of your bag. "Besides, it can't be that good or bad. Almost like a true neutral, just people going at it like animals." Walking into the living room, you closed the blinds and navy curtains before setting the tape into the already plugged in VCR.

"Okay hang on a minute, there's way better ways at blowing off steam." Steve interrupts, the fridge slams as his steps grow louder.

"Name a few for me, Lover Boy." You scoffed still bent at the waist, setting everything up at the entertainment center. Round shape of your ass in those acid wash jeans begging to be released. The sight made Steve’s own tighter around his crotch.

"I don't think you want to know mine," he says breathlessly, voice a bit deeper. You stood up and turned to where he stood, his back up against the archway that separated the two rooms. The tape started playing in the middle of the stars going at each other, extremely loud feminine moans rang from the Television. It broke you from the stare down, rushing to turn it down. He came up behind you on the rug, turning everything off altogether. After a pause of shock, you rolled over laughing against the entertainment center, covering your red face with your hands. Steve huffed sitting back on his calves, laughing at it as well. Eyes drifting to the swell of your chest as the laughing made it rise a fall. Dragging the hands down your face, leaning against the shelves. You clocked his stare immediately, his pupils are blown wide, lips slick as if he just wet them. Polo tight across his shoulders but untucked showing off a flash of his soft tummy. You swallowed hard catching your breath.

“Steve?” You reach out to him, his arms grip back at your elbows pulling you up on your knees towards his knees. “I wanna know, I want to know.” His nose pressed to your cheek, lip grazing over yours as he spoke.

“I can show you.” His voice broke, husky and deep exhale along your skin. Your resolve faltered lips fitting like a puzzle against his. You pulled far enough away to split for air, only Steve followed pressing you closer together. Hand resting along your neck, holding you to him.

"What's wrong?" You looked at him worried a line creasing your forehead he reached out to soothe.

"Nothing, you're just so...beautiful." He let his eyes wander, admiring that you’d even gave him the time of day.

“I want you. I want you to show me.”

“Okay.” Connecting again fireworks exploded behind your eyes. He pulled your top lip between his, you returned by licking the slope of his bottom lip from an open mouth kiss. Steve groaned, allowing you in. He tasted of the grapes from moments ago and spearmint of the gum he chewed to stop smoking, it was sickly sweet. My hand from his thigh came up to brush away the free fallen hair from getting in our way, the strands of hair were so soft, surprising, no matter how many times you’d wished to touch them. Pushing your chest against his, raising up on your knees deepening the kiss. He sunk down to a seated position, crossing his legs and leaning his head back to a lower level. It gave more access, he kept his hands in nice places like; nape of your neck, tangled hair, cheeks, small of the back and waist. You nipped his bottom lip, pulling gently then watched it fall back in place. He gripped one of your thighs, sending shocks of anticipation up your core. He kneaded, silently wanting for sometime. Everything was too good to break away and use words. You just obediently moved one leg at a time to sit on his lap. Using his shoulders to steady, lowering onto his lap. He whimpered in anticipation in you mouth, your heat grazed the zipper of his jeans. At the friction you gasped, lips swollen and lungs out of air, as you pressed foreheads together. Eyes opening to see him staring with hopefulness, eyes wide open. You teased lightly trailing lips over his. Waiting for a reaction, but he stayed firm. Hands on the ground by his sides holding you upright. Breathing as one for a moment before he spoke,

"I've thought about this moment for a very long time," He said only for the two of you, your fingers rubbed the five o’clock shadow of his jaw in your waiting hands "I want to, so terribly. I don't know where to go from here..."

He smiled a dorky smile into your skin, keening at the contact of you against him.

"Then stop talking and kiss me again." He obeyed, trailing his lips down to your jaw, throat and to your collar, moving the fabric slightly he started softly sucking and rolling his tongue over the area. Your hands desperately clung to the back of his head, he moved closer to the pot of your collarbones and throat leaving wet kisses. He stopped his mouth looking up, with those caramel eyes so full of devotion. Mind going fuzzy, seeing the way he not only looked but saw into you. The way he always has. "Don’t stare at me like that,"

"Like what?" He let the collar of the shirt scrunch back in place the movement made you squeeze your thighs around his middle, eyes rolling back in his skull.

"Like you want to kiss me or something." His hands both came up to brush his thumbs along your ribs, fronts pressed against each other.

"I will never stop looking at you like that, no matter what happens.” He smiled, “I gave you my heart long ago." You kissed him more primal this time, needing to taste him and etch the feeling of him into your mind. He was moaning into the embrace, he still barely touched as you tugged at his shirt below, when he broke contact to pull it over his head you stopped the kiss to admire his chest.

"Steve..." You wheezed through bloated lips. "Touch me, it's okay. You can't hurt me" He kissed back hard, slipping his hands underneath your tight work shirt, his hands cold against the hot skin covering your spine. Breaking free from his lips pressing kisses on his face, down his throat cooing into him when he unclasped your bra with one hand in a single fluid motion. Running his hands over your bare back, unknowingly while you rotated your hips in small circles against his wanting more. Craving the contact and friction of him against you. He daintily ran his hands down your body hesitantly gripping the plush of your ass adding more pressure to the growing friction. His zipper felt so good against your own, letting go of your lips on his neck throwing your head back. As the feeling of his hard-on pressed up against your clit. Putting both hands on the floor behind you while he moved your hips against each other in sync, panting and grinding seeking release. Steve's abdomen flexed as he twitched under you, he was cumming loudly moaning your name from his pink lips. It sounded like a song when he said it, his release came fast, his chest heaving heavily as he pulled your body back against him. Hugging each other till lips grazed, as he came down from his high. You tried to suppress the giggle as his hands traced shapes along the small of your back.

"What are you so giddy about? You just made me cream my pants like a middle schooler." You shook your head tracing at the mark I left on his shoulder,

"Well since we're already past the point of no return. I didn't think you would be so loud." you pulled back lip bitten between teeth,

"Maybe if you weren't mauling me like a hungry lion, I could've stayed quiet." He tucks his head under your chin,

"I told you, I’m a lion girl not a ninja.” He laughed across your throat warming you as he kissed the flesh again. “Maybe I should pounce effectively, so I can really hear you scream my name." Steve stopped abruptly to meet your eyes, pupils blown wide, you felt immediately self-conscious blabbering out an apology before he could turn you down. "I’m so sorry, was that too much?"

"No...” He purred, this close you could tell the scent of him was distinctly cedar. “I've actually never been more turned on." He pushed his lips to mine, rolling our tongues against each other, knowing exactly what you liked. He tightened his grip on on the fat of your hips and making you moan into him, pulling away his lips, forehead glistening, his eyes full of lust. He trailed his fingers up to help the offensive fabric of your shirt off, the bra slowly falling the rest of the way off your shoulders. His length twitched against the inside of your thigh again, he was entranced by the image. Still as a statue until guiding his lips down to the spot on you chest that made the world melt. He kissed everywhere, you kept each hand in his hair scratching at his scalp pleasantly. Leaning forward he placed your back against the carpet, hovering on top of but keeping himself slotted between your legs. Involuntarily moaning when he licked at erect nipple, he mirrored the same to the other one. His dick throbbed against the stain of cum, straining against the fabric. Kissing each while he unzipped the high waist of your jeans. You bucked your hips and helped him pull them down, he took them off your trapped ankles, restarting his descent to kiss down the length of your body again. Wet open mouth kisses making shooting sparks through your body at the intimate contact, grabbing his hand on the ground.

“You are even more beautiful than my dreams ever allowed. Everything, you are everything.” His eyes silently asking for permission. As he slid a hand under the fabric of the green panties. You gasped loudly at the unbridled new contact of his palm, lowering to gather the dampness, trailing it up to your clit. He circled twice as his other fingers began to slowly plunge inside. You keened, calves dug into the bare flesh around his waist, “You're so wet for me,” sighing, hands finding purchase on his biceps, he hissed as his face fell into your neck.

“Uhh… Harder.” You held his arms with such intensity, leaving crescent marks into the skin digging hard into his muscle. Turning you chin down to find his lips to kiss, and silencing moans together his thumb began to swirl faster, his middle and ring finger able to go a little deeper with the changing hand position. Not being able to control the heat coursing through, you squeezed his hips harder. He whimpered, pressing himself up against your thigh rutting the fabric against himself for some contact. “Your fingers feel so good…” Moving lower, spreading wider to move your hips against his fingers, they worked expertly to consume all your senses. He pushed in a little further and harder, forcing you to look at what he was doing so wonderfully between your legs. Moaning obscene words, as your back arched further his fingers scissoring to stretch your walls. Clenching around his fingers that disappeared inside. “Holy shit- don’t stop.” Your hands fell to the floor grabbing the shag of the rug underneath, as muscles tensed unlike anything you’ve felt before. You came hard without warning, the orgasm spread through you, completely overwhelming, your legs shook out your high as he kept going, pressure building through your bladder before you felt a light gush.

"Fuck" He whispered in you ear, you could feel the shit eating grin off of his body language.

"I haven’t done that before," you tell him.

"Yeah me either, ya know to a girl… I do that every time," he said into your neck, your cheeks instantly flushed. Laughing at his dorkiness, he moved your panties back in place. His fingers parted his lips, licking them clean of your arousal. You felt him throbbing against your thigh as you lightly pushed off the ground. Taking Steve's hand, you pushing him back to climb on the Lazy Boy you'd recently bought.

“What are you thinking, Sweets?” his voice was dark, he moved up the chair and sat. Spreading his legs for you, like the good boy he’d been.

“I just want to clean up my seat, Lover Boy.” You knelt down unbuckling his jeans, pulling them down and his ruined underwear. Letting him finally be free from the confines of the fabric, his cock flung back up pre leaving a pearlescent trail on the course hair of his happy trail. Steve was massive, how he’d fit into those jeans daily made your head spin. You would make him fit, even if his cock impaled your insides.

“You don’t have to, no one’s been able to take all of me before.” He took your wanderlust as fear, and shit now you had to prove him wrong too. Your nails ran up his thighs as you collected some spit in the front of your mouth. Letting it drip onto the head, nails gripping his thigh to hold him in place you took the other hand and ran it across his length. Hitting the large vein along his shaft with your thumb, he pushed his head back against the plush chair. Fighting to buck up into you with everything in his body and mind not to blow his load again or buck up into you. He was breathing extremely heavily now, you gently kissed his red tip and watched as his fingers dug into the armrests. He held his breath a bit before you squeezed his thigh, then he exhaled. You then licked a long stripe down his shaft, you came back up to the tip flicking it with your tongue.

“Jesus, stop with the teasing Sweets,” You smiled like a siren, before holding him with a hand stroking up and down with your lips wrapped around the tip. He accidently to bucked his hips, you pressed his pelvis down taking in his full length.

“Holy shit!” Steve gasped. Hollowing your cheeks, you worked him to a pulp as your jaw went slack. His hands reached out to grab the hair that fell covering how you looked sucking him. Pulling it all to one hand, he didn’t need to guide your head, you were able to bob your head down him with a fair amount of ease with how wet you’d gotten his shaft. Tearing up and gaging if you went too slow, but it was well worth the noises coming from his beautiful lips. He watched in awe as you swallowed around him, eyes watery and spit slick chin, moving your second hand under his heavy sack you massaged them with each upstroke. HIs eye closed tightly as he twitched inside your mouth throwing his head back warning you. You took it all with a delightful swallow, helping him ride out the rest of his high with a hand. The only time he pulled his makeshift ponytail was when he could’ve cried from the stimulation. You relented with a pornographic pop, wiping your chin with the back of your hand and slowly stood going to straddle him, he playfully grabbed your body and pulled you to him on the lounge chair.

“That was way better than any other girl or me just watching porn.” you looked at him mouth agape, he was eye level with your bare chest.

“See, I knew you watched porn. A shit ton of it.” you slapped his chest.

“Yeah, but nothing compares to the real thing,” he began to kiss the marks he already started on your chest, in places only he’d only been allowed too. Your hands cupped his face for him to look at you. He smiled his beautiful heartfelt smile,

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“I don’t know but Robin is the best wing women ever. She told me if I didn’t kiss you tonight I shouldn’t even bother showing my face at work tomorrow.”

“Wait, what is Robin doing?”

“She cancelled so we could in her words ‘either fuck away the tension out or kill each other’ .”

“Well she is definitely my favorite lesbian. That multi-lingual B is a genius. I would’ve let you do this even if you’d just. I don’t know asked me on a date.”

“Bullshit-, really?”

“Are you kidding?! You are so out of my league Steve, I’ve never been in your ballpark ever in my life.” He grimaces, thumb tracing idling along your hip bone.

“I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful, smart and caring girl. I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, and I selfishly want you all to myself.” he whispers with affection you’d never heard from him before. Adam’s apple bobbing with his thick swallow of emotion.

“Then you have me.” he bit back a smile as his lip clashed with yours passionately kissing you, he faintly pulled your hair. You moaned at the action, spine tingling as you roamed your hands around his frame. Mapping out ever mole and divot along his heated skin. Trailing them back and forth on his chest like a sensual massage. He moved his hands to get a better angle on your hips, and began rowing them against himself. You both groaned at the friction, “Look who’s the tease now,” you pouted at him as a finger inched it way to your clit tracing tight consistent circles. Your nails tear at his shoulders with pleasure, making him shudder under you. ‘God how many rounds could you go with him’ “Please… uh. Tell me you're ready.” you push your head into his neck, his fingers had already fine-tuned your pleasure. He stopped, fingers yanking your scalp to crash your lips to his. He still rowing you against his length, until his lungs screamed for air.

“I’m always ready, how do you feel about this?” he stops his motions, you felt unfulfilled when the movement ceased. You brain finally grasping some clarity, Steve would stop everything here if you wanted him too. Helping you re-dress and seeing himself out. Never telling a soul if you’d asked, he’d be celibate if you’d ask. Buying you the finest ring until your wedding night then ravishing you in your honeymoon bed.

“This doesn’t change the way I feel about you. You’re perfect to me Steve.” he gave you a sinful smile, reaching his hand under your adjoined hips pushing you up onto your knees. While he finished working himself up, you waited as patiently as you could by marking his neck.

“God you're so wet for me, these panties are drenched after sucking me. We should’ve gotten rid of them, already.” His eyes were playful, and needy for more and all of you. He helped you stand, putting your hands on his shoulder to balance you as you took them off. Just the sight of you fully naked made his heart ache, he kissed your arm lips too far for his liking. Wanting even more contact, he grabbed your waist again leaning back into the chair. You kissed him lazy, you both were fucked out of your minds already. Now it was just comforting, you had all the time in the world. It was slow, sweet, his lips were so soft you still felt them all over your body. His hands roamed but craved to rest on your chest above your heart. You pressed your forehead against his, catching your breath. His hands on your hips, guided you gently down as you felt him at your entrance.

“Take your time, Sweets. I want us to enjoy this,” nipping at your forearm while sitting himself farther up the chair, feet still planted on the ground.

“You want me to top, you?”

“Is that a problem?”

“I haven’t done that… Before.” You told him shyly,

“Well, well. Looks like we're about to enter a new realm of pleasure for you…” Licking his lips, “just take me in your hand and guide yourself down at your own speed, Sweetheart.” His comforting words sent a tingle down your spine, you put your hands on the soft skin where his pelvis lies. He just observes your movements gripping your hips like a steering wheel, mouth awestruck as you lower yourself down onto him. His hands dig into you, as you let him fill your insides. Immediately he’s touching things you’ve never felt, it’s painful in the most remarkable way.

“Shit, babe. Oh my god. Didn’t-Didn’t think you’d take all of me on the first go.” he shifts pulling your chest so he can latch on to his dark purple mark there. It causes a rush inside you even just the slight motion making you want to explode.

“Feels so full, god your fucking humongous Steve.” You whined, high pitched and needy. The ach of his cock started to morph from a burn to a stretch faster than you thought as your arousal dripped down your thighs. In brief circles you moved your hips against him, keeping him completely sheathed inside. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, he moves his hands to your thighs squeezing hard making you grind faster. He comes up for air from you chest and lets out a gracious moan,

“Stevie, pull the handle.” you whimper at him,

“What?” he mutters breathlessly.

“Holy shit, just…” you're on the brink of another powerful orgasm, pussy gripping him like a vice ”pull the handle back, trust me.” he lets go of one of your thighs frantically looking for the handle on the side of the recliner. He finally finds it and pulls hard, sending his lower body up into yours and your upper body over his. You both moan in ecstasy, his hand going back to your thigh. Sitting back up, you place one hand on his lower abdomen and the other on his hairy thigh behind you. He continues to groan affirmations and your name at the changed position, sending you over a small cliff. Only adding to the larger knot in your stomach, running up your body.

“Keep going I want you to cum, cum around my fat cock.”

“Don’t stop, stay right there. I want it all.” You pant feeling him twitch inside you, moving your hips with his.

“God you're so wet, and you ride me so good Sweetheart.” he playfully smacks your ass, you change your position again to bring your lips to his. He moves your body up and down while kissing you, letting you dominate his mouth while he starts to push harder into you. Propelling himself up, while his hands push you down into him in an erratic give and take. This is what you’ve needed, this was perfect but not even the start for both of you. He continues to praise you through breaths of pleasure “I got you�� , “I can make you feel so good, Sweetheart.”, he gets filthier and louder and you keep moving, riding each other to passionate oblivion. Your mind ventures to his lips all over you, yours on him, the coil in between you wraps him tightly inside you. Your body starts to shake from the high, you press your upper body against his chest the hair rubbing against your hardened nipples.

"Good girl, milk my cock. Feels so good, gunna cum. You gotta move Sweets."

“Want to feel you, feel you dripping out of me Steve.” He mewls, clinging to you.

“Shit. Beg me for it, tell me how bad you want me to cum inside you.”

“Oh Steve,” you open your eyes, pressing your forehead down to meet him, his open too. You clutch your walls around him harder as he tries to finish riding your orgasm, “Please.” You whimper. That’s all it takes he gasps and finally bursts in you. Lips soothing against yours for that other contact. You feel the hot liquid inside you, wringing him dry of everything that he could possibly have left.

Separating for air out of the kiss, feeling his hot breaths against your cheeks, he groans, swallowing hard at the sensitivity. You brush your hair off of your sweaty face, holding onto the back of his neck to see him better. His eyes gleamed with passion, you smiled back.

“My legs are jelly,” you laugh in his face,

“I’ll take that as an answer to my question then,” he smiles, lifting your hips up. He easily slips out of you, you groan in frustration at the emptiness between your legs. Hissing at the loss as well, his abs quiver against the softness of your soft tummy. He pushes the foot rest back, so he can sit upright in the chair. Capturing his lips in yours, leaning you back as he holds you manhandling your hips, rotating you forward to help you stand.

“I could kiss you forever.” He admits kissing your shoulders as you put your feet on the cold floor, pushing off of his knees. You wobble slightly,

“See,” you turned to face him again, pulling him up to stand together face to face. He stumbled a bit too, “completely fucked out of my mind.” He wraps his arms around your waist swaying you slightly in an embrace.

“You did so good, Sweetheart. We should get cleaned up.”

“I did good, how did you not run out of cum? Three rounds your insatiable.”

"Told you, I don't joke about my porn." He winks, kissing the corner of your mouth as he picks up your discarded clothes on the floor of the living room.

"No wonder you're idolized by 14 year old boys." You roll your eyes, picking up your panties. This time when you bend own he can see his spend dripping down your slit. He chuckles from behind you a free hand, coasting down your stomach to your heat. You gasp as his fingers collect his cum from your thighs, you spin in his hold to meet his eyes.

"Open." Steve commands, eyes clouding with lust as he watches you stick your tongue out for him. His fingers slide along your tongue covered in each other's spend. It's comforting, salty, and heady against your tongue. You moan around him, sucking the taste clean from his fingers. He fingers slip out tongue replacing them, as he tips your chin up to meet his lips deeper, tongue kneading yours as he memorizes you. Inside and out.

“You know,” You murmur into his mouth as his mouth strays from yours coasting to mouth down your jaw. “I have a camcorder somewhere in my closet.” He freezes lips parted and eyes wide.

“Yeah? You don’t want to finish the movie? I was just starting to enjoy it.” You pout your lips, while he picks up all of the clothes from various places you threw them.

“Yeah... We could or..?”

“Or?”

“If you wanted we could make are own video?” Steve doesn’t even dictate your question with a response only hoisting you over his shoulder and burying you in the mattress for the rest of the night.

Masterlist

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #family video #lesbians are the best wing women #robin buckley matchmaker #stranger things smut #stranger things season 4 #no minors allowed #reader insert #oneshot #stranger things

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thefallennightmare · 4 months

Text

Just Pretend-seventeen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Don't forget your wigs, y'all.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid

NOAH

“I mean in what world do I go to sleep after you and wake up before you? I don't even know how it happens. Well, I hope you're having sweet dreams and you call me when you wake up.”

The noise of my mouse clicking was overshadowed as I played the voicemail repeatedly, sometimes with different remix as I tried to find the best one. After the initial shock of hearing the song, the voicemail, and realizing my feelings for her, I knew I needed to do something with the voicemail.

