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yunhoszn · 2 months

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save a horse, ride a cowboy

PAIRING jeong yunho x f!reader

WORD COUNT 12.25k

GENRES fluff﹒angst﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, reader is a city girl but i tried not using too many gendered terms, cowboy!yunho RAHHHHH, mentions of food, reader has a boyfriend for most of the fic (an oc) but there’s no real infidelity, reader embarrasses themselves on what i’d say is a few occasions too many, yunho is down bad, masturbation (m! and brief f! receiving), lowkey voyeurism, a really bad dad joke, horse riding scene bc i feel that’s pivotal for a cowboy fic, lots and lots of kissing, marking, teasing, vaginal fingering x2, oral sex (f! receiving) x2, multiple orgasms, very slight edging, praise, pet names (baby, babe, and princess oops), unprotected sex (BE SAFE PLS I BEG), cowgirl position, pull out method, missionary position, creampie lol, ending is cute but also kinda up for interpretation? i guess <3

SUMMARY when your grandparents decided to retire and take a summer’s long vacation in celebration, they leave their house in your care. at least you don’t have to worry about feeding the farm animals. but you do have to worry about the tall, handsome cowboy who does.

MORE AND SHE’S DONE oh my god, this fic actually pulled so much out of me i think i was the one seeing stars by the end.. 😭 but i’m so proud of it and the goals i tried meeting while writing. first of all the length??? insane for me. i can hardly get myself to write anything longer thank 5k 😞 THATS ENOUGH ABOUT ME THO,,, this fic was heavily inspired by the django performance if u couldn’t tell by the banner 😝 and i’d first like to thank the academy aka @kimsohn for encouraging me to write this and fueling my delusions ilysm maya <3 i’d also like to give a huge thank u to @bro-atz TYSM FOR BETAING AND HELPING WITH SCENES BRO ur my life saver fr <3 PLS PLS PLS REBLOG IF U ENJOYED!!

Growing up, you weren’t the biggest fan of trips to your grandparents’ farm in the rural countryside.

You were born in a big city, full of all the glitz and glam. There were bright lights that lit the skyline at night, distracting from the stars that illuminated above. The wide open space was blocked by high towers and large skyscrapers. You were accustomed to the sound of bustling pedestrians and the obnoxious honking of cars in the streets. There was seldom an evening of complete silence.

Everything was so tightly packed together, within walking distance if you didn’t feel like hopping in a car for a fifteen minute drive. You appreciated the insanity of the train station in the mornings before school, the metro so busy with students and working class individuals. You came into contact with numerous strangers throughout your day to day life.

However, every summer until you were a senior in high school was a different story.

Your parents wanted to keep you humble, you supposed, shipping you off to your grandparents’ for three months. Living in the city kept people too sheltered, too primped and polished for the real world. They wanted you to have that exposure, to experience what it was like to live without the fanciness of urbanization. The nine months out of the year that you spent in the city stunted that exposure, though.

When you’d arrive at their farm, luggage stacked like you were taking a trip to London or Paris, you felt like a glorified version of Regina George. Maybe Blair Waldorf. Elle Woods? You weren’t even rich like that. Your parents were nice, middle class people. There was just something about cow manure and the fear of stepping on a freshly laid egg that made it difficult to adjust to the setting.

It was most likely your stubbornness throughout your childhood that held you back even as you got older and more educated. You thought after graduating high school, the three-months-long “retreat” would come to an end. You’d only need to visit when necessary, maybe a week max. And that was true to an extent. During your university years, you only visited the farm around once a year. You were too consumed with school to even go home sometimes.

And then your grandparents decided to retire.

Their farm had supplied the town over with produce and other home-grown items for as long as you could remember. But they were getting older and no one in the family was willing to inherit the farm or its responsibilities. In celebration of their retirement, they planned a grand vacation to visit multiple countries. Their itinerary spanned an entire summer, just like your trips to the farm when you were younger.

Because you were the only one familiar enough with the area, they enlisted you to housesit while they were gone. You tried to get out of it, but they didn’t trust anyone else as much as you, despite your convictions about country life. So you reluctantly agreed, packing up your things to prepare for another grueling summer at the farm one last time.

But there was a bit of a setback.

”What do you mean someone’s living in the farmhouse behind their house?” You shriek into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you zip up your final bag. Your mom sighs on the other end.

”Your grandma just only now told me, apparently it slipped her mind,” you can hear the sympathy in her tone. “He’s this boy who grew up in the town and he’s gonna take over the farm for them on the condition that they still live on the property. She said he shouldn’t get in your way and he’s expecting your presence. You’ll only see him if you ever actually go out to the farm and when he brings groceries to the house.”

”Great. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.” You mutter, giving your bedroom a once over to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. “Is there anything else I should know before I get there, like a secret pet or maybe a family living in the attic?”

”Watch the attitude, Y/N,” she warns, and you shut up immediately. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. You’re a grown adult and you’d rather spend your summer going out with your friends, but you already told your grandparents you would do this for them. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You sigh, nodding even though she can’t see it. At least you didn’t have to worry about caring for their farm animals. It was time to think of this as a staycation rather than torture. Sure, your friends were going to be living it up in the Bahamas for a week and your boyfriend was going to be here while you were surrounded by nothing but flat landscape for acres.

Perhaps it was good for you that there would be someone else on the property. You might’ve started to feel scared being alone in the middle of nowhere for so long. Though, your boyfriend probably won’t be the biggest fan of you staying within the vicinity of another man for three months. You’d just deal with that later.

The drive to your grandparents’ farm is actually more peaceful than anything else. Driving for long periods of time wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but doing it by yourself with nothing but your music filling your ears was a sort of therapy. It allowed you to come to terms with your fate for the summer and what it could entail, even if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Seeing the lush greenery for miles upon miles as you neared their home evoked a sense of tranquility within you. If you kept a positive outlook on your situation, you would make it through these next few months unscathed and your sanity still intact. Maybe you despised the wide open space for years when you were a kid, but now that you’re an adult, you think you could learn to appreciate it and its beauty.

As long as the guy living in the farmhouse didn’t bother you like your grandmother said, everything would be—

Oh.

You pull up in front of the house, already thrown for a loop by the tall, very handsome stranger walking his dog back from the mailbox. His dark hair obscured his eyes, a bandana tied around his neck to match with the one hanging off the Border Collie’s collar. The two turn around at the sound of your engine, stopping in their tracks once you’ve parked.

He brings a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes, watching cautiously as you park slowly. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, it’s not like you’ll be interacting with him much during your stay anyways. There’s something about his slender figure and the fact that he was so clearly dedicated to what he does upon first glance that it makes you feel shy. You suck in a sharp breath before deciding to exit your vehicle, wiping clammy palms on your denim shorts. You’re starting to regret not dressing a little cuter, a little more presentable.

His features soften upon recognizing you, the pretty granddaughter that your grandparents showed him prior to leaving for their trip. The hand sheltering his face falls to his side and he gives you a warm smile, somehow warmer and brighter than the sweltering summer sun. You’d always been told not to talk to strangers, to keep your distance for your own safety, but you can’t help mirroring his expression with a small wave.

“H-Hi,” your voice wobbles and you kind of want to die just a bit. “I’m Y/N. My grandparents mentioned you lived in the farmhouse out back, but didn’t give me a name or face to expect.”

He extends his arm out and you shake his hand, albeit slightly nervously. His eyes squint when he glances between you and his dog. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Yunho, and this is Yeoreum.”

The name is fitting for the red and white colored Border Collie, her tongue sticking out as she stares up at you with big eyes that almost resemble her owner’s. You bend down to pet her, patting the soft tufts of fur on her head and appreciating her licks of excitement. Yunho laughs, whistling to catch her attention.

“Yunho and Yeoreum,” you repeat, a tiny grin on your face. “Befitting. Does she come with the property?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s spoken for,” he teases, a pout on his features. “But she can visit whenever you’d like. Jokes aside, did you need any help moving stuff into the house?”

”That would be great, actually!” You scratch the back of your neck, lips pursing. Yunho waits for you to unlock the trunk of your car and places Yeoreum’s leash in your possession, making quick work transporting your bags inside. What was just supposed to be some light assistance, has evidently become him doing everything on his own while you stand and look pretty with his dog.

You didn’t bring too much with you since you didn’t have plans to leave while you were housesitting and your grandparents weren’t so old fashioned that they didn’t have a washing machine. Still, you felt useless allowing this stranger you’d just met to do all this manual labor on your behalf.

”Does he always do this?” You murmur to the Border Collie, falling to a seat on the lowest front porch step. She doesn’t give you a response (not that you expected her to), but pants happily in lieu of one, craning her head so you can scratch the spot behind her ear.

“You’re a guest, it’s just good hospitality for me to help.” Yunho says as he comes out of the house, stationing himself in front of you with his hands on his hips, thumbs in his belt loops.

“There’s a difference between helping and doing the work yourself. You’re just being modest,” you push yourself up to hand him Yeoreum’s leash. “But thank you anyway, that was really nice. I’m so tired from driving up here, so I think I would’ve collapsed doing all that back and forth.”

”You should go rest,” he glances at the house behind you. “There’s a whole three months of farm life ahead of you, so don’t wear your pretty little self out just yet.”

Yunho salutes to you and takes his leave, walking around your grandparents’ house toward what you assume is the farmhouse. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks feel hot, and you’re well aware that it’s not because of the summer heat. Your fingers clutch at the material of your t-shirt and you shake it to fan yourself.

It seemed like you were in for a bumpy ride these next few months. But like you reiterated prior to arriving, everything would be just fine so long as you and farm boy went your separate routes and lived your separate lives.

Yeah. Things would be alright. You hope.

It’s a week into your stay on your grandparents’ farm when you bump into Yunho again.

You’re toweling your neck after getting out of the shower, heading into the kitchen to make yourself another bowl of cereal for breakfast. So far the only downside has been your inability to cook a decent meal. Takeout or your boyfriend sleeping over were usually your saving grace, but without having either of those options, you’ve stuck to microwaveable things.

The sight of Yunho unloading groceries onto the counter has you squealing and nearly jumping out of your own skin. He flinches at your volume, knocking over the bag of rice resting against the vase in the center. Thankfully it was still sealed shut, if not there would’ve been a mess of rice grains all over the island counter. His clumsiness has you slapping a palm over your mouth to silence your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

”Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” You apologize sheepishly, folding your towel over your arm and placing it on a barstool nearby.

“N-No, you’re fine! I shouldn’t have just let myself in, it’s kinda just a habit. You deserve your privacy without having to worry about whether or not I’m gonna barge in unannounced.” He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just put these up for you and then I’ll be on my way.”

”Can I help?” You waddle over to him, fingers laced behind your back. “I’d feel bad watching you put my groceries away for me after going out and getting them.”

Yunho gestures for you to occupy the space beside him with a small smile that takes solace at the corner of his mouth. The two of you do everything in complete silence, still not entirely used to each other’s presence because of the lack of crossing paths. As you’re finishing up, you start grabbing the items you need for your cereal. He raises an eyebrow at you.

”You don’t want something a little more filling?” He suddenly questions, jutting his chin at your bowl.

”I would love that if I knew how to cook,” you laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? The granddaughter of two farmers can’t cook to save their life.”

Yunho shakes his head with a chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Well, I don’t have to feed the horses for another hour if you’d like for me to whip up something better than a bowl of cereal.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrow. Despite growing up with the mindset that you were above the farm life your grandparents tried to impose on you, you hated feeling like you were coming across as entitled. You didn’t want Yunho to think you were lazy or that you were too good. “You don’t have to do that. I can survive on instant ramen and cereal, I swear.”

”Y/N,” he says your name with a certain authority to it, and you’ve never loved the sound of your name coming out of someone else’s mouth so much before. “I want to. I’m not the world’s greatest chef or anything, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

”Okay, then,” you nod, taking a seat at the island. You watch in awe as he dances around the kitchen and prepares something for you. It’s weird, not in the sense that you feel awkward around this complete stranger, but because you feel the opposite. You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for a while. It’s almost like Yunho has been a casual part of your life for much longer than a week. He’s easy to get along with, easy to mold into what you’re used to.

And that’s weird because you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cooks dinner for you most nights, but somehow has never made you feel this taken care of. It throws you off. That should definitely not be the case. How is this man doing this in one week and your boyfriend couldn’t in two years?

The guilt settles in the pit of your stomach quickly. Sure, your boyfriend might’ve had a habit of forgetting important dates and didn’t give you half as much attention as he should’ve, but did that warrant the emotions brewing in your chest? Could that excuse this notion that maybe it was time to finally call it quits?

You zone out as Yunho finishes cooking your breakfast, too inside of your head to even fawn over the doting and slight coddling he was doing. Maybe you need to have a long conversation with Seojun about your relationship and where you want it to go. Perhaps it was a nice idea to invite him out to visit the farm, it could do you both some good.

“Ta-da!” Yunho holds out a plate to you, the sparkle in his eyes effectively pushing out any thoughts of your boyfriend and the shame that was picking at you. You can’t help but reciprocate his expression when you see how delicious the food looks.

He’d made you omurice, the ketchup on top in cute squiggly lines to form whiskers and a little dog face. You accept the plate gratifyingly, your fingers brushing as you do so. He smiles shyly, eyeing you carefully while you take the first bite. You don’t remember the last time you had a home cooked breakfast, accustomed to the occasional muffin at the coffee shop near your house.

”’Not the world’s greatest chef’ my ass,” you grumble, pouting at his humbleness and his inability to be bad at anything. “I might just ask you to have breakfast with me every morning if you can chef it up this well.”

That melodic laugh of his rings in your ears, his elbows resting on the island and his chin in his palms. “I’m sure Yeoreum would appreciate a companion who isn’t me.”

“How long have you had her?” You ask, shoveling more omurice into your mouth. If you weren’t so hungry and so appeased by how delicious it was, you’d feel bad for ruining his hard work. The ketchup no longer looked like a dog, but rather a splatter of red all over your plate.

“Almost four years now. I had her for a year before I met your grandparents. She adores them, so it’s no surprise that she likes you too.” He has this fond gaze in his eyes as he talks about his beloved Border Collie and it makes your heart ache.

The fact that he has such a good relationship with your grandparents seals the deal for you. Well, it would seal the deal if you were single. Yunho is like the ideal man that every parent would want their daughter to bring home. He knows how to cook, knows how to clean. He’s adept around the house, skilled in yard work and other random jobs like fixing leaky pipes and installing new appliances. He’s gentle, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

Your parents would never meet him, though. After the summer was over, you’d be back in Seoul and he would still be here, a distant memory. You forcibly laugh away the thought, excusing it as your response to his words and continuing the conversation about his dog.

Perhaps this stay would be harder to get through than you thought.

As the weeks pass you by, you find yourself becoming more and more infatuated with Jeong Yunho.

Cooking breakfast for you in the morning has become a regular thing. Monitoring him at the stove with sleepy eyes and a mug of fresh coffee in your hands has ingrained itself into your routine. Yeoreum called the spot beneath your stool her own now, laying there as her owner made your food. You think the transition from seeing him as just this comforting presence, this kind individual, to wanting something more was almost too smooth.

Especially right now as you sit on the back porch sipping on some lemonade, admiring the cowboy as he transfers bales of hay from the bed of his pickup truck to the pigpen and the cattle pen. He pauses in between trips, stripping off his flannel and tying it around his waist. He lifts the hem of the white tank top he’s wearing and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead, revealing the toned abdomen he had been hiding from you up until now.

You feel like you’re going insane, trying to pretend like you’re reading your book as you not so subtly gawk at his muscles straining with each bale he lifts. It’s crazy really, the effect he has on you doing his fucking job. You’ve made it a habit to sit out here and stare at him under the guise of various other things. Aside from being borderline obsessive, it’s horrible because you’re still very much in a relationship.

Most people would feel a hell of a lot worse than you do, like their entire world was crumbling between their fingertips just for finding someone else attractive. But for some reason, as time has continued to roll on, that guilt— that self-preservation— has faded. You’re dipping into another emotion that you’re too scared to explore.

Yunho takes a break from his labor to guzzle down a bottle of water, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Had you been paying attention to anything other than the view of the handsome man, you would’ve noticed the glass sliding out of your grasp, the condensation becoming far too dense to keep a solid grip on the cup. In the midst of drooling over him, your lemonade falls to the ground with a loud clanging noise.

Your reflexes are only swift enough to save your book, but the drink spills everywhere else and you wince at how embarrassing the situation is. You hurry inside to grab a towel before he can see the mortification enveloping your features. He seemed like the observant type, like one scan of your face could tell him everything he needs to know without a single word exchanged. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, blowing a raspberry while you attempt to regulate your blood pressure.

Through the window above the kitchen sink, you make out a confused Yunho, brows furrowed as he looks in the direction of the house. He worried over you entirely too much, particularly when you take into account the fact that all you did was think about him in manners not necessarily safe for work. Maybe you were just delirious. That was the only logical explanation for why you’re spiraling.

The high temperatures of the summer coupled with your surroundings are contributing to your change in behavior. Yes. That made sense. You weren’t crazy.

With a bit more reprieve, you’re able to grab a tea towel and head back outside to clean up your mess. (Not unaccompanied by a couple glances in Yunho’s direction, but that’s fine. Perfectly healthy even. It’s normal to check up on a friend. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but who’s holding you accountable?)

“You know you’ve been making me breakfast every morning without asking for anything in return,” you speak up one morning, chin resting on the island. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Yunho purses his lips as he hands you your plate. “Nah, I like cooking for you.”

You try to ignore the way that has your heart fluttering in your chest, try to ignore the warmth blooming beneath your skin. Your eyes glance down at your food to avoid eye contact, bringing your chopsticks up to your lips. “Okay, well I wanna do something for you.”

Despite mumbling the words, he hears you anyway and smiles to himself as he takes a sip from his mug. He rolls up the sleeves of his denim button up, reaching down to scratch behind Yeoreum’s ear, the area that you’ve learned is her favorite. She pants joyfully, jumping on his leg excitedly. He looks between the two of you.

”Missy here needs a bath,” he says, cooing at her. “I was gonna give her one later, after I cleaned out the stables, but if you don’t mind doing it.”

”I’d do just about anything for that precious girl,” you nod enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

This is how you end up out back, dog shampoo in one hand and the water hose in the other.

Yeoreum’s signature bandana and collar lay on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, the dog looking so different without her accessories as you prepare to bathe her. You wet her fur generously, squeezing enough shampoo into your palm to lather it on. Compared to your childhood pets, she’s pretty well behaved.

She’s probably one of the only dogs who’s ever actually enjoyed taking a bath, sitting still for you while you scrub and rinse and repeat. You take your time with cleaning her, wanting to make sure you do your best as a thank you for every plate Yunho has ever made you. Usually, this isn’t something you would jump at the opportunity to do. Somehow, being back at the farm this past month or so has done everything your parents tried to do when you were younger.