Someone knocked on the door of the studio but I didn’t take my eyes off the screen, still working. “Come in!”

“You’ve been in here awhile, just wanted to make sure you’re alright,” Jolly said while pulling up a chair next to me.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been busy working on something.”

He eyed the screen as I worked through the program we used, the voicemail still playing.

“Are you sure you want to use this?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged with a sigh. “I figured we could remix it and bury it in a song.”

Jolly hesitated. “You’re not worried about her hearing it?”

Finally taking my attention away from the computer, I leaned back in my chair while adjusting my circle shaped, gold-rimmed glasses on my nose. “Clearly she wasn’t worried about me hearing it. Y/N knew what she was doing when she added that voicemail in the song.”

“I want to make sure you know what you’re doing, that’s all,” he said.

“I’ve been working on it all morning but still doesn’t feel right,” I admitted.

Jolly rose to his feet and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll figure it out; you always do. Make sure you come out and eat something before we leave.”

Waving him off as he left the room, I decided not to go back to the remix so instead I took a break by browsing through my phone. There were three unread texts messages, all from Bailey, but I didn’t feel like reading them. I already knew what she was asking.

Last night she asked if I wanted to hang out with her today but I’d already made plans; one that I wouldn’t skip out on.

So instead of responding to her texts, I browsed through social media for a few minutes before ending up looking through my pictures, stopping on a selfie. It was from when I watched Salem for Y/N while she was in Japan. In the haste of everything since she came back, I realized I never sent it to her. After watching her performance on the live stream a few days ago, something was different.

I love her.

The words felt weird on my tongue, almost foreign. I told the guys all the time that I loved them but this kind of love was different. It hit me really hard, I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve been through so many ups and downs, trials and tribulations with relationships. Sometimes, I couldn’t stand myself- I’d turn every mirror around. With Y/N, she moved and breathed in the same world with me. She was beautiful for the way she thought. She was beautiful for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was who she was, and I loved her.

Those feelings always had been buried deep within me but now when I say those three words out loud, it’s as if everything clicked into place. Almost as if that’s the way it's supposed to be with us, despite all the anger, hurt, and trials we’d gone through the last year.

Y/N’s eyes stole my heart. Her smile gave me life. Her presence made me high. And her touch left me breathless.

For now, I tried to hold these secrets inside of me because my mind was like a deadly disease.

My phone buzzed with yet another message, one I tried to ignore but my eyes immediately went towards it as it appeared on the top of my screen.

Bailey: Hi! Not sure if you saw my other message but I’m off work around three today if you wanted to hang out.

Swiping the message away, I went back to staring at the picture, wondering if I should send it to Y/N or not. It wasn’t a favorite selfie of mine but there was a chance she would appreciate it because Salem was in it.

After saying fuck it, I sent Y/N the picture, before deciding to text Bailey, hoping to avoid another one from her.

ME: I already have plans with some of the guys today. Maybe I can swing by later tonight.

As my text to Y/N went unread, I tried not to dwell on it for too long. Until the nagging voice in the back of my mind kept telling me that there was a reason she was ignoring my texts. Just as I clicked on the Hollow Omens group text thread, a private one from Malcolm popped up.

Malcolm: Hey, we’re sorry to do this but Y/N’s in a lot of pain today. She’s doesn’t think she’s going to make it tonight.

Feeling my heart drop, I sat up straighter in my chair, pausing the voicemail I just realized was still playing.

ME: Is she alright? Does it have to deal with her endometriosis?

As I waited for him to respond, I left the studio and headed to my bedroom, rummaging though my desk to look for my notes I took on endometriosis and ways to help elevate the pain. All of us had plans tonight to head to the pier for a night of gorging on street food and watch the fireworks. It was an annual thing our town did, and we figured it’d be something fun to check out. It’s all I could think about the last few days and the slight chance Y/N wouldn’t make it didn’t sit right with me.

When I slipped into my vans, my phone buzzed with a new text from Malcolm.

Malcolm: Yeah, it’s bad today. Her doctor switched up her meds but they don’t seem to help. She’s in the bath right now. But that’s the first time she got out of bed today.

Doing my best to ignore the thoughts of Y/N in the bath, I pocketed my wallet and phone before leaving my room. I passed Orie on the way down the stares and he gave me a look.

“Where are you headed? We’re not meeting everyone until later.”

I waved over my shoulder as I headed to the front door. “I’ve got some errands to run. I’ll meet you guys later.”

READER

I let out a long groan of pain while clutching my midsection, burying my face deeper into my pillow. The bath did nothing to ease the cramps even with the meds. I was apprehensive about changing the dosage but my doctor thought a lighter amount would be fine since the pain wasn’t that bad for the last few months.

The noise coming from my television was a white noise as I readjusted my position on the bed, hoping with me laying on my stomach, it would ease the pain somewhat; it did. I had the blanket pulled up to my chin as I reached for my phone, deciding to send a text to the Hollow Omens group chat to let everyone know I wasn’t able to make it tonight. But a new message from Noah halted that thought as I clicked it open, my breath catching in my throat at the picture.

Mochi 🍡: I forgot I took this picture while you were in Japan. I miss him, I might have to come steal him for the night.

I couldn't stop myself from staring at the picture for an ungodly normal amount of time. His hair was shorter than it was now, Noah must have got it cut when I was gone. But fuck, he looked breathtaking. There was a quick thought of setting this picture as the background on my phone. I didn’t want to have to explain it to the guys or hell, even Bailey if she noticed so instead I opted in setting it as Noah’s new contact picture; replacing the one of him in the braids back from that night.

Noah fit so well with me-with Salem. Like a small family would be.

Oh fuck, stop.

I shook my head at the thought. I blew that chance; over. Done.

Well, maybe there was still a small chance for us?

No, don’t even think of it.

Dusk is just an illusion because the sun is above the horizon or below it. And that means that day and night are linked in a way that few things are there. One cannot be without the other yet they cannot exist at the same time. How would it feel to be always together yet forever apart?

With a wavering sigh as the pain returned, I dropped my phone to the floor as I curled into a ball hugging the pillow to my chest.

NOAH

I knocked on the door with my free hand, the other grasping a bag close to my chest while my foot tapped to a melody I had stuck in my head all day. Ever since trying to remix the voicemail earlier, I had this same tune and lyrics in my head.

“Am I worthy?” I hummed as the front door opened.

Chase doubled back in surprise when he saw me. “Oh hey, man, what’s up? I wasn’t expecting to see you till later.”

I nodded. “Malcolm texted me saying Y/N’s not feeling that great.”

“Yeah,” he ran a hand over his buzzed head while moving to the side, allowing me to step inside. “It’s been one of those days. The pain is really bad, and she hasn’t left her room.”

“I brought her some things, hoping it helps. I know she was excited about our night at the pier so anything to help her feel better,” I held up the bag in my hand.

Chase gave me an amused expression before nodding down the hall. “Third door on the left.”

As I approached her door, the faint sound of her television and a muffled noise gave me slight pause before I knocked softly.

“Angel?”

Nothing.

So I knocked harder. “Angel, it’s me.”

It was a faint, but I heard her grant me entrance, where I slowly opened her door and noticed Y/N crouched in her bed with a pillow against her chest, blanket pulled up to her nose. Her eyes darted from the television over to me, doubling.

“Hey,” I said while shutting the door

“Noah?” She pulled the blanket away from her face as she sat up in bed. “What are you doing here?”

I smiled while setting the back down on the empty side of her bed. “I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I brought some things over.

Y/N stiffened for a long moment before he shoulders fell slightly. “They told you? Everything, I’d assume.”

“Are you upset?”

“No,” she sighed. “I just-I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in and understand.”

I waved her off. “I did my research on Endometriosis; from what Malcolm and Chase told me. So I brought some goodies for you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Y/N’s bottom lip wavered as she let out a deep breath. “Aren’t you busy with writing or-Bailey?”

I didn’t miss the way she stuttered out Bailey’s name but kept it to myself as I began unpacking things from the bag.

“She’s at work, it’s all good. Please, angel, let me be here for you. I’ve got some snacks and other shit.”

A tiny smile pulled at her lips before Y/N eventually nodded. “I mean, yeah. Please, I appreciate this so much, Noah. Thank you.”

I tossed on the bed a variety of snacks and drinks, her immediately reaching for the Reeses Peanut butter cups.

“How’d you know these were my favorite?”

I merely shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

Bullshit. I texted Malcolm to ask.

Our eyes locked, the invisible string that connected us vibrated in my chest.

“You wear glasses?” Y/N asked.

My hands quickly went to my face, feeling self conscious of her tone of voice. “Uh, yeah. I kind of forgot I was wearing them. I left the house in a hurry.”

“You look-,” her words trailed off for a long beat of silence as her eyes shined with light.

I look what, angel?

My fingers tapped against my thigh as I waited for her answer.

Y/N hesitated before answering. “Like a dork.”

Rolling my eyes with a chuckle, I tossed one of her pillows at her as she smacked it away with her own laughter echoing through her room.

“Oh,” I remembered while rummaging through the bag. “I also picked this up. You can always get a better one later but I’m sure you needed something to help a little. I read that heat helps with the cramping from Endometriosis.”

“Wait, a minute. You read?” She teased before taking the heating pad from me with a small smile of thanks.

“Don’t be a smartass, ma’am,” I chuckled. “I just wanted to learn more about this and want to help anyway I can, angel.”

She blinked slowly as she stared down at the heating pad and treats in her hand. “This is-uh. Thank you.

Noticing she was seconds away from crying, I set the empty bag on the ground before reaching for the remote next to her on the bed. “Ok now scoot over.”

“What?” Her gaze finally tore from the things in her hand up to me.

I motioned for her to scoot closer to the right side of her bed while I kicked off my shoes. “Make some room. We’re going to watch something on Netflix while we eat our snacks.”

“Mochi, for real?” Y/N smiled.

“Yeah for real, move,” I pushed her shoulder which made her finally move over towards the other side of the bed.

Making sure there was still space between us as I laid down next to her, I resumed the show Y/N was watching on Netflix as we silently watched while eating the snacks. After some time, I noticed she shifted deeper into the bed and pulled the blanket closer to her chest, a look of pain across her face.

“Are you alright?” I asked turning towards her.

Y/N shook her head. “The pain; it’s really bad. My doctor switched my meds, but it doesn’t seem to help.”

Quickly, I sat up from the bed to plug in her heating pad and handed it to her. “Try it.”

I watched as she adjusted herself in the bed with the heating pad against her abdomen with a sigh. “You really don’t have to do all of this, Noah. I know you must be busy.”

“I’m never busy for you, angel,” I promised while hopping over her into the bed.

The door pushed open with a small meow before Salem jumped up into the bed, immediately climbing and laying on my chest. With one hand propped up behind my head, I used the other hand to pet Salem’s head; his purring overpowering the noise of the television.

“He missed you,” Y/N said, not taking her eyes off the movie.

“I missed him too,” I mused while leaving pepper-like kisses all over the cat's face.

The comfortable silence fell between us again for a long while now with me peering over at her now and then to make sure she was alright. The heating pad seemed to have worked because gone from her face was the look of pain, instead the ethereal look I fell in love with graced her features. I marveled in the one dimple in her cheek as she laughed at something funny; the sound making my stomach flutter. I drank in the sight of how when her hair fell into her face, the lines in her forehead creased as she tried to blow it out of her eyes, failing miserably so ended up brushing it away.

“Why are you staring at me?” Y/N asked, breaking my trance.

“Just memories,” I smirked while grabbing my coconut water and taking a drink.

Her cheeks reddened before clearing her throat, just as the movie ended. “Should we watch another?”

“Actually,” I said while reaching for my phone that I placed on the end table, not disturbing the sleeping Salem. “I have something else to show you.”

“Oh, you do, huh? Is it another selfie?”

I scoffed while giving her a sideways glance. “You’re spicy today, aren't you?”

Noticing another text message from Bailey, I ignored it by clicking on my Spotify app; I chose the playlist I made while waiting in line at the store to check out.

“I made this for you. It’s a playlist of different earthy type songs or meditation sounds. Something to help you with the pain,” I explained while letting her peer over to get a glance at the different songs.

“An Incomplete List of Songs I Love That You Will Probably Love Too (Actually)?” She read back the name of the playlist.

I shrugged. “It’s not the weirdest one. So, which song?”

Y/N hummed while scrolling through my phone as I held it before finally settling on one. “Runaway by Aurora. I love that one.”

My heart stuttered in my chest at her choice; memories came flooding back. She didn’t know it but that song helped pull me out of a dark place in my life.

Running a hand over my jaw, I nodded while clicking on the song and connected it to Y/N’s smart speaker in her room.

As we lay there, listening to song after song, we let the soft tunes ease us into a state of calmness. While I pet Salem, quietly singing along to the words, I heard a soft snore beside me and noticed Y/N fell asleep. Her lips were parted slightly and her chest rose and fell with each deep breath.

Taking off my glasses and setting them on the table next to me, I sunk deeper into the pillow and eyes fluttering shut.

After some time, unsure how long, I woke first to notice that both of us had turn towards each other in our sleep, our faces mere inches from each other and hands grazing over one another in the middle of the bed. The earlier melody still in my head but now as I stared at Y/N, the words now clearing through the fog that clouded my mind.

“Weigh down on me, stay till morning,” I hummed low, slowly brushing a strand of hair out of her face, letting my fingers linger along the skin of her neck. “Way down. Would you say I’m worthy?”

Y/N shifted in her sleep as I pulled my hand away, eyes fluttering open. Our eyes locked, and she gave me a lazy smile. “Oh, we must have moved in our sleep.”

Fuck, my heart, stomach, and dick twitched at her tired voice.

“Did I wake you?” I muttered quietly.

She yawned while cuddling the pillow. “I don’t know. I thought I heard some humming or singing. Do you have a melody in your head?”

I swallowed. “Yeah, guess I do.”

MALCOLM

While walking down the hall, ready to head to the pier, I stopped in front of Y/N’s room to check and see how she was feeling. A shocked hum fell from my lips when I noticed there was more than one body in her bed.

Y/N and Noah were asleep facing each other, their fingers linked; subconsciously or not, it was as if their souls needed to be connected at all times. Salem laid between them.

“Oh man,” I sighed sweetly but there was that lingering fear that Y/N would get hurt again.

After closing the door, I made my way into the living room where Chase was lounging on the couch, playing a drum beat with his hands on his lap. I laid a kiss to the top of his head before going into the kitchen, grabbing a drink from the fridge.

“I didn’t know Noah was here,” I said while hopping onto the counter.

Chase nodded. “He came by a few hours ago. I guess he wanted to help Y/N with the pain.”

I made a low, amused noise. “Seemed to help. They’re both sleeping.”

“Really?”

“Yep, curled up facing each other with Salem between them. Like a little family.”

Chase rolled his eyes with a deep sigh. “They don’t even realize what’s happening; even in their sleep. This thing between them, you read about it. It what everyone looks for. Why don’t they fucking see it?”

I shrugged with my own deep sigh. “Fear? Anxiety? Who knows but I have a feeling shit’s about to hit the fan soon, babe. I really do.”

BRYAN

The large group of us walked down the pier, the loud music and smell of food from the fair filling the air. I walked between Malcolm and Orie, as Noah walked ahead with Folio, Nick, and Jolly. Every so often, I’d catch Noah peer over his shoulder to make sure we were all following.

Bringing the camera up to my neck, I took a few differnt pictures; the pink painted skyline, the crashing of the water underneath, then when Noah peered over his shoulder yet again, I took a picture of him. I began clicking a bunch of buttons to zoom in, noticing Noah wasn’t staring at the camera; more so off to the left of me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I immediately noticed who Noah was watching.

Y/N walked alongside with Michael, Matt, and Jesse, all four of them laughing about something unknown. We were told earlier that there was a chance Y/N wouldn’t be able to make it because she didn’t feel well. Clearly whatever Noah planned for her earlier today helped.

When I glanced from Y/N back to Noah, already seeing that he was looking directly at me. Without saying a word, he told me exactly what he was thinking with a small smile.

I motioned to my camera. “Definitely a keeper; Noah. I’ll be sure to save this one.”

As we reached the main area of the fair, we all agreed on getting some food before the firework show. It was busy, crowds of people pushing their way through to get to where they needed. The occasional shocked expression was thrown towards us as people recognized Bad Omens and Hollow Souls. Thankfully, they stayed away knowing that we all wanted to enjoy our personal time.

Y/N sat at a table with Chase as Noah walked up with two large cups of sodas and a funnel cake, one he clearly was planning on sharing. The three of them attacked the funnel cake as Chase talked about how excited he was for the new drum track he was working on.

Once again, I was stuck watching this fiasco that was Y/N and Noah. There is no confusion like the confusion of a simple mind- this was all easy to us, but for them? Not so much. As an observer to the left eye, forgetting the truth behind what is current; they sat together, chilling out, doing what friends do, but, he looked at her the way all women want to be looked at by a man. I don’t believe I ever looked at a woman that way; at least not yet.

Y/N was beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines, I could totally see why Noah had his tongue stuck in his throat. Around her, he would retreat into this shy, introverted person around her company. Stealing those glances so subtly. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if others were sad, even when she, out of all people, were sad.

Before when I snapped the picture, I didn’t even catch he wasn’t looking over at me at all. His almond eyes were shifted, never me or the camera. Just her; Y/N. I don’t know shit about love, not right now and maybe not even a year from now. But I can say this-there are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice. I had a feeling they would find something somehow. The photo I took, the peripheral vision of her staring right back at him was proof.

I raised my camera, recording now, as Y/N walked to throw away the garbage and Noah running up behind her to lift her into the air twirling her around.

“Noah! Stop!” She giggled while wrapping her arms around his neck.

“What?” Noah stopped spinning. “Let you go?”

Y/N shrieked as he nearly dropped her. “No, you idiot! Don’t let me go!”

This short clip of them along with the picture from before were definitely keepers.

NOAH

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Y/N laid a hand on Malcolm’s back as he was doubled over, hands on his knees.

He dry heaved before nodding. “I’ll be fine.”

Chase sighed as he held back Malcolm’s hair. “Babe, you know how sick you get when you eat fair food then try to ride the teacup ride.”

“Fuck you,” he grumbled.

I chuckled as watching the three of them.

“Maybe we should go,” Chase said when Malcolm threw up yet again into the trash can.

Y/N hesitated but nodded. “Uh, yeah. Let me just get my things.”

My heart sank to my stomach because I wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. We were only here for about an hour and the fireworks show hadn’t started yet.

“I can take you home later, angel,” I offered.

Her eyes sparkled with the setting sun as she smiled over to me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you for a ride.”

“I’ll make sure she gets home safe,” I spoke towards Chase.

He nodded while helping Malcolm stand up straight. “Have her home by midnight.”

Y/N scoffed. “A curfew?!”

I squinted my eyes. “12:30?”

She looked between the two of us, disbelief on her face, until Chase reluctantly agreed with a nod. “Not a second later!”

“I hate you, fuckers,” Y/N seethed with a hint of a smile before waving goodbye to the two of them and muttering something about needing to use the bathroom before the show.

“I’ll wait right here for you,” I said; with more meaning behind it than she might have realized.

She patted my cheek. “You’re a good man, Noah.”

Playfully pushing her away, heart pounding loudly in my chest, I watched with careful eyes as she walked over to the restroom to make sure she was safe. In that time, Jolly, Folio, and Jesse came up to me.

“The others found a great spot on the beach for the show,” Jolly informed.

I nodded while pointing to the bathroom. “Y/N’s in the bathroom. I said I’d wait for her.”

Folio was texting away on his phone as Jesse spoke next. “Where’s Chase and Malcolm?”

“Malcolm got sick so Chase took him home,” I chuckled. “I offered to drop Y/N off later.”

Jolly raised a brow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Weren’t you planning to go hang out with Bailey?”

My eyes snapped over to him at the mention of Bailey. “I’m not going to fuck Y/N in the car.”

Folio’s eyes snapped up from his phone. “You fucked Y/N in the car?”

“Oh my god,” I pinched my eyes shut with a groan.

Jesse peered over Folio’s shoulder to his phone. “Oh shit. She wants to see that movie? I saw a trailer for it last night. It looks fucking sick.”

“Hey, fuck off!” Folio scolded while putting his phone to his chest.

Out of the corner of my vision, I saw Y/N walking back towards us but stopped when someone stepped in her path. She gave whoever it was a tight smile as they rambled something, talking fast with their hands.

“Who’s that?” Jesse asked.

“Must be a fan with how excited he looks talking to her,” Jolly said.

Y/N tried to speak, but the guy didn’t let her; kept rambling as he pulled out his phone. I didn’t miss the way she stiffened, clearly uncomfortable. My eyes narrowed as it watched intently to make sure this guy didn’t try anything.

Why does it matter? You’re with Bailey.

“Noah, are you going to go all Jack Nicholson on him or what?” Folio joked.

“What?” I shook my head. “No-I’m just watching from afar to make sure she’s alright.”

At first, I thought I wanted to be set free from the pain of Y/N leaving me that night. I thought by being with someone else it would help deliver me from her hands, but it hasn’t. I watched the dude talk and talk and talk. She wasn’t into it, but it wasn’t my place to intervene. I wanted too.