It could’ve had to do with the desensitization of being here every summer for so long that it just never stuck when you were grade school age. But now, fully grown and experiencing this all over again on your own, with new faces at your side, it’s like you’re being exposed to something different. You can see why your mom and dad didn’t want the city life to become a dependency.

You preferred the view of cabs and cafés over cows and chickens in the past, but now you found a sense of familiarity in them. You’d always want to go home as soon as you got here. Unlike other kids, you wanted your summer to be over as quickly as possible. You couldn’t imagine going home after this, though. This unveiled attachment to the farm you detested when you were younger could only be accredited to one person, and it was a little frightening.

He constantly brought out parts of you that you didn’t know existed. This enigma, the one that emphasized how big of a role he’s fulfilling in the short period of time you’ve been here, drills itself into your brain every day. You knew you had to acknowledge it sooner or later, but it was just less of a hassle to act like it wasn’t screaming at you. Your fear of change was a more pertinent issue to ignore, so you let it consume all else.

While getting lost in your thoughts, Yeoreum starts shaking and startles you, causing your hold on the hose to loosen, water spraying everywhere. The diversion has you losing your footing and slipping in the mud. You shriek, though it does nothing to block the stream that drenches you, your clothes getting wet. The universe decides it’s not on your side, because you happened to wear a white shirt. Why you chose to do that when you knew you were bathing a dog, you have no clue, but it was a little too late for regrets.

Yeoreum jumps out of the basin you had her in and runs to the farmhouse just as Yunho’s walking out, fresh from the shower. You forgot that he was cleaning the stables at the same time you were giving the Border Collie her bath, but now you’re starting to wish you waited until afterward just in case you needed the assistance. And well, you definitely needed the assistance.

Plucking the tail end of the mishap, Yunho’s initial reaction is to laugh at your misfortune, but the closer he gets to the scene, the laughter dies out in his throat. Your top is sheer enough that he can map out the outline of your black bra. It leaves very little to the imagination and he thinks he might fall to his knees right here.

Since your grandparents told him that you’d be house sitting while they were away and proudly showcased a photo of you, he’s been enthralled by you. You had the face of an angel, or maybe a really enticing demon, he hasn’t cogitated it much yet.

He swallows thickly, hoping to keep his composure as he makes his way to you. His hand is a little shaky when it reaches to take the hose from you, squeezing his eyes closed and switching off the water. He stays there for a few seconds to mentally prep himself for an up-close-and-personal look at you, even going as far as holding his breath.

“Uh— you— um— you should go inside and dry off before you catch a cold,” Yunho keeps his eyes cast downward. He’s grateful that you don’t note how red the tips of his ears are, or how he thinks the sky is suddenly much more interesting than your face.

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before I catch a cold’? It’s, like, a million degrees out.”

“The temperature drops at night and the sun’s setting soon. I’ll handle it from here. Yeoreum ran off, so I gotta chase after her anyway and I don’t think you want her to soak you more than she already has.” He’s insistent on shooing you away and getting you inside of the house. You huff.

”Okay… If you say so…”

Reluctantly, you spin around and traverse back. The draft of the air conditioning has you shivering, rubbing up and down your arms as you enter the bathroom to inspect the damage. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you finally see yourself. No wonder Yunho was so adamant on staving you off like you were the plague.

In your defense, you didn’t think the hose won the battle by that much. You assumed you’d just gotten everything above your shoulders wet, but no. You were practically doused head to toe. And the clear display of your brassiere under your clothes was the last thing on your mind.

He was stronger than you. Actually, he was a more respectful person than you. You would’ve gawked at him shamelessly if the roles were reversed. But at least you’re self aware! Right? The first step in recognizing that you have a problem, is admitting that you have a problem. That’s what you think they say in those addiction commercials, but you could be wrong.

Wow. Now you were comparing him to drugs. Though, you suppose there isn’t that huge of a difference. Both had equal success rates in terms of getting people high and then making it hard to wane off their effects.

You really had to quit it with the metaphor usage.

It’s around midnight that night when the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out, halting you from finishing your bedtime routine.

You’re exhausted to say the least, face damp from washing it and one of those fuzzy hairbands with the animal ears perched on your head. You were ready to crash out, but there were still a couple things you needed to do before that. It was proving to be a little difficult in the pitch black bathroom. The window above the shower was too narrow to provide any sufficient moonlight.

With a low grumble, you shuffle into your slippers and make the short trek from your grandparents’ house to Yunho in the farmhouse. You hug yourself when a strong breeze blows past, your flimsy t-shirt and sleep shorts doing hardly anything to block the cool summer night’s air.

A piece of you feels a little bad for bothering him so late, but you have no idea how to change a lightbulb. You don’t even know where the lightbulbs are. Besides, you think you’d electrocute yourself if you made an attempt to do it on your own.

You huff out a sigh and bring your knuckles up to knock at his door, waiting patiently for a response. He’s not asleep, you know this because he’s mentioned that his internal clock doesn’t turn off until two in the morning. Circadian rhythms were an odd concept, so to each their own.

“Yunho! It’s Y/N! Open up!”

When a few minutes have passed, you try the knob. Maybe it was a bit… too presumptuous of you to enter his home without explicit permission. Yes, you’d known each other for the better part of a month and a half, and yes, you’d gotten very close in that timeframe, but did that constitute your actions?

Whether or not the answer to that question was a yes or a no, you really wish you would’ve just waited outside. As you venture further in search of the cowboy, you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have.

Standing in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom, the door ajar at least an inch, you catch a glimpse of him on his bed. That white tank top you’re so used to seeing him in is between his teeth, eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure as he fists his cock with a purpose. His nostrils are flared and whiny moans escape from behind the fabric.

His head falls back every now and then, eyes fluttering shut when he runs his thumb over the slit. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice you, too entranced with chasing his high. Your lips part as you watch him fuck up into his hand, his shirt slipping from his mouth when he groans out a curse.

Just as quickly as you become distracted by the sight of Yunho jerking off, you become aware of what you’re doing. You flee the scene before you get yourself caught, exiting the farmhouse as quietly as you can. The lightbulb can wait until morning, it wasn’t that important, honestly. You’re in a daze the entire walk back to your grandparents house, goosebumps littering your arms and the image of him in such an obscene state burned into your brain.

You fall backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of willing away the path your mind is beginning to wander towards. All you can think about is the sight of him so desperate for release, large hand wrapped around his dick, abdomen contracting with need. You know you weren’t supposed to see, weren’t supposed to bear witness to something so personal.

It’s difficult to push out the nasty, inappropriate thoughts clouding your head. His expressions contorted into absolute bliss. His slender fingers could probably do so much more than your own, could probably reach places you’d never even dreamed of. And fuck, his dick, prettier and bigger than any other you’ve ever seen.

Your chest blushes with heat, an embarrassment washing over you when you realize you’re turned on. You should feel terrible for intruding on Yunho’s privacy like that, especially without him knowing, but all you can do is want him more than you already do. That craving for something deeper, carnal, fans the flame engulfing you, dragging you further into the sick and twisted hell you’ve created for yourself.

Yunho has been nothing but welcoming, kind and gentle with you, someone he didn’t even know the name of until last month. Someone who’s done everything in their power to repress this lifestyle for so long. And for some reason, it just comes so easily with him. You don’t feel forced to enjoy living on the farm. He makes you laugh and puts a smile on your face effortlessly. He has you wondering if life can actually be this simple.

But when all is said and done, there will be somebody else waiting for you back home. Somebody who doesn’t know how to whip up omurice with freshly laid eggs. Somebody who isn’t even a dog person, who thinks pets are nuisances. Somebody who doesn’t live in the farmhouse behind your grandparents’. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

If you touch yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought of the man who has eyes that resemble the night sky, well that’s between you and whatever higher being exists out there.

You sit across from Yunho with bated breath, afraid that if you opened your mouth he would know your dirty secret. You avoid his eyes for the same reason, like one good look at you would reveal what you were trying to hide.

Yunho himself was doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t masturbated to the thought of you last night. He liked to think he was good at keeping his feelings under wraps. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were in a relationship, he’s heard you on the phone before. He stays silent as he fries rice in a pan and has some bread in the toaster. The only sounds in the kitchen are sizzling and the pants coming from Yeoreum under your stool.

In the time that you’ve been here, never once has it been awkward between you like this. The conversation usually doesn’t stop flowing, rolling on and on and filtering into things that don’t pertain to the original subject. He rarely has his back to you for too long, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a grin every here and now.

Both of you go to speak at the same time as a means of salvaging the morning from eternal strain. You stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Truly, you were two birds of a feather, or however that saying goes.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so quiet today,” Yunho says, though he knows it’s a lie. “I guess I had a long night.”

”Oh, that reminds me,” his mention of the previous night has you recalling the reason you went out to the farmhouse in the first place. “The light in my bathroom went out, do you think you can fix it for me?”

“Yeah, for sure,” he begins preparing your plate. “Actually, I have this joke about lightbulbs. You wanna hear it?”

Your lips curl into a smile, already attempting to hold back your laughter. With a raised eyebrow, you respond, “What is it?”

”What did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” He asks nonchalantly, taking a bite from his own piece of toast. You’re failing miserably at acting like you don’t think the joke is funny, although he hasn’t even told you the punchline yet.

”I dunno, Yunho, what did the lightbulb say to the light switch?”

“‘You turn me on.’”

There’s a pregnant pause as the joke resonates and you can’t stop yourself from cackling at how stupid it is. He joins in, but mostly because your laughter is contagious. His chest swells with pride at his successful landing, feeling like he’s on top of the world just for bringing a smile to your face. God, he was down tremendously bad.

Your spoon clatters onto the counter as you lean over, a hand clapped over your mouth as your boisterous laughing simmers into a giggle. Yunho leans into you slightly, matching your energy as he munches on his toast. This is what has you conflicted, so at war with yourself. The proximity should have you pulling away, but something about him always reels you in, despite the consequences that await.

And unfortunately, those consequences come to a head today.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N?”

You and Yunho jump back, whipping towards the source of the voice. Seojun stands there, his bags at his feet and his face crestfallen, disbelief written all over it. He shakes his head and turns to leave, you stumbling off of the barstool to follow behind him. The guilt you’ve only ever felt momentarily settles deep in your chest and deep in your stomach, though you technically haven’t done anything wrong.

Your abruptness startles Yeoreum and she’s up in a heartbeat, tailing behind you curiously. Yunho has to rush to stop her, but a part of himself wants to do the same. No matter how much he likes you, he’s never wanted to be the cause of your relationship falling apart. He wanted you organically, not like this.

”Seojun! Wait!” You call after him, holding up a hand to block out the harsh sunlight, tripping over your slippers. He scoffs.

“What am I waiting for? You to spew some bullshit about how nothing’s going on between the two of you? I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N. I’m not blind.” He pops open his trunk and throws his bags in haphazardly.

”You’re being unreasonable,” you exclaim, rounding the car so you’re directly in front of him. “There is nothing going on. We’ve just gotten to know each other since we live in the same vicinity. Did you want me to stay here for three months and hole myself away with no other human contact?”

“He was just supposed to be the guy who lived in the farmhouse. He wasn’t supposed to bother you. That’s what you told me, remember?” Seojun is losing his patience, something that has always been the root of the problem when you’ve gotten into past arguments. “How do you expect me to react when I come to surprise you and see you being so close to another man?”

“I was laughing at a joke he told me. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is and blowing everything completely out of proportion. I’m sorry that it never came up that we became friends, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve never once cheated on you in the three years we’ve been together and for you to accuse me of that is so fucking low of you.” You’re not going to cry, not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s won. He thrives off of seeing your vulnerability and you won’t let him have it.

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” he seethes, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.”

A laugh devoid of any humor leaves you and he blinks. “That’s how you ‘used to’ look at me? When did you stop? And why am I just finding this out?”

”That’s not— that isn’t what I meant, Y/N—“

”No, Seojun. You did,” you glance away from him, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “We’re grasping for straws. We aren’t going anywhere anymore and we haven’t for a while now. That’s why we're standing here arguing over this. I just want to know why you didn’t just tell me.”

”I’m too complacent,” he sighs, breathing through his nose. “I was too comfortable with you and I didn’t know how to let you go or walk away. But you’re right, there isn’t anything for us to save, and it seems like we’re both ready to move on.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. You might not have acted on it, but you have feelings for him. I’m not gonna stay and hold you back.” Seojun unlocks his car, opening the door. “And for what it’s worth, you won’t be wasting your time.”

You don’t respond, instead humming and letting him drive off. Once his car is far enough out of your view, you go back into the house. There’s an indescribable emotion that hostages you, binding your wrists and tying you down metaphorically. You can’t seem to shake it.

Yunho is still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with Yeoreum to keep her calm. He gazes up at you expectantly and you feel the tears you were suppressing from Seojun bubbling up. If you weren’t going to cry in front of your (now ex) boyfriend, you definitely weren’t going to cry in front of him.

With a trembling exhale, you force yourself to say, “I need to be alone.”

He understands empathetically, clipping on Yeoreum’s leash and leaving the house in the same breath. That in itself has you crying like a baby the moment you’re all by yourself. You hold your face in your hands, body shuddering with each sob you release.

I saw the way he was looking at you.

I saw how you were looking at him, too.

You had a lot to think about, and everything always seemed to circle back to Jeong Yunho.

A couple days escape you before you register you haven’t seen much of Yunho. After your breakup with Seojun, you really did need a bit of room to process it all, but you hadn’t realized just how much you depended on the cowboy’s presence until you were missing it.

You hadn’t meant to push him away, if that’s how he saw it. A night of bawling your eyes out with a pint of ice cream and The Vow was enough to cure you. However, it appears that he thought you needed more, going as far as putting a pin in your daily breakfast ritual. You aren’t sure how to extend an olive branch when you weren’t even trying to cause a rift between you in the first place.

Being with someone for three years may not seem like a lot, but that fraction of your life is stuck with you, like a thumbtack that refuses to come out of the wall. You’d had boyfriends before Seojun, but they weren’t nearly as serious. There weren't formal introductions between parents, no late night conversations that bleed into early mornings, no sleepovers and quick kisses before work.

Of course, after a certain point, those had just become habitual. You weren’t doing them because they evoked a sense of love or care anymore, but rather because you were familiar with them. It was safer to continue the pattern of waking up and falling asleep to Seojun on the other side of the bed, the intrusion of sunlight and the cacophony of traffic outside your window, even if you didn’t really want to.

And then you came here.

Somehow, returning to your grandparents’ farm was exactly what you needed to break through that cycle. As much as you would love to attest it to your location and discovering the appreciation your family wanted you to feel for it, you know the real reason. It’s all thanks to a certain cowboy.

Yunho’s feelings for you run far deeper than he could’ve imagined. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened with you and Seojun, but he thinks putting distance between you is better in the long run anyway. On the off chance you’re still together, he wants to preserve his heart. He’s handed it to someone else too easily in the past and he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you if you don’t feel the same.

But even on the off chance that you’ve broken up, he still wants to stop himself from falling further and harder than he already has. Without ill will, he doubts that you would give up the life you have in the city for this, for him. He’ll be perpetually chained to being a faint imprint on your memory of the summer. You’ll think back to the months you spent here and he’ll have played only a minor role.

It was wishful thinking, too hopeful of him to presume this would lead to a happy ending. You were from different worlds, led different lives. It was time for him to be realistic. And that meant implementing the space that was supposed to exist between you from the get go.

Though, you make it difficult when he bumps into you on the way back from the mailbox. Déjà vu, anyone?

Yeoreum is excited to see you, jumping onto her haunches to lick your face when you kneel to her level. You giggle, squeezing one eye shut as you balance yourself and hold her still so her weight doesn’t clamber you both onto the ground. Your fingers pet to top of her head softly as you coo, “Who’s a good girl?”

Yunho physically winces when his chest tightens at the sight of his two favorite girls. The word ‘distance’ bounces around his head like a pinball, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. He just can’t bring himself to walk away. Especially when you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“Hey…” You start, steeling your tone to ensure it’s even. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you or something. I needed some time to myself to figure things out. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out and put you on the back burner.”

”No, it’s okay. I had to figure stuff out on my own, too,” he uses his bandana to dab at the sweat perspiring on his forehead. “Did you sort through whatever you needed to?”

“I did,” you nod, standing upright. “Seojun and I broke up, so I had to sit with my feelings for a bit. We’ve been together for so long, I think I needed to remember what it was like to be without him, and then I realized that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I came here.”

”Oh.” Yunho’s lips form an ‘O’ shape, hands dragging down the sides of his pants. “I’m sorry— um— about your breakup.”

”Don’t be,” you smile, dismissing his sympathy. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We weren’t really in the relationship wholeheartedly anymore. There wasn’t a point in stringing it along, you know? But that’s enough about me, did you figure your own things out?”

”I thought I did,” he says, which is true considering he’d been mulling over what to do with his emotions subsequent to your argument with your ex. “And then I kinda steered off course. It’s alright, though, I think I like the new conclusion I’ve come to a lot better.”

You might be on the same page now, but there was an entire discussion that had to happen to solidify that. Following a very emotionally charged past couple days, you could do without that today. You’re both just glad that the air is cleared and you can resume building the bond that began forming the moment you stepped foot onto the farm, no restrictions whatsoever.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

You glance up from your book, this time genuinely reading it as Yunho fed the chickens and cleaned up their coop. He towers over you while he asks the question, his shadow thwarting off any direct sunlight. Your nose scrunches.

“When I was in, like, middle school? It’s been a minute,” you answer, making sure to bookmark the page you stopped at. “Why?

”Would you let me teach you how to do it again?” He nips at his lower lip, like he’s nervous you’ll say no. The truth of the matter is you’d say yes even if he asked you to commit arson, which is kind of a problem.

“That sounds fun,” you shrug. “What time should I be ready?”

”Uh, now?”

Okay, so sitting on a horse did not seem this scary when you were twelve.

It probably had to do with you being fearless and whatnot, but also because you did whatever your grandparents asked just to appease them. The faster you got off the damn horse, the faster you could go back inside and situate yourself in front of the TV. They thought they were making progress with you, but really you were outsmarting the outsmarters.

Sweat glazes on the underside of your hands, disrupting the security of your grasp on the reins. Yunho thought it would be wiser if he stayed on foot, guiding you and the horse around the perimeter of the pen. You hoped you didn’t look as afraid as you were, but you’re certain the slight quiver of your bottom lip gives it away.

“You’re doing fine, Y/N,” he reassures, maintaining a comforting amount of eye contact with you.

”Am I? Or does it just seem that way because you’re pulling the horse?” You quip, gripping the reins tighter when it steps over a rock and you sway a little. Your tone is laced with sarcasm, something Yunho hasn’t heard much of from you since you’ve met, but he thinks it’s cute that you resort to violence when you’re scared.

You notice the quirk of his mouth and how he’s trying not to laugh at your terror. It pisses you off solely because his humor isn’t unwarranted. You are being a bit over dramatic. He unties his bandana from around his neck and tosses it to you. “So you don’t callus your hands.”

He’s too thoughtful, too considerate for his own good, but that’s what roped you in. Even when you met for the first time, he had you figured out. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize just how perfect he is. If you were still in school and you were tasked with writing an essay about the summer you spent here, you’re sure the words would flow onto the pages flawlessly, without skipping a beat. Your prose would be so beautifully written, that even the most notable authors would be envious of your experience.

The only downside of this was the fact that time was beginning to seep through your fingers. There was mutuality in your feelings for each other, that was almost unequivocal. You were both just hesitant in taking that first leap. The uncertainty lied with that goodbye at the end of August, the one that’ll hurt a lot more than it was supposed to. But you know that postponing your unceremonious declaration of feelings would just do more harm than anything else.

One consistency you’ve singled out since coming back to the farm is this common theme of divine intervention, or fate, whatever you want to call it. Right when you’re on the brink of an epiphany, you’re always forcefully shoved into it, like a freight train crashing into its platform traveling at full speed. This moment is no different.

Yeoreum barking at a squirrel on the other side of the pen scares the horse who’s back you were currently on. It bucks up and you release the reins in alarm. You fall quickly, but Yunho’s quicker, catching you in his arms like it’s been a childhood dream of his to be a superhero. He searches your face for any indication that you might be hurt, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The eyes you’ve grown to adore examine your own with so much care that you find yourself melting in his hold. Your face instinctively leans into his palm, fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt like he may drop you.

It’s nearly second-nature to minimize the gap between you.

You never understood what novelists meant when they described kissing scenes. And you think that’s because you’d never truly had a kiss like this before. It was as if they were all talking about this second, this blip in time. The sparks that shoot from where your lips meet to the tips of your fingers, the thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat in your ears, the sensation of never wanting to escape, never wanting to stop.

Yunho’s hand snakes behind your head, tangling in your hair to deepen the connection. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Everything that had been stacking on top of each other was leading to this, the collision that rivaled the Big Bang. You whine into his lips, an invitation but also an inquiry.

He parts from you just so he can catch his breath, his forehead resting on yours. “Can I take you inside?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. Please.”

He wastes no time hauling you to the farmhouse. His grip on your wrist is gentle as he pulls you into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and trapping you between his legs. Your restraint wears thin, nimble fingers fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his denim shirt. You push it off of his shoulders, a bit shell shocked when you discover that he’s wearing a regular t-shirt as opposed to his usual tank top.

“You would pull something like this today of all days,” you laugh breathily, untucking the shirt from his pants. He reciprocates the sentiment, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck while you undress him.

“Is it evil of me to say I was sorta hoping this would happen?” He speaks into your exposed collarbone, nipping, sucking, biting the skin. Your appreciative sigh goads him, his tongue gliding across the abused surface as a form of relief.

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head, fast to yank off his shirt and run your nails down his abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

“Yeah?” Yunho flips the two of you easily so you’re the one on the bed now. He pushes up the hem of your shirt, pecking your stomach to your clavicle as he shows more and more of your skin until the fabric is removed from your body. “Can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

You involuntarily moan, completely untouched and because of his words alone. Every part of you feels like it’s lit ablaze, burning with want and need and everything in between. This ran further than just what-ifs and late night fantasies. Your relationship with Yunho tiptoed on the edge of something you’ve never known before, and that makes this so much more special.

He glances up at you when his fingers reach for the button of your shorts, a silent ask for permission. You give him the green light and hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with your breathing trapped in your throat as he rids of your panties along with them. His hands push your knees to your chest, kissing your inner thighs and right around the place you need him most, but never there.

“Yunho…” You warn, but it comes across as a broken whimper rather than an establishment of authority. He laughs and then his lips are pressing to your clit, a sweet kiss that has all rationality taking a vacation from your brain. Your head tips back and you fist at the sheets.

He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves each time it makes its return. It’s almost criminal how good it feels to have his mouth on your cunt, eyes already heavy lidded with pleasure. He sucks on your clit at the same time he decides to insert a finger into your entrance, curling it experimentally just because he can. Like you predicted, it reaches that spongy spot at the crook of your pussy, brushing it once he’s sure he’s found it.

While you walked in on him fucking his fist, the only thing on his mind was you. He was so absorbed in the mental image of what you would look like beneath him, wiggling, writhing, squirming with indulgence. His social awareness was at a zero. This replayed over and over until he came, his thoughts so vivid he could’ve swore it was real.

But this, the actual thing, was so much better; his forearm pinning your hips down, his middle finger curling and uncurling inside of you, his mouth working overtime to inch you towards the edge of that steep cliff. He moans when your eyebrows practically coalesce, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You look so gorgeous like this, so disoriented all because of the bliss he was providing. The vibrations of the sound have you arching your back, uncontrollable whines running from your mouth.

“Feel good?” Yunho asks, disconnecting his mouth and replacing it with his other hand, ring and middle digits swiping across your clit with practiced pressure.

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, eyes on the brink of rolling to the back of your head. “Feels so good, Yun… Just like that, ‘m almost there.”

That’s all he needs to hear, switching his hand and mouth once again, focusing on alternating harsh and gentle sucks of your clit, adding a second finger to pump in and out of your hole. The doubled change in stimulation knocks the wind out of you, the precipice of your orgasm so close you can taste it. You’d never been brought to the summit this early in the past, and you think Yunho deserves some sort of reward for being the first to do so.

You’d worry about that later though, because you’re blindsided by it before you can even conjure your next thought. You cum with a cry, tears springing to your eyes from the immense amount of ecstasy coursing through your veins, swimming in your bloodstream. Yunho coos at you, not stopping until you’ve relaxed in his hold. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your head feel airy, like empty space unoccupied by anything. If you paid attention in chemistry, then you’d know that’s highly impossible, but you didn’t. The only chemistry you even remotely care about is the one between you and Yunho, the tension that has piled higher and higher for days on end until its crescendo now.

You sit up to kiss him roughly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. He smiles into it, a hand raising to caress the underside of your jaw. He climbs onto the bed, scooting you up so you’re positioned by the pillows. It doesn’t take much effort for your bodies to swap, his back to the headboard. You clumsily seat yourself on his lap, a knee on either side of him and sighing wistfully when his mouth trails down your throat and sternum, slender fingers sneaking behind you to unclasp your bra.

He aids you in removing his pants, still simultaneously prioritizing kisses all over your bare chest. When you’re both fully naked, you take your time admiring his cock. It’s just as pretty as you remember, long and thick. Your hand wraps around it gingerly, stroking the length as you lean down to kiss him again. You don’t think you could ever get enough of his lips on your own.

“I’m not exactly getting any action over here, so I don’t have any condoms,” he says into your kiss, voice no louder than a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you run your fingers through his hair. “Wanna feel you anyways, all of you.”

”Fuck, Y/N, you can kill a man with those words.” He groans, nails digging into your hips. You giggle, but it’s interrupted by him sitting you fully, his dick slipping through your lower lips. A whine brushes his ear when the tip catches your clit, repeating the movement until you can’t stay still.

The closest you’ll ever get to Heaven on earth is Yunho’s cock pushing inside of you, filling you up so deliciously you think you could die like this. Your jaw slackens, hands coming up to support yourself on his shoulders. Even if this is a one time thing, something that never happens again during your stay at the farm, he wants you to remember this when you go back home. He wants you to recall this sliver in your timeline and never forget it, wants his name engraved in your memory like a branding iron.

Once he feels you’ve adjusted to him well enough, he pulls you off of him almost entirely, just to ram back in without mercy. He punches a voluminous moan from you, eyes watching where he disappears in you and reemerges. You’re tighter and so much warmer than he dreamed you’d be, but it’s perfect. You suck him in like a vacuum, as if his cock was made to be inside of you, as if you didn’t want him to part from you.

“You’re s-so deep, Yun,” you mewl, pulling him in for another headache-inducing kiss. “Don’t wanna stop.”

He exhales through his nostrils, mumbling out a curse when your walls squeeze around him. He wanted to last a while for you, wanted to hold out and prolong this moment until you were both on the crest of passing out. But you feel like a glove, your silk-adjacent cunt begging for more and more.

“Think I might cum soon, princess,” he groans, tossing his head back and just about losing every ounce of his sanity when your lips start marking the column of his throat.

His big hands move under your thighs, holding you in place so he can fuck up into you. The pace at which his cock drills in and out of your pussy has you seeing stars, eyes snapping shut and nothing but colorful spots decorating your vision. You were already abhorrently sensitive following your first orgasm, so it didn’t really take much to introduce the second.

Your hips stutter and it washes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering and collapsing into his top half. He pulls out of you quickly, mouth stationed by your ear as he jerks himself off until he’s painting your backside. He moans, a lot like the sounds he was making the other night, and you feel the need to just kiss him again.

Your lips lock sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous actions. Yunho curves a hand on your cheek, seperating from you the smallest distance so he can admire you. The smile that etches onto his expression makes you dizzier than anything else. However, the cutesiness can only span so long before the setting gives way.

Yunho’s hand snakes in between you, his forefinger sliding up and down your slit teasingly. Your breath comes out shaky, your face finding purchase in the crook of his neck. He replaces the digit with his middle finger, parting your pussy lips in search of your clit. It doesn’t take him very long to find it, rubbing tight circles into the engorged skin. You moan into his shoulder, resting your forehead on it to see the way he works your cunt.

“You’re so wet, baby. Have I not fucked you enough?” He whispers into your ear huskily. Yunho talking dirty to you is something you didn’t know you needed in your life. His finger slips downward, thrusting up into your hole with ease. He keeps massaging your clit with his palm, the stimulation making your head woozy.

“Mmmph— Yun, god. Feels too good.” You whine, gyrating your hips on his hand.

“Is that right, babe?” He encourages, adding a second finger and increasing the speed of their thrusts, almost like you hadn’t been in this position already. “I can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy around my cock again. Gonna fuck you harder than the last.”

Your whimpers raise in volume, focusing on the way he curls his digits in you, applying pressure with the heel of his palm to the circles he’s rubbing into your clit. You can sense your third orgasm approaching, warmth flooding your cheeks at how embarrassingly fast he worked you back up. Your walls clench around his fingers, alerting him of how close you are. He pauses, worming his body down so his face is eye level with your cunt again.

Yunho does the whole teasing thing a second time, kissing and suckling the hot skin of your belly, knowingly denying you of your release. You grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the ends to spur him on. He groans, giving into you and licking a straight line up your slit. He inserts both fingers again, this time using his tongue to manipulate your swollen clit.

The heat of Yunho’s mouth makes your insides ache, the necessity to cum intensifying. You keen loudly, desperately, needily, the sight of the brunette between your legs so incredibly arousing. He sucks on your throbbing clit, his long fingers as deep as they can go, and you crumble.

“Oh my god— oh my god— I’m cumming! I’m—” You cut yourself off, convulsing under him. He laps up as much of your juices as he can, coating his chin with your release. You moan as you pull him towards you to unify your lips, a mixture of your saliva and cum connect your mouths in strings. At this point, the sex is messier than anything you could’ve plucked from your wildest dreams.

One hand trails down your body, using your nimble fingers to play with your sensitive clit when he starts fisting his cock in preparation to enter your pussy again. You use your free hand to scratch at his contracting abs. He hisses, propping himself up with one arm next to your head and his eyes trained on the way you finger yourself at the same time. You can feel his breath on your cheeks and being in this proximity to him fuels your yearning.

“Please, Yun… Need you back inside of me,” you whimper. Rubbing your clit with your own fingers isn’t satisfying enough, not with him here in front of you, not when you know how good he can make you feel.

“Fuck, baby, when you beg like that I don’t know if I can hold back.” He chuckles lowly. It rumbles from his chest, shooting to your core.

“So don’t,” you rouse. “This is more than just a one time thing for me, Yunho.”

His eyes widen just a bit, your confession catching him off guard. That’s all he needs to line himself up with your hole, hooking his forearm under your knee as he slides in, stretching your cunt so perfectly with his perfect cock. “Shit— you’re so tight, princess… It’s almost like I didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.” He moans and spreads your legs wider. He bottoms out with a grunt, throwing his head back from the feeling of your velvety walls. A near deafening cry is ripped from your vocal cords. He nips at your neck, starting to piston his hips.

His thrusts don’t slow but become calculated, speeding up and diving deep simultaneously. It only took a short amount of time to figure out what you liked and he used it to his advantage. Yunho hikes your knee to your chest, groping your tits with his free hand. He twists and tugs at your nipples just hard enough that it contributes to your pleasure rather than hurts you.

It’s as if he doesn’t feel buried inside of you sufficiently, because he decreases his pace to press and fold your other leg up, his hips ramming into your ass with each thrust now. The tip of his cock kisses at what feels like your cervix. That familiar coil begins to fasten again, keening with every drive into your cunt. The squelching noises would’ve made you cower in shame with anyone else, but with Yunho it turns you on further.

You moan, and he flattens his hand on the lower part of your stomach. Yunho groans, biting the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers find your clit again, circling insatiably to get yourself off.

“You gonna cum for me again?” He rasps, his hold on your legs almost painful. The backs of your thighs burn, but you endure it for the sake of the moment. You reach up and behind yourself, grabbing at the headboard in an attempt to match his force.

“Oh my god, yes— yes yes yes yes,” you babble, the syllables blurring together like your mind. “Gonna cum so hard for you, Yunho. Keep going, please.”

His lips attach to yours, tongues tangling sloppily. The position you’re in is on the opposite end of the spectrum from how you were expecting this summer reunion to go. Had you not been made aware of Yunho living here at the last minute, you probably would’ve backed out of your commitment to staying. Deep down you’re a little too thankful that your grandmother mentioned him when it was too late to reconsider.

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Yunho whispers into your mouth.

You let go of the headboard, cupping his jaw and kissing him lovingly. “Me too.”

Your fingers speed up and so do his thrusts, perfectly timed with each other to shove you both towards your highs. You’re on the cusp of falling apart, arching into him to close the gap between your bodies.

“Wanna cum inside you. Can I?” Yunho grunts.

“Yes yes, please. Fill me up, Yun, want all of you.”

He continues to abuse your cunt, pounding into you like his life depended on it. You sob, clamping your walls around him. He freezes, suddenly spilling into you. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock.” The warmth of his release and his words coax your orgasm, the fluttering of your cunt milking every single drop from him that it can. Even with his dick plugging you up, you can feel it dripping out of you and onto the sheets below.

He rocks into you languidly until you’ve calmed down enough for him to pull out. His forehead is flush on your chest, rising and falling with it, both of you so spent from the intense physical activity you engaged in. You stare up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“You meant what you said right? About this not being a one time thing.” Yunho says hesitantly, like he’s afraid of permeating the atmosphere you created.

“I don’t think I can go home at the end of the summer and forget the way I feel for you, Yunho.” You admit out loud. There had been a constant struggle in your head over whether or not to follow your heart, but as he looks at you with those sparkly eyes of his, you know your answer. And you feel a little stupid for ever considering the counter.

“And what exactly are those feelings?” He pushes, folding his hands on your sternum and laying his cheek on top. You giggle, brushing his hair out of his view. As tempting as it was to divulge your theatrical journey in assessing your emotions, you’re too exhausted to stay awake. It would have to wait for another day.

“You have the rest of the summer to find out, cowboy.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez jeong yunho #ateez yunho #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunhoszn

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writethrough · 1 year

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hi !! i’ve been obsessed with your billy x reader fics <3 could i request smthing fluffy with him? maybe like they both have feelings for each other but r is too shy to admit it, so they try to flirt by doing that thing where they compare hand sizes?? idk just smthing fluffy w billy<3

Lost Things, Found Beginnings

(Billy Hargrove x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Self-depricating thoughts

Word Count: 1907

A/N: Thank you so much! I absolutely loved this request! Thank you for being patient, and I really hope you like it!

It caught your eye the moment you stepped out of your car. For all of the bad points of Hawkins, a good one was the pride business owners took in keeping their sidewalks clean. So, a ring lying on the curb was strange.

The silver gleamed in the sunlight as you crouched to pick it up.

Its intricate design tugged at your mind. Turning it this way and that, you tried to place where you had seen it. Then it hit you.

It belonged to Billy Hargrove.

Your face grew hot at the thought of returning it to him. How would you even approach him? It’s not like the two of you were friends.

In high school, you barely acknowledged one another. Billy had flirted with you once, but you were so stunned and flustered that you couldn’t even look at him when you answered with one syllable. After that, he never came up to you again.

Your stupid brain always short-circuited whenever an attractive guy spoke to you. Therefore, you tried to avoid speaking to attractive guys, even if, deep down, you wanted them to talk to you.

It just felt nice—to be wanted like that.

But you always ruined it.

You supposed it was for the best, though. Billy wasn’t the relationship type in high school. And you weren’t going to be another notch.

You’d seen him around a few times since.

You went to the pool sporadically this summer, and he threw a wink in your direction once, but you were convinced it was to the pretty blonde behind you. Her giggle had confirmed it.

Shaking your head, you slid the ring into your pocket and clocked in at the record store. But throughout your shift, it was all you could think about.

It wasn’t like you could just walk up and say, “Hey, I found your ring.” How would you explain that you knew it was his?

You couldn’t tell him you stared at his hands when he puffed on his cigarette. Or that you imagined the warmth they’d emit if they were on your hips or holding your own.

You traced the ring with your thumb, keeping it in your pocket so no one would catch you and ask about it. And by the time your shift was over, you’d become accustomed to the motion of it. So when you were locking up and driving home, you could still feel the carving rolling over your skin.

You lay in bed that night, placing the ring on each finger. It was big even on your thumb, and you tried to picture Billy’s hand alongside yours: large, warm, and strong.

You huffed, burying your face in your pillow until you couldn’t breathe. You hadn’t seen Billy in weeks and acted like a lovestruck teenager.

You had spotted him from the corner of your eye at the store last month and nearly booked it two aisles over. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen you. Or, at least, you didn’t think he had seen you.

It’s not like he would’ve said anything anyway. Besides, after that cringeworthy interaction in high school, he probably forgot you existed.

The next day you were working the closing shift. It was dead save a few middle schoolers on their way home.

Before you left this morning, you shoved the ring in your jacket, and it’s been a constant reminder that you had to return it to Billy.

You would probably have the most luck just going to the pool and handing it over. But that meant dealing with the eyes on you—on Billy, rather. They’d wonder what you were doing with him and how you got his ring. They’d whisper to their friends their speculations, and before you knew it, some rumor would circulate.

Maybe you could get Steve to do it or Eddie. Make them say they found it. They talked to Billy…

Yeah, that’s what you’d do. You could swing by Family Video and give it to Steve. He’d take pity on you and do it.

You let out a slow breath through your nose.

That was the plan then. You'd close up, find Steve—and if necessary—offer to buy the pizza on your next movie night.

You jumped when the little bell above the door jingled. And heat pooled into your cheeks at who entered.