I’m going to stand right here, with my hands in my pocket. I’m going to stand right-oh, what the fuck!

I watched as the guy went in for a hug but it wasn’t a small hug. This was deep as his hands grazed up and down her back while her hands gently patted his. I could tell from here that the grip around her was tight and Y/N was clearly uncomfortable.

Fuck this.

Before I knew it, I was walking over, my gaze never leaving this fucking guy. I watched his hands, his entire figure embrace her.

No. Absolutely fucking not. You want a hug? Go for the hug that looks like a pat, you don’t need to be holding onto her for dear life.

I closed the distance between us face, my feet flew with force. My breathing was deep, huffing and puffing. I wanted to deck him. I shouldn’t, but I do. This mother fucker did even realize what a privilege it was to be even touched slightly by Y/N.

As I approached them from behind, neither of them noticing me yet, the guy said. “You’re fucking talented!”

She is, we know that -now leave.

“And you’re fucking beautiful, so beautiful, are you with somebody? Can I get your number, maybe go out?”

This guy kept rambling on and I tensed, my skin felt like cactus.

Y/N’s soft, polite voice spoke up. “I’m already spoke-” she stuttered. “No, not right now. But I’m not interested. I’m sorry.”

Why the fuck was she apologizing?

“Oh damn,” the guy’s shoulder dropped as his hands were buried in his pockets. “That’s too bad, I’d love to take you out, and show you a great time.”

This mother fucker wasn’t getting the hint.

I kicked the leg of the table that was next to them, making a noise as my face never leaving his. I bore into him.

They turned their heads over at me, a relieved expression crossing Y/N’s face. “Oh, hey. I was on my way back!”

A low noise rumbled in the back of my throat as I crossed my arms. “Hi, angel. Are you alright?”

Before she could speak, the guy cut her off when he pointed to me. “Holy shit, you’re Noah. From Bad Omens. What’s up, dude?!”

I wish I could say I was amused, even flattered, but I wasn't. I didn’t care if he was a fan of the band to be honest.

Get the fuck out of her face. Don’t touch or look at what’s rightfully mine.

Well, technically that not true now is it?

Ignoring the voice, I nodded towards the guy as I stepped closer to Y/N.

“Sup man, did you get your photo? Cause we have places to be.”

I was more hostile with my words than I realized but I didn’t care. He could tweet about it.

He noticed the tension. “Uh yeah, yeah I did. It was lovely to meet you Y/N. Thanks so much.”

“No problem! Have a good one,” Y/N gave her best smile.

He walked away, and I watched him, tilting my head as he looked over a few times before finally turning the corner, disappearing behind a crowd of people.

“Noah,” Y/N’s soft voice turned my attention to her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I nodded. “Are you? He seemed a little too fucking friendly, no?”

I was forceful with my words. I had no right to be, but I couldn’t stop seeing red.

“He was just a fan, Noah, it’s normal. You of all people should know that.”

“I get it, trust me. I only wanted to make sure you were safe. He looked at you like-”, I stopped myself before I even began.

Like how I fucking look at you and it pissed me off.

She shifted on her feet. “Like what? It was harmless flirting.”

“Hm, didn’t look like it. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you.”

“Noah, I can’t control that shit, no more than you can,” Y/N sighed, almost walking away from me.

My heart still was pounding hard in my chest as I reached for her elbow, gently pulling her back towards ms.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.” I gave a small smile.

“I’m good, thanks mochi.”

She smiled at me; that same fucking smile that brightened any room she walked in. It paled in comparison to the setting sun behind her that painted the sky in pink and gold. I took a small step towards her, fingers itching with the need to grab her face so I could kiss her, until I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

Without looking at it, I knew it was Bailey. She sent me a text awhile ago saying that she could order us some food tonight if I came over, which I responded with four words; I’ll let you know.

“Uh,” I swallowed while taking a step back. “Everyone found a great spot for us on the beach for the fireworks. Are you ready?”

“Hell yes, I love firework!” Y/N bounced on her feet.

As we began walking down the pier, both of our hands swinging so close to each other, I felt her skin on mine a few times.

“How’s the pain?” I asked after a moment.

“Good. I mean it’s still there but thanks to a certain someone,” she bumped her shoulder with mine, “the heating pad helped a lot.”

This time, I linked our hands together just as we reached the beach, and gave it a squeeze. “Of course, angel.”

I thought back to the last time we were on a beach together; us playing in the water after we both discussed parts of our past that made us who we were today. She was with Trey but that moment, I’d never seen her more alive and free.

Time traveling again, it was so easy to do it in her presence. Going back in time, things weren’t simple then either; but in those moments it became what I know of it now; everything to me.

My phone buzzed again which caused me to groan as I pulled it out of my pocket, expecting to it to be Bailey but it shocked me to see it was a text from Matt; a screenshot of a conversation on Twitter.

Met Y/N of Hollow Souls, so fucking beautiful and incredible in person. I’ve always been a fan of hers, but her music is great too. Holy fuck! I got the balls to ask her out. She said no lol all good. Still a fan. Always.

My grip around my phone as I felt the anger fester low in my gut before reading the next tweet.

Noah of Bad Omens was there with her and was a fucking prick. All good. Damn shame cause the music is good.

I snorted when I then read Matt’s own tweet in response.

Listen to the music for the right reasons then.

I responded to Matt with a few laughing emojis, still ignoring Bailey’s text, and pocketed my phone just as we reached everyone else on the beach. They were scattered either in chairs or on the blanket and the only open spots were on said blanket with Orie and Nick. We sat next to each other, fingers brushing against one another as we leaned back, staring up to the now dark sky while we waited for the fireworks. Y/N shivered, and I reached for my sweater that Jolly remembered to grab from my car.

“Cold?” I asked.

She nodded. “I should have brought something heavier.”

I handed her my sweater, and she took it with a thankful smile. “Thanks Mochi.”

Orie peered over to us, a sly smirk playing on his lips, but I ignored him as Nick patted my shoulder, showing me his phone.

“Death of Peace of Mind comes out at ten o'clock tonight,” he muttered quietly.

Shit.

I bit the inside of my cheek but nodded. “She was bound to hear it, anyway.”

As I turned back towards Y/N, the fireworks began, loud cracks of coloring lighting up the sky. She stared up with wonder and excitement as she pulled my sweater closer to her chest. While everyone watched the beauty in the sky, I watched the beauty in front of me that was Y/N.

An ordinary beginning, something that would have been forgotten had it been anyone but Y/N. But as I shook her hand and met those striking eyes for the first time, the fireworks blew in through the sky, like they were made for her.

Before I’d taken my next breath, I fucking knew she was the one I could spend the rest of my life looking for but never find again if I lost her; I couldn’t lose her again.

I knew the way I felt right now wasn’t meant for Bailey; I knew it from the second I asked her out. That’s what kept me awake at night, that’s what scared me and kept me from admitting this truth. Y/N seemed like that good, that perfect feelings while those fucking fireworks exploded.

READER

Shit, talk about an awkward car ride.

After the fireworks ended, we all parted ways with everyone and Noah walked me to his car. The atmosphere was fine at first, but being so close to him in this confined space made my palms sweat and core ache. Which didn’t make sense because earlier today while we laid in bed together, I didn’t feel this awkward tension. But now, it was as if we were drowning in it. I kept my gaze out the window as the familiar streets and houses came into view, telling me I was almost home. I frowned, not wanting the day to be over.

Noah noticed because he tapped my knee with a knuckle. “Everything alright?”

I gazed over to him and sucked in a breath at the sight of him. He pulled back the long locks of his hair in a low bun, a few strands falling into his face. The darkness of the car did nothing to hide his gorgeous features, his almond color eyes staring deep into my heart as he took his gaze off the road for a few beats. Before while we were at the pier, he had taken off his glasses but now Noah was wearing them and I loved the way he looked in them.

There was that word again; love. It held so much meaning now that I admitted it out loud to myself but yet, stung deep knowing he didn’t feel the same. Because if he did, he wouldn’t have been with someone else.

“Yeah,” I answered when I realized I hadn’t said anything yet. “I had a really fun day today, Noah. Thank you for everything.”

His fingers grazed over my knee to give it a squeeze. “Anytime, angel. I’m here to help you through whatever you need.”

Noah pulled the car into a stop in front of my house and I let out a sigh, not moving yet.

“Your new song was great by the way.”

My head snapped over towards him. “Oh, Eyelids? You, uh, you like it?”

“It was beautiful, angel. It seemed to have come from your heart,” Noah turned his body towards me in the driver's seat of the car.

“It did,” I licked my lips.

His hand glided over the steering wheel. “You added your voicemail.”

I titled my head towards him. “What?”

“The voicemail, I heard it, you added that.”

“I-,” the words faltered on my lips, not knowing how I would explain this one.

I called him one night in Japan but ended up leaving a voicemail, not knowing that my laptop was still recording from when I was messing with my vocals earlier. I was so apprehensive about putting it in a song but Chase thought it would be a great touch to Eyelids. So I did it, not even thinking Noah would catch on.

“I know, I already know,” Noah leaned closer towards me, closing the space inch by inch.

I swallowed thickly. “You do? I’m sorry if it-.”

“No need to apologize to me, angel,” Noah said.

“I really wanted you to-to-.”

“To what?” He raised a brow.

“Like it,” I admitted with a long breath.

“I do,” he nodded with a large smile. “I’m proud of you.”

Suddenly, his phone buzzed from its placement in the cup holder, my eyes reading the name with a pang in my heart.

Bailey.

Noah ignored it with a sigh and even though it was a flash image, I noticed what his background was; me, back from when we were on tour together. It was one where I was on stage singing, eyes closed with the stage lights casting me in a white light.

I couldn’t ask him about it because I was afraid of ruining the good energy we found ourselves in today.

Noah rubbed the back of his neck before turning up the volume of the radio, not even bothering to mention Bailey was calling him yet again today. “We actually have another song about to debut.”

I smacked his chest while sitting on my knees in the front seat, excitement filling the air. “Why didn’t you say anything?! I would have missed it.”

He chuckled. “It’s about to play any second.”

Just then the voice of the radio DJ came on through the speakers of Noah’s car. “Alright guys, we have a new single from Bad Omens. These guys are releasing hit after hit with Concrete Jungle, Nowhere to Go, and now, here is the Death of Peace of Mind.”

“I made another mistake, thought I could change. Thought I could make it out. Promises break, need to hear you say. You're gonna keep it now.”

“Oh fuck, Noah.” I gasped. “Your voice in this is fucking incredible.”

He gave me a small smile.

“I miss the way you say my name. The way you bend, the way you break. Your makeup running down your face. The way you touch, the way you taste. When the curtains call the time will we both go home alive? It wasn't hard to realize. Love's the death of peace of mind.”

My body stiffened as I blinked up at him, Noah’s eyes never leaving my face. Suddenly these lyrics were feeling almost too personal. The thickness of the tension becoming too much, the air around us shifting into something that we should have pushed away from, ignored it like we did everything else.

“You're in the walls that I made with crosses and frames hanging upside down. For granted, in vain, I took everything I ever cared about.”

Instead, I leaned closer towards Noah, who made no move to stop me.

“I miss the way you say my name. The way you bend, the way you break. Your makeup running down your face. The way you fuck, the way you taste.”

I sucked in a breath, eyes snapping up from his lips to his eyes. “Noah, is this-?”

All he did was nod, but that was enough for me as I crashed my lips to his, a shocked moan echoing over the music of the car. Immediately I climbed into his lap, his large hands enveloping around me.

“When the curtains call the time will we both go home alive?”

Even though it had been so long since we last kiss, our lips moved in sync as if we never missed a beat. He tasted exactly the same, his tongue felt exactly the same as it explored every inch of my mouth. I whined into him when I couldn’t completely straddle him, my hands resting against his chest.

“Back seat,” he muttered against my lips before grazing his teeth over them, patting my ass.

“It wasn't hard to realize. Love's the death of peace of mind. When the curtains call the time, will we both be satisfied?”

With an excited squeal, I jumped into the backseat of his car and watched as his long limbs tried to climb over the center console. Noah smacked his head on the roof of his car, cursing under his breath as he fell into the back seat next to me.

“Maybe you should get a bigger car,” I teased while straddling him once again.

Noah hummed while grasping my hips, digging his nails into the fabric of my jeans. “Only if you promise more of this.”

I pressed my lips to his once again, tongues immediately finding each other.

“It wasn't hard to realize. Love's the death of peace of mind. Love's the death of peace of mind.”

“Noah,” I moaned when his hips pressed into my core, the hardness of his cock brushing across it.

He pulled away breathless. “Fuck, angel. I missed the way you say my name.”

“You come and go in waves leaving me in your wake. You come and go in waves swallowing everything.”

I pulled away from him to look down at him, hearing those lyrics, and raised a brow. “Oh, I do?”

Noah let out a low growl, hand snaking in my hair as he yanked me back down to my lips and adjusted me so my aching core was pressed against his thigh. “Ride it.”

With. Fucking. Pleasure.

“Are you satisfied? Love's the death of peace of mind. Mind, mind.”

While I rubbed my pussy against his thigh, Noah moaned out a question between kissees.

“Are you-?”

Kiss.

“Mad I-?”

Kiss.

“Wrote a song-.”

“When the curtains call the time will we both go home alive?”

My fingers snapped away the tie that held his hair together and I watched with ecstasy as Noah’s hair fell to his shoulders in waves. I almost through about taking off his glasses but decided against it.

Our lips met again in a fiery kiss as he finished his question.

“About that night?”

I mumbled into his mouth. “No, now let me fucking cum, Noah.”

“It wasn't hard to realize. Love's the death of peace of mind.”

I moaned as my orgasm built higher and higher, almost to a crescendo.

“When the curtains call the time, will we both be satisfied?”

With one hand gripped snaked under my shirt, Noah’s fingers scratched and clawed at my skin, undoubtedly leaving marks, while his other smacked against the window to his left, fingers dragging down through the fog the heat of our kiss created.

Then his fingers left the skin of my back to graze up over my chest and I nearly came when I thought he was going to touch my breast but felt him twiddle my necklace between his fingers. Then gone was that hand from my chest to graze against the skin of my left wrist, now twiddling the bracelet between his fingers.

“You’re wearing them.” His lips attacked my neck is viscous bites.

I leaned my head back to give him more access when my hips moved in faster, uneven pace, as my orgasm was so fucking close to exploding through me; I could almost taste it.

“I found them,” I said breathless. “They’re my favorite gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“It wasn't hard to realize. Love's the death of peace of mind. Love's the death of peace of mind. Love's the death of peace of mind.”

When the song faded out, Noah reached for the button of my jeans. “Let me help you, angel.”

Suddenly, loud ringing echoed through the speakers of the car, which made me pull away from Noah.

“Incoming call from Bailey. Anwer?” Siri’s voice said.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Suddenly the lust haze that has enveloped both of us faded, realization seeping deep into my bones. This was so wrong, so fucking wrong.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Oh my god, I am so so sorry! I’m so-,” I apologized.

Noah realized what was happening, so he tried to reach for my face. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

I hastily jumped off his lap, fingers going to my kiss-swollen lips, as I took in the sight of him. His long hair a mess thanks to my hands gripping and his own lips were bruised from the force of our kiss; his phone still ringing.

Tears burned in my eyes as I smoothed my hair down and reached for my bag in the front seat.

“You should answer that,” my hand gripped the door handle. “She’s been trying to call you for hours.”

“Angel-.”

“It’s fine, Noah.” I blew out a shaky breath.

“She knows where I’m at, with my friends,” he explained before answering the call with a sigh.

My face physically twitched at his words. They stung like a fucking scorpion tail but I had no one else to blame but myself.

Friends? Is that what you call what just happened?

“Hi babe!” Bailey’s cheery voice dragged the knife deeper into my chest. “I’ve been trying to call you all day. “

Noah adjusted himself in the backseat next to me and for the first time I took in the sight of his cock pressing against his jeans but did my best not to let a moan slip.

“Can I call you back?” Noah asked.

“It’s fine,” I mouthed. “I’m going to go.”

He shook his head, trying to stop me as I opened the door, the cool night air brushing against my heated skin.

“So are you still planning on coming over tonight?” Bailey questioned just before I slammed the door shut, ignoring the hurt look that crossed over Noah’s face.

As the tears fell from my eyes, I didn’t bother looking back to his car, knowing if I did, I might not make it inside.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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pastryland · 8 months

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charlos completed fic recommendations

If any of the authors of the fics mentioned here or are tagged and don't want their fics to be here, please let me know and I'll remove it!

Will update this list periodically

❤️ = favorite

⭐️ = I love fics by this author in general

❌ = triggering themes

🔥 = explicit

punctuated all wrong - 7k - ❤️ ⭐️

Prompt: "I don’t know if someone else agrees with me but I’m a sucker for the whole person A falls in love with person B but they think they don’t deserve person B’s love trope and I’d love to see how it would play out with charlos (not saying who’s person A and who person B, even though that should be pretty obvious)"

head over heels - 44k - ❤️ 🔥

“Oh, really, you think that you, Carlos Sainz, somehow have a kink so fucked up that I wouldn’t be able to handle it, do tell me what it is”, he says, “is it spanking maybe, I’m sure you think that’s beyond taboo, you want to drape me over your lap, punish me for being a bad boy?”, Carlos shakes his head, a small glint in his eye, “Bondage then? Do you want to tie me up?”, another shake of the head, “Whips? Paddles? Feathers?”, Carlos continues shaking his head and so Charles leans in further, his voice dipping lower as he continues. “Maybe you’re into age play then”, he pushes closer, so their faces are only inches apart, “do you want me to call you daddy?”, the air between them feels like it’s on fire as Carlos breathes out a hot laugh, giving another miniscule shake off the head. “Then tell me”, Charles demands and waits as Carlos seems to consider him for a moment, before leaning forwards so his lips are next to his ear, his breath hot against his skin, sending shivers cascading down his body. “Love”.

i feel so much, i feel so numb - 23k - ❤️ ⭐️ 🔥

As long as he’s known what a soulmate is, he’s known his soulmate’s name. Carlos. Scrawled along the delicate skin of his right wrist.

can't sleep 'til i feel your touch - 8k - ⭐️ 🔥

“I could...” Carlos trails off, and Charles drops his hands from his temples, looking at him curiously. “You could, what?” “...give you a hand.” He says it so casually that it takes Charles a minute to even attempt at understanding what he means. ~ ~ OR: Charles develops insomnia, and the only thing that helps is...Carlos?

the trials of 2022 - 33k - ❤️ ⭐️ 🔥

A partial summary of the 2022 season, as told by Charles or Carlos, following each race.

dice che ti ama (ma lo sai che mente) - 2k - ⭐️ 🔥

But Charles smiled, dimples out and about, back against the wall of Carlos’ driver’s room. Like he knew he wasn’t in danger. Like he hadn’t entered a lions’ den looking like a three course meal. (Like he knew Carlos was all bark and no bite, and toying with the metaphorical rubber band —stretch, stretch, stretching— wouldn’t ever make it snap into his straight nose.)

Almost Total Wreck - 2k - 🔥 - also has Pierre/Charles

He imagines telling Pierre about it: he spat right in my face and I came like that it was so good, and he’s already replacing the man’s orgasm with his own, making his wounded sounds as he drags it out kicking and screaming, so that by the time he’s done his stomach hurts with it, his head pounds like a fever, more ache than pleasure but that’s what pleasure is, isn’t it?

worthy is the lamb (thank you for the price you paid) - 12k - ⭐️ ❌ 🔥

Predestined (adjective): [ˌpriːˈdes.tɪnd] If you say that something was predestined, you mean that it could not have been prevented or changed because it had already been decided by a power such as God or fate.

my blood is singing with your voice (the saints can't help me now) - 13k - ⭐️ 🔥

He was there. (God was also there.) Carlos walked towards the altarpiece (and the back with the white t-shirt) breathing through his nose like a bull. The cross on his chest wasn’t warm because it got a little chilly at night. He turned. “Carlos.” “Hey, Charles.” “You say my name weird.” Carlos swallowed. “Oh—” “I like it.”

all the king's horses, all the king's men - 38k - ❤️ ⭐️ 🔥

Carlos Sainz was eight years old when he fell in love. (For the first time.) It was at a race track. (It wouldn’t be the last time.)

little of your love - 5k - ⭐️ 🔥

in which Charles gets accidentally knocked up by Pierre, and he’s determined to raise the baby himself. Carlos is having none of that.