Someone obviously hated you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Billy said, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Hey.” You dug your thumb into the ring to keep your heart rate steady. How in the hell did he remember your name?

He strolled toward you, taking in the shelves of records, the clearance section, and the new releases.

“S’been awhile,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m alright. You?” You pressed the tip of your shoe into the floor and rested your hands on the countertop.

“Better now.” The corner of his mouth ticked up.

You furrowed your brow slightly, wondering what he meant by that.

He ignored your look. “Been looking for something, though.” Billy leaned his forearms on the counter, and it took everything in you not to shy away. “You wouldn’t have happened to find a ring anywhere?” he asked. “Lost it yesterday. Kinda like it back.”

You squeezed your fingers. You didn’t know which was worse: Billy asking you about his ring, your faux scenario of approaching him about it, or what you would have to do—pull said ring out of your pocket and act like it hadn’t been on your person for twenty-four hours.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you reached to retrieve and hold it in your palm.

“You mean this one?” You hoped he’d glaze over the faint tremble in your voice.

His shoulders slumped ever so slightly in relief as he exhaled.

“Been lookin’ everywhere for it,” he said, taking it and glancing at you. “Glad it was in safe hands.”

You gave him a small smile and nodded. “Happy I could help.”

The way he looked you over set off a trail of sparks on your skin—like he wanted to devour you. An exhilarating feeling since you weren’t his type.

You had floated around each other in high school after the incident. You had paid more attention to Billy than he did you. Watching his games with the rest of the marching band had put a little extra pep in your step. Sometimes he scanned over your section, and you swore he only looked away once he caught sight of you. But that had just been your mind playing tricks on you, making you see things you wanted.

You really tried to shake it off after seeing one of the cheerleaders hanging on his arm. And you rushed to your car before either of them could spot you.

“You wear it?” he asked. And maybe you were imagining it, but he sounded almost hopeful.

You shook your head. “S’too big. Didn’t want to lose it.”

He hummed, slipping his fingers under your palm and bringing it forward. His thumb traced your middle finger—where he had returned the ring on his left hand. Then, he held your hand open with his own so they were pressed against each other from heel to fingertips.

You’d never been this close to Billy and weren’t entirely sure what to do. Should you pull away? You really didn’t want to. What could you even say? You didn’t think you could speak with his body heat blanketing you and his eyes so intent where you were connected. It was like he was deep in thought, and you didn’t want to disturb him.

What could he be thinking about? He couldn’t be mad. You would know it. He didn’t exactly hide his anger well.

He was more focused than you’d ever seen him. And with how gently he touched you—his strong hands melting into your soft ones—you had to stop yourself from slipping your fingers between his.

You’d been so busy staring at your hands that when you finally looked at Billy, you were surprised—and slightly embarrassed—to find him smirking at you. A soft, playful smirk, one you had only seen in movies between a would-be couple.

He lowered your hand, letting his fingertips linger.

“Thank you,” he said.

You furrowed your brow, completely forgetting about why you were talking to him in the first place.

“For returning my ring,” he continued, trying to keep the smile at bay.

You shook your head slightly. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you have it back.”

His head tilted down as he laughed softly before looking up at you.

“The thing is, I do need to thank you.” He held his left hand up so you could see the ring. “This means a lot to me. So, you deserve a very big ‘thank you.’”

You glanced between him and the ring. His tone was suggestive, and it took everything in you to keep yourself from giggling like you were in high school again, and the cute boy you had a crush on was finally giving you attention—subconsciously, you acknowledged that was exactly what was happening.

“Let me take you out,” he said.

Your eyes widened. “Take me out?”

Was this just an opportunity for him? You had thought he changed since high school, but maybe you were wrong. Perhaps he still seized every chance to sleep with anyone he wanted. And you were the next one on his list. And frankly, you weren’t interested.

Sure, you had a crush on Billy in high school, but it was the kind that made you want to hold hands with him and cuddle while watching TV. Not the kind where you wanted to jump in bed with him the moment he spared you a glance.

You had thought the way he looked at you meant something more substantial, but maybe it was just surface-level attraction.

You had shifted slightly away from him, and his smooth facade dropped.

Maybe his past flashed through his mind, or he wanted to make you understand him.

“Like a date. Anywhere you want,” Billy said. His eyes were sincere, a look you had never seen on him.

It took you aback.

Your shoulders relaxed, and you leaned toward him once more.

“You wanna go on a date?” you asked. “‘Cause of the ring?”

“I’ve wanted to go on a date since senior year,” he said, lips ticking up at the corner.

“High school?” You didn’t think you could be in any more disbelief. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t want you involved in all my shit.”

It took you a moment to figure out what he meant. Then you remembered the newspaper article about Niel Hargrove being arrested. You thought you had understood Billy a little more after reading it. And now, he seemed to be a completed puzzle.

It almost made you want to cry. Billy had been dealing with so much, but he still wanted to protect you in that small way.

“Okay,” you said, nodding.

“Okay?” His eyes lit up. “You wanna go on a date?”

“Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Great!” He cleared his throat. “Good. How’s tomorrow?”

“Depends. Do I still get to pick the place?” You bit your lip to hold back your smile.

“Anywhere you want,” he repeated, eyes traveling to your lips and back up.

“Then pick me up at six,” you said, leaning forward.

His features softened. “I’ll be there.”

Taglist: @moonlightfountain, @steph-speaks, @bookshelf-dust, @nix-rose-q

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove stranger things #stranger things billy hargrove

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justimagineitblog · 9 months

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KEEPER OF MY HEART - TOMMY SHELBY

KEEPER OF MY HEART - CHAPTER ONE

I take a deep breath, clutching the job advertisement in my hands.

INNKEEPER NEEDED.

ENQUIRE WITH SHELBY LIMITED.

I’m new to Small Heath, Birmingham. I’ve only been here a week and I’m desperate for a job. Although I have years of experience keeping my families Pub, I know not many establishments wants a woman as the face of their business.

I roll my shoulders back, straightening my posture to stand as tall as I possibly can at a mere 5 ft 3. Trying to assert myself in a display of confidence. God knows I’m going to need it.

I force myself forward, pushing the heavy doors open, entering into the Garrison.

The smell hits me straight away. Cigarette smoke and whiskey.

It’s weirdly familiar and comforting.

There is no one at the bar, just a group of men sitting in the middle around a table. Laughing, drinking and smoking.

These must be the Shelby brothers.

I waits for them to turn to look at me, to address my entrance into the room. To begin the interview. But they don’t.

That is until one of the younger men notices me, and nudges the tall and slim man next to him.

And just like that, all of the men slowly turn their attention towards me.

I try to ignore their unimpressed gazes. Their eyes looking me up and down judgementally. I give a tight lipped smile, feeling as though a theatre spotlight has just been shone on me. Now is not the time to back down.

“I’m here for the job interview”

By the look on their faces, you would have sworn I had spoken in a foreign language.

Confusion, amusement, prejudice.

The tall, slim member of the Shelby family speaks first, after what felt like hours of painful silence.

“I think you’re in the wrong building sweetheart” he says, trying to be nice but unsuccessfully hiding a smirk.

I knew to expect this.

I pause before speaking, as I catch the eyes of one of the Shelby’s sitting at the back of the group. He puffs on his cigarette, smoke shrouding his sharp features. Our eyes lock in on one another. How could they not. They’re piercing through the dimly lit building. It takes a lot to make me feel small, but his gaze alone makes me want to shrink.

I try to offer him a smile, but he doesn’t return it. He just grazes his eyes over me, thinking god knows what.

I try to shake off the interaction, turning back to the brother at the front.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m in the right building, Mr Shelby”

“Well unless you’re… Z Jones…” he says, referring back to the list of applicants on the table beside him, then looking back up to me doubtfully.

“Yes, thats me”

“You’re Z Jones?”

“Yes, Zoe Jones”

“Well fuck me” he laughs, entertained and dumbfounded “Z for Zoe Jones”

I feel a sense of relief. He hasn’t completely kicked me out of the building. And my tactic of not revealing my full name on the application worked. Now I at least have my foot in the door.

I tempt a quick look at the brother in the back, and he still sits unwavering. Not amused in the slightest like the other men. He hasn’t so much as moved or said a word. He just studies me.

“And you are aware of the job you have applied for?” The tall brother questions, his amusement morphing into concern.

“Innkeeper, Matron of the bar, Bartender” I list of all the names that this job falls under “I am well aware of the role I will be taking on”

“How old are you sweetheart?” He questions. I knew my age would be in question. But I already have years of experience.

“Old enough to pour a beer” I retort, smirking. There’s not one question they can throw at me that I haven’t heard before.

One of the younger brothers smiles, beaming up at me. “I like her Arthur” He tells the eldest brother. So that’s Arthur. The eldest Shelby brother.

“Shut up John” The older brother nudges his younger brother, who I now know as John.

But his smile doesn’t fade, in fact, he gives me an encouraging nod. Like he’s rooting for me.

“Alright I’ll level with you, darling. The kind of crowd we get here is not… they’re not just your usual crowd of singing drunks. We need someone that can handle the money, as well as the fellas that come in here. I don’t doubt that you can pour a beer, but they’re going to take one look at you and chew you up. We need someone that folks will take seriously”

I just smile back politely. Nodding at his speech. I feel my hopefulness start to falter, but I won’t show them. If I don’t get this job, I will have no where to go with no way to pay my rent. I need this, and they need me.

“If I could level with you…” I begin, taking a breath before I continue “I’ve worked my fathers pub since I was 14. When he died I took over. Business died off, so I had to sell. I think I’m more than capable. And I say let them underestimate me. With all due respect, sir, letting them underestimate me has been my greatest strength. I can run the money. I can pour beer. I might not be able to fight with my fists, but I’ve never had to. The mind is where half the battle is. I was smart enough to put my name down as Z because I knew if I put my full name down I wouldn’t even get a foot in the door. And I’m not sure what kind of business you’re running here at Shelby Limited, but I know a lot of places deal in secrets. And you’ll be surprised what people will talk about around a woman. What they say when they think you’re not listening because they think you wouldn’t understand. Let them underestimate me. So… if you could just give me one night?”

The men stare up at me. If they kick me out, at least I stood my ground. They all look around at each other, trying to come up with an answer.

“Tommy?” Arthur asks, turning to the Shelby who has been sitting stone faced the entire time.

Thomas Shelby.

I had done some asking around before I applied for the job. Everyone had a lot to say about the Shelby brothers. But not many could say anything about Thomas. He was the mysterious brother. The silent assassin. Not the oldest, but the leader of the family. What was said about Thomas was much of the same. He’s deadly. He’s a killer. He’s the puppet master of the entire company.

I straighten my back, trying not to falter or waver underneath his unforgiving gaze. If there’s anyone I need to convince, it’s him.

He stands, taking a swig of the drink in his glass before he begins to stalk his way towards me.

His eyes wander all over me, scaling me up and down. Sizing me up.

The room has fallen silent. Their eyes darting between Thomas and I.

“Zoe Jones” he repeats my name, inching closer to me.

“Thomas Shelby” I address him back, unsure of where the courage to do so came from.

“If anything goes wrong, you’ll pay the price” His voice is husky as he threatens me. This is what I can only assume everyone in town was talking about when I asked about The Shelby Brothers.

I swallow, trying to find the right words.

“Good. I like a challenge. But that won’t be necessary”

I raise my chin, tilting my head upwards to meet his stern gaze. I won’t back down. It’s not even about the job anymore in this moment. I won’t be made to feel small. I know my worth.

For the entire 10 minutes that I have known Thomas Shelby, he hasn’t shown one ounce of expression on his face, besides slight disapproval at my presence. But for a second, I swear I can see a hint of interest in his eyes when I spoke back. He didn’t expect me to push back when he descended on me with his intense, heaviness.

“One night” he says finally “Tonight”

I nod, smiling up at him.

That’s all I need.

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #peakyblinders #peakyblindersimagine #oppenheimer #cillianmurphy #cillian #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #lily collins #faceclaim #lilycollinsimagine #thomasshelbysmut #tommy #shelby #peaky blinders smut

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theladyheroine · 2 months

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Types of Wizards! ✨

❥ This was just a fun idea since I’ve been reading lots of fantasy headcanons, I wanted to try! Plus I don’t see too many for magic-y stuff out there so this gave me a good idea!

❥ Also! Most of these are female centered but some of this can be for boys too! I just prefer the term wizard because it sounds cooler lol. But thank you! Enjoy!

Storybook Wizards 🤎

Usually has an owl or sparrows as a companion.

Quills are made from barn owl feathers.

Wands are made from cinnamomum trees, elm trees, or hazel trees.

Likes to feed the crickets that sing on the bookshelves. Some think it’s gross but they’re very nice!

Uses golden wax seals for nearly everything.

Collects old trinkets they find or receive from friends. They don’t work anymore or are just old, but has tried fixing them up.

Loves both books & scrolls, but thinks books are easier to hold onto. That one friend who decides to read one more chapter, but ends up reading all night.

Loves to wish on stars or dandelions but is too embarrassed to tell anyone.

Seems like a bit of a hermit, but is actually really friendly! Loves to interact with people & exchange different interests, quite talkative at times.

Either works at an archive or some kind of library, has a special little key that works only for them.

Weather Wizards 🌩️

Usually has a bird of prey as a companion, but don’t worry they’re friendly 😅🙏

Quills are made from crow feathers.

Wands are made from maple trees, pine trees, or baobab trees.

The ultimate bird parent!! Birds love them & they’re always putting out bird seed feeders or scraps of veggies.

Lives alone in a tall tower in the middle of the woods. Only goes to town when necessary & will turn into a grumpy pants if you knock on their door.

Sometimes storm clouds or rain will swirl around their house, usually due to spell testing or potions.

The weather is actually pretty nice when they’re around! Cool breezes, clear skies, warm sunny days; tries to deny it’s their work until the sunshine gets brighter.

Collects clean water in mason jars or glass bottles when it rains.

Likes to climb rooftops & chart the stars.

Can always sense when a storm is approaching, doesn’t matter what kind they’re spot on. Likely their job is to keep them at bay as a guardian or lookout.

Love Wizards 💝

Usually has a dove or a type of songbird as a companion.

Quills are made from white swan feathers.

Wands are made from cherry trees, camellia trees, or jasmine shrubs.

Has an easier time communicating with fauna.

Ladybugs are automatically attracted to them & will usually bring good luck to them throughout the day.

Stores their potions in old perfume bottles but will make perfume as a small side job. Has to label everything though.

Has a small rose bush growing outside of their window; likes to talk to it & believes plants have feelings.

Super affectionate! Either the mom friend or the cutsey clingy child friend.

Never forgets Valentine’s Day!! (I’m sorry I know it was last week!) Goes over the top every year & everyone either gets a bouquet or a little goodie bag. The size of the gift depends on who you are sometimes.

Business is a postal service for relationship problems but gets a lot of love letters to proofread. A bit embarrassed receiving one addressed to them.

Swamp Wizards 🐸

Usually has a crane or even a heron as a companion. But sometimes that makes it hard to get in them the house...

Quills are made from duck feathers.

Wands are made of mangrove trees, dogwood trees, or lilypad stems.

Defined as the oddballs of wizardry. They are known to travel a lot but usually live alone.

Uses an old timey ferry boat to get around, but has to use magic to get the paddle wheel moving. It’ll creak & stop like an old engine.

Probably the most experienced in floral/nature magic & their house is like an absolute jungle. Will even let moss grow out because “it wants to be there.”

Has tried more than once to kiss a frog & see if it’ll turn into their true love, but carries medicine around just in case.

Really loves milkweed flowers & will set up cute bundles in their home to make it smell good.

The best cook in the world but mostly uses magic to help.

Probably the friendliest person you’ll meet! Will tell all sorts of stories about their travels, the different kinds of people they’ve met, where to find the best berry bushes, how to care for tadpoles— It might be awhile before you can introduce yourself…

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avpdvoidspace · 3 months

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one thing I wish was discussed more in reference to avpd is how it affects school and work and hobbies. it's mentioned sometimes but not in great depth, and your recent post on how you can't be around someone if you don't immediately feel comfortable with them is also very relatable and applicable to other social situations too, methinks

I went to college for a week. I would stay outside til the middle of the night so I wouldn't have to be around a roommate I didn't know in a cramped dorm. I didn't go to classes. I would sit in abandoned alleys behind buildings and read so I could relax without worrying about seeing someone

tried again, moved again, lived off-campus. this time I didn't even go to school just because the thought of it becoming a reality was terrifying. I would have to interact with people I didn't know? in a field I was inexperienced in?

I've also never held a job for more than a week. it gets too overwhelming and I quit. sometimes I go though the full application and interview process, get accepted, and turn it down once I realize it entails actually working with people

same with hobbies that involve other people. maybe I'll last a day or two doing something new but if I don't immediately feel safe I'll never go again

I understand that most people imagine dating and friendships when they hear 'social' but oh my god it affects EVERYTHING. I can't even pass someone on the sidewalk without feeling like I'm about to die of fear.

(p.s. anyone and everyone is encouraged to add on I really like relating to people)

All great additions, and yeah, I have just tried to be as anonymous and hidden as possible in school and work situations. Now I'm physically disabled and unable to work and I don't miss it at all. The most stressful part was always being around people and peoples' expectations on me. I'd hide in the library room, the bathroom, and the printing room when I was a teacher's assistant. When I worked as a file clerk, I would never come out of the file room, and it was fine because the other workers would just leave the files outside to fileroom door. The best job I ever had was cleaning vacation houses, though. Even though I was working with a crew, we'd devide up and take on a different part of the rental, and I could be totally alone and just do the work. Now I spend the majority of my day completely alone trying to make a career out of one of my hobbies, and apart from the whole being poor thing, I've never been happier. As for hobbies, I have ocpd, so you know I'm going to get obsessive about a few hobbies. Of course, all of them are things I can do 100% alone. Drawing, studying languages, and single player video games. The thought of a multiplayer, especially competitive, video game fills me with unspeakable dread. Anyway, I truly wish there were more jobs where you could just work in solitude. As for now, I can only think of some janitorial/cleaning jobs, and being a hotel night auditor in a not busy area. And it'd be nice if you could get an education without having to interact with so many other people. Accomodations for agoraphobic and avoidant students? Where are these?

#avpd #avoidant personality disorder

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alfryco · 2 years

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The Quarry Headcanons: Hacketteers edition

Ryan only shares his headphones with certain people and you have to be pretty close in his circle to be one of those people

I don't know how it's possible living in the states (minus Nick??) but I don't think any of these kids knows what a bear looks like

Abi and Emma went to the same high school, but they didn't interact because they were in totally different social circles. They finally ended up being friends due to being outside of their normal school environment and they hit it off pretty instantly.

Dylan has a picture of his cat as his lockscreen

Emma ran track in high school and actually has a scholarship from it for the school she's going to

Abi is in to writing letters and likes emails too because they give her more time to respond rather than the usual quick-firedness of texting

Laura's parents bought her a fake "animal first aid kit" when she told them she wanted to be a vet. Her parents would often come home to find the family cat and dog wrapped in bandages and Laura with her stethoscope hanging from her neck.

Max started ironically saying silly words in place of some actual cuss words when he was in middle school and now he just says them unironically (i.e. son of a binky bonky)

Jacob likes to party and most people think it's for the drinking but he really likes them because it means there's a bunch of people he can talk to

Kaitlyn took up sharp shooting as a hobby when she found out that 1) she was pretty decent at it for a beginner at one of those week long summer camps two towns over from where she lives and 2) it was an excuse to get some peace and quiet from her usually loud house (it can get pretty loud at times with 2 brothers and another sister all under one roof)

Nick is usually shy around people he doesn't know but once he gets to know you it's like a switch and he's way more open and boisterous with you. (I feel like he's pretty much like with all the counselors because I say so.)

Emma likes horror movies and gives a movie extra points if it can manage to scare her

If there's something that makes Jacob happy he'll want to share it with people he cares about because he wants them to be happy too. The guy basically wears his heart on his sleeve.

Dylan enjoys doing the morning announcements, even though he complains about losing sleep, because he has to wake up early before the rest of the camp and it's nice for him to just take in the quiet of a usually busy camp and he doesn't have to put an act on for anyone until that mic turns on

Ryan binges podcasts and can usually catch up/finish them in a week or so

Max and Laura met in high school and they've been going 3 years strong when they get to the point of Hackett's Quarry

Nick is pretty knowledgeable about camping because of all the time he's spent with his dad and he's usually the one who the kids come to for any wilderness survival related questions

Ryan is the best at dry humor delivery (him and Dylan can bounce off eachother pretty easily)

Jacob went to Kaitlyn when he was having problems with Emma and the two could often be seen talking on the dock by the lake when the summer was coming to an end

#erin's chitterchatter #the quarry #the quarry spoilers #laura kearney #max brinly #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #kaitlyn ka #abigail blyg #emma mountebank #nick furcillo #jacob custos #i love these kids can u tell??#this is shy's fault she got me hooked on this damn game #ill probably end up doing more of these later once ive played through it again

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gretavanfleetposts · 1 year

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Valence: Chapter Four

Summary: The daughter of a drug lord, you're ready to take over the family business. Your father's only stipulation? You must marry the man he has picked out for you instead of the man you love in order to claim your kingdom.

TW: sexual themes (18+ minors do not interact), swearing, themes of death and dying

Word Count: 11.5k

Chapter Three Masterlist Chapter Five

You didn't see Jake again until you found yourself climbing into the family's private jet as a flight attendant loaded bags your sister packed into the plane. You hadn't seen Danny in the same amount of time, guilt seeping through your body at the thought of having spent your wedding night with a man who wasn't your husband. It was absurd though, feeling guilty about it. At least you felt absurd.

Still, you owed Jake some pleasantries at the very least. Although after a very short exchange, he left you to your seat at the back of the plane, catered to hand and foot as you watched him with curiosity, pacing around with a whiskey in hand, making call after call in Italian. Confirming plans, it sounded, although Italian wasn't your best.

You didn't mind it though, being left alone, watching him work. Actually it was a nice change, not being asked a million questions, a million decisions in your hands. And he seemed to handle the responsibility well.

You soon realized your destination before you ever even landed. He was taking you to Italy.

A beautiful stone townhome, to be exact, situated on a quiet, cramped Italian street, the buildings surrounding swathed in color and greenery. The inside was just as beautiful as the outside too, an old record player fixed to one corner of the room, a small liquor cabinet in the opposite corner, and a giant feathery bed situated in the middle covered in light linens adorned with rose petals of pale red, strewn across the top of the bed. There was a bathroom off the bedroom with a shower made entirely out of glass but not much else about the room, the main focal point clearly being the bed that you now gazed upon.

"I was planning to take the floor," he remarked quickly, a sentiment that almost sounded like a joke although you really couldn’t tell. Maybe he was actually waiting for you to protest. Instead you said nothing.

Even you could admit it was a fitting place for a honeymoon. You could imagine rolling around in the queen sized bed with Danny, drinking champagne and enjoying every inch of one another, only interrupted by housekeepers looking to refresh linens and food deliveries.

Only you weren’t with Danny.

"I'm sure this isn't the honeymoon you imagined with Danny," Jake tried again, watching you intently from the doorway, as he usually did.

But if you were being honest with yourself, Danny was the last person you wanted to think about. Sure, you would have given anything to be there, in the small Italian townhouse, with him instead. But the thought of him at home, alone, while you were there with Jake wasn’t one you were eager to picture. No, it would be easier to get through the week the less you thought about him, as much as it pained you to admit it to yourself. And then aloud to Jake, even worse.

"Can we please not talk about Danny on this trip?"

Thankfully he nodded and offered a quiet apology, agreeing to let the topic die there. Actually, his swift agreement made you feel even worse, though you weren’t really sure why.

"Is this the honeymoon you've always dreamed of?" you asked as you stood at the edge of the bed and let your fingers glide across the feathery down.

"Actually yes," he voiced from across the room, the answer surprising you and sending you into a spin to face him.

“I mean, I didn't think much about it when I was a kid, sure, but more recently, yeah," he started, following you into the room slowly but stopping to take in his surroundings. "It's been on my mind. Outside of the whole dynastic plan, I mean."

He chuckled lightly to himself as he shifted his gaze to his feet, all the while you still stood in stunned silence, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I stayed here several years ago, after my father died. I needed to get away so Josh booked a spontaneous trip. I knew then that this place was special."

You recalled what Josh had said about the trip. They both sounded so hopeful when they spoke of it, despite Jake leaving the better half of the details out of it. Well, the worse half of the details.

"Maybe it was the company, not the place," you remarked softly, the thought of Jake trying to remake memories that Josh had already perfected setting you rigid with nerves.

You'd be miserable company, you were sure of it.

He lifted his eyes to yours with a playful smile.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

You couldn't help the way your eyes trailed back to the bed before you. There was an expectation lying beneath the surface of this trip; you felt it. One giant bed, a half-joke to sleep on the floor, hesitant eyes lingering a little longer than they might have in the comfort of your own home. You had no intention of sharing the bed with him, not really. Still, you felt its presence all-too weighty. And Jake's growing smirk certainly didn't help as he practically read the thoughts circling behind your eyes.

"Great place to consummate a marriage though," he said with a grin, luckily out of reach as you turned toward him again in a flurry, brows furrowed and cheeks red, no doubt.

"That was a joke," he reassured you with a laugh, "although the subject did awkwardly come up with your father the other morning."

Your face fell into your hands immediately at the thought of that conversation, more horrifying than maybe anything that had happened to you in your 26 years.

You breathed out a muffled, “Oh my god,” unsure if you were more embarrassed that Jake had been cornered into such a conversation with your father or more enraged by the fact that it was a conversation your father felt the need to have. You were glowering, either way.

"It's okay," he did his best to reassure you with a calm voice. "I took care of it. Just try and have a glow about you when we get back."

You lifted your face from your hands, a half-puzzled, half-irritated look forming on your face.

"What exactly does 'I took care of it' mean?"

You really weren't eager for the answer though you didn't want to assume the worst yet.

"I told him he had nothing to worry about and that we would truly be married when we returned," he answered all too calmly.

"I hope you weren't planning on convincing me," you retorted angrily.

"No,” he sighed, a bit of agitation lurking behind his eyes, “I was planning on faking it. But if you want your father to believe you had a change of heart, you're really going to have to sell it."

You scowled at him, unappreciative of him implying you were doing a bad job. You weren’t exactly doing a great job, you knew that, but you were doing your best, that much was true.

"I can pretend to like you just fine, thank you."

Your tone was biting and your annoyance showed on your face too. But Jake just shook his head at you.

"He knows Danny stayed with you on our wedding night,” he explained, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he finished. “I convinced him not to confront you about it until after the honeymoon."

It was almost instant the way your heart began to race, the way you suddenly felt like a cold sweat had washed over you at the thought of you and Danny not being nearly as discrete as you had thought. You could feel your face fall the longer you thought about it, your father prepared to confront you, possibly even prepared to confront Danny as well which was sure to go much worse.

Still, you clenched your teeth and bit out a sharp, “How thoughtful of you," the thought of Jake rushing to be your savior leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

You watched as he sighed, searching your face, maybe for more understanding than he was getting. But he wouldn’t find it.

He pursed his lips and nodded, turning his eyes to the floor.

"You have to help me out here a little, y/n," he said quietly, returning his gaze to your eyes.

It wasn’t fair but you turned away from him anyway, unable and unwilling to continue the conversation.

"I need a shower," you mumbled as you walked out of the room.

But the hot water didn’t wash it away, didn’t wash away the expectation. It didn’t wash away the worry you now felt for Danny at the hand of your father. It couldn’t rid you of the sinking feeling you felt in your chest, threatening to double you over in tears for the millionth time that week. And it certainly couldn’t rid you of the anger you felt for everyone, Jake included.

As you stepped out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror, wiping away steam to look at yourself, you poked and prodded at the skin on your face, pulling at the bags underneath your eyes, bags that were growing more purple by the day. Marriage wasn’t looking great on you. It was the stress of everything that had you looking more worn with each passing day and Jake’s news about your father wasn’t helping.

But if Italy had helped Jake, maybe it could help you too.

Suddenly you found yourself wishing Josh was there with a sigh as you moved to brush and blow dry your hair. Josh would know how to put you in a good mood.

That wasn’t exactly fair though. It wasn’t that Jake was incapable of doing the same. It was just that when you looked at Jake, all you saw was the weight of doing your duty and the toll it was taking on both of you. It was hard to look at him and not get angry, even knowing he deserved a lot better than what you were giving him.

There was that guilt again. You just couldn’t seem to win.

You abandoned the task of fixing your hair with a huff and a towel wrapped around you, resigning to exit the bathroom with mostly dry hair. You had spent too much time looking at yourself in the mirror. You didn’t like what you were seeing.

When you emerged from the bathroom, still wrapped in nothing but a towel, you found Jake making himself a drink at the mini bar stuffed into one corner of the room, a cream dress not unlike your wedding dress laid out on the bed for you.

“What’s this?” you asked, gesturing to the dress with one hand while the other fisted your towel at your chest.

"I had it made for you, it was just delivered," he said casually as he sipped his drink.

It was a beautiful dress, delicate silk draped across the neckline between two thin straps. Still, you were inquisitive.

“Why?”

“Don’t husbands buy their wives things?”

It was a beautiful dress.

"White isn't my color," you argued, folding your arms over your chest in some sort of childish defiance that you yourself didn’t really understand the purpose of. You were irritated; that was all you could focus on.

Maybe it was Jake’s calmness that infuriated you the most as he offered up a simple, "I disagree."

You suddenly remembered why you picked fights with him.

With clenched teeth you breathed a defiant, "Fine," before dropping your towel as you locked eyes with Jake.

"Help me into it?" you asked in the sweetest tone you could manage as you stood naked before him.

You watched with a smirk as Jake almost choked on his drink at the sight of your suddenly naked form, his eyes not exactly sure where to look. Still, he couldn't seem to drag his eyes from you as he watched you pull the dress off the bed and step into it, sliding it up your hips and pulling the straps up your arms. It seemed to restart his brain as you covered yourself and stood waiting for him to help you with the zipper. Waiting for him to move, really.

Finally, he crossed the room, silently moving to your back, his hands taking your hips and making you jump slightly.

Slowly, he dragged his hands inward to the zipper, pulling it up lazily until it reached its home at your mid-back. But as you moved to step away, his hand dropped to your stomach, pressing you back into him as he dipped his lips down to your ear.

"Play nice."

It wasn't a request though it made you want to play very much not nice, the way the sternness in his voice heat your stomach from the inside.

"Or what?" you asked, turning your face to the side and realizing just how close his face was to yours.

He kept his eyes locked on yours as he answered.

"Or I'll treat you like the brat you're clearly intent on being."

Normally if someone had called you a brat, you would have scalded them with your words, made them regret it. But somehow when he said it, it lit a fire inside of you. It was absurd to admit it but you felt your thighs involuntarily clench together.

It shouldn't have had the effect it did on you. You'd reprimand yourself for it later when he wasn't so close, his lips practically drawing your gaze down to them for a brief moment before you remembered yourself.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked, trying to keep some sort of defiance in your voice although it was practically no use. Your words had barely been a whisper and you felt like you were in a daze just staring up at him.

"Dinner," he whispered back, his own eyes dropping to your lips.

"What if I'm not hungry?" you asked a bit louder, trying to draw up some self-respect and ignore his proximity, his scent, the way he eyed your bare shoulder as he spoke, like he wanted to press his lips against it.

"Is there something you'd rather do instead?"

Your voice dropped back into a whisper as he dipped his face closer to the tip of your shoulder.

"Nothing with you."

It didn't come out nearly as scathing as you had meant it to. And you hadn't meant it as the innuendo he took it to be as he lifted his face back to yours with a wide grin plastered across his lips.

"Oh but I'll be there, won't I?" he smirked, the question heavy with implication.

The only person you thought about while you were alone was Danny. It had always been that way. Not that you were planning on explaining that to Jake.

"Let go of me, please," you requested instead, much more stern than your previous words as the fog of desire began to lift and your ability to think rejoined you.

But he didn't let his hands leave your body.

"Dinner can't wait," he answered.

"Fine," you reluctantly agreed.

"Good."

With that, he let go of you, retreating back to the bar to let you finish getting ready in silence before you were out the door without another word, only a scowl on your face ready to be shown if he dared to push you again.

Dinner was at a fancy little restaurant with golden lighting and expensive plates, nice enough to prevent you from making a scene, as it were. So you resigned yourself to getting drunk instead, ordering a martini that you opted to down in two quick gulps before ordering another.

But even the gin couldn't stuff down the thought of what Jake had said in the room, about your father knowing you and Danny had been together on your wedding night. And despite your annoyance with the boy across the table from you, he had done you a favor.

"I suppose I owe you a thank you," you started quietly, lifting your eyes from your drink up to Jake, guilt gnawing at your stomach for how you had started your trip. For how you continually treated him, really.

"For what?" he asked just as softly.

You breathed in deeply as you thought about it, Jake braving the man that not many had successfully crossed.

"For staving off my father for the time being."

He nodded once in understanding, catching up with the thought process that had been taking place in your mind quickly.

"Yes, I suppose you do," he answered with a cheeky smile. You couldn't help but chuckle and roll your eyes lightly.

"Not quite sure how you managed that, honestly."

You swirled your drink as you tried and failed to picture it.

But Jake only shrugged. "I have a way with words."

“You hardly say any words,” you chuckled as you sipped your drink.

“I’m more efficient than my brothers.”

You couldn't deny, there was something about Jake. He was…persuasive, though you couldn't really put your finger on what exactly it was that was so convincing about him. Maybe it was the kindness behind his eyes that made you want to do what he said. Maybe it was how enticing his smile was, like you were seeing something he didn't show to just anybody, despite it being an almost permanent feature on his twin. It felt strange to you, the way you could take one look at Jake and feel something shift inside of you. Maybe he just had a way with people.

You sighed as you dropped your eyes back to the table.

"Thank you," you said with more sincerity than you had yet spoken to him.

He had the same sincerity in his voice as he answered, "You're welcome."

'He shouldn't have had to do it,' you thought silently to yourself. 'He shouldn't have had to have that conversation with your father: his wife of several hours sleeping with a man who wasn't him.'

He wasn't even angry, not that you could tell. And as you sipped your cocktail, you silently reprimanded yourself for having done it. You still loved Danny, you still wanted him. But on your wedding night? You owed Jake a bit more than that. You at least owed him an apology.

There was another silent moment as you each awkwardly sipped your drinks before you finally spoke again.

"I feel like maybe I should apologize…" you began hesitantly, stopping just shy of what exactly it was you were sorry for before you forced yourself to press on, "for our wedding night…" You trailed off in embarrassment.

His eyes were warm though as he shook his head, their usual hue of brown downturned slightly on the outer corners, marking a steady gaze that never wavered.

"Nothing to apologize for."

You probably should have pressed the subject, actually apologized. But instead, you nodded and silently agreed to drop it, changing the topic after a moment as the silence between you grew tense and a bit awkward.

"Are you taking me everywhere Josh took you?" you asked instead, following up after Jake furrowed his brows at the question. "He told me about your trip at the wedding."

He nodded in realization.

"No, not everywhere. That would be weird."

You chuckled.

"Wouldn't want things to be weird," you retorted, the sarcasm thick in your voice as you sipped your second drink.

You ate your dinners in silence, only breaking it for a casual conversation or two, exchanged mostly out of politeness for one another. You didn't shy away from the alcohol though, drinking your martinis diligently as the waiter began to bring refills without question, so much so that by the end of the meal, you were sufficiently intoxicated. One might have even said drunk, and they'd be correct.

And by the time the two of you braved the street to walk the short distance back to the room, Jake was less than sober too. Not quite as liquored up as you, maybe, but closer to his usual state that you saw around his brothers. Jake wasn't one to let you drink alone, after all.

"I guess I could do a whole week of this," you sighed, staring up at the night sky as you walked a bit precariously thanks to the numerous drinks you'd had, made all the more dangerous by the heels you had slipped into before heading out the door earlier.

"Is that you talking or the multiple martinis?" Jake asked from a few steps behind you, watching you twirl dangerously on the cobblestone under the stars.

"Are you implying I don't hold my alcohol well?" you accused as you turned sharply behind you, almost falling over in the process as Jake reached forward to try and steady you.

"Well, you are making me nervous in those heels," he breathed.

You shook his hand off with a brush of your arm, "Pfft, I'm fine," your words only slurring a little.

You turned back to the street ahead of you, Jake not far behind by the sound of his voice, following a bit closer now thanks to your near-fall.

"You really are stubborn, you know that?" he said, amusement somewhere in his voice.

"Am not," you retorted loudly, earning a laugh from Jake.

"Oh, how mature."

You turned to face him again, ready to give him an eye roll but instead tripping over a stone jutting out from the sidewalk beneath you, sending you straight into Jake's arms as your own sought for something to catch yourself on. Jake was the nearest something, catching you against his chest.

"Okay, this isn’t working," he lamented, steadying you with two hands at your elbows as you peeled yourself away from his warmth to stand straight.

But then he was gone, sinking to his knees before you even realized what was happening as you yelped out a low curse and grabbed his shoulders, now level with your hips, to keep from tipping over.

"Hey, what are you doing?" You squealed as you felt him lifting your ankle and removing your heel.

"Trying to prevent you from breaking an ankle," he mumbled from beneath you as he lifted your other ankle to remove your second shoe.

When he finally stood back up, he had both shoes in one fist, leaving you barefoot on the cobblestone, not too cold against your feet in your inebriated state.

"Now my feet are going to get dirty," you pouted, looking down at your bare toes against the pavement.