I Fell for Your Magic - 10k - 🔥

Charles had been the one to decide the sun rose and set with Carlos Sainz Jr. And it was Charles who had unexpectedly fallen in love with his teammate over the last couple years.

last night - 24k - ⭐️ 🔥

Rule #1: When you go to America, don't lose your virginity to your best friend's roommate. Charles fails Rule #1.

internal mechanics - 15k - ⭐️ 🔥

"Charles was with someone at the gym," Carlos hisses into the phone.

are we out of the woods yet? - 10k

Charles takes a few moments to consider it. It doesn’t sound like him at all. “So I really wanted it.” “Yes,” Carlos repeats, and then frowns. “Do you think–” His voice hardens just the slightest bit, leaning into… something that Charles can’t really place. “I didn’t make you do it.” Charles shifts away from him, staring at the other wall instead. “Of course. But anyway, I don’t know. I don’t remember it anyway.”

mind over matter is magic - 6k - ⭐️ 🔥

Carlos leaned on the side of the pool that overlooked Singapore at night. Arms crossed over the ledge — Carlos almost wanted to look down below. Feel the swoop in his stomach at the realization of how high up they were, relish on it. But, he rationalized, looking at Charles Leclerc usually had the same effect.

the hours i lost - 3k

Charles thinks he was foolish to be afraid of this, of Carlos. He thinks he was foolish to let himself get this far. He thinks he should have given in years ago. He thinks he’ll regret everything once he’s sober.

all the same old places - 13k - ⭐️

Charles stares at Carlos, then. Right at him. His eyes haven't changed, either. They're still the same shade of green - almost blue, even more so in the warm light of the sun. For reasons unknown, Carlos feels like smiling.

Pouring - 10k

At the age of ten, it's easy to talk about how his soulmate will be someone tall and certainly a brunette, because no one really knows what to expect until the moment they actually meet them.

Ballad of a Thin Place - 39k - ⭐️ 🔥

Thrust into the aristocracy after marrying a baronet's daughter, Charles, now a lord, struggles to adapt to the quiet life of an estate in the English countryside. Desperate for the connection and compassion that is lacking from his wife, he pursues a torrid affair with the handsome gamekeeper on their estate, a man who has a past he's trying to escape...

you bring me back to life - 1.8k

Charles said nothing, instead opting to ask him how he had been doing in his racing career. Arthur excitedly relayed everything that he could remember, from paddock gossip to results from race to race. It felt good to be surrounded by family. Not for the first time, he wished that he would have stayed. It is too late anyway. If he dwells on the past he’ll lose his present.

#fic rec #fic rec list #charlos #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #c2

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leftduck9986 · 4 months

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Picture This (What's in the Cardboard Box? A Meta/Theory/Watsit Featuring Mary Poppins)

Happy New Year!

A fun theory for you, told with accompanying picture collages from the Good Omens series, spoilers for Disney's Mary Poppins and occasional quotes transcribed from the Good Omens audio book.

As unbelievably silly this theory is, please remember, DO NOT ASK OR TAG NEIL GAIMAN ON FAN THEORY, thank you kindly.

After Armageddon is averted at the airbase, Aziraphale and Crowley are worried about what will happen to them:

"Is is over do you think?" Crowley shrugged. "Not for us, I'm afraid."

"I don't think you need to go worrying. I know all about you two. Don't you worry."

Adam knows all about Aziraphale and Crowley, ooOOOOooo!

He ALSO knows:

that Crowley had seen Mary Poppins on television one Christmas (...) and while he toyed with the idea of a hurricane as an effective and incredibly stylish way of disposing of the queue of nannies (...) outside the Cultural Attaché's Regents Park residence, he opted for a tube strike instead. And when the day came, only one nanny turned up;

that Aziraphale is extremely intelligent - And it was an angelic intelligence, which, while not being particularly higher than human intelligence, is much broader and has the advantage of having thousands of years of practice. - and what took Agnes Nutter's descendants centuries to decipher, he did in next-to-no-time, and;

that Anathema Device received Agnes Nutter's Further Nice and Accurate Prophecies and chose not to continue her life as a descendant.

He stopped halfway across the field. Someone was burning something. He looked at the plume of white smoke above the chimney of Jasmine Cottage and he paused. And he listened. He could hear laughter. It wasn't a witch's cackle - it was the low and earthy guffaw of someone who knew a great deal more than could possibly be good for them.

The white smoke writhed and curled above the cottage chimney. For a fraction of an instant, Adam saw outlined in the smoke a handsome female face. A face that hadn't been seen on Earth for over three hundred years. Agnes Nutter winked at him.

And if Adam knows what Agnes knows, there's no need to go messing anybody about. No need to worry ...

In the 1964 Disney film, Mary Poppins, Jane and Michael's letter advertising for a new nanny is torn up by their father Mr Banks and thrown into the fireplace. The shredded pieces of paper fly up and out of the chimney.

After a sudden and rather focused hurricane blows the queue of other nannies away, in blows the Practically-Perfect-in-Every-Way Mary Poppins. During her "interview" she reads from Jane and Michael's advertisement, MIRACULOUSLY intact.

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

Musical interlude: when Aziraphale arrives in Edinburgh, the show music makes me want to sing "Chim Chim Cher-ee" (hmm, same style and minor in tonality, with the visual of all those chimney rooftops in-scene - that's gotta be on purpose, no?)

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

The heavenly miracle sound - there are 2 parts to it. First, a descending bass, Vvvvvvmmm, second, a choral "ah" layered with shimmering. So, if attempting to sing it A Cappella: "Vvvvvvmmm-AH-shh"

At the end of Gabriel's trial: "I'll just need a-" He hears (edit, Sunday 7th Jan 2024: initiates the miracle with his eyes and we hear) the bass drop, Vvvvvvmmm, looks up in time to catch the cardboard box on the latter miracle sound, AH-shh, then looks inside the box and smiles in recognition. He now has a mission, and whomever has just sent him the box - and what's inside it (edit, Sunday 7th Jan 2024: the cardboard box) - is going to help.

At the very beginning of Heaven's overhead CCTV footage, the cardboard box can be seen with a very dark something inside (zooming in is required at this stage as the image begins small). Being able to see clearly to the bottom of the box's interior, in relatively natural light at the bookshop, one would think the intensely bright light in Heaven would also allow for a clear view, especially from above ...

While the Further Prophecies were only loose pages - Agnes would have known that they were going to be burnt anyway, so why go to the trouble of having them published and bound? - they could have been miracle-d into something modern and fancy, perhaps in the style of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?

Gabriel places the matchbox in with it (I know I'd be worried about the fly escaping, as well as it being jostled about with the matchbox once Gabriel turns the cardboard box up-side-down, but after seeing the fly crawl back into the cardboard box just before Aziraphale brings it inside the bookshop, I'm trusting in the fly's ability to be controlled by will of thought and that the fly knows to stay close to its master). He closes just 2 flaps of the box and then a bass whoosh sounds in the right speaker (not part of the soundtrack). The "book" has entered the fly! Has it stayed in the fly?

Then, on Earth, Gabriel approaches the bookshop. The only Whickber Street person seen to be using their phone AS A PHONE and not a camera, [placeholder name "Mary"] is listening intently. Perhaps the voice on the other end of the call says something like, "how goes operation Escort the Queen to the Hive?" and perhaps she answers, "we have the package safely surrounded, it has almost arrived, standby ..."

Then, she and hand-on-face-guy have front row 'seats' (standing room only) to the show, behind Gabriel; beginning to lift her phone when it looks like Gabriel has been rejected entry, before Aziraphale finally agrees to let him in. She is the very first to leave the scene when the mission is complete, signalling for everyone to resume their usual buzzing about, as if to say, "He's in. Aaaaaand we out!"

(These last two paragraphs were a summary of my first Tumblr post, The Whickber Street Bees and Their Queen.)

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

When Jim explains that he feels like an empty house, he justifies remembering "how it all began" by looking where the furniture isn't (the gaps!) and it seems that every other instance - lavender eyes activated or not - is covered here with this statement, what with recalling more about where his memory is, as well as Metatron's "institutional problem" line from the trial. The only instance unaccounted for with his explanation, especially because of the trance-like state of delivery followed with Jim in distress (not quite the same as his first memory in episode 2) - the tempest prophecy from episode 3.

Perhaps Gabriel was in part control about what thoughts needed to remain in his head, or it's simply because they were the last ones in use, kept at the forefront by will and repetition, in order to get himself to the bookshop. Though, he was given an ineffable assist, which perhaps included re-configuring the 4 box flaps to collapse, interlocking pin-wheel style?

So, the Whickber Street "bees" have provided an escort for getting the Queen to the hive or if you prefer, the book delivered to the librarian/historian. However, if the book was the first thing to enter the fly and then say, was accidentally swapped into Gabriel for his memories, the Tempest prophecy came forth when Crowley accessed it, by means of a keyword. An INDEX!!!

Agnes has heard you Crowley, and Agnes says, "N-gotchya."

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

According to a previous meta/theory, the event this prophecy is referring to has already happened, so it would make sense that, as Anathema's mother says in S1E2, "The answers are always in the book, it's just sometimes you don't see them 'til afterwards."

Or rather, as Anathema says to Newt in the book: "[Agnes] managed to come up with the kind of prediction that you can only understand after the thing has happened ... she just picked up one little fragment of information ... most of the time she comes up with such an oblique reference that you can't work it out until it's gone past and then it all slots into place."

It would have been only too obvious to hear Jim speak this prophecy in the English style of the 1600s! But if the echoed voice we're hearing is Anathema's - did she ever pronounce the extra "e"s and "a"s at the ends of words, in the show?

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

When Gabriel has his memories returned to him, has the book re-entered the fly?

When he and Beelzebub are reprising Everyday, is Gabriel, with his left finger, releasing the fly into the room, for Crowley to capture shortly afterward once 'alone' (the chair facing the staircase)?

WITH. HIS. TONGUE???

Just after Aziraphale touches his fingers to his lips, is he repositioning the fly for safe-keeping, as with The Bullet Catch?

Finally, in the lift during the closing credits, Aziraphale is trying so hard NOT to smile before giving in. It's as if ...

As If ...

AS IF HE IS READING THE BOOK!!! Discovering and reading the book, turning the pages with his eyes right before the big smile!

AAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And now Aziraphale knows what Agnes knows.

From experience, he can trust that any prediction made by Agnes Nutter will always be "on the money."

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens theory #still haven't grasped the difference between meta and theory #really NOT liking how the Metatron's use of the phrase “Spit-spot” hit me just now with a pang

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royal-ruin · 1 month

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f1 fanfic recs charles/carlos (charlos) part 4

other f1 fic rec lists here personal favorites are starred, by the way. everything is complete unless stated otherwise

in honor of carlos' win in the ausgp and his appendix removal (and his last year at ferrari, ignore me sobbing in the background), here are some of my fav fics of them.

if all of them are starred that just means they're all amazing.

i'll make you laugh by venerat (~7k)

[“You are cute,” says Carlos, waving his marker in emphasis. “Obviously. I am always saying this.”

“I am not cute.” Charles blinks at him. “When are you saying I am cute?”]

literally so adorable.

*what we felt by venerat (~14k)

[Imprinted, Charles should say, shocked. I hope he is alright. He should say that.

“My god,” he says instead. “On who?”]

so creative and amazing. def check out this author for more of other pairings, i know they have a bunch of hot smutty one-shots if you're into that.

*sweet tea in the summer by bloodmoonforme (~10k)

[Sometimes, when they first arrive at the circuit for a weekend, Charles will look decidedly paler, a little drawn. Then, he'll show up for FP1 on Friday seemingly much better all of the sudden, eyes unnaturally bright and cheeks red - that's how to tell how long it has been since he last drank.

Not that Carlos notices. Or keeps track of it, for that matter.

Except he does.]

Or the one where Charles is a vampire and Carlos struggles.

i don't remember this unfortunately, but i do remember loving it.

*the actor says he hates himself by bloodmoonforme (~5k)

[“You okay, mate?” Carlos asks, pitching his voice a bit louder in order to be heard over the music.

Charles doesn’t answer. Slowly, Carlos realizes that the way Charles is staring is one that he recognizes. It’s the same way he looks while he’s out racing, the same one he wears in the simulator. It’s a look of total focus. There’s something Charles wants and means to have.]

tags say that there's cheating so if you don't like that, don't read.

*dice che ti ama (ma lo sai che mente) by choripan (~3k)

[But Charles smiled, dimples out and about, back against the wall of Carlos’ driver’s room. Like he knew he wasn’t in danger.

Like he hadn’t entered a lions’ den looking like a three course meal.

(Like he knew Carlos was all bark and no bite, and toying with the metaphorical rubber band —stretch, stretch, stretching—wouldn’t ever make it snap into his straight nose.)]

kinda like a carlos-focused relationship study. it lowkey altered my brain chemistry for some reason

punctuated all wrong by Cloudcollector (~8k)

*the trials of 2022 by chiliconcarlos (~34k)

A partial summary of the 2022 season, as told by Charles or Carlos, following each race.

Friday is Just the Beginning by nottonyharrison (~3k)

On a Thursday in December, Caco had come to him with a proposal. A PDF attached to an email, emblazoned with the garish red Netflix logo, and consisting of a three paragraph, succinct concept that involved winter training, the mountains, and Carlos timing his schedule to overlap with Charles’ for a week.

On a Friday in January, he’s sitting in a private sauna long after the cameras have been packed away for the night, with Charles right next to him.

this is basically plot w porn, with a lot of carlos inner monologue which i love so enjoy!

Don't Do This To Me by pastrnaks_sainz (~2k)

[Carlos hands shake as he stares at his phone screen. The email from Caco is displayed and the brightness is turned all the way up. Like he’s being taunted. The big bold letters in the subject line might as well be saying ‘NOBODY WANTS YOU’ instead of ‘New Opportunities Ahead’.]

fair warning, one of the tags is hurt no comfort.

Loose Lips Sink Ships by kxleida (~2k)

Carlos finds out he's leaving Ferrari. Charles finds him in his hotel room, beer bottles scattered all across. They both know it's not fair.

A bit of hurt/comfort surrounding Charles, Carlos, and the Ferrari announcement for the F1 2024 silly season.

this isn't everything you are by shadil (~2k)

The news hit him again where he least expects it.

a prayer for which no words exist by transbrucewayne (~3k)

Charles has to assume Carlos knows by now; they should’ve told him. He doesn’t know how long they took to tell Sebastian, but it had been almost inevitable for him. He walked into the 2020 season with an air of resignation. With Carlos…everyone thought he was going to get another year, at least. Charles thought he was going to get another year. Then, Carlos would move to Audi, to the surprise of approximately no one, and the two of them would part, and Charles would spend the rest of his career smiling at him across the room, fist bumping him in press conferences, and never touching him more than the others deemed appropriate.

i know better (but you're still around) by shadil (~2k)

Sometimes, Carlos dreams about María.

He was his (but also he was not) by f1amboyant (~2k)

[Charles crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you leaving?” he asked, no bullshit, staring straight at Carlos, peering into his soul.]

Shadowhunters AU

and the world was gone by Bluejay141519 (~12k)

It’s not entirely unfounded, having something like this happen. Charles knows of various stories of the past, where different drivers’ energies don’t mix well and it causes chaos. He’s even heard of magic being used to sabotage in F1.

Charles always thought these were just stories, until he got his seat.

tbh it's not completely relationship focused, but it's still amazing.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic rec #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #charles x carlos #carlos x charles #cl16 #cs55 #fic rec list

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ititledit · 4 months

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"Five years ago, after graduating from the University of Lincoln, Grace set out on a year-long solo backpacking adventure across the world.

After a six-week tour of Peru, she arrived in New Zealand. Less than a fortnight later, on the eve of her 22nd birthday, she was strangled to death by a man she met on a dating app.

...

During a three-week trial, the family had to sit through her killer's attempts to pass the murder off as "rough sex" gone wrong and his claims that Grace asked to be strangled.

"I felt like Grace was on trial and she couldn't defend herself. As a parent, I didn't want to listen to that. It was horrendous.

"You can't ask for your own death. It is ludicrous this can be used as a defence."

Gillian has since campaigned against the rough sex defence, with the charity We Can't Consent To This, and has helped to change the law in England and Wales.

...

Christmas is a very difficult time for Gillian, so last year she decided to spend it climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, which was "incredibly emotional".

...

Her efforts raised £33,000 for the White Ribbon charity, which aims to end male violence against women. Gillian received a thank you card from the charity, saying the money had been used to fund education programmes in 65 schools in the Hull area.

"I just want to raise awareness and get that message out there about violence against women so that no other family has to live this life I live," Gillian says.

Four years ago, with her niece Hannah, Gillian started the charity initiative Love Grace. They collect donated handbags and fill them with toiletries for domestic abuse victims.

So far, they have filled 15,600 bags for women in the UK and across the world and they received an award from the prime minister.

Grace loved handbags, Gillian says, and each bag has a tag on it with her handwriting.

"It's a simple idea but it has really taken off," Gillian says. "We were just doing it for our grief so that Grace would never just be a number.

...

"I should never have buried my child and certainly she should never have died the way she did. People keep saying I'm really strong but I don't think so, I'm just a mum."

"I will never get over it but I just know I've got to make the world a better place. I want to change things so that no other family has to go through what we go through. That has got to be a good thing."

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

This holiday period please give generously to women in need.

Love Grace -

White ribbon -

#vawg #feminism #grace millane #domestic violence #male violence #charity

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lifeofmysteries · 10 months

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The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System Fic Recs - Bingqiu

Fic recs specifically for the ship Luo Binghe/Shen Yuan!Shen Qingqiu. Fell down a deep SVSSS hole for the past year and have read so many fics. SVSSS has so many amazing fic authors, I have never been so blessed with a fandom.

Fic recs under the read more

High Mountain, How I Long by Minimalistless (14k, complete)

Shen Qingqiu, after enduring his trial, is placed into Luo Binghe’s custody at Huan Hua Palace.

This is one of the most bookmarked fic in the SVSSS fandom so I don't technically need to rec it, but I will anyway because it's just that good. The angst is incredible. SQQ communicate properly challenge (he'll lose).

may-june relationship by kitschlet (1.2k, complete)

Luo Binghe rolls to his back, looking up at their bed’s canopy. “When you invited me to sit in your carriage... that was you?”

“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu says warily.

“I was fourteen,” Luo Binghe says. “But if Shen Qinqgiu’s body wasn’t your own, how old were you?”

Very funny and a quick read. Poor Binghe loses a kink.

wedding suprises: the bad, the worse, and the downright miserable by nyoomerr (17k, complete)

Fresh from the Abyss and having just gained a seat of power in the Demonic Empire, Luo Binghe arranges for a marriage between himself as the Heavenly Demon Lord and Shen Yuan as a representative of Cang Qiong. It will be perfect, and Shen Yuan will love him and the marriage just as much as Luo Binghe does, because there is no reason for Shen Yuan not to love Luo Binghe just as much as he had when Luo Binghe was just a human servant of Cang Qiong.

It will be so good, in fact, that Luo Binghe decides to make it a surprise - so Shen Yuan comes to the Demonic Empire having no clue that his fiance is Luo Binghe at all.

(Surprise! It doesn't go as smoothly as Luo Binghe had planned.)

Nyoomerr is one of my favourite authors in the SVSSS fandom for how they write the relationship between LBH and SQQ, they really capture that angsty miscommunication that hurts both of them without it feeling forced.

Keeping Secrets a.k.a HOT CULTIVATOR IMBIBES TRUTH POLLEN AND DIES (of mortification) (not clickbait) by cinnamonsnaps (3k, tagged as incomplete but reads as if complete IMO)

"I bet you would beg," Shen Qingqiu said with a snort, letting his eye slide shut. The following silence was somehow remarkably loud. He cracked his eye open again. Luo Binghe was staring at him, face flushed red, hands frozen on Shen Qingqiu's ankle. "... shizun?"

Shen Qingqiu gets forced to tell the truth about a lot of things, unfortunately.

Very funny, always love truth serumed SQQ bc there are so many truths he doesn't acknowledge about himself that being truth serumed reveals. no hiding behind the metaphorical fan of his words anymore

speak your mind (not that much!) by nyoomerr (8.2k, complete)

Before the investigation in Jinlan City, Shen Qingqiu is hit by a curse that forces him to speak his mind. Unfortunately, this means that the first thing he does when he sees Luo Binghe for the first time in three years is to tell Luo Binghe that he's grown up to be really quite pretty.

Luo Binghe, not sure what's going on but absolutely enjoying the ride, abandons all his plans immediately. He has new priorities now, including but not limited to:

- get his Shizun to call him 'pretty' again - steal his Shizun away from his (probably in existence) harem - ???

Nyoomerr u r the best <3. great miscommunication. lbh going through a rollercoaster of emotions

you are who you love by kitschlet (39k, complete)

Shen Qingqiu gets hit by an amnesia wife plot that selectively erases Luo Binghe from his memories. Luckily, the cure is simple: Luo Binghe just has to make him fall in love all over again.

Kitschlet another one of the SVSSS authors where you should read through every one of their works. Very funny seeing SQQ back in 'definitely straight' mode where everyone around him knows the opposite.

night of yearning by tagteamme (39k, complete)

Luo Binghe develops a gap in his memory, one that is shaped specifically like Shen Qingqiu.

“Binghe, speak to this master,” Shen Qingqiu says firmly, and Luo Binghe gives him a strange look. Shen Qingqiu can’t place it and he leans forward, intending to get closer to see better. But the hand around his wrist instantly tightens to the point where it hurts, and Shen Qingqiu lets out a squawk of pain. “Binghe—!” “Why do you keep calling me like that?” Luo Binghe returns, and Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widen at the way the words are devoid of any emotion. It is nothing though, compared to the force of what Luo Binghe says next. “Who are you?”