"Oh I'm sorry, would you like me to carry you back?"

There was heavy sarcasm in his voice, heavier than the amusement in his voice although both were quite palpable. Equally unappreciated, however.

"Ew, no," you scowled at him, but he took your hips in his hands and turned you to face the direction you were previously walking.

"Then walk,” he insisted, his lips close to your ear over your shoulder. “We're almost there."

He let his hands fall away from your body as he picked up his stride next to you. And you trudged on begrudgingly, your only protest a muttered, “Pushy,” that you were almost certain he rolled his eyes at silently.

Thankfully it was a short walk against the stone growing colder under your feet the longer you walked. The warmth of the townhome was welcome as you threw your coat off and immediately situated yourself by the minibar to make yourself another drink, not eager to sober up and face the first night of your honeymoon, the first night you would spend alone with Jake.

You hadn’t realized how terrified you had been about the idea of it until you were standing in the corner, sipping a terribly-made martini in the dress he had had made for you, watching him strip himself of his coat and boots to reveal a bare chest and the glinting silver medallion you had made more eye contact with than with the actual person wearing it. Your intoxication could only prolong whatever was to come, the awkward ‘goodnights’ and lingering gazes as your chest rose with nerves and the bed became all too present in the room. You weren’t ready to face it all. But as long as you stayed drunk, you felt confident Jake would keep his distance. That was what you wanted, after all.

Wasn’t it?

"Am I that insufferable?"

You hadn’t even realized he had turned to face you from where he stood across the room until he was speaking, questioning your choice of sobriety, or lack thereof.

"Yes, you are," you said absently as you leaned against the small wooden liquor cabinet that sat snugly behind you, your drink not far from your lips, even as he approached you, whispering a low, “Ouch,” though it didn’t seem to actually hurt him based on the expression on his face.

You didn’t have the nerve to tell him why you were really drinking. It felt too embarrassing an admission.

‘I’m afraid you’ll touch me if I’m sober.’

You could barely face it yourself. Not to mention, the thought of being there without Danny, the thought of turning the trip into an actual honeymoon all while Danny mourned the loss of your touch from far away? You were drinking to stay afloat. You were drinking to hold yourself together. And, as backwards as it sounded, you were drinking to stop yourself from making a mistake.

You owed Danny more. You owed Jake more too. And somehow, you seemed to be succeeding in pushing them both away. Maybe if you stayed drunk long enough, you’d be in no state to make a further mess of things.

"Fine, you're not really that insufferable,” you admitted with your eyes on your drink. “Annoying, sure, but not insufferable."

He met you where you stood, your fingers wrapped around the stem of your martini glass and your eyes focused on the olive floating across the top of the drink, expertly avoiding his gaze like you were about to make a discovery if you only focused hard enough on your drink.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked as he gazed down at you, still getting no look in return, even as he reached behind you for the bottle of tequila resting on the cabinet top, uncorked it, and took a long swig, never letting his eyes drop from your face.

You felt like your cheeks were aflame under his searing gaze.

"It physically pained me," you answered, quickly downing the rest of your drink and setting the empty glass on the tiny bar behind you.

He always stood so close, like he enjoyed making you nervous. He was certainly making you nervous now.

With one hand, his pointer finger hooked beneath your chin, raising your face and forcing you to look up at him. Even so, you had trouble returning his gaze, intense as it was. He had a light smile on his lips, somewhat smug, that grew the longer he watched your eyes shift nervously, chewing the inside of your lip and breathing in deeply with a sigh. But then his single finger was replaced with a firmer grip, his fingers curling around your chin to hold you in place as he brought his face closer to yours, letting his thumb swipe over your cheek just briefly before his lips parted with a barely audible breath.

"You drink to hide from me," he said, his voice quiet but still laced with amusement, like he was simultaneously giving you a hard time for getting drunk in his presence yet again while also trying to let you know that he saw what you were doing.

Regardless, his words had stunned you into silence, even more so given the gentleness of his touch, almost intimate with the way his eyes, heavier than normal thanks to the alcohol he himself had consumed, drifted down from your eyes to follow soft lines along your face. And all you could manage was a shaky exhale with parted lips.

"We should get some sleep," he said finally, filling the silence. And then he added, with a smirk that replaced the more intimate of his expression, "Need help out of that dress?"

There was implication behind the question but given the state you were in, you doubted it was anything but his normal flirtatious self. And it shook you from your dreamlike silence as he dropped his hand from your chin down to the wooden liquor cabinet next to your hip.

"You can unzip it, actually," you answered softly, before adding, a bit more sternly, "Only unzip it."

You splayed your palm flat against his bare chest to push him backward a step, giving you enough space to turn to face the zipper of the dress toward him. But instead of his hands reaching for the zipper, you felt his fingertips then his palms glide from your wrists slowly up the sides of your arms, grazing your skin just enough to raise the hair on your arms and incite a gentle gasp from your lungs.

He trailed one hand up to your shoulder while the other traveled back down the way it came until it rested at your hip. And as his hand grazing your shoulder traveled up to your neck, wrapping delicately around your throat, your eyes fluttered closed and you practically lost your breath altogether.

Your mind went blank, the only thought occupying your mind, the only thing you could feel, it was Jake.

"Ask nicely." His breath was hot against your neck as he whispered against your skin, his lips almost touching you and threatening to ignite a fire that wouldn't be easily put out.

"Unzip it, please," you tried again, arousal behind your still pointed tongue, breathy as your words had been.

Your stubbornness earned a light squeeze of his hand still wrapped around your throat as he tipped your back onto his shoulder.

"I’m starting to think you don’t know how to be nice."

His words were reprimanding but the way his thumb stroked lazily across the side of your neck felt much more like a reward than a punishment.

Maybe the alcohol had been a bad idea. But it was his damn hands, touching you so delicately but so purposefully, that left you wanting more of him.

You could practically feel the heat radiating off of his skin and even with your eyes still closed, you lolled your head to the side toward the warmth, searching for skin as you struggled to breath evenly. But he seemed just out of reach.

“Prove me wrong, Mrs. Kiszka,” he whispered, his breath fanning across your face now.

It came out as more of a whine the third time you asked.

"Please, Jake, will you unzip my dress for me?"

It seemed to appease him as his hand moved to grip your jaw, holding your face in its place as his other snaked up from your hip to the top of your zipper at your back, working it down slowly, leaving your back exposed. And when the zipper reached the end of its path and you felt his hand lie flat against the small of your back, nothing separating your skin from his touch, you finally opened your eyes to meet his. He was staring at you intently, his eyes fixed to your lips, looking like he wanted to do something he wasn't willing to do just then. And he was silent; in fact, you both were, save for the sound of breathing much more exerted than one might have expected.

If you had been capable of speaking, capable of voicing your deepest desires, you might have told him to do it, to do what he so clearly wanted to do. But you were paralyzed there, waiting for Jake to resolve the battle in his mind and make a choice as your eyes dropped to his lips, soft and pink and inviting.

And then he did make his choice, releasing you from his embrace to move across the room silently, picking a record seemingly at random and setting it to spin on the record player, leaving you utterly breathless where you stood.

"I'm gonna…wash my feet," you exhaled finally as you disappeared into the bathroom, not a clear thought in sight.

—

Just as Lily had forced you into ridiculous wedding night lingerie, she had done her part to ensure you only had equally ridiculous garments to wear each night of your honeymoon. But considering the fact that Jake had already seen you naked, you decided to just pick one at random to sleep in, emerging from the bathroom donned in a mess of black mesh and stretchy straps strategically placed. It looked absurd, really. Not to mention, it had been a nightmare to get into in your inebriated state and reminded you of the night you had spent with Danny after your wedding, a night you were determined not to think about for the remainder of the trip that was to be your honeymoon.

Jake’s gaze certainly helped you forget Danny’s as he caught you leaving the bathroom just in time to get a good look from the front, a pillow almost falling out of his hands involuntarily as he stood in front of a mess of bedding piled on the floor at the foot of the bed.

At least someone was getting enjoyment out of Lily’s actions.

“Goddamn,” he breathed quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear if you hadn't been watching his lips, his eyes falling down your body so slowly you could have sworn he was committing everything he was seeing to memory, not missing any detail. If you hadn’t been drunk, you might have blushed.

“My sister didn’t actually pack me any pajamas," you explained, looking down at yourself. "Only outfits about as ridiculous as this one.”

"Shame to be sleeping on the floor," he mumbled, barely tearing his eyes from your body to continue setting up his makeshift bed.

"Oh. I thought that was a joke."

You hadn’t meant to sound disappointed but with the alcohol in your system and your most recent brush with Jake’s hands, the thought of him on the floor, well, it wasn’t where you wanted him. And the bed seemed cold without him. You almost felt cold without him.

"You gonna get lonely by yourself in that big bed?" he jested over his shoulder as he spread a blanket out on the floor.

You turned to look at the bed, turning back to look at his bed on the floor. It looked way less comfortable, even given your drunk state and the swaying behind your eyes. You couldn't help but feel bad.

"You could probably just…sleep in bed with me…" you trailed off quietly, quickly adding, "if you wanted."

He straightened to face you and shook his head.

"I don't make it a habit to sleep with drunk women."

"I'm not a woman, I'm your wife."

Your assertion pulled a genuine laugh from his lungs.

"My mistake," he said with a smile, turning back to the task of fixing his own bed.

You couldn’t help but shuffle in your place awkwardly as you tried again.

"I'll feel bad if you're shivering on the floor all night."

"I'll hardly be shivering."

Finally you rolled your eyes at his persistence, letting out a loud sigh.

"You don't make any sense," you complained with a shake of your head.

But Jake only chuckled as he stood again and met you where you stood, taking your shoulders in his hands and backing you up to one side of the bed, using a hand to untuck the duvet there making space for you to get in.

"One second you're coming onto me, the next you're refusing to sleep in a perfectly large bed next to me," you continued as if he hadn’t done anything at all, all while he stood and stared down at you with an amused smile on his face, much to your dismay.

"Which do you prefer?" he asked when you finally finished.

You shrugged. "I don't know, probably you coming onto me honestly, it makes more sense than this." You gestured widely to Jake and the bed where he had untucked the covers for you and he nodded in understanding.

"I'll keep that in mind,” he promised. “Now would you please get in bed?"

You didn’t move but rather gave him a disapproving look that he responded to with an eye roll and a sigh.

"If you can ask me sober to sleep in the same bed with you, then I'll do it."

It seemed like a promise given the sincerity on his face as he said it, enough to incite a silent nod from you, reluctant as it was. But he seemed satisfied as he dropped his arms and retreated back to the floor at the foot of the bed. And you watched as he stripped down to his boxer briefs, noting the way he left his necklace on, before he sank to his knees and crawled into the space between the sheet lying on the floor and the heavier blanket lying on top.

Reluctantly you followed suit, climbing into bed, in the space Jake had made for you, sighing as you stared at the empty expanse of bed next to you.

You weren’t sure how you were feeling really, other than feeling like you needed another drink. Truthfully, you felt alone. Although why, you weren’t sure. There was the obvious, of course, feeling like your father had dictated your life for you without any regard for what it was you wanted. There was Danny’s absence, too. That one especially hurt. Now, the loneliness felt so heavy, like it was physically lying next to you, weighing down the better half of the bed. Only you weren’t alone, not really. Forced to be with someone you didn’t love was still being with someone, especially considering you weren’t exactly repulsed by the man.

But he was on the floor and you felt a million miles away.

"To be honest with you, I haven't slept alone this much in I don't know how long,” you blurted out amongst the silence. “Danny was always just…there. Even when we were kids. He was afraid of the dark so we'd always sleep with a flashlight under the covers together."

You smiled to yourself at the memory of the first night Danny had climbed up the terrace to your balcony and knocked at your window at the age of nine. It had startled you from a book you’d been hiding under your pillow to keep your mother from reprimanding you about bedtime, reading it with a flashlight under the cover of your duvet. You had tiptoed over to the balcony doors to swing one open quietly and let the curly haired boy in.

“We can sleep with my flashlight under the covers. Then it won’t be dark!” you had assured Danny with a big smile.

He’d given you an apprehensive look.

“Do you promise?” he had asked.

“Don't you trust me?” you had asked in return.

He had suddenly beamed with a nod and that was how you had spent most nights after, keeping each other safe.

Jake didn’t say anything and for a moment you wondered if maybe he had fallen asleep already. But you continued anyway.

"I know it's stupid, I'm an adult woman,” you said quietly against the silence, the record having spun to its finish not long ago. “I'm capable of sleeping alone."

Jake spoke up then, his voice gravelly with his usual sound plus the alcohol and sleep weighing over top of it.

"It's not stupid. We get used to having people around."

He was right though you didn’t want to dwell on it. You might not have returned from that deep hole of thoughts.

“You sound like your twin,” you said instead, a jest though your tone didn’t show it.

"He's better at this than I am."

"Okay, I'll call him then."

"Don't even think about it."

"Calm me down then. It is your job, after all."

He sighed a moment before speaking.

"Well if I were Josh, I would say the space next to you isn't empty, it's just not yet filled or some shit like that."

"And if you were you?" you questioned him.

"If I were me,” he started in a low voice, “I'd say I was sorry for the empty space. I'd say…I know I can't fill it the way you want it to be filled and that I wish I could for your sake.”

You could have won an award for the guilt you felt.

“But then I'd take notice of how good you look sleeping in the very middle,” he continued, “and I'd say it sounds like everyone sharing a bed with you previously was just taking up space."

"If I were Sam, I'd say 'corny'," you joked to avoid the heavier of his words. And the regret you felt for having treated him the way you had thus far.

"If I were you, I'd watch your pretty little mouth," he reprimanded, his tone matching yours as you heard the smile on his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile back, up at the ceiling, at the disembodied voice floating up to you from the floor at your feet.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"I'm gonna kick you out of that bed and make you take the floor."

"Not a very nice way to talk to your wife."

You heard him shuffle in his makeshift bed with a chuckle.

"Says the woman who argues with me about everything."

"I can't help it, you're just so easy to be mad at."

"Are you saying it's my fault you're a brat?"

You scrunched your nose up at the word he had now used a second time, an expression he couldn’t see although he could certainly hear the playfulness in your voice as you challenged him.

"Are you saying you don't enjoy it even a little?"

It was the first time you had stunned Jake into silence, usually the one to be at a loss for words at his bravery. And you smiled to yourself as you heard his breath catch, unsure of how to respond until he finally did after a pause.

"You've been spending too much time with me."

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips as you rolled onto your side, smiling at the quiet laugh you heard from the floor.

You might have wanted to spend more time with him alone, if it could always be like this.

—

The trip lasted a week, a much shorter week than you had been anticipating at the start, and certainly much shorter than you had been expecting it to feel when your father first delivered the news to you over breakfast and a newspaper. It seemed Italy was made for you and Jake, traipsing all over to take in the sights by day after late mornings and later breakfasts, dinners in dim restaurants by night reading over menus with hardly any words you could pronounce. Though it didn’t much matter as Jake had taken to ordering for you. And the wine and martinis never stopped flowing.

You had spent the week wandering around small Italian cities with Jake wearing expensive shoes and dresses he had picked out for you, sometimes tipsy and swaying into Jake for support, sometimes leaning on him despite being sober. It was almost impossible not to feel some type of romance there, even if you weren’t in love with Jake. With each passing day, his gaze lingered a little longer, his touch hovered a little bit closer to the body, and you let him in a little more, over time.

You told him over brunch one morning about your relationship with Lily, strained by how little the two of you had in common and made worse by your mother’s passing.

In an art museum, he had caught you gazing up at a wall-sized painting of Mother Mary and baby Jesus. He had asked about your mother as you stared up at the large maternal figure shrouded in gold. You had told him about how she had been before she got sick. And how she had been after, just before you had lost her altogether.

And over dinner, you had explained to him your desire to take over the family business, obscure and dangerous as it was. Just the thought of it thrilled you. But more importantly, it made you feel close to your mother. It had been hers, after all.

But despite the way you felt yourself growing closer to him and him to you, even in your more sober states, you didn’t ask him to sleep with you. And each subsequent night, he took the floor silently.

And then suddenly it was your last night there, the night having approached all too fast, and you found yourself sitting in front of what was to be your last dinner in Italy in a dark corner of a beautiful little restaurant where the privacy was abundant and the portions were small, sharing a dessert with Jake who seemed to be eyeing you more than the chocolate on the plate in front of him.

"I don’t think it was the company that made your trip so great,” you started as you licked chocolate mousse from your fork, quickly adding, “Not that Josh isn’t. I think there’s just something about this place."

He eyed you carefully, not digging into the dessert nearly as much as you did, seemingly more content to watch you eat it.

"It's a magical place,” he agreed, his eyes fixed to you intently as he finished, “It draws you in."

You could feel the weight of his words as you met his eyes, breathing in deeply as you set your spoon down with a silent nod before lifting your eyes back up to his.

You watched as he dropped his gaze to his drink, swirling it on the table as he fiddled with the glass.

"I hope this wasn't too painful for you," he continued quietly as he studied the ice cube melting in his whiskey.

"You know…” you shifted to stare down at your hands now in your lap, “I actually had a semi-decent time.” You chuckled lightly to yourself. “Almost sorry to be leaving so soon. Don’t get many vacations."

You lifted your eyes again to his face, now with an almost uncertain expression that looked a bit unusual on him, cool and calm as he was. You watched him swallow down what looked like nerves before he pursed his lips and met your stare.

"We still have tonight."

It felt like some sort of offer if you were willing to take it. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t willing.

Your eyes flickered to his lips for a moment, drifting back up slowly as he pushed the question your way.

"Should we go back to the room?"

You nodded without pause and before you knew it, Jake was helping you into your coat, his hands lingering around your neck as he helped pull your hair out from under your collar before the two of you ventured into the night together silently.

It was a short walk that brought you both back to the townhome, shirking off coats hesitantly, all too aware of the other’s presence, him watching you, you watching him.

"Are you tired?" he asked, his voice reaching out to you across the small room where he stood.

You leaned against the wall opposite him, your eyes fixed to the floor as you shook your head.

"No, not really," you answered in a quiet voice that he would have had to lean in to hear if the room weren't so quiet otherwise.

He mimicked your position and leaned against the wall nearest him, the nerves seemingly melting from his face back in the comfort of the room, in the presence of only you.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered quietly, rain beginning to patter at the window just as softly.

You watched as he moved to set a record spinning lazily on the rickety turntable in the corner of the room, sending quiet, static-shrouded notes into the air filling the space between you both. And then he turned to face you, not moving from his place across the room but rather, holding his arm outstretched, his hand open with his palm facing the ceiling, a gesture willing you across the room to meet him.

He wanted you to go to him. And you did.

You took his hand a bit hesitantly, gaining confidence only as he moved away from the wall and pulled you in gently, setting his hand flat at the small of your back while his other lifted your hand up in the air off to the side.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice small like the music drifting from the record player and the light patter of rain at the window.

You only nodded, bringing your left hand up to his shoulder to rest there.

You must have looked timid in his eyes. You certainly felt timid. It was the charge in the air, the anticipation of something to come, though you weren’t entirely sure what that something would be. You felt it though and judging by the way Jake’s arm snaked further across your back as he pulled you in flush with his chest, he felt it too.

If he could hear your heart pounding in your chest, he didn’t let on. But you felt it throughout your entire body practically, beating a bit faster than normal. Your chest rose and fell a bit faster than normal too, though you felt like you were scarcely breathing as you felt his breath fan lightly across the side of your face as he moved in closer.

You were still swaying to the music, sure, but it might as well have been dead silent in the room, the both of you at a standstill, the way the tension electrified the air. It was the only thing you could focus on really. Well, that and his hands. But his hands were certainly adding to the tension.

Even before you had discovered his passion for stringed instruments, even before he had said more than 50 words to you, you had known he was driven by his hands. But it was different now actually being beneath his touch. It was different than watching him delicately turn up flowers to smell them. It was different than watching him swirl a glass of whiskey under his nose. With his hands on you now, you felt like the object of his desires. And as sinful as it felt to admit it, for whatever reason, in that moment you wanted to be. Maybe it was the distance you had put between yourself and home. It was more intimate here, after all. Safer.

"Tell me what you’re thinking," he asked in a whisper, his face still turned in toward your ear, threatening to close the distance between his lips and the spot on your neck just behind your ear at your hairline.

Your own face drew tantalizingly close to his neck, your arm wrapping tighter around his shoulders, bringing you closer. And of course there were his hands, yet again pulling you impossibly close to him, the hand at your back dipping now to your opposite hip and drawing downward toward the top of your thigh.

“Nothing,” you breathed out in a low, unsteady voice, the air having grown far too thin for you to form more words. It left you feeling dizzy.

“Don’t lie to your husband,” he returned sternly, not in any way that led you to believe he was mad at you. No, it was like he knew how it made you feel in the pit of your stomach. Like he knew that it would ignite something within you, something that you didn’t even quite understand yourself. But the fuse had been lit.

“Y-your hands,” you stammered out, an admission you weren’t quite sure why you gave. But there was no going back now.

"My hands?" he parroted back in an almost mocking tone. Certainly something not too far off. Smug at the very least. It shouldn’t have sent electricity buzzing down your spine the way it did.

"You only ever touch me when you're trying to learn something,” you continued, fighting to form tangible thoughts as the tip of his nose connected with your cheek and grazed gently along your skin, down along your jaw and up to your ear. “Y-you learn with your hands."

“How very perceptive of you,” he whispered against your ear before dropping his hand from yours in your dance and moving it to join his other against your body, starting at your shoulder blade and running down to your hip.

“Do you want to know what I’m learning right now?” he questioned you.

It was an enticing question and you managed nothing more than a nod.

He began in another whisper, "That you…" this time letting his lips graze the skin along your jaw, just barely, "like to be touched. Even though it scares you."

By the time he had dragged his lips down your neck and you felt the heat of his breath swallowing your neck, the hollow point near your collarbone, your eyes had fluttered closed and your head had inadvertently fallen back slightly, allowing him better access to your neck, if he chose to act on what he seemed moments away from doing.

"It doesn't-” you tried to argue, losing your train of thought almost as quickly as it had come, “it doesn't scare me."

"No?" he asked in that same smug tone that had laced between his words earlier.

You shook your head with a barely audible, “No,” not nearly as convincing as you had hoped it would be. To be fair, you weren’t in much of a state to defend yourself, your body practically begging him to put his mouth on you already, to put you out of your misery.

"So you don't want me to stop?"

No. You didn’t want him to stop. So why couldn’t you say it?

"I…" you trailed off, falling into your thoughts for the first time since he had laid his hands on you and your mind had practically gone blank.

"Y/n, tell me if I should stop," he tried again, his lips doing more than just grazing your skin now while his hands moved into your hair to pull your head back further, better exposing your neck to his desperate lips, but still just barely out of reach.

'I don’t want you to stop,' you thought to yourself. That was all you had to say. But the words couldn’t seem to make it past your throat, the lack of moisture burying your ability to speak.

"Jake, I…" you started again, losing the words once more as his hands pulled your hair just a bit harder, aggravating pleasure while you still desperately sought coherence.

As thoughts swam through your mind, Jake dropped a hand from your hair and brought it down to your neck, lifting your chin delicately with his thumb all while he walked you slowly backward to the wall, the back of your head hitting with a delightful thud.

"If you can't use your words, I'm stopping."

It felt like a threat even though you knew why he had said it. But still, it evoked a desperate, “No,” from your lips, even as your thoughts suddenly turned to Danny, having practically been shaken free as your head had connected with the wall.

"No, what?" he pushed.

You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted Danny to look away.

“Fuck…Jake, don't stop."

Jake was still for a moment, letting his thumb swipe gently across the underside of your chin, before he tilted your head further back, letting his lips slowly, finally, connect with your skin, like a sigh of relief as he gently kissed the crook of your neck.

It practically lit your skin on fire, feeling his lips finally on you, though you still longed for more, practically needed more. His name was there on your tongue too as you plead with him, impatient and needy and sober, what you had been afraid of the whole trip, even if it was the last thing on your mind as his mouth trailed higher, up to your jaw and then to your cheek and finally to the corner of your mouth. That was where he paused as he took your chin in his hand and angled your face towards his.

Without any sense of urgency behind his actions, he let his lips brush against yours as he parted them, your breaths practically mingling into one as you waited for him to close the short distance and press his mouth against yours.

And then he did, pushing his nose against yours and pulling your face back by a hand in your hair as he connected your lips in a kiss that earned an almost immediate moan from your throat.

It wasn’t like any of your prior kisses, not by any metric. He felt like air in your oxygen-deprived lungs, even as he kissed the breath from your body. It felt dangerously good.

You felt like you could scarcely breathe as he took hold of your face with one hand cradling the back of your neck as the other tightened its grip in your hair to hold you in place while his mouth worked against yours a bit more urgently, a bit more desperately.

Your own hands couldn’t decide between undressing him or pulling him closer so you settled with lacing your fingers around the material of his mostly unbuttoned shirt as he deepened the kiss, using his grip in your hair to tilt your head back a bit further, a tight tug that earned a groan from you at the sensation sending electricity through your head and down your neck.

You pulled him harder into you, as close as you could possibly bring him as you lost yourself in the way he tasted, sweet and sinful, the way he smelled, musky and safe. And as you pushed your tongue past his lips, licking along the roof of his mouth in one quick motion before tasting him, the smallest of sounds pushed past his throat, a sound that would be ingrained in your memory for the rest of time, a sound you would have tattooed on your body if you could have. And suddenly you realized it: you wanted him, in a way you weren’t sure you had ever wanted Danny.

It might have given you pause, the thought of Danny. But so far away, in a place that hardly felt real, you swallowed your guilt and remorse, and melted into Jake as he pulled you from the wall, headed toward the bed.

‘Don’t think, just do,’ you told yourself, letting your hands drop to the buttons on his shirt without letting your lips leave his.

But you only successfully undid one button before his hands stopped yours, even as his mouth fell from your lips back to your neck, the wet spot between your legs growing wetter.

He gathered both of your wrists behind your back in one hand before tangling his hand further in your hair and pulling hard, leaving room for him to suck a spot on your neck that had you gasping for breath and whispering his name against the quiet. But as the backs of your legs met the mattress, you wrangled your wrists free to pivot Jake toward the bed instead, pushing him into a sitting position on the mattress as you moved to straddle his lap, his erection growing visible in his jeans.

Your lips mimicked his movements, starting on his and dipping down along his jaw, finally dropping to his neck where you nipped lightly before placing open-mouthed kisses across his skin. The sounds he made spurred you on as you ground your hips down on him, relishing in the heat that flared through you as he moaned at the contact.

You kissed lower, down to his collarbone, intent to make your way down to his chest, but before you could reach, Jake hissed your name from beneath you, sounding something like a warning.

"Y/n, we don't have to do this," he tried again as you trailed back up to face him.

"I know," you answer breathlessly with an absent nod, your lips attaching to his neck again.

But he didn’t let it die. Actually, it sounded like he was using all of his strength just to speak against the pleasure of your mouth against his skin, hot and now covered in a light sheen of sweat.

"No I-I mean, we sh…fuck…we shouldn't do this,” he gasped out while his hands dropped to your hips to slow your movements against his lap. “I don't want you to do something you'll regret tomorrow."

"I won't regret it," you insisted, moving your face and maneuvering his with your hand under his jaw to catch his mouth again.

He kissed you back, pushing forward to meet you, a gentle noise escaping his lips as his hands moved back up to your face, back into your hair to hold you there.

You let his mouth explore yours for a moment before working back to your bravery and dropping one hand into his lap to palm his erection through his jeans.

He broke the kiss with a frustrated, “Goddammit,” before he flipped you both over to move into a hover over you, your back pressed into the mattress and your wrists pinned next to your head as he dipped down to kiss you greedily.

But despite his earlier protests, you felt his hips grind down into yours as you both moaned into each other at the sensation, pressure pooling deep in your stomach as you felt him where you wanted him but too clothed for how you wanted him.

But it was short lived as he reluctantly pulled away again with a jaw clenched tight and eyes screwed shut.

“Fuck, I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have started this.”

"Then finish it," you whispered, lifting to try and capture his lips again as he stopped you by dragging your wrists up above your head, ruining your leverage.

"No," he shook his head, still tangibly struggling, it seemed, to stop himself from continuing what he had started.

But it didn’t make any sense. All the times he had cornered you, all the times he had touched you like the only goal behind his actions was to feel you melt in his hands, all the innuendos and smug looks.

"I am giving myself to you, Jake,” you breathed. “I thought this was the whole plan."

He shook his head again, lifting himself off of you to sit between your legs with an expression on his face that looked…regretful.

"No, not this.” He pursed his lips as he panted to catch his breath. “This wasn't the plan."

You felt your frustration grow, lack of understanding and vulnerability wrapped into a single emotion. But more than that, you felt guilt and shame spread through your body like wildfire, replacing the heat that was there before.

"I don't understand. All of this stuff about wooing me-"

"It doesn't feel right, y/n,” he cut you off as you sat up to look at him. “You're far from home, it doesn't feel real here and I think that's why you're letting yourself do this."

With one angry movement you shoved him out of your way, practically jumping from the bed and retreating back to the wall as anger and hurt flowed through your body.

"Are you serious right now? Asking me if I wanted you to stop and now telling me I don't actually want it?"

"I shouldn't have pushed this so far, y/n, I'm sorry."

He stood to follow you though he moved hesitantly. But in his eyes, you could tell that he felt bad. In fact, his eyes pleaded his case, pleaded out a desperate apology that you were too red-hot to care about.

"Is that what this is? You get to tell me I'm marrying you, tell me what to do, you get to tell me how I feel now too? Just another decision being made for me?"

"Y/n, that's not what this is," he tried, barely getting the words in as you continued with little regard for him trying to calm you down.

"I mean, is this some kind of game? Get me to want to have sex with you just to prove that you can?"

You cut him off despite the fact that you felt yourself spiraling, not about not having sex with him either. You felt yourself spiraling about all of it, about getting so close to it, about wanting it. But more than anything, you felt yourself spiraling about all of the decisions that had led you there, all of the hurt you had caused, and all of the confused feelings you just couldn’t seem to shake. And Jake just happened to get the brunt of it.

And even though you felt on the verge of tears, struggling to hold the more embarrassing emotion back, as Jake took a step toward you, you snapped at him.

"No, don't come near me," you all but yelled in a dangerous warning as you retreated a step to match his.

He looked hurt. He looked sorry. And even so, your warning did nothing to stop him from taking another weary step toward you with his hands raised the way they had been in his bedroom when you had yelled at him there.

"Y/n…" He tried to sound calm, tried to look calm even, but it did nothing to ease you as you felt your thin thread of sanity begin to snap.

"I don't w-want you," you gasped out as your voice began to break, the dam threatening to spill.

"Y/n, I'm not trying to hurt you," he promised with sad eyes.

"Well you are!" you yelled back as tears began to steadily stream down your cheeks as you did nothing to stop the emotion from falling. "You are hurting me!"

You recoiled with each step he took but he reached you regardless, taking both your wrists in one hand and pulling you into his chest where, shrouded in his warmth and remorse, you broke down into a sob.

Even as you broke down against him, feeling your legs buckle beneath the weight of your pain as you practically sank into the floor, Jake followed you, moving his hands up to your hair to hold your head tightly against him, letting his thumb run lines behind your ear as he pressed his cheek to the top of your head.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered as he rocked you there on the floor.

‘Danny will never forgive you.’

It played in your mind on a loop.

‘Danny will never forgive you.’

You had never really cried that way in front of anyone. You’d never totally lost yourself in front of anyone before. But you lost yourself in Jake’s arms. And he held you up.

Even as your tears began to wane, your sobs turned into gentle heaves as you fought to catch your breath and dry your eyes seemingly hours later, he still held you there, only lifting you when you had fully settled to wrap your legs around his waist and carry you back to the bed where he lifted the covers and turned his eyes back up to yours, your legs still wrapped around his waist as he held you.

Silently, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear with more delicate a touch than you deserved. And even given how embarrassed you were at the outburst of emotion you had put on display for him, you sniffed out a question, desperate for a yes.

"Stay with me? Please?"

He let his thumb trail along your cheek for a quiet moment, before nodding and bending carefully to sit you on the bed, prompting you to raise your arms so he could lift your dress over your head.

He pulled the covers back, tucking you in before he followed suit on the other side of the bed, crawling in and drawing you to him without any hesitation.

You rolled into him without another word, retreating to the safety of his warmth and embrace.

Taglist: @lvnterninthenight @gretasmokerising @jordierama @allthatyouneedisinyoursoul

#jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiszka #josh kiszka #greta van fleet #gretavanfleet #gvf #greta van fic #fic #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka fic #josh kiszka fic #sam kiszka fic #danny wagner fic #danny wagner smut #jake kiszka smut #valence

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password-door-lock · 8 months

Note

I NEED to see more interactions with saeran and his fans, they were so funny

[Okay! I'm always down to write more about idol Unknown. Enjoy!]

Unknown sends you the same text that he always sends when he’s about to initiate a livestream for his fans: going live now. It goes without saying that you leap at the chance to see him, though you have no clue why he feels the need to notify you every time he goes live. This is part of his job, just like the performances he's been giving several nights a week since the beginning of his tour and the ad campaign he did for C&R's teacup subsidiary last month. He’s in a hotel room somewhere in the USA, and a little bit of quick mental math on your part tells you that in the local timezone, it’s either very late or very early, depending on whether he's slept or not. You assume that the oversized T-shirt he’s wearing is part of his pajamas, but per usual, you have no explanation for the leather choker or the studded bracelets. Maybe he considers them an integral part of his brand. He’s eating something out of a takeout container and glaring at the camera: classic Unknown.

You watch as comments flood the box below the video feed. Hi from Brazil! flashes by, along with similar comments from fans who hail from Germany, Canada, South Africa, Singapore, and of course South Korea— and those are just the ones that you're able to catch before they're replaced by new messages from other commenters. You lose track before you can read them all, but you're certain that Unknown has viewers on every continent. Several of his Australian fans are sending him love, also, though a few of them also seem concerned about what time it is for him and why he's apparently going live in the middle of the night. Soon, Unknown is being bombarded with questions about his nocturnal streaming habits from every corner of the globe. “Wow, you’re all happy to see me,” he observes. “You must not have very much going on right now.”

You snort. Be nice, you text him. You watch him smirk as he glances down at his phone, though he offers no verbal or written response. The comment section is dominated by people telling him not to get down on himself, assuring him that these livestreams are the highlight of his fans’ days. “I’m very happy to be here,” Unknown announces, though he doesn’t sound like it.

What city are you in now? someone asks. “Hmmm. What city am I in?” Unknown seems to consider this. He walks to the window and pulls back the curtains, though with how his camera is angled, you can’t see anything but the night sky outside. He closes the window and then sits back down. “No clue.”

His chat fills with people informing him that he just performed the first of three consecutive shows in Detroit— many of these commenters also take the liberty of letting him know how well he did. “You people say I’m in Detroit,” he reports. “That must be right. You all know so much better than I do.” He sounds patronizing, like he’s mocking his fans for knowing his tour schedule— which would be weird coming from any other celebrity, but you’re beginning to think that Unknown’s fans would be confused and alarmed if he didn’t talk down to them. Like the ever-present leather jewelry, the condescension is practically a part of his brand.

Get some rest, please, someone says, you look so tired. “I can’t get any rest,” Unknown explains, picking at his meal with a plastic fork. “I'm busy eating. But I’m getting bored, so you should ask me more questions, hm?” A big part of his role as an idol is fostering connections with fans. If that weren't the case, Unknown probably wouldn't be inviting strangers to pry for information of any kind.

Do you love us? someone has the audacity to ask, though Unknown ignores that comment. Several of his fans tell him how happy they are that he’s getting good meals on tour, and you can’t help but agree— you often worry that Unknown might not be getting enough to eat, whether he’s holed up at home or holed up in a hotel room on another continent. What are you eating? This particular commenter seems to have a better understanding of the types of inquiries that Unknown is willing to entertain. He waves his hand, dismissing the question altogether. “I don’t know. Fries with gravy on it.”

Poutine? several commenters suggest. “Mmhm, maybe.” Despite yourself, you think it’s cute that Unknown somehow managed to acquire an entire takeout container of the dish without knowing what it was. It’s junk food, so there’s no way Rika bought it for him; he must have just gone into a random shop and chosen off the menu, or asked someone from his team to bring it to him. Since he doesn’t have to worry about his permanent address getting leaked by delivery drivers, maybe he feels comfortable ordering takeout to his hotel rooms on tour.

He then returns to scanning his comment section. “What… do you do with all your smashed guitars?” Unknown reads in a low voice. He’s going to be the death of you, and apparently, his fans feel the same, because the chat floods with hearts and heart-eyes emojis. “What’s all the hearts for?” He demands. “I didn’t do anything.” His fans continue sending hearts. “Stop it,” Unknown orders. “I’ll let you know when I want you to send hearts.” The barrage of emojis ends abruptly. The grip that this man has over his chat gives you whiplash.

“Anyway,” Unknown says, “After I smash my guitars, I just leave them at the venue.”

It takes about fifteen seconds for the fans in the chat to start plotting to go try to scrape every venue Unknown has ever played at for leftover smashed-up guitars. You should give them to your fans, someone in the chat suggests. “Why?” Unknown seems genuinely confused, though still patronizing, as always. “What do you want my garbage for?”