This is like the twin fic to go with Kitschlet's. Poor SQQ, not a fun situation for him. Tagteamme's fics are also rlly good, highly recommend going through their account

Plastromancy by x_los (16k, complete)

"One night, Luo Binghe notices something odd about the way his blood is pooling on the floor of the woodshed."

A twelve year old Luo Binghe meets his Other Shizun.

Forces you to confront the tragic realities of what transmigration means. Includes LBH being horrific. Love it

Futility in Practice by TGP (31k, complete)

When Luo Binghe is fourteen years old, his shizun suffers a terrible qi deviation and fever that completely changes who he is.

A time loop from the perspective of a the person outside of the loop. Some of the loops are very painful but the ending is so sweet.

prophets on hold by nex_et_nox (13k, complete)

Luo Binghe led the charge in the trial against Shen Qingqiu in < Proud Immortal Demon Way >. By all rights, the concept of a trial shouldn’t even be a glimmer in anyone’s eye until Shen Qingqiu’s blackened lotus has crawled his way out of the hell Shen Qingqiu tossed him in.

So why is Shen Qingqiu wrapped in immortal binding cables and locked away in the Huan Hua Water Prison?!

[or: Luo Binghe is precisely one (1) year late getting out of the Abyss. This does not put a halt on anyone else's plans.]

Damsel SQQ rights. LBH can't stay angry at such a pitiful figure

#svsss #svsss fic recs #fic recs #svsss fic #eevee posts #bingqiu #bingqiu fic recs

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uhohbestie · 17 days

Text

There Are Monsters Nearby [Chapter 14]

🏜 Pairing: Grian/Scar

🧟‍♂️ Tags: zombie AU, zombie apocalypse, lovers to exes, slow burn, eventual reconciliation

📖 Summary: The day after Scar breaks up with Grian, the dead come back to life. Knowing that venturing out alone is a death sentence, the sudden onset of the apocalypse forces them to stick together despite the tensions between them. In the wreckage of the world, they're forced to survive side-by-side, coming to terms with the fact that—try as they might—there's still no one they trust more than each other.

Chatper 14 - Scar's worsening condition forces him to share his situation with the trio. Grian should learn that honesty is the best approach, but he doesn't. Quackity makes dinner, and Karl shows off his nail polish collection to Scar. Grian continues to be his own worst enemy.

📝 Words: 8,099

🔗 Link: Read Chapter 14 on AO3

—

“Who are you waiting for?”

The question catches Grian off guard, and he revels in it.

Everything about it reeks of distrust and paranoia. How on earth would he and Scar communicate with anyone outside the group without attracting attention? And why the hell would they do it in the first place? The sheer absurdity of it sparks a deeply satisfied, bitter validation in Grian’s chest—the proof he needed to confirm he wasn’t the only one with apprehensions lurking in the back of his head.

“Who do you think?” Grian challenges without answering the question.

“It just seems like you were really pushing for us to get us here as fast as possible, and now you’re in no hurry to move on,” Quackity deflects in a perfectly level tone, acting like he has the higher moral ground. “Put yourself in our shoes—how do you think that comes off?”

“I’m in an organ harvesting cult that’s in league with the zombies,” Grian scoffs, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“You’re the one saying it,” Quackity pressures, relentless. “I just asked a question. You started making all these wild leaps.”

Grian doesn’t have time for this, resenting how he’s been pushed so effortlessly onto his back foot by Quackity’s clever questioning. The validation of the trio’s mistrust doesn’t benefit him, and he still doesn’t want to out Scar to people who could not only be a threat, but have just shown they don't see them as equals.

“Are we in court?” Grian snaps. “Am I on trial? There’s no hidden meeting with some ragtag party of bandits waiting in the wings. We’re just tired. It’s not a secret. And frankly, I’m sick of you three acting like we’re holding you back. I’ve said it before, but clearly it bears repeating—you can leave without us. Go ahead. No one’s going to stop you.”

It’s a bold ultimatum, one that Grian’s sure Scar wouldn’t appreciate, seeing as he's made it abundantly clear they benefit from the strength in numbers.

Quackity gives Karl a look, loaded. He then makes a gesture that communicates something Karl clearly understands, but Grian can’t decipher. It feels damning.

It feels like he’s been caught.

It’s a feeling he’s been experiencing way too often, lately.

“I think we should talk to Scar,” Karl says at last, gentle but firm in a way that’s clear he wants to put an end to the argument.

“Scar’s going to agree with me,” Grian mutters anyway.

—

Another Friday with another chapter of zombie au! This chapter has some of my favourite Vulnerable Grian Moments™. We hope you like it!

You can read the whole story thus-far linked below!

You may not rest now, There Are Monsters Nearby (on ao3!)

#trafficshipping #scarian #life series fanfic #zombie au #TAMN #TAMN fic #updated the banner too :3

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tulipsforvin · 7 months

Note

I absolutely love your works 💕

Anyway, I wanted to request William cheering up his wife who has a low self esteem and isn't that much confident in herself, and compares herself with others, because she feels like she isn’t good enough. So, he reminds her about her values and of what makes her an amazing person. I would prefer this to be written in the story writing format, but I’m also okay with headcanon format as well.

Have a nice day/night ✨

Thank you for the request, anon! Hope you have a wonderful day/night waiting for you! 💕

Tags: Established relationship, Married Couple, Fluff, William James Moriarty x Fem!Reader.

Format: Story Writing.

A/N: Guys I'm still working on the requests I promise you 🙏 I'll finish them, just gimme some time ^⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠^

“Trials & Tribulations„

In the elegant bedroom of their Durham residence, (Name) stands infront of a full length mirror in nothing but her undergarments, twisting and turning — looking back and forth at every inch, crook and cranny of her body.

Clothes and all sorts of fabrics are scattered across the bed and the floor - discarded and forgotten. She has a small frown on her face, shoulders slouched and expression pinched.

A frustrated grunt from her lips makes William look up from the book that he was so incredibly immersed in.

“Have you decided what you will be wearing tonight at our date, my love?” He smiles softly, head titled to the side as he closes the book and puts it aside, his attention now solely focused on her and her only.

“No, I haven't.” She sighs, exasperated with herself. “I haven't got a clue on what to wear.”

William hums, nodding his head. “And why might that be? Is it because everything looks good on you and you don't know what suits you best?”

This earns a scoff from (Name), waving her hand dismissively at the notion.

“Forget it.” She grumbles under her breath.

“What happened to the azure coloured dress from last time? You could wear that.”

“Azure? What the hell is that?”

“A shade of blue.” William specifies, chuckling.

(Name) plops down onto the soft carpet under her feet, hugging her knees to her chest.

“I don't want to wear that. It doesn't look good on me. Do you remember Tiffany?”

“From the bakery? I do. If I remember correctly, that's why you bought the azure dress in the first place - because you got inspired by her wearing something similar, yes?” William replies, nodding his head twice.

“Damn it, just call it blue!” (Name) stiffens momentarily, realising her blunder. “Sorry, I didn't mean to shout at you for no reason. And yeah, well..I thought it would look good on me too but turns out I just look out of place.”

“Ah, that's alright. I shall call it blue.” William grins. Pauses, then asks again - voice softer this time around. “You are awfully cranky this afternoon. Everything alright, love?”

One beat. Two beat. Nearly three beats. “No.”

William raises an eyebrow and pushes himself off the chair to make his way towards his love. He kneels down behind her and wraps his arms around her in a comforting embrace.

“What is bothering you?” He whispers against her ear, pressing his lips against her earlobe.

“I just feel so... I don't know. inadequate, I guess.” (Name) sighs, looking at their reflection. Her gaze falls to her body and she curls further into a ball, sighing softly.

William takes her hand into his, interweaving her fingers with his own gently. “Please do not be so hard on yourself, heart of mine. You're beautiful. Everything about you is.”

(Name) scrunches her nose, unconvinced. “But look at me. I don't have the features or the figure that others find attractive. How can I ever even think of measuring up to the rest?”

William bites his inner cheek, chin resting on her shoulder as he looks at their reflection in the mirror infront of them. “Do you need to?”

“Don't I?” (Name) whispers, looking down.

“No. You do not.” William gives her hand a small squeeze. “Darling, you underestimate the power of your own charm. Everything about you, I adore. Your smile changes me. Every little gesture of yours, every little expression you make - they're all so beautiful.”

“I...” (Name) chews on her lower lip, pondering silently before she parts her lips to speak. “I don't know, William. It's kind of hard to believe that when I see myself like this.”

“My sweet, I did not fall for you because of your physical appearance. I fell because everytime I gazed into your eyes, what looked back at me was the universe. I see stars in your birthmarks, the waves of the ocean in your smile lines and feel clouds against your skin. I love you because what answers to my beckonings and my questions is not scorn nor hate, but your enthralling voice.” He whispers.

(Name)'s eyes glisten at William's words and her lips purse into a thin line, thinking of a way to retort back to him. She feels herself unwillingly leaning against his touch, her back pressing against his chest.

“Thank you.” She murmurs, closing her eyes in a moment of warm respite. “I wish I loved myself as much as you love me. I truly do.”

“I won't mind if you can't love yourself. Not at all. I am going to love you enough for the both of us. I will do your bidding.” William presses his lips against her cheek, continuing —

“All you need to do is allow me that honour. Allow me to remind you, heart of mine, day and night, trials and tribulations after trials and tribulations, that the woman I've come to be so utterly besotted is a woman of wits and charms, intelligence and radiance.” He finishes, smiling gently.

#william james moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x y/n #william james moriarty x you #moriarty the patriot #x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #james moriarty #yuumori #fluff #soft fluff

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7grandmel · 17 days

Text

Todays rip: 13/04/2024

Locked In The Underground

Season 4 Episode 2 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume C

Ripped by Jamangar

youtube

Whaaat? More Undertale?? Say it ain't so!!

Look, I lamented it a bit over on Logan Paul's Shop, and its something you can even see for yourself by viewing the Undertale tag on the blog archive. In terms of games to have been featured on the blog one way or another, Undertale/Deltarune are leagues ahead of the competition. And I am torn on this, still. Like on the one hand, I want the blog to cast a wide net of rips, to not just cover my personal favorites, but to cover as much of SiIvaGunner's history and growth. But on the other hand...Undertale IS a huge part of that history and growth, it has been since the very beginning, and as I discussed in Your Best Nightmario and Shiny Smily TALE the game's very DNA and themes is just a perfect fit for everything that SiIvaGunner stands for. Well, there's that - and there's how rippers like Jamangar just keep absolutely outdoing themselves with how much leverage they can get from this 9-year old game's soundscape. Its rips like Locked In The Underground that remind me of WHY Undertale rips are so prevalent on here.

If you've been reading for a while or just kept up with SiIvaGunner in general to the degree I have (or are from the team!! hi team!!), you may well recognize Jamangar's name. Much like ShonicTH with Trial of the Heart and many others on the channel, Jamangar has carved out her own very specific niche in terms of what she contributes with. That niche is the same one you'll hear in World Out There and Story of Undertale: There are few SiIvaGunner contributors who have as much expertise in ripping Undertale as Jamangar. Yet all of these three rips feel quite different from one another - Story of Undertale is a magnificent journey throughout just about the entire Undertale campaign with instruments changing along the way, wheras World Out There was an incredibly resonant mashup/melodyswap, a full-on shot of nostalgia on all the senses. Indeed, Locked In The Underground follows their footsteps in quality, yet is excellent in a subtly different way - its just a flat-out banger.

I don't know what it is about Bruno Mars' music that makes it work so incredibly well in mashups. Perhaps I have BotanicSage to thank, with Pokemon GSC Is What I Like and 16BIT Magic both permanently etched into my soul ever since I first heard them - but Locked In The Underground takes on the very same challenge, and in my eyes passes with absolutely flying colors. I mean, it only takes a few seconds for the rip to sell you - as soon as you hear Mars' "oh-yeah-yeahs" followed by Undertale SFX playing to the beat, you KNOW Jamangar's made far more than a mere mashup here. It helps, of course, that CORE is already one of the most stand-out songs in the game, much like Colress' battle theme was to Pokémon Black & White's soundtrack in Light! (Potentialseeker Colress) - its hard NOT to get excited seeing a CORE rip knowing just how distinct of a sound any take on the track will have, due to the pure quality of the track underneath.

So much is done to have Locked In The Underground truly fit together. The melodyswap is fantastic on its own, having CORE's lead instrument play in tune with Mars' vocals yet rising high in volume to the song's chorus, and CORE's synthetic backing paired with the drums of Locked Out Of Heaven create such a unique soundscape to boot. But beyond that, there are tons of little flourishes - small segments where CORE's original melody peeks through in the backing, Undertale sound effects sprinkled in to censor expletives or punctuate key moments of the song...like Semi-Charmed All Star, you get the impression that Jamangar GETS both of the songs used, that she's "studied" how Locked Out Of Heaven works in order to have the mashup work so perfectly.

Really - Locked In The Underground is the kind of rip that just feels like a shoe-in for the blog, as one of the most popular rips made during 2020. Funny enough, beyond the obvious combination of Locked Out Of Heaven and Undertale, you could even read the rip's title itself to be referencing the feeling all of us had during the pandemic - sort of reframing its pleas and shouts, in a way. But then Locked In The Underground also isn't the kind of rip where I'm desperate to know more about its possible lore and inner workings: I know Bruno Mars, I know Undertale, I know Jamangar, and she made one of the season's cleanest bangers by doing what she does best. That's awesome.

#todays siivagunner #season 4 episode 2 #siivagunner #siiva #Jamangar #Youtube #Bandcamp #undertale #deltarune #utdr #bruno mars #locked out of heaven #pop music #mashups #mashup #toby fox #undertale music #undertale ost

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theamityelf · 2 months

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About Makoto in sdr2 AU how would his dynamic with Hajime would outside and inside trial? Also, I think Makoto would realized he from different class from others because he checked his class ultimate beforehand. Specially when there are two lucky students so they at very least have one year difference because they choose one lucky students per year. Like, why does he and togami here with other teen from different class? What makes Monokuma single both of them? Where are their other classmates? And maybe monokuma still hinting the change of title but Makoto doesn't realized it but some other students would. Like the impostor, if they still alive, would realized Makoto being the only person from different year. Or maybe Komaeda because he's observant. And how about Chiaki? Like, it must be awkward for her because she knew him but couldn't do anything because maybe her program made her register him as student rather future foundation member.

(Yeah, I think the case where he doesn't know he's in a different class than them is the one where he loses the memory of being invited to Hope's Peak at all. In the case where he does remember being invited to Hope's Peak, he knows he's in a different class, but they still have to be told that it's specifically the class right after them.)

I totally agree that it would be great if those students (Imposter, Nagito, etc.) picked up on Monokuma's hinting more than Makoto. I mentioned Nagito specifically, in the other post, because I think Nagito would be the most intrigued by the idea of Makoto having once been a luckster but now being something else. I think Imposter would notice the implication but wouldn't care as much about it. They'd just kind of log it away in their mind, in case it becomes important.

And Chiaki definitely knows everything that's going on with Makoto but just can't tell him.

As for how Makoto and Hajime would interact in and out of the trials, I think (and this isn't even a manifestation of my shipping agenda! I really mean this!) that Nagito would play a big role in that. Especially in the first investigation, which I will get to later.

When they first arrive at the island and Hajime passes out, I think that would be the first meaningful interaction between the three of them. I think both Nagito and Makoto would express concern, but when Nagito commits to waiting with Hajime, I think Makoto will leave.

Presumably, introductions happen very shortly after Hajime faints, and when everyone is dispersed and doing their own thing, I think Makoto would end up paired with Mahiru.

After all, Makoto didn't pass out, he tried to be there for Hajime, and when Mahiru says "It's the boys' job to protect the girls," I can imagine Makoto saying something like, "Oh, right, I'll do my best!" Basically, I think Mahiru would tentatively consider Makoto pretty reliable, at least relative to the rest of the guys. Just a normal, sturdy guy. I could see Mahiru deciding she wants to look around for good photo spots or something of the sort and Makoto tagging along to help her carry stuff.

All of this to say, when Hajime wakes up and goes around meeting people, I think Makoto is with Mahiru, helping out with whatever she's up to.

Makoto introduces himself, like, "I'm Makoto Naegi, the Ultimate Lucky Student. And, that's about it."

Hajime says, "I thought Nagito was the Ultimate Lucky Student."

"Yeah, I think I'm from a different class or something...I looked up the Ultimates from my class when I got my letter, and I don't remember most of you."

"Did everyone look up the other Ultimates?" Hajime asks rhetorically, with a glance at Nagito.

"Hi again, Makoto," Nagito says cheerfully. "Nice to see you're making yourself useful. What are you up to, Mahiru?"

And so on.

I think they would stay in that dynamic (of Nagito and Hajime as each other's first friends on the island and Makoto separately friends with Mahiru or whatever other friendship he forms; I think he would definitely also try to spend time with Imposter, assuming he's Byakuya Togami from his class) for most of Chapter 1. When Monokuma appears, I think Makoto would say something like "There's no way anyone here would kill each other!" and Hajime and Nagito would both think he's pretty naive, but I think Nagito would also encourage Hajime to "Try to think more positively. Like Makoto!"

And, like we've said, sometime between Monokuma showing up and the first murder happening, Monokuma starts hinting at something different about Makoto, which Nagito clocks immediately.

Now, as for the first investigation. (I'm not saying who dies first or how, because if I'm going to think through that exact chain of events, it'll be in a different post.) In the first chapter of canon SDR2, Nagito kind of insists on investigating with Hajime, and that's Hajime's first/formative experience in investigating the murders. In THH, Makoto's first investigation happens the way it does because he's the one under suspicion, so he has to investigate to avoid being the one they vote for. (Of course, I don't think Makoto would have been complacent about the investigation if that hadn't been the case, but those conditions are still important to acknowledge.)

What I'm imagining is a scenario where Nagito has noticed both Hajime and Makoto separately and is kind of trying to test both of them. He thinks they both have protagonist energy and wants to see which will prevail. So while Nagito does still probably play a role in the first murder and help the killer to confuse things about the crime, I think he would also specifically frame Makoto.

After all, if there's a mere lucky student who has ascended to the ranks of the true Ultimates, as Monokuma implied, Nagito wants to see him prove himself (...under a great deal of pressure, because also Nagito is kinda jealous).

So he frames Makoto and investigates alongside Hajime. Pushing Hajime toward actual clues and confusing Makoto as much as possible.

And then in the trial itself, I think Hajime will have found more physical clues and will supply more of the just-knowing-stuff-beforehand answers (like what an octagon is), but Makoto will have more testimonies from witnesses and gathered more spot-the-difference type evidence (like the Hifumi glasses thing in THH). They both do great with their respective areas.

Chiaki and Makoto are the best at keeping things going when the conversation lulls, and Chiaki and Hajime are the best at cutting through the noise when people get a little too set on a single argument. Chiaki is very involved for both of them.

(Nagito is awed at the teamwork and competency. Makoto has fully won him over, and of course he still adores Hajime.)

And I think when Makoto finds out Nagito was deliberately framing him, his feelings would be hurt, and Hajime would still feel betrayed, also, by Nagito turning out to have plotted to start the killings. And I think they would talk to each other about that. It would drive them together as friends. I think Makoto would maintain that it was all Monokuma's fault, even if he feels hurt by what Nagito did, and Hajime would agree that Monokuma is the real enemy but still very much not let Nagito off the hook.

And in subsequent chapters, when Hajime tries not to care about Nagito, I think Makoto continuing to openly care would kind of give him permission to actually deal with the hurt and anger and care he still feels for Nagito. (Chiaki would be right there with him, in that regard; these two care about everyone, and Hajime is the one who, while he does care about the others, doubts them a lot, too.) Makoto kind of slides incidentally into the role of Hajime's optimistic friend once Nagito loses his trust, and I think Hajime doesn't trust Makoto quite as much, as a result, but they still gravitate together.

In future investigations and trials, Hajime, Makoto, Chiaki, and Nagito are the main players.

(Boy, I hope this brainstorm answered your question, but you can send another ask if it didn't, lol!)

#danganronpa #makoto in sdr2 au #makoto naegi #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #komahinaegi #komaegi #komahina #hinaegi #mahiru koizumi #ultimate imposter #chiaki nanami #hinanami #naenami #komahinaenami #naezumi

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dndadscharacterpolls · 6 months

Text

Hello there ! I'm Aether (it/its) ! You can find me on my main, @justablah56 I just thought it'd be fun to have dndads specific polls, so why not do it myself ?

this post will be constantly updating , so if you want to keep up with what's happening make sure to check in here every once in a while !

all current poll information will be above the cut, and then general rules for this account in general will be below :]

the current poll is favorite character headcanon

CURRENT ROUND : ROUND 2

everyone with the Scam Likely voice is related to the Likelys (ex. bleeding elf) vs Terry Jr never learned to drive after rolling a nat 1 at the end of s1

Lark and Grant's Top Secret Fight Club vs Ron is a furry

Grant and Marco met online playing video games together vs Ron doesn't believe in WiFi

bi4bi Carol and Daryl but they're in denial about it vs genderfluid Hermie

Henry, ordained minister of the Church of Life, officiated Marco/Grant's wedding vs adhd Normal

Nicky is biologically related to all three parents (Jodie, Glenn, and Morgan) vs autistic Hermie

Lark has an amethyst that Mercedes gifted him vs Glenn and Morgan gave each other stick and poke tattoos and all of Glenn's disappeared after the trial

disabled Taylor vs genderfluid Scam

Gerry is named after Grant and Terry Jr vs Terry Jr is fluent in French bcs Terry Sr immigrated from France

arospec Lincoln vs Lark keeps his hair short out of paranoia

Scary uses stamp-on eyeliner bcs she can't do winged eyeliner herself vs aro Taylor

Daryl and Carol go to couples counseling post s1, but end up amicably divorcing vs polycule teens

Carol and Darryl get divorced post s1 but still live together out of convenience vs Normal needs glasses but doesn't know it

Glenn struggled with self harm after being in prison, specifically scratching at phantom shackles on his wrists vs autistic Normal

genderfluid Glenn vs Nicky heavily considered erasing one of the timelines from his memory with the memory syringes when they were younger

Henry got Vine famous due to Rock Rock and then got famous on TikTok where he has a gardening series in addition to his Rocks Rock series vs Jewish Stamplers

Daryl thinks Slim Shady and Eminem are two different people vs transmasc Normal

Gerry was Scary and Linc's wedding gift from Scam vs t4t oakworthy

autistic Linc vs Bill Close was/is a coke-head

Terry Jr had a goth phase in highschool vs ocd Grant

Taylor's sword cane is a mobility aid vs he/they Sparrow

queerplatonic married gothcleats vs Nicky loves cats even though he's allergic to them

transmasc Nicky vs t4t hencedes

Terry Jr has sandy blonde hair bcs he bleaches and dyes it vs Sparrow has chronic nightmares about Lark dying

demisexual Glenn vs t4t Nicky/Cassandra

Nicky goes by Nick Freeman after his mom as an adult vs the Swallows-Oak-Garcias stay with Henry for a bit after their house burned down

Sparrow had to come out as cishet bcs everybody else is some sort of queer vs Sparrow is the older twin

each poll will have 3 days of submissions, and then each round will last a day. then there will be one day of break, and then the next day there'll be another poll to pick the next competition and so on and so forth :3

poll submissions are always open , so if at any time you have a poll you'd think would be fun feel free to send it in !

any poll we've done previously is fair game , there are quite literally no limits for what polls you can submit , so send in your ideas !

current poll submissions :

aroallo

ace

best Daryl fact

best Lincoln fact

best Scary fact

best Taylor fact

best Jodie fact

coolest npc name

favorite s2 episode

favorite niche/unpopular ship

best s1 arc

favorite song intro

biggest saddest eyes

propaganda is 100% welcome ! feel free to send an ask or bribe via art requests, and if you make a post just tag me and I'll reblog it here tagged with " *poll* propaganda" if your propaganda is in a reblog , make sure you write it on the post rather than the tags if you want it reblogged here !

I don't just post polls on this acc ! I also reblog fanart , fandom events , and other polls including dndads characters! for fanart I use the tags "not a poll" and "fanart" , for events I use "fandom events" , and for other polls I use the tag "not my polls" , so if either of those are things you don't want to see , feel free to block those tags :]

Previous polls (as of our come back in February ! )

best Normal Fact : ep29 - he is the most published author in the teen high fanfiction tag on ao3

favorite headcanon : Taylors sword cane is his mobility aid for his balance issues that come and go

best Glenn fact : Glenn still considers himself married to Morgan even though she's dead

best npc : Terry Jr Stampler

best non-song intro: ep27 - Glenn and Ron on shark tank for the elevator button

funniest npc name : Sexcallibur Horsepower

if you want to know who won what before the hiatus , you can find those here !

if you have any questions about the blog in general or anything else , feel free to send in an ask and I'll do my best to answer it !

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

Note

Hello, dear! ♡ I saw your requests were back open and I was wondering if I could request more Thranduil smut where the female reader (human) does everything she can to befriend Legolas just so she can get into Thranduil's pants "Do you think I don't know what you are doing?" 🔥🔥🔥 (modern or not. I will let you decide!). Please and thank you so much. I hope you are having a great week.

I hope you like this!

“Mr. Oropherion”

Prompt: "Do you think I don't know what you're doing?" | Setting: Library, and then the bedroom.

Pairing: Modern Thranduil x Fem Reader (Second person POV)

Themes: Smut | Soft | Slow burn | Modern AU

Word count: 4.3K words

Summary: Finishing university and having to spend the night at your best friend’s place takes a surprising turn when his father reciprocates the feelings you had been secretly harbouring for him.

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

It was close to four in the morning when you brought Legolas back home.

The graduation party had been a resounding success; everyone had enjoyed themselves. Legolas got into a drinking game with Gimli, and neither backed down. Bottles quickly emptied, stacks of glasses grew, and then, just when it looked like the contest was heading for a draw, Gimli burped, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head, and he fell right off his chair. That was when you knew the time had come to take your friend home. Gimli was taken by Aragorn, Boromir, and his brother, so he could sleep at their place.

"My hands tingle," Legolas suddenly mumbled, before slumping deeper into the seat and snoring loudly.

You shook your head and smiled to yourself. Tingling hands? He’s going to be in for one hell of a hangover, you mused. And begging for aspirin the moment he opened his eyes—or perhaps a quick death. Maybe both, depending on how bad the after-effects were. You turned your attention to the road. It was empty at this time, but the incessant rain only served to slow down the taxi. Still, you could make out the bright neon lights and the lightning that split the sky in white, hot flashes of light. The residential area of the city soon neared, and you gaped at all the apartment buildings. It still shocked you that Legolas and his father live in such an expensive place in the city.

Thoughts of Legolas’s father had you reaching into your purse for your phone. You would need help taking Legolas up to the appartment. It didn’t take long, and you were promised someone would be there to help you. You squinted into the gloom and pointed out the correct building to the driver. Sure enough, Feren, Thranduil’s assistant, was out by the main entrance, wallet in hand, to pay the driver. Your apologies were endless and earnest, and Feren brushed them off with a friendly wave of the hand. He and Thranduil had been up most of the night anyway, going over an important contract, finishing up things just before your call came. The three of you had to walk in fits and starts, as Legolas was taller and swayed constantly. It was a trial, taking him through the ground floor, ignoring the stares of the stunned concierges. Then the lift, where Legolas nearly tilted onto the door. Then the top floor, where again, Legolas kept swaying and dragging the two of you with him.

"Will there be a repeat of this after he comes back from his trip?" muttered a highly amused Feren.

"I don’t know," you replied. "Next time it will be Aragorn’s turn to be the designated responsible adult, so you’ll have to ask him."

Feren nearly choked on his laughter. "You lot all take turns?"

"Oh yes," you mumbled, relieved when a familiar pair of doors drew closer. "We drew straws the moment we all became friends in University. Gimli has been grumbling about this arrangement ever since."

Feren snorted and gave you the apartment key. And nearly toppled into the corridor the moment you opened the door. "Easy there, big fella," You managed to brace yourself against the doorpost, to stop all three of you from falling flat on your faces. "Not all that far now; go to bed and sleep."

"I don’t need sleep," Legolas mumbled in his sleep. "I need Tauriel. Where is she? Where is my Tauriel?"

"Sleeping in her own bed," you said and smiled, thinking of the ring you helped Legolas pick out. "And probably thinking of all the things the two of you could do on your trip. Now come on," you let Feren lead the way to Legolas’s bedroom. "Off to bed with you."

"Mmm-hmm," Legolas breathed and allowed himself to be put to bed. His snores started again the moment his head hit the pillow, leaving you and Feren with enough time to dry off his hair and remove his socks and shoes.

"I’ll be heading out then," Feren said, satisfied that his boss’s son was settled in. "Mr. Oropherion said he’d like a word with you after you’ve settled in the guest bedroom."

"Of course," you managed, after having remembered Legolas’s invitation for you to stay over, and rest. "I’ll go see what the old man wants."

With that, Feren said his goodbyes and left. And you, not knowing what else to do with yourself, made your way to the guest bedroom. Everything was just like you remembered it: the comfortable bed and softer silk sheets, the quaint furniture, and the delicate wallpaper, all covered in roses. You noticed none of it while you put your things away and left your duffel bag in a corner. A bath had to come first to get the smell of that party off of you. And how wonderful it was to feel steam and hot water, the soap that felt so good as it glided over your skin. You showered for as long as reasonably possible, and then, one glorious hot shower later, you threw on a nightgown and flannel robe, and padded into the hall.

Thranduil wasn’t there, and he wasn’t in the kitchen. You were certain he didn’t want to meet you in his private rooms, so that left you with only one other place. The library. You took your time, relishing the feel of the soft carpet under your feet, the beautiful paintings that graced the walls, and the photographs. There were so many of them that you probably wouldn’t have been able to count them all. A door then opened, making you jump and clutch your chest in shock.

"Mr. Oropherion," you managed. Thranduil had been standing by the door, still dressed in his office clothes. You tried hard not to stare as he cut a stunning figure in the crisp white shirt and black pants he wore. His hair, usually pulled up into a neat bun, was loose now. "I… I didn’t mean to keep you waiting or anything."

Thranduil studied you keenly, his vivid blue eyes never leaving yours. "It is all right," he said finally, showing no sign of anger or impatience. "Come in. There is coffee if you would like something hot to drink."

"Please," you said cheerfully, perking up at the thought of hot coffee.

And being in Thranduil’s company, of course, although you would never say it out loud. That was the main reason you befriended Legolas in the first place—to try and get closer to his father. Thranduil was a most achingly handsome man, possessing the same platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, and strange but pretty leaf-shaped ears as his son had. Captivating and very much the man in charge, Thranduil was also a mystery, a man who was fiercely guarded about himself. Even his own son knew only so much about him, and Thranduil barely spoke to you, although you were frequently visiting Legolas. Now? Now he invited you to his library of all things, with a need to talk to you. You swallowed and walked up to him.

"Feren said you wanted to have a word with me, Mr. Oropherion," you said after going inside and closing the door behind you. "May I ask what for?"

Thranduil said nothing, only gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable at a large, polished table. His, no doubt, the one he used for his work. You were content to curl up on a comfortable leather chair and watch as he brought over two steaming mugs of coffee. Yours he gave first, before making himself comfortable in the chair opposite your own. He studied you again, watching you while you sipped, how your hair had been slicked back and how your cheeks looked all flushed after your shower. His gaze intensified in a way that made your heart flutter, and then he focused on his drink and asked questions about the party, what you planned on doing now that you were done with university, if you had any jobs lined up, and was pleased when he heard you would be starting work in a few weeks time. He then turned the discussion to the matter of his son's plans.

"Legolas showed me the ring." He sighed and took a sip before putting his mug away. "It is quite exquisite, and perfect for Tauriel. I am told you had a hand in it?"

"I had to, when he showed me the rings he had in mind," you said, making a face when you remembered going over Legolas’s choices. "You’d think with a father like you, Legolas would have better taste."

You quickly went back to your coffee, trying to be as casual as possible. The chief purpose of your compliment was for Thranduil’s benefit, not just because you were talking about Legolas’s questionable taste in jewelry. Thranduil didn’t reply but looked at you keenly. You coughed and tried to come up with something else to say. The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Thranduil kept looking at you, thinking of what he should say to you, of what he should say about your comments. In the end, he decided to be direct.

"Do you think I do not know what you are doing?" He took the mug out of your hands and placed it on the table. His fingers seemed to linger over yours, but you weren’t sure if you were imagining things or not. You coughed again and tried to brush off your comments.

"Do what?"

"Trying to get my attention. Do you think I have not caught on to what you are trying to do?"

"It’s nothing, Mr. Oropherion," you said with a nervous wave of the hand. "Just a silly little nothing, that’s all."

"And the Christmas gift?" Thranduil refused to let it go. "The handmade bracelet for me? Or that bottle of fine wine? One that should have been well beyond your means? How about all the times you would look at me with such deep yearning when your attention should have rightfully been elsewhere? Were those silly little nothings as well?"

Oh, dear. The bracelet could have been explained away, but the wine? You should have known you were overdoing it with the wine, and you now realize you had not been as subtle as you thought when it came to the way you looked at him.

"Does he know?" you asked finally, hoping and praying the ground would open and swallow you whole.

Thranduil rewarded you with a brief but arresting smile. "No. Legolas does not. And since you genuinely care for my son, I have kept my silence on the matter. But that still does not answer my question. Were you trying to get my attention? And no lies, I have neither the time nor the patience for them."

You dropped your head in utter embarrassment. Thranduil tutted gently and curled a finger under your chin, lifting it so your gaze was level with his. "Were you craving my attention, y/n?"

"Yes," you replied meekly.

"I see," Thranduil said slowly, hesitantly, as he ran his thumb across your lower lip. He groaned softly when your lips slowly parted. "Was this a simple liking, something innocent, or was this something more intimate in nature?"

Your cheeks were aflame. "More… intimate… Mr. Oropherion."

Thranduil’s eyes darkened. "You want me to bed you? Have my way with your body?"

"Yes," as bashful as you were, you still answered him. You very much wanted him to spend the night with you. "Maybe more than that."

His smile simply grew, and his eyes glinted wickedly in the light. Thranduil reflected on your answer and came to a decision. The time had come for him to be truthful as well.

"What if I told you I desired you in return?" He grinned when your eyes widened in both shock and pleasure. "That I had longed for you for nearly a year? What would you say to that?"

You were stunned and confused. Over the course of the previous year, Thranduil treated you like he always did, with barely any interest. Of course, he would be polite to you, asking about your classes and your exams, but there was nothing beyond that. In truth, it was Legolas who did most of the talking. You weren't sure if Thranduil even listened to you. Now he has freely confessed to wanting you.

"But you barely spoke to me," you huffed, more than a little hurt that he would keep such a thing from you. "There were times you acted like I wasn't even there."

For this, Thranduil was remorseful. "And I apologize for being so cold with you. I do have very good reasons for concealing my true feelings, and I will talk about them someday soon, but for now I must ask if you would like me to bed you now and make you mine."

Thranduil said no more. He leaned back in his chair and gave you time to think.

He had good reasons, you mused. The age difference, no doubt; Legolas's possible reactions and the memories of his first wife's tragic passing. Thranduil took years to recover, Legolas had once said, and he refused all attempts at relationships, even ones that could only last a night.

Until now.

"Why now?" A wave of insecurity caught you unawares. The Oropherions had come from another country and were old money. Thranduil could have easily set his sights on someone like him, and he could still do it, pretending that there was no one else. After all, longing could mean many things. "And why me?"

"Is it not obvious?" he asked, after seeing doubt cloud your eyes.

"No," you flushed when he took your hands into his. Such large hands he had—hands that were so warm against yours. Thranduil raised yours to his lips, kissing them repeatedly.

"Your skin smells glorious, just like I thought it would be," Thranduil observed, his lips curling into a smile. "And soft. So soft. I cannot wait to feel your hands all over my body."

His gaze cut to yours. Your eyes were fixed on his, your pupils wide and your breathing quick. Doubt still clouded your eyes, and doubt was what he wanted to soothe.

"Are you worried I might set you aside for someone else?"

"Yes," you swallowed, but somehow you clung on to your courage. "You're an Oropherion and I'm... I'm... Me"

Thranduil grabbed your hands by the wrists and tugged on them, pulling you out of your chair and onto his. Your breath hitched when you found yourself on his lap, his arms hooking around your waist.

"I cannot ask you to simply put complete faith in me, not when you still do not truly know me," Thranduil admitted. "All I can ask is for you to give me a chance. Just one. Will you do that for me? Give me a chance?"

You looked at him, at those startling eyes of his. You found no malice, no ill-intent, just a pair of sky-blue eyes that looked at you in a way no one else had done before. One chance, he had asked. You could risk giving him one chance.

"Alright," hands moving up your waist made your breath quicken again. "One chance."

Thranduil tightened his grip, heady anticipation coursing through his veins. "And can I make you mine now?"

"Yes," you were just as excited as he was. "But where though?"

Thranduil already had a place in mind, and set you down on your feet. When he rose, you had to really look up. Legolas may have been tall, but Thranduil was even taller.

"Come," he said, holding onto your hand. Thranduil led you out of the library and into the corridor. "I know just the place."

That place turned out to be his bedroom. It was like Legolas’s but on a much grander scale, with a large four-poster bed and warm accents everywhere. There was a wooden crest of some sort hung up on one wall, an intricately carved leaf surrounded by vines.

"My family’s crest," Thranduil stood behind you. "Tis an old one; the true meaning of it has been lost to time."

His hand had been moving up your arm, making your skin prickle and warm beneath his palm.

"You can change your mind at any time," he murmured and moved even closer, his other arm slowly circling around your waist. "I will stop the moment you ask me to."

You didn’t want him to stop. Not now, not after what he was making you feel, all warm and feverish and lustful.

"What if I don’t want you to stop?" you replied, your body slowly sagging into his. Thranduil groaned triumphantly and turned you around, his arms pulling you into a tight embrace.

His kiss was far from gentle, leaving you breathless and heady. You willingly yielded, your arms twinning around his broad shoulders when he dipped to carry you, a growl slipping past his lips when your legs wrapped around his waist. Thranduil carried you to across the room, his kisses demanding and unceasing. When he set you down by the foot of the bed, you tried to undress yourself.

"No," Thranduil was quick to stop you. "Let me do it instead."

Your hands moved to your sides while skilled, patient fingers worked on the belt of your robe and drew it away. His eyes darkened at the lace and skin that lay beneath.

"Beautiful," he whispered dreamily, before tugging your robe down your arms. When it pooled around your feet your cheeks warmed immediately. Thranduil stood still for a moment, drinking in the vision that stood in front of him, before gathering you into his arms and kissing you again. You found yourself being carried into bed, its bedspread cool beneath your skin. A blissful sigh parted your lips when his tongue dipped into your mouth. You felt caged beneath him, his body heavy against yours in all manner of wonderful ways. When he pressed himself even closer, your nails nearly ripped into his shirt, leaving gouges in his back. It hurt, but Thranduil thought no pain felt even a fraction as good.

"You are going to be the death of me," he breathed and pulled away, so he could undress himself. Your blush rose immediately when the last of his clothes joined the little pile by the side of the bed and he towered before you like a magnificent sculpture come to life. You didn’t have time to even think as his lips sought yours again. He had to prop himself on one elbow, to avoid crushing you, but his kiss, oh, how sinful was his kiss, hungry and needy, and his touch, heated and possessive, as it moved all over your body. His hair felt thick to your touch, his skin petal-soft against your own. When he ground into you, more than a little hesitant, you threw caution to the wind.

"You don’t have to be gentle with me," you encouraged. When Thranduil stopped, studying you keenly, you cupped his face with your hands. You wanted him to do it, to take control and have his way with you completely. "I mean it, Mr. Oropherion, you don’t have…"

"Sir," Thranduil insisted, having brought down his own inhibitions. He wanted to hold back, to be gentle, to not fall on you like a beast, but if what you asked for was true…

"Not Mr. Oropherion," Thranduil's need to take control slowly overcame him. "Not while we are here, within the confines of this bedroom."

Your entire body flushed heatedly by his tone alone. "Yes," you gazed at him, blood roaring in yours ears. "Sir."

"Come," Thranduil settled onto his knees and held out a hand. When he pulled you onto his lap, you felt his cock—already hard—rubbing against your slick heat. Pinpricks of desire slowly grew as he kept rubbing himself against you, making you mewl and whimper into his shoulder.

"Are you sure about this, princess?" Thranduil growled, his voice deep and husky by now. "You do not want me to be gentle?"

What was it with the way he suddenly called you princess? Why did it make your pulse scramble so? "Yes," you readied yourself, eager for all the things he could possibly do to you. "Sir."

His lips crushed yours, his arms tightening around your waist like a vice. His teeth grazed over your lips, his tongue pushing past them and flicking against yours when it slipped into the warmth of your mouth. You couldn’t help but purr helplessly, your fingers raking through his hair. Thranduil forgot all sense of gentleness and decency as need lashed at him like a whip.

"So shameless, princess," he cooed, his hand making its way around your waist and onto your thigh. "The way you would look at me. Thinking I would not notice? Pitiful."

"I’m sorry, sir," you sighed when that hand of his snuck under the hem of your nightgown and glided up. "I’m so sorry."

"You should be," he muttered, "You should be very sorry."

Slap.

You jolted when he smacked your thigh. The pain that came was sharp, but the pleasure that followed afterwards…

"More," you begged, "Please."

"Sir," he reminded, before reddening your thigh again. "You forget yourself, princess."

"Sir," you mumbled quickly, "More sir, please."

Thranduil dipped and nipped your throat and your shoulder, taking care not to bruise such exposed parts.

"So needy already," he spanked your thigh a third time, moaning when you tugged his hair. "And I have just gotten started."

He kissed you again; his kisses aggressive and hot. He tugged at the hem of your nightgown, ordering you to lift your arms. The lace and silk confection went up your arms and over your waist before being tossed to the pile of clothes by the side. Thranduil pulled away to look at you, at your bruised lips, your skin gleaming in the lamplight, your disheveled hair, and your eyes, heavy-lidded, dark.

"Look at you," Thranduil grinned wolfishly as he took you in. "Already a mess."

"I am, sir," you snuggled even closer and threw your arms around his shoulders.

Instead of kissing you Thranduil pushed you onto your back, his greedy mouth exploring as much of your body as possible. You could only grip into the sheet when his teeth left darkening patches to bloom in their wake, your back arching every time he nipped at your skin. Your mewls turned into heady moans and Thranduil couldn’t get enough it.

"I often wondered how sweet you would sound when we fucked," he moaned and turned his attention to the soft swell of your breasts, dipping his head to taste. "How sweet you would taste."

"As much as I wondered how good you’d taste," you babbled without even realizing it. Thranduil chuckled before turning his attention back to what he was doing. He licked and laved, leaving your nipples throbbing by the time he had finished.

"Needy little slut, yes?" Thranduil pinned your hands over your head and forced your thighs apart with his. "But do not worry; you will get to taste me later. Lift those beautiful hips of yours for now."

You had just hooked your legs over his hips when he entered you, his cock plunging into your cunt in one quick stroke. He was so big, and it hurt, but the sensations that came with him sinking his length into you—the feel of your walls clenching around his cock—were too good, and the pain was forgotten quickly enough. Then he started to move.

Helpless and pinned beneath him, you found yourself being pushed higher up the bed every time he pulled his hips back and pushed back in, his moans matching yours. Thranduil forced himself to hold on, to wait till you had climaxed, but it had been so long, so very long, and you felt gloriously warm, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

"Come for me, princess," he commanded, "Come for me now."

A wave of intense pleasure rose within you, threatening to drag you under. You let it drag you under, your body splintering as your orgasm ripped through you. Your senses dulled as the world around you seemed to stop spinning. So lost in your blissed-out state that you barely felt Thranduil pull out of you and spill his seed over your belly, his moan that of a deeply satisfied man.

Clarity came slowly. The sweet, restful scent of lavender oil mingled with each breath you took. You blinked your eyes and looked up. Thranduil still hovered over you, his arms trembling, and sweat gleaming on his brow. Slowly, he let go, his kisses going from raw fury to tender pecks. He massaged your wrists, helped you get cleaned up and insisted that you sleep in his bed, reassuring you that Legolas would have no issue with you being with him. Once he was sure you were settled, he quickly threw on a pair of sweatpants and went out to fetch you a glass of water. Legolas had also walked into the kitchen at the same time, and the two shared a knowing look.

"It’s happening?" Legolas asked, and made his way over to his father. "Are you and y/n together now?"

Thranduil filled out a glass of water for him and watched while his son took an aspirin for the headache that was already building in intensity. Legolas knew of his father's plan. He had seen both his friend and father pining for each other and it was he who encouraged his father to take the first step in the first place.

"Yes," Thranduil filled another glass for you and studied his son. "I will date her properly and do my best not to make a mess of things. Y/n deserves better than that."

"Good," Legolas would have grinned, had it not felt like a rat was trying to gnaw its way out of his head. "Y/n will be good for you. Besides, you’ve been a lonely, miserable bastard for too long, dad."

Thranduil blushed but smiled all the same. "One does not expect to hear such language from their own child, but thank you."

tags: @ryantryan6969 @asianbutnotjapanese @lemonivall @the-fandoms-georgie @nupppuff

#🔥 spicy spring fling 🔥#thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil smut #thranduil imagine #modern thranduil #x reader #reader inset #reader request #writeblr #💫a world of whimsy writes

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

Text

Designated Person | Chapter 3

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 3: Puzzle Pieces

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 8.2k+

Content / Warnings: Reader POV, nannying, infant / toddler, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, flashbacks, awkward conversations, first date, first kiss, platonic (???) cuddling, confrontation, argument

Notes: Yeeehaw hi, friends. I don't know that I've mentioned this previously, but "reader" is like mid-to-late 20's for the purposes of this story, so there's a bit of an age gap there. And there was a power imbalance with their relationship to begin with and stuff so I'm just putting that out there. This chapter gives big "Bike Scene" by Taking Back Sunday vibes if you're into that lol. That's all I have for now! Thank you for reading.

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Finally, it’s quiet.

You’re not sure if it’s a full moon or what the fuck is going on, but today has been particularly hellish in the Howard household.

The youngest two children, Ashton and Jaxson, are four and three, respectively. Which can be great when they play together, or when you find activities for the three of you to do while the oldest is at school. But then there are days like this, when neither of them want to do the same thing and both of them want your undivided attention. You can barely finish appeasing one before the other starts crying.

To add to the chaos, when the eldest Howard child, Emmaleigh, came home from school, she promptly stomped up the stairs to her bedroom, then slammed and locked the door. As Jaxson tugged on your shirt and screeched for you to continue reading names of different species of whales pictured in his animal encyclopedia, you tried to coax her out of the room to tell you what was wrong, but she wouldn’t budge.

On days like this, by the time Marla gets home, you’re essentially a bundle of nerves with knotted muscles.

You take another peek into the family room, where Ashton and Jaxson are settled into the cushy microfiber sectional watching Finding Nemo. They both seem content and neither of them notice your presence, so you tiptoe up the stairs to the main level, into the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, peel the electric blue post-it note off the dull, cream colored vinyl countertop. The message, written in Marla’s neat, rounded hand, reads: OK to DoorDash dinner.

“Thank fucking god,” you mutter under your breath, then pad over the dark hardwood floor to a laptop sitting open on the dining room table. As you place an order for food from a local burger joint, you mentally give thanks to Marla again. Not only will dinner from Emmaleigh’s favorite restaurant lift her spirits, but it takes a load off your mind.

You’ve nannied for about a half a dozen families, and Marla is the most easygoing mom you’ve dealt with by far. Generally speaking, you’ve found your families with two or more children are less rigid than families with one child. You think that Marla is especially lax because she’s a single mother and, as the founder and CEO of an adult toy company, a bona fide hashtag girl boss. She knows that her children can be a handful and isn’t immune to giving in to their demands for junk food and screen time.

Your last job, with the Morales’s, was much more structured. Angie had very specific instructions, typed up the night before and automatically emailed to you at 6am each morning. Of course, you could have pinpointed her as type A during your interview, when she pulled your resume out of a color-coded accordion file of potential candidates, followed by a pre-printed list of questions she used to jot down your responses.

Her shiny red fingernails were long and pointed to sharp tips that clacked against the tabletop of a local coffee shop. Round, brown eyes with little flecks of gold looked up from her questionnaire to you as the interview came to a close.

“The hours are 7 AM to 6 PM, Monday through Friday. My husband gets home at 4, but I would need you to stick around and make dinner while he helps with Sarah.”

“Oh, ok,” you nodded, frowning in confusion at the overlap.

She leaned forward slightly, as if letting you in on a secret, and explained, “He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. I love the man but he’s useless in the kitchen.”

You chuckled at this, grinning, “I get that a lot, actually. I just don’t usually get an extra set of hands to help me with the kids.”

“He’ll stay out of your way, don’t worry,” she winked, then took another cursory glance at the questionnaire before telling you, “Well, you’re definitely the most qualified person I’ve interviewed. I think you’d be a great fit for us. What do you think?“

“Is- is that a job offer?” you stammered. After your last family’s mom was laid off a month prior, you were abruptly out of work. This was the break you desperately needed.

Her cherry red lips curved into a disarming smile and she nodded, “But, if you need time to think about it-”

“No,” you interjected, almost a little too forcefully, then softened and added, “I’d love to.”

Before noon on your first day working for the Morales’s, you had grown attached to Sarah. The six-month old baby had a chocolate soft serve swirl of hair right at the top of her head like a crown, and it wiggled like jell-o every time her big bobble head would sway and jostle. Her deep brown eyes were round and expressive. Whenever you had one-sided conversations with her, she'd coo and babble in response, raising or furrowing her eyebrows, like she was contributing even though she couldn’t understand a lick of what you said.

After laying her down for a nap, as you tiptoed down the hallway away from her bedroom, a picture frame hanging on the wall caught your eye. You stopped to examine the photo of Mr. and Mrs. Morales from their wedding day.

Angelica’s pearly, knee-length dress hugged her hourglass shape. A white tulle shawl hung over her shoulders and draped down her arms, rhinestones scattered across the fabric. Her jet black hair was loosely pinned back, save for a few strands of long, wavy bangs left to frame her heart-shaped face. Her makeup was done up as fiercely as it was that morning and during your interview. Razor-point black winged eyeliner painted on behind her long, black lashes. Perfectly arched eyebrows. Her alluring lips were shiny and red, just like her fingernails.

Who you assumed to be Mr. Morales wore a fitted black suit, but no tie. He had bronzed skin and broad shoulders that pulled his posture straight. The man’s brown hair showed the beginnings of curls, his sparse facial hair trimmed close to the skin, save for a pronounced mustache. He had a strong nose and chin. His dark brown eyes and dimpled smile made your stomach flutter.

The happy couple stood next to each other on the steps of what looked like either a church or a courthouse. Mr. Morales had one arm tucked behind his bride, whose hands were clasped around a small bouquet of white lilies. Both leaned their heads towards the other while they faced the camera and flashed the kind of practiced smile reserved for professional photographers.

Blood rose to your cheeks when you realized you were staring at the groom and attraction was pooling between your thighs. You glanced around self-consciously, then down at the floor as you made your way to the living room.

For the remainder of the afternoon, time worked like a garrote, twisting around your neck, tighter with each minute that drew you closer to 4:00.

When he came home, you were participating in tummy time with Sarah. She babbled and blew spit bubbles at you, careening her wobbly baby head around to focus on your smiling face. The heavy door to the garage opened and slammed shut. Your heart skipped a beat when he ascended the stairs and looked around, doling out a polite smile and wave to you.

“Hi there,” you greeted, then asked Sarah in baby talk, “Is that your daddy? Do you wanna go see him?”

She cooed.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you chuckled, then rolled to your knees and propped her on your hip as you stood.

“How was she?” he asked, tilting his head with a smile to Sarah. The dulcet baritone of his voice reverberated through your chest. You swallowed hard as you realized that he’s so much more handsome in person.

“She was great! Woke up from a nap about an hour ago, then she ate 8 oz from her bottle. Did a little tummy time, as, um, as you can see,” you handed her off to him. As you did this, his hand slid over yours accidentally. It was rough and warm and made your stomach flip. Your heart was thudding like you had just run a marathon.

He nodded at Sarah, copying her wide dimpled smile, then met your eyes, “Ang said you might need my help while you cook?”

When he made eye contact with you, all the air left your lungs and your brain short-circuited. He blinked in anticipation of your response, causing you to snap out of your daze, stuttering, “Y-yeah, sorry, um- yeah,” you winced in embarrassment, “She wanted me to make dinner when you got home, said you could help with Sarah while I do that.”

When you looked back up again he was smirking at you. That did not help the state of your composure. Your face was like a heat lamp and you averted your gaze, “I can get started on that now.”

While retreating into the kitchen, you pulled out your phone and found the recipe Mrs. Morales sent to you. He followed you into the kitchen, sans baby, heavy work boots clunking against the fake honey oak linoleum flooring. You tried to act as normal as possible when you turned to the fridge and he was already there, bending over to get a beer out of the crisper and asking, “You want one?”

As desperately as you wanted to say yes, abso-fucking-lutey yes, it was your first day with this family, so you declined.

“Do you drink?” he questioned further, still hanging over the open drawer in the fridge when he peered up at you.

You nodded, “Yeah, but…”

He fished out a second beer, then pushed the crisper closed with his foot and stepped away from the fridge, chuckling, “I think you need it.”

Teeth clenching your tongue flat, you fought the urge to tell him to shut up. You approached the open fridge and retrieved the necessary ingredients before nudging it closed with your hip, “I don’t know. I don’t want your wife to get mad at me. Um, drinking on the job and all.”

While you told him this, he twisted the cap off of one bottle and put it on the counter next to him, then the second, which he placed on the stovetop for you. As he stepped back and leaned against the counter to face you again, he said, “I won’t tell on you, don’t worry.”

Your heart was in your throat attempting to strangle you. You turned around and flashed a joking eye roll at him as you accepted the bottle, “Sure.”

He winked, grabbing his beer as he pushed off the counter towards the living room, calling back, “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Um, yeah, same,” you laughed nervously.

Frankie slams the passenger side car door shut and you put the car into drive, “How’d the meeting go?”

His seatbelt locks in place with a click. He stretches out in the seat that’s now constantly set to his preference: slid as far back as it can go, reclined to a wide, obtuse angle. His knees settle far apart and he looks out the window, pressing his fingers to his lips as he shakes his head.

Your nostrils flare at this annoying lack of response, but you try again, “I already ate, do you need me to stop anywhere for you?”

He doesn’t move when he mumbles, “I’m fine, thanks.”

You roll your eyes and turn the radio up in an attempt to dampen your irritation with his brooding.

After arriving at home, both of you trudge inside to your separate bedrooms. You strip off your day clothes and replace them with a baggy, tie-dyed t-shirt and a pair of black cotton shorts. Your skin still feels too tight, muscles too tense for comfort.

Fuck, you want a beer. Or a lay. Or both. Some kind of release.

Your phone buzzes from your nightstand, so you grab it and find a new message notification from Tinder.

> RORY: > You free tomorrow night?

With a grimace, you toss your phone onto your bed, then exit your bedroom to find Frankie rummaging through the fridge for something to eat. He has also made a wardrobe change into lounge wear, retiring his hat for the evening, sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, weathered Metallica t-shirt.

“Did you change out of your crabby pants, too, or are those on under your sweats?” you tease.

He scoffs and glances over at you, “I’m not crabby.”

“Sure you’re not,” you tiptoe past him into the living room, where you collapse onto the couch and turn the TV on.

Flipping through Netflix for a while gives you little inspiration. The chair in the dining room groans as Frankie sits down to eat whatever he was able to find. You holler to him, “Whadda you wanna do tonight?”

“Besides get hammered?” his response from the dining room table is muffled by the food in his mouth.

“Obviously,” you snort.

“Mmm,” he hums, pauses for a beat, then sighs, “Fuck, I don’t know.”

You scrunch your nose up and try to brainstorm ideas. Immediately your mind plummets into the gutter, reminding you how fucking hard he made you cum on Monday. The memory electrifies your skin and sends your heart racing in your chest.

It was so fucking reckless.

Reckless and perverse and so fucking hot you wanted to tear your own skin off afterwards.

Whatever the opposite of that is.

“Do you wanna do a puzzle?” you call back to him.

At first he snickers, “A puzzle?” But then another moment passes and he asks, “What kind of puzzle?”

“I have a few. Let’s see,” you squint up at the shelf on your wall that’s lined with boxes of board games and puzzles, “Freddie Mercury, pandas, space, or gnomes.”

You hear him chewing as he soaks in these options, then he says, “Freddie Mercury.”

While he finishes eating, you clear off your coffee table and pull the box down from the shelf.

“A thousand pieces? Goddamn,” he sits down on the floor across the table from you, dusting his hands off before sifting through the box of puzzle pieces.

“We don’t have to finish it tonight,” you tell him as you scoop some into your hand and pick through them, “Try to find the edge pieces.”

The two of you isolate all the jigsawed pieces with at least one flat side and spread them, shiny, printed side up across the table. As you click a few together, Frankie’s cell phone rings.

When he pulls his phone out of his pocket, your eyes flick to the screen and see Angie’s contact photo. It’s a selfie they took together while on vacation in Australia, their smiling faces shiny with sweat and rosy from booze. Your stomach knots.

“Hey,” Frankie answers.

His dark eyes scan the room and meet yours. You immediately drop your gaze to the puzzle pieces and hum to yourself as you blatantly eavesdrop.

“Yeah, does that still work for you?”

There’s an indistinguishable soprano response from his wife.

“Let me check,” he says to Angie, then holds the phone to his shoulder and mumbles to you, “Hey do you think you could give me a ride tomorrow morning at 10?”

You nod without looking up at him.

“Yeah that works,” he tells her, shortly followed by, “Ok. Yep. Love you, bye.”

A stake plunges through your heart.

He puts the phone back in his pocket and resumes his thorough examination of the puzzle pieces, eventually mumbling, “Thank you, by the way. For giving me a ride.”

“Sure,” you glance up and flash him a quick smile. When you turn your attention back to the puzzle, you ask, “Are you excited to see Sarah?”

“Yeah,” his voice is lifted and warm, and you can tell he’s smiling, “Fuck, I miss her so much.”

What you want to say is I do too, because it’s the truth. That attachment you had to her never really went away. But it seems pointless.

“Are you guys doing anything or just sticking around the house?” you ask.

“We’re gonna go to the zoo, then Ang is gonna throw something together for dinner,” he clicks two puzzle pieces together and hums thoughtfully to himself.

“Is she still super into penguins?”

He chuckles, “Yeah. Last time me and Ang took her, she started screaming every time we tried to leave the exhibit.”

You laugh and shake your head, “Every goddamn time. I always had to bribe her with ice cream.”

“She’s so stubborn,” he grins and sits up on his knees to lean over the puzzle and get a closer look, “Just like her mom.”

A weight pulls at your stomach. You feel obligated to ask, so you do, “How are things with you and her mom?”

He’s quiet as he contemplates this, staring at the shiny pieces, thrumming his fingers against the table. With a sigh, he answers, “I don’t know.”

You try to keep your breaths metered, as to not give away the thudding in your chest. Adrenaline-spiked blood whooshes in your ears.

Frankie continues, “Things were better when I got arrested, but, you know…”

Your eyebrow raises on its own accord, but you don’t comment. If things were better, why was he doing blow and driving drunk? Nope, none of your fucking business.

Not my chair, not my problem.

“I’m kind of nervous about it, actually,” he admits quietly, “Spending time with her and all that. I really want things to work.”

“Why?” your mouth asks before your brain can tell you to shut the fuck up.

“She’s my wife. And- and the mother of my child,” he scoffs and shakes his head, “I love her.”

The sharpness in his tone drives the stake in your heart down further. Your eyes flick to his and see that he’s studying your face, stare hardened to steel. Those three words eat away at you. What he said was: I love her. But you know what he wanted to say was: I love her.

You nod in response, dropping your gaze back to the puzzle. Your body moves autonomously, clicking a few puzzle pieces together, scanning for matching patterns, while your mind plays it over and over.

I love her.

Static buzzes in your chest. Your throat feels tight, so you clear it, then tell him, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to pick you up afterwards.”

“Why not?”

“I have a date,” you inform him, glancing up to gauge his reaction.

“Oh,” he murmurs, then frowns, “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

Silence settles over the two of you. It’s just the scrape and click of puzzle pieces across the tabletop and hums of contemplation. You notice the way he seems to get buried in his thoughts, pressing his fingers to his lips, gnashing his jaw back and forth. A sick satisfaction roils inside you.

You decide to call it a night when the edge of the puzzle is put together. When you sink into your bed, you open Tinder and send a response to Rory.

< ME: < Definitely. What’re you thinking?

The message is opened immediately, and he responds.

> RORY: > Wanna get dinner?

< ME: < Yes please :)

> RORY: > Pick you up at 6?

< ME: < It's a date

The BBQ place Rory takes you to is busy and loud, its high ceilings making plenty of space for every noise to ricochet off the wood paneled walls down into your eardrums. You’re seated across from him, resting your chin in your palms, elbows pressing into the wobbly table top as you listen to him talk about his job as a personal trainer. When you shift in your seat, your legs stick to the black vinyl upholstery, and you wince at the sensation.

Your eyes trail his rigid biceps that pull his t-shirt sleeves taught. A faded black tribal tattoo peaks out from beneath the white fabric. From the shirtless pictures on his Tinder, you happen to know he has a whole collection of douchey tattoos lining his sun-tanned, muscular body, but you might be willing to overlook that.

You mark his tattoos down in the “things you don’t like” column in your brain.

Rory is conventionally attractive in a very masculine way, his face all hard angles with a dimpled, squared off jaw. Straight, white teeth are almost always visible behind the peak of his thin, bow-shaped lips.

He seems like the kind of person that has a standing appointment with a hairdresser that knows exactly how to trim his hair into a close, neat cut without him giving instructions. You’re willing to bet he takes a shower at exactly 6 AM every day, then applies just enough product to make his golden brown hair stand at attention. He probably food preps and has like six hard boiled eggs or something equally rich in protein for breakfast each morning.

Every part of him seems disciplined and routine. Stable. You mark that down in the “things you like” column.

When he asks you what you do for a living, you tell him, and he asks how you got into the nannying business.

“Growing up, I took care of my younger siblings all the time. I’d babysit for the neighbors and stuff, too. It just naturally evolved after I graduated high school,” you tell him, meeting his stunning hazel eyes with an easy smile.

“Do you have a big family?” he crosses his arms on the table and leans in. The off-kilter base of the table responds, shifting towards him.

You nod, “I have an older brother and three little sisters. My brother, Ben, is two years older than me. My sister, Marlene, is four years younger. Then there’s Leah, who was born two years later. And Rachel is the baby, who came a year after Leah.”

“Five kids,” he marvels, “Wow. No wonder you had to help out so much.”

You smile politely at this, although you know your role as their caregiver had more to do with your parents’ active social calendar than the sheer number of children.

“Do you want kids?” Rory inquires, his brow furrowing in a way that tells you the answer is important to him.

“Oh, definitely,” you respond, take a sip of your water, then continue, “I don’t know about five, that seems like overkill, but more than one for sure.”

This seems to please him. His lips curl into a smile.

“What about you? Do you have any siblings? Want any kids?” you stab the ice in your glass of water with the straw, then return your eyes to his.

“Two brothers. I’m the middle child,” he rubs his hands together and smirks, “And, yes, kids are no doubt a priority for me.”

You smile and nod in acknowledgment. Mark it down in the “things you like” column.

His eyes linger on yours and you feel blood rush to your cheeks. The waitress appears with two trays of food, placing them on the table. As you eat, you find out that Rory was born and raised close to where you were, in another coastal town off the Gulf of Mexico. He was transferred to Kissimmee about two years ago as part of a job promotion.

“What brought you here?” he questions, then picks up the ribs on his tray and tears a chunk of meat off the bone.

You shake your head, “Moved here with my ex-boyfriend. He was from the area originally. I needed to get the fuck out of my hometown, so he suggested moving here.”

You kick yourself for mentioning your self-exile from Ruskin, and hope to god he doesn’t ask why you needed to leave. First dates are no place to recount the ruthless campaign ran against you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What happened with him?”

A sigh of relief expands your lungs. You answer, “Fell in love with his high school sweetheart.”

“Wow, that blows,” he frowns, “Been there. Cheated on. It feels terrible.”

“That it does,” you mutter, pushing kernels of corn around the white plastic bowl on your tray, “He told me about it when it happened, at least. And they’re really happy together. Got married and had kids and all that.”

“No offense, but he’s still an idiot,” he declares with conviction, “I mean, who would do that to someone as gorgeous as you? Besides, cheaters are all scum.”

The compliment warms your insides. You smile demurely and bat your eyelashes at him outwardly, while inwardly you make a mental note to never mention your past with Frankie to him.

After you finish eating, Rory pays the check and drives you back to your house. The living room is illuminated through the window facing the street. When he puts the car in park, he glances up at it and frowns, “Do you live with someone?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle nervously, “I have a roommate. They must’ve come home while we were out.”

“Can I walk you to your door?” His voice is low and sultry.

You bite your bottom lip and nod.

He tells you to stay put as he comes around the car to open your door for you. As you walk side-by-side up the cracked sidewalk that leads your house, his hand finds the small of your back. There’s a nervous energy pulsing through your veins, thickening with each step.

When you reach the foot of your porch steps, he turns to you, meeting your gaze and holding it, “I had a really good time tonight.”

You face him, and his hand slides to your waist. A tingle spreads across your chest and heats your cheeks, “So did I.”

His eyes flick to your lips. He leans in. You mirror the movement, eyelids fluttering closed as his lips meet yours. He tastes like peppermint and smells like conifer trees. The kiss is mechanical and his hand is stiff at your waist. It doesn’t awaken anything hungry within you, but it’s nice.

When you pull away, you look up at him through your eyelashes, “Goodnight, Rory.”

“Goodnight,” he smiles wide, big white teeth taking up half his face.

When you open the front door and step inside, Frankie is mid-movement, sitting down on the couch.

“Hey,” you call as you lean against the closed door and pull off your wedge sandals.

“Hi,” he responds, sitting up straight.

It amazes you how much the one syllable says. The slightly panicked upward inflection, the tensing of his shoulders, how out-of-breath he seems. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward, hands clasped together, knuckles white.

You drop your purse on the ground, “You getting anywhere on the puzzle?”

He hums and nods, “I’ve assembled quite a few mustaches.”

You tiptoe across the carpet and kneel down opposite him, scanning the clumps of puzzle that he’s managed to complete. It entrances you immediately, your fingers and brain working in tandem, making the world fade into the background. Some time passes before you feel Frankie staring at you. You look up at him and meet his eyes, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head and smirks.

You blink at him and raise your eyebrows, “Bullshit.”

His smirk breaks out into a smile that tugs at your heart, the way his eyes crinkle into crescents and his cheeks dimple. He drops his gaze to the table and taps his lips, then shrugs, “You just look really nice. That dress was a good choice.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, returning your attention to the puzzle, ignoring the flutter in your chest.

“How was your date?” he asks, trying to seem disinterested, even though his shoulders hunch up to his ears and his jaw clenches.

“So good. I think for our next date, we’ll get married,” you tease, glancing up to flash him an amused smile.

“Hilarious,” he rolls his eyes. His knee starts bouncing and he inquires, “Have you been seeing him for a while or is this a… recent development?”

“It was literally our first date,” you raise an eyebrow at him, then shrug, “He was nice, though. We have a lot in common. I’ll probably see him again.”

He shifts in his seat, but says nothing, so you don’t say anything, either. You find a few more puzzle pieces that correspond and click them together.

“How was the zoo?” you inquire, looking up to search his face, noting his far-away eyes and pouting lips.

“Good,” he answers with strained positivity, “We’re gonna do something next Saturday. Not sure what yet.”

“That’s good,” you tell him. Your voice is dripping with an overly ripe kind of sweetness that seems disingenuous and repulsive. By the way he blinks up at you with a droopy, blank expression, you’re certain he senses it, too. Blood rises to your face and you bite down on your tongue, pulsing your teeth against the soft muscle, savoring the sharp pain the motion causes.

You take a deep breath in, exhaling through slack lips that make a buzzing pbpbpbp sound, then ask, “What do you wanna do for dinner tomorrow?”

He frowns, “Whatever you want, I don’t care.”

“Good talk,” you mutter under your breath, then rise to your feet, “Do you need to use the bathroom before I take a shower?”

Frankie shakes his head without looking up from the puzzle. His fingers press against the pillowy flesh of his lips. You feel an urge to scream at him, to push his buttons somehow, anything just to get him to react, but you drop it.

Once you’ve showered and changed into comfier clothing, you return to the living room and find Frankie laying on his side, curled up on the couch, a pillow wedged between his cheek and his hands. Jungle Boogie by Kool & The Gang is playing behind the opening credits of Pulp Fiction on the TV. You approach with caution, “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” he answers and goes to sit up.

“You can stay there, it’s fine,” you tell him. He relaxes back into his previous position as you grab a blanket and pillow from a wicker basket next to the TV, “Want a blankie?”

“Fuck yeah.”

His enthusiastic response brings a smile to your face. You grab another blanket and drape it over his body before settling into the opposite end of the couch and stretching out. He seems stiff when you pile your legs on his over the middle cushion, so you pull your knees up a little further, closer to your body.

“I wanna ask you a question but I want you to know it’s ok to say no,” he says in a somber voice. Your heart immediately starts sprinting.

“What?” you furrow your brow and look over to meet his eyes, but he’s staring at the TV with a blank expression.

“Will you cuddle with me?”

Your stomach flips upside down. You search his face in question, unsure what to say. No, probably. The two of you literally just had a conversation about keeping your relationship platonic less than a week ago. What the fuck?

He finally glances at you and sees the confusion. His forehead creases and his foot starts bouncing under your calf.

He elaborates, “I’m freaking out right now and I think it would help. No funny business, though, I swear to god. I just…”

As he trails off, his eyebrows part and face softens. He shakes his head like he can’t explain it further. His eyes are shiny in the light of the TV and he looks like he’s tearing up. You’ve never seen him cry. But the panic can do weird things. You’re well acquainted with the panic, unfortunately.

You swallow hard and nod, “Y-yeah, that’s fine.”

There’s a momentary ruckus while the two of you scoot and reconfigure. Your back settles against his chest and one of his arms tucks under your cheek. The other wraps around your belly, drawing you close, “You comfy?”

“Yeah,” you answer.

“Are you sure this is ok?” he asks. His voice is low and shaky. It vibrates against your skin and sinks down into the marrow of your bones. If you’re still enough, and keep your breaths shallow enough, you can feel his bass drum heart pounding in his chest at a bpm familiar to you.

“Yeah, it’s fine, Frankie,” you assure him, enveloping his hand at your belly with your own. He takes a deep breath and the exhale tickles your ear.

On the TV, Jules Winnfield and Vincent Vega are chatting about hash, but you can barely pay attention.

Frankie’s warmth is a sedative. It always has been. Much to your disdain, you hope the feeling is mutual. And you think it could be, because his thudding heart seems to slow. His body relaxes against yours.

And it’s so unfair how he can make you feel like this. How, one second he makes you so nervous you could puke, or so frustrated you want to scream in his face, then the next he’s holding you and it’s like your soul is finally resting here with his.

You think about your date with Rory. He was a gentleman and seems like he’s stable and nice enough. The kiss was fine, good even, but not electric. And that’s fine, because in your experience, first kisses are almost always lackluster.

Your first kiss with Frankie was like lightning, though.

Months passed working for the Morales family and you came to be more comfortable with Frankie being around while you cooked dinner. Your conversations were mostly functional, about Sarah or things around their house. But you found him charming and your crush only grew more intense.

Sometimes you would watch Sarah on Saturday nights so he and Angie could go out on a date. One of these Saturdays, they came home at 1 AM, and Angie was hammered.

She stumbled up the stairs and plopped down on the couch next to you. Her black hair was mussed and she was all giggly. She said something in Spanish to Frankie, and turned to you, “Do you wan’ chicken strips?”

“You- you don’t have to feed me, that’s ok, Mrs. Morales-” you stammered, going to stand up and get ready to leave.

“Oh hun, call me Angie, I’m begging you,” she grabbed your arm, “And stay, please! Chicken strips! Come on, hang out with me.”

“Um…” You glanced around to gauge Frankie’s reaction, but he was in the kitchen preheating the oven, so you nodded, “Sure, ok.”

“Yay!” Angie clapped, then sprawled out on the couch and propped her heels up on your leg, “Do me a favor, hun, take these off for me?”

You chuckled and examined the shiny silver clasp of her stilettos, working to undo the strap across her foot as she asked, “So what’s your deal, are you single, do you have a boyfriend, girlfriend, what?”

“Ang, come on,” Frankie chided from the kitchen as he pulled a few beers from the fridge.

“What? I’m just asking!” she scoffed at him, then tilted her head at you with a hazy drunk smile, waiting for you to answer.

You managed to unclasp her shoes, despite her wiggling, and they thudded to the floor one by one.

Frankie walked past, handing an open beer bottle to you, then another to her, before sitting down on the loveseat. He kept glancing over at you and Angie, then up at the TV, which was playing King of the Hill.

“I’m single, yeah,” you sighed and took a sip of beer, “Unfortunately.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with that, girlie. Enjoy it while you still can.” Angie said, then set her full beer bottle on the ground and groaned, “Oh my god I have to get out of this fucking dress. I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere.”

She marched off into their bedroom, swaying gently as she walked. This was all very amusing to you because you had never seen her be anything but intimidatingly perfect.

You pulled out your phone and scrolled for a bit, sipping at your beer while waiting for her. Every once in a while, you found yourself looking over at Frankie, who was picking at the label on his beer bottle with his eyes glued to the TV.

A shrill beep from the oven indicated it was preheated. He rose to his feet and walked down the hallway to their bedroom. You heard the click of the door closing, then he returned to the living room and asked, “She’s passed out, do you really want chicken strips?”

“No, not really,” you chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear and dropping your gaze to your beer bottle.

“And you don’t have to stay or anything like that, no pressure,” he advised.

You glanced up at him and got caught in his dark, warm eyes for a moment before you shook your head, “No, I’ll stay and finish this, if that’s ok.”

“Of course, make yourself at home,” he assured you with an easy smile, then sat down in the middle of the couch, just a foot away from you.

And you fucking knew what you were doing by staying. That’s the worst part. Attraction hung thick in the air between your bodies. It dampened your skin and condensed inside you.

Every so often in the weeks preceding, you caught him staring at you, and vice versa. More and more, the eye contact lingered just a bit longer than appropriate. Just long enough to make you wonder. It seized your heart and pumped all the blood in your body between your legs and up your neck.

The prospect of his affection was on your mind all the fucking time. Every time he’d laugh at one of your jokes, or brush up against you in passing, or find a reason to touch you intentionally, you wanted it to last forever.

But you didn’t initiate anything. You were content admiring him from afar, wondering if his lingering looks meant he wanted you, too. He was at least fifteen years older than you, married, and your fucking employer. There was no way in hell you would risk your livelihood by making a move on him, no matter how tempted you were.

If he pursued you, though… that would be different. And you desperately wanted him to.

“I’m sorry about Ang,” he said, leaning back against the couch, “She drank a lot tonight.”

You chuckled and shook your head, “Totally fine. We all have to let loose every once and a while.”

He hummed in agreement, and your eyes flicked to his, and they were so intent on your face that your heart started racing.

“And how do you like to let loose?” he rumbled, his gaze dropping to your mouth.

Your lips parted. You managed to quirk a brow and breathe, “Are you sure you wanna know?”

Frankie sat forward, taking your beer and setting it on the ground. You could smell his whiskey-soaked mouth. The woody scent of his cologne. His hand rested on your knee. A shiver jolted across your skin and you swallowed hard.

“I think I might know,” he murmured, sliding his hand down further, setting his thumb into motion against your tender inner thigh, leaning closer.

“This is a bad idea,” you warned him in a whisper, but brought yourself closer to his beckoning lips, insides coiling tight, begging for you to just fucking do it.

“Terrible idea,” he agreed, brushing his nose against yours, bringing his hand to your chin, holding it as he took the plunge and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss was a slow peck that lingered with heat, and when he peeled his lips from yours, murmuring, “Sorry-” you grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him back in, all hot-blooded and eager, savoring the softness of his pillowy lips, the harsh liquor burn on his breath. You couldn’t help but whimper as his tongue rolled wet against yours. He renewed it with hungry urgency, cupping your cheeks, pulling you closer, both of you completely lost and breathless.

You tried to sit up, to get closer, to crawl inside him if you could, but knocked over the bottle of beer with a sharp clink. Both of you jumped apart at the disruption.

“Shit,” he hissed and stood up, striding to the kitchen. You stood up, too, trying to catch your breath and regain your composure. The spell was broken. The weight of what just happened crashed down on you all at once.

You snatched your purse up off the floor just as he came back into the room with a wad of paper towels.

“I’m sorry-” you faltered.

He shook his head, “No, no, don’t worry, it’s fine.”

“No it’s not fine, you’re-” your eyes darted to the closed bedroom door where his wife was sleeping and whispered, “You’re married. And- and- I work for you, I’m an idiot. I just have a stupid crush. An- and I won’t do it again.”

“Hey, no, don’t-” his voice was pleading and soft. He reached out to you but you shook your head and dropped your eyes to the ground, crossing your arms.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you on Monday, ok?” you pushed past him to leave.

The whole drive home, the whole next day, you were so fucking mad at yourself. You had never done something like that with your employer. It was unprofessional and wrong.

Yet…

The kiss consumed you. It’s all you could think about. You wanted it to happen again. You wanted it to go further. It set you on fire and the flames felt fucking exquisite.

And now, as Frankie is holding you, nuzzling against your shoulder, and you feel whole and calm and safe like you can’t with anyone else, you wonder for the millionth time if you’ll ever find this with someone who loves you back.

You drag the silver tines of your fork across the barest section of your ceramic plate just to watch Frankie squirm at the ear-piercing squeak. Family dinner again. A stalemate for who goes first again.

“I’m gonna keep doing this until you start,” you advise, then make the noise happen again, “I can do this all night.”

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, sending his cap onto the floor behind him, “It’s just gonna start a fight.”

“I don’t give a shit,” you blink and prop your chin up on the heel of your palm, “Not saying anything will also start a fight, so…”

Frankie just swings his head back to neutral and stares at you, his arms crossed, elbows resting on the table.

You scrape your fork against the plate and smirk at him.

“Jesus fucking Christ fine,” he groans, running his hands down his face before crossing his arms again. His eyes meet yours and he opens his mouth to speak, letting it gape for a moment, then admits, “While we’re living together, I think maybe…”

He snaps his mouth shut into a straight line and drops his eyes to your picked over plate. You rub the tines back and forth against the ceramic rapidly, “Just say it, come on, Franklin.”

He glares at you, half joking, and scoffs, “You know that’s not my name,” then he reaches across the table, trying to snatch the utensil from you hand, “And I’m gonna take that goddamn fork away-”

“The fuck you are,” you laugh as you pull it away from his reach, then try to coax him to complete his thought, “While we’re living together, you think maybe…?”

“I think maybe we shouldn’t have other people over,” he tells you quietly, sitting back in his seat with a sigh, meeting your eyes for a moment before dropping them to the table.

“What do you mean by other people?” you search his face.

“Dates, you know, like,” the muscles in his face tense as he clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth together.

You drop your fork on the plate and cross your arms, “Like the guy I went out with last night? Like you don’t want me to date other people while you’re living here? Really?”

“Like I don’t want to hear you getting fucking railed-”

“This is my fucking house, Francisco, and we are not dating,” you bite off, “Just because you’re jealous doesn’t mean I have to be abstinent-”

“I’m not asking you to take a fucking vow of celibacy, I’m just saying I don’t want to see or hear that shit when I’m here,” he argues.

“Because you’re jealous,” you state.

“Sure,” he shakes his head, “Whatever.”

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” you spit.

“What?! How?” he barks, throwing his hands up at his sides.

“Do you know how many times I had to see you and Angie kissing and holding hands and making fucking goo-goo eyes at each other?” you grind out, shaking your head in disbelief, “But I can’t have people I’m dating in my own house? Ok, Frankie.”

“That is not the sa-”

“Bullshit,” you lean into the word as you hurl it at him, then scoff and tell him, “When I went to Australia with you guys, I heard you fucking her every single night. Did you know that?”

His eyes flick to yours. He’s scowling like a sullen child.

“Then you would wait until she fell asleep and- and you would come to me,” you feel the pain from this buried memory surfacing in your chest, burning behind your eyes, “And you smelled like her, and I was-” a sob bubbles up your throat. Tears roll hot down your cheeks, and you meet his eyes so he can understand, “I was so fucking in love with you, Frankie.”

His face softens and his shoulders sag.

“So I really don’t want to hear how uncomfortable my love life makes you while you’re living here,” you sniffle, then wipe your eyes with your hands. He searches your face, but doesn’t say anything. You bite down on your tongue and hold it for a moment, then ask, “Did you ever think about how it was for me? Seeing you two together?”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He shakes his head.

“I didn’t think so,” you mutter, looking down at your half-eaten plate and pushing it away with a sigh, “I won’t have sex with anyone when you’re here. But I’m not going to ban people I’m dating from my own house just for your sake.”

He nods, “Ok.”

Both of you stew in this silence, soaking in the words that were exchanged. It’s not uncomfortable, just heavy with the weight of the conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Frankie looks up at you.

You search his somber face, “Tell you what?”

“That it hurt to see me with her,” he presses his elbows into the table, clasping his hands in front of his mouth, “I mean, obviously, I should have known, but…”

“I didn’t wanna lose you,” you shrug loosely, gather all of your guts in a bundle and tell him, “If I told you, it would come down to choosing between me or her. And… you’ll choose her every time.”

He sits with this information, staring down the hallway to his bedroom, but so much further. His chest expands with a deep breath, and he exhales, “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

You fight the urge to comfort him and tell him it’s ok. Instead, you nod in acknowledgment.

“I was really shitty to you for a really long time. And- and you’re right. I’m a fucking hypocrite,” he furrows his brow and rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you, “Why did you even agree to this?”

“To be fair, this is not what I thought was going to happen when I bailed you out,” you chuckle, then release a heavy sigh, “But, I mean… I probably still would have done it if I knew. I care about you. And I want you to get better.”

The corners of his lips curl upward just a little, eyebrows lowering as he murmurs, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smile warmly and wait a moment before stretching the smile out wider, “Ralph is gonna be so proud of us.”

Frankie laughs, his dark eyes folding into crescents, and nods, “He’s gonna put a gold star on my worksheet tomorrow.”

You push your chair back and stand up, yawning as you stretch your arms towards the ceiling.

He gets to his feet, too, grabbing his hat off the floor and putting it back on before piling dishes from the table into a stack, “You going to bed, or you wanna puzzle it up?”

“I’m down to puzzle,” you grin, “As long as we don’t fall asleep on the couch again, my neck is fucking killing me.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he snorts, taking wide strides to the sink, “I’m gonna do the dishes, but I’ll be there in a minute.”

With a nod, you tiptoe into the living room and kneel before the coffee table, examining all the fragmented parts of the puzzle still left to put together. Slowly but surely, it’s starting to resemble a bigger picture.

You’ve always found puzzles to be comforting.

Something about the heap of jigsawed pieces when you open the box. All of them broken and indistinguishable in their own right. How you put them together, bit by bit. Proceeding even when it seems impossible. How, eventually, they all come together to make something beautiful.

[ Next Chapter ]

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