The fans seem to be trying their best to explain that they consider every instrument Unknown has destroyed to be an artifact of rock and roll history; he just rocks in his chair and rolls his eyes while he waits for them to finish. “You people are so weird,” he decides. “But if you find one of my old guitars, you should sell it online. Someone will buy it for a lot of money, and you can use that to get a guitar that actually works.” He pauses, apparently to scan the comments again, before returning his attention to his poutine. “Anyway, I’m leaving now,” he announces, apparently bored of the conversation. “I'm too busy for this.”

When he ends the livestream, his fans are still losing their minds about the fact that he actually said something close to goodbye this time. From your understanding, Unknown’s custom is to log off abruptly with no warning, usually offering a sentence or two of cryptic nonsense before doing so. You waste no time in whipping out your phone to text him.

MC: You’re so weird lol

He wastes no time in responding.

Unknown: Maybe, prince(ss)

Unknown: But you love me.

You can practically hear the smug smile in his words— and yet, you don’t have the guts to tell him just how right he is.

#Another addition to the gummy worms cinematic universe #This is set in the middle of the story when Unknown is still on tour #I just don't think Saeran would interact that much with his fans after the end of Gummy Worms tbh #mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 8 months

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Reflections

Chapter Four

Master List / Real People Master List / Reflections Master List

Pairing: Mia MacAlsdair x Au Tom Hiddleston

Warnings: second hand embarrassment, Mia's a badass, confrontations, 18+ Minors do not interact

A/N: I apologize in advance should my Scottish/English interpretations be incorrect. I am Canadian playing in a world of my own making. Do not @ me.

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A month passed swiftly, and Mia settled into her new life with a gracious heart. She knew just how wrong everything could have gone and how blessed she was that it hadn't. The reality was, her blessing was so great, it was almost too good to be true, and for the first week at Ashwood Farm - the name of her grandparents' home - she woke every morning, opened her eyes to the wood and dab ceiling, and sighed in relief because it wasn't a dream.

Once, a very long time ago, the farm ran sheep, but in the last few generations, the MacAlasdairs had moved into acquiring business holdings instead. Still, there were a few horses, a flock of ducks and geese, and a coup of chickens along with Jasper and Eddie - the pair of farm dogs, a golden retriever and a border collie. They were very friendly, and every day, when Mia walked the border fence of stone, they went along with her.

The dogs belonged to Henry, who looked after the animals and grounds. According to Cora, he was in his early forties and a confirmed bachelor. A little gruff around the edges, he wore his beard scruffy and a knit cap pulled low, taming his head of copper curls. He had the physique of a man used to hard labour, and if Mia hadn't recently come out of a disaster of a relationship, his deep voice and fit body might have given her pause, but as it was, she felt little in the way of attraction though the man was good looking. Hazel eyes watched her whenever Mia crouched to pet the dogs or stopped to stroke the horses' soft noses.

He'd introduced himself that first day with almost an annoyed growl, stared hard at the bruises around her eye, then turned on his heel with a command to follow him when Mia asked about her grandfather's woodworking shop.

She expected him to lead her to a quaint little shed, not a miniature stone cabin with big, bright windows. It had a great pot belly stove in the corner, long work benches, shelves, and miles of storage. Though it was currently covered in dust and wood chips, half the cottage seemed dedicated to a lounge area where her grandfather likely sat to read, drink, or spend time with friends in his 'mancave.'

The idea of it made her giggle, and Henry cast her a curious glance, before telling her he could assist in cleaning out the space if she wanted to take it over.

Mia thanked him but ultimately declined. Her grandad's half-finished pieces would remain, though she would put them up on display, and until she knew what to do with them, his tools and extra pieces of wood could be packed up and placed in a corner out of the way.

Within a few days, she had her studio set up between her grandfather's work benches and his sitting room. The long tables would give her a drying area, while the space in the middle had the best light.

Once she was all set and working again, Cora visited under the pretense of bringing her tea - they both knew she was snooping - but Mia didn't mind. But when Cora gasped and gushed over Mia's paintings, exclaiming at what she was seeing, Mia blushed.

She knew they were good, having sold many at craft fairs and gained a few commissions from people she met, but the validation was nice.

Mia painted portraits on mirrors sourced from auctions, thrift stores, yard sales, pretty much anywhere she could buy a decent piece of glass or a pretty frame. She called them Reflections for the care that went into the work, and it was a multi-step process to create.

First, the outline of the portrait was marked, and the underside of the picture was painted. For commissions, she liked to talk with the person about their goals, hobbies, great loves, and the things that filled their soul. Those things were painted on the mirror, but backward, like window painters who created the outline first so the image could be properly seen from the outside.

One had to peek behind the paint to see the inner reflection.

Then, on a second piece of glass, cut to fit the mirror perfectly, she painted the portrait of the individual. She kept them as photo-realistic as possible but did so with bright colours. A portrait could be blue and pink and yellow, orange or green; it really depended on how she felt at the time of the painting or the requests made by the customer.

Then, the pieces were sandwiched together, creating a double effect. One had to look closely to see the inner understanding of a person's soul in the reflection.

It had taken years for Mia to perfect her craft, and she still had to make sure she sourced the correct kind of mirror to give her the depth she needed. She would need to find new suppliers now that she was in Scotland, but there was an auto shop in town that did windshield repair, and upon finding out who she was, the owner appeared happy to deal with her.

Now, a month in, she knew quite a few villagers by name thanks to the shopping trips with Cora, who gleefully introduced her around.

It seemed Cora made bread, pies, and other amazing pastries for the farmers market that took place monthly. Much of the fruit and veg came from the gardens and orchards around the house. When Cora asked if she would still be alright with that, offering the same deal - fifteen percent of her earnings for using the kitchen and harvesting Mia's land - Mia agreed but knocked the price down to ten percent. Cora argued that fifteen was perfectly fair and refused to pay a penny less. Sighing, Mia relented but asked if Cora would mind her tagging along to the market.

This was when Cora somehow convinced Mia to open a booth with her artwork beside Cora's.

And thus, on a blustery May day, Mia - the proud owner of a new pop-up awning - was finishing setting up beside Cora.

They left up two walls on each tent to keep out the wind but kept the ones at the front and between their booths open, just in case Cora got busy and needed a second set of hands.

Mia displayed what she could do around her booth, on tables and hanging from quickly sourced Amazon finds. Some paintings were full-sized in gilt frames, propped on easels, or hanging from hastily erected wire. Smaller paintings, those the size of regular printer paper, sat in cardboard boxes like old records waiting to be flipped through. And still more, pendants Mia painted with hyper-realistic flowers under glass hung from little stands.

Henry hadn't seemed too keen on helping, but Cora browbeat him into packing the truck and getting them to the town square in Kelso early in the morning.

It had been a long time since Mia exhibited, and though she was excited, she was also nervous. Most people now knew she was a MacAlasdair. Would they think she was cheeky for attempting to sell her art at a decent price when she didn't need the money?

Her fears were unwarranted when people began to trickle by. Soon, Cora was doing a hopping business, and Mia was busy talking about what she did and why.

Throughout the morning, she found three people interested in commissions and eagerly handed out hastily made-up business cards.

She just finished up with a woman wondering if she could do something similar to commemorate the loss of her husband's best sheepdog - to which Mia gave an enthusiastic yes, she would love to paint a dog - when Cora called her name.

Friendly smile plastered on, she turned to find a stunning brunette, two young boys - their faces sticky from something sweet and chocolatey - and a tall, strapping man.

"Mia, ye've not met the Hiddlestons of Highpark Castle. This is Emma Bruce, her lads Keegan and Calvin, and Kristopher Hiddleston."

She crossed to stand behind Cora's baked goods covered table and held out her hand to the woman. "It's a pleasure. I see your home every day on my walk."

Emma grinned, her blue eyes bright and sparkling. "I've heard so much about you already! The whole village is buzzing regarding our new Canadian transplant. How are you adjusting?"

Mia laughed and shook the firm grip, smiling at the boys. "Just fine for the most part. There's been a bit of culture shock and a steep learning curve, but I'm figuring it out." She leaned closer and stage whispered, "But if you happen to have a Scot's saying dictionary, I would like to borrow it."

"Ock! Yer fine. Ye always blink like an owl when ye dinnae ken something," Cora huffed.

Emma laughed and winked. "Try being married to one. The brogue gets thick, and even I struggle."

"I did wonder," Mia chuckled, her accent very posh English.

"That's what happens when a Scottish keep ends up in the hands of an English Lord," the man laughed, holding out his hand. "It's a pleasure, Mia. Please, call me Kip. Everyone does. And I must say, I adore what you're doing here."

Hand firmly caught in his, Mia allowed him to tug her back into her booth, where he oozed charm and cooed over her work.

"I would love to have one of these for my fiancée. She would adore it!" he proclaimed, causing Mia to frown.

"Fiancée?" she murmured, glancing at Emma.

Kip snickered. "She's my sister."

"Oh!" Mia blushed. Emma said she was married to a Scot, and Kip was the upper crust side of an English accent, but she and Kip looked nothing alike beyond the bright blue of their eyes.

Emma was short with a petite, curvy frame and dark hair. Kip was tall and fit, more like a runner than a lumberjack. His sandy blond hair had a touch of copper, but not enough to call it strawberry, just enough to make it shine with red lights, even with the grey and cloudy sky hiding the sun.

"Don't trouble yourself, love," he winked, his smile flashing straight white teeth.

"Ignore him, Mia," Emma quipped. "He's just annoyed you're not fawning all over him."

Mia frowned. "Why would I?"

"Ugh! I'm destroyed. My heart will never be the same," the man pouted as Emma's boys laughed.

They looked about seven and ten and immediately made fun of their uncle.

"Looks like your fame hasn't spread to Canada, Uncle Kip!" Keegan snickered.

"Yeah, guess you have to try harder," Calvin giggled.

Kip huffed and playfully locked both boys in headlocks. "Bah! Perhaps Mia doesn't like movies, television, or theatre?"

"I like movies," Mia muttered, still perplexed. "I also like TV."

The boys burst out laughing. "See! Not that famous!"

Kip pouted. "Mia, darling, come on! Throw a man a bone. The Essex Serpent? Crimson Peak? Kong: Skull Island? For pity's sake, woman! Thor Ragnarok?"

"Ragnarok?" Mia tilted her head. "You were in Ragnarok?"

Kip raised his hands, triumphant. "Yes! I played Loki."

She blinked, arched a brow, and scowled. "Oh, you're that guy."

"I beg your pardon?"

Mia sighed and thrust a hand through her hair, muttering, "Odin's one eye," before forcing a smile. "Look, no offence, but I prefer the other guy."

Emma squeaked and slapped a hand over her mouth, but her eyes danced with utter delight.

"Other guy?" Kip asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes, the one in the first two Thor movies and Avengers. I'm not great with actor names, which is probably why I didn't recognize yours, but I never understood why they replaced the other guy. He made an incredible Loki. I was impressed." As was the God he portrayed, though her Loki was still annoyed about the hair. "I thought he put real passion into the role and gave him such depth of emotion. Nothing was more powerful than when he confronted Odin about being a Frost Giant. The utter hurt and betrayal gave me goosebumps. And in Avengers, when he was fighting Thor on the tower, and that single tear trickled down his cheek at sentiment." Mia shook her head. "Magic."

Kip stared, mouth agape, while Emma beamed, and the boys giggled like they had a secret.

"What? I know I can get a little passionate-"

"Tom!" Emma squealed. "It was Tom! Our brother Tom played Loki in the first three movies."

Heat burned through Mia's face. Talk about fawning like an idiot. And to his family, no less.

"Gods, I'm so embarrassed," she groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead.

"No, no, darling," Kip chuckled. "I agree. Tom was a better Loki than me. Would that he could have continued excelling as an actor."

"Unfortunately, our parents passed away unexpectedly," Emma murmured sadly. "The estate and responsibilities fell on Tom as the heir. He gave it all up to come home and take over as Lord of Highpark."

"And allowed me to rise under my own star," Kip smiled gently. "Had he stayed in the industry, I know many of the roles I've won would never have come my way. He put me forth to replace him in many of the parts earmarked for him, and when Ragnarok came up, it was because of our near-identical looks and voice that I was granted that opportunity as well. I owe my brother quite a lot," he murmured, staring at her curiously.

Suspicion caused Mia to squint at him. "What?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. Nothing. Now, back to my commission."

He began talking about his fiancée, going on about how they just had a baby and how she was an actress rising on the Hollywood stage. He spoke about how they met doing Broadway and thought she would adore Mia's work.

With her birthday coming soon, he wanted to surprise her with something unique and special, and Mia's art was right up that alley.

Mia nodded along, making notes on her phone as they went, jotting down everything from the size he desired to her favourite colours to little tidbits Kip doled out about how great of a mom she was and how happy they were together.

The love fest gave Mia a pang in her chest, but she didn't let her smile waver.

Mia handed him a business card and asked him to email her so she could send him her contract and questionnaire. She informed him her commissions were first come, first served, and if he didn't want to wait for his painting to act soon as she already had a few interested parties.

Kip snorted, pulled out his phone, and shot off an email as she stood watching, amused.

Mia's phone pinged. She pulled it from her pocket, read the subject line, and burst out laughing. "Do me first? You're lucky I enjoy a quirky sense of humour."

"I thought you might," Kip snickered, tucking her business card away with his phone before the boys tugged at his hands. "Speak soon, Mia!"

She chuckled along with Cora and Emma as the obviously bored children dragged him away.

"It was a pleasure, Mia. Come by the house one day. We'll have tea. I'd love to get to know you better," Emma smiled. "Any time, any day. I'm usually free."

"I'd like that," Mia agreed. "I'll let you know when Kip's portrait is finished. We can kill two birds."

"Lovely," Emma nodded, giving a little wave as she headed off. "I should rescue Kip before the boys convince him more ice cream before lunch is a good idea."

"Bye!" Mia waved, watching them go.

"So…"

She turned to face a smirking Cora and arched a brow. "What?"

"Familiar with our Tom, are ye?"

Mia's face burned, and she hurriedly turned away. "Stuff it, old woman."

Cora cackled and went to speak with a customer.

In a lull around mid-afternoon, Mia escaped her booth to walk around. Cora assured her she would hand out cards to anyone interested, and said she'd heard Mia's spiel enough times to give the speech herself if necessary but would call her to come back if someone wanted to speak with her.

Mia walked the market with genuine interest, happily stopping to sample what she could where she could or stop and talk to the fibre artists, potters, and wood carvers when they weren't busy with other customers.

She wound up the proud new owner of three gorgeous wool sweaters, a cute purple toque - though she confused the poor woman when she called the knit cap that - and matching mittens. She bought a pair of heavy mugs in a black glaze speckled with white and shot through with smears of colour. They looked like galaxies on clay, and she had to own them. And when she stopped at the wood carvers tent, a bowl of ebony wood with a high polish caught her eye, as did a matching carved raven.

Mia headed back to her booth with her treasures in tow and belly full of samples.

Cora chuckled when she saw her. "I told ye to take a few bags."

"I did!" Mia laughed, tucking her finds under a table out of the way. "I ran out of room. There are just so many talented artisans here. Between the food, the drink, and the art, this could be a dangerous place to come to more than once a month."

Cora chuckled, but her laughter died on a gruff, "Canna help ye?"

Mia rose and turned to see a man in his mid-thirties, with brown hair and eyes, his long black coat twisting around his legs in the wind. He was staring at her, his face a mask of unreadable granite.

Something about him gave Mia the willies.

"Ye want something, Benedict Campell?" Cora snapped.

The man cast her a disdain-filled glance before returning his focus to Mia.

"I came to meet our new resident," the man said, his accent thick.

"Nice to meet you," Mia nodded, even as Cora snorted.

A squint came to his eyes as he studied her before he stepped into Mia's booth. "Yer younger than I thought."

Mia frowned. "Thank you?"

"Braw, too." He took another step toward her.

Mia pressed backward. The man sent chills up her spine.

The quorking of a raven gave her courage, and she straightened her spine. She'd worked in customer service and dealt with worse creeps before. "Is there something you want, sir?"

He arched a brow, amusement curling his lips into a cruel smile. "I was hoping ye would sell Ashwood Farm to me."

Mia crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "Nope."

The other brow joined the first in his hairline. "Surely yer not staying in Kelso?"

"I am, I can, and I will."

"Ye've had yer answer, Campbell. Aff wit ye!" Cora demanded, stepping between them, her brogue thickening.

He sneered at Cora before glaring at Mia. "Think about it. I'll give ye a great price."

Mia snorted. "Gods, no. Please leave."

"Yer makin'-"

Mia stepped around Cora and into the man so aggressively he stepped back in surprise, and she walked him backwards out of her booth.

"My sign is No. My number is No. My answer is No. You need to let it go! Bye-bye now!" Yes, she did just quote a Megan Trainer song. No, she didn't regret it.

Mia wiggled her fingers, cocked her head, and sashayed back into the tent.

"This isn't over."

"Yep. It is. There's nothing that will make me sell the last link I have to my heritage and family, so please, kindly fuck off," Mia smiled sweetly. "Attempt to harass me in any way, and I'll set my lawyers on your mangy ass."

Campbell scowled and stalked off.

"Ock, now ye've done it," Cora snickered.

"Done what?" Mia asked.

"That's Benedict Campbell. He's a high-mucky muck property developer. He's been after Ashwood Farm for years, but yer grandad always told him to feck off, too. So good on ye, but ye may want to give Fergus a call and let him know Campbell's up to his shenanigans again. Fergus had to cease and desist his arse once already."

"I'll do that," Mia murmured, glaring after the asshole.

"Just ken, his da is Kelso's mayor."

Mia sighed and rolled her eyes. "Joy."

"Not to worry. You own the building the mayor's office resides in."

The utter glee Cora took in that fact made Mia laugh. "Well, eviction is always an option."

Cora snickered before eyeing Mia appreciatively.

"What?"

"Ye stood up to him."

Mia shrugged. "Of course. He's just a bully and a chauvinistic pig."

Cora frowned and waved a hand in the direction of Mia's face. "I thought…"

"Oh. Yeah, no. That was a one-off, and after I picked myself off the floor, I threatened Colt with a lamp. I'm not a pushover, but five years of nitpicking beat me down. He was subtle and slow about it. It took taking the hit to wake me up. But no, I spent a lot of years in foster care. You toughen up quick."

"Mia," Cora murmured, pity crawling across her face.

She turned to fuss with the display she knocked over when Campbell caused her to retreat into the table. "It's not like I was abused, but you learn fast to be independent, and yeah, you figure out how to take a punch and throw one."

"Lord, love a duck," Cora muttered before grabbing Mia and yanking her down for a hug. "Well, no more. Ye've family in me now. Me and Henry. We'll look after ye."

"Thank you," Mia sighed. She didn't mean to upset Cora, but sometimes her filter… didn't. "I want you to know I'm really happy here, more so than I thought I would be. And I've met so many people. It's like I finally found… home."

"That's 'cause ye have, lass," Cora murmured. "Ye truly have."

Mia pulled back, her smile damp but still bright. "So… there's a booth at the end where the Anderson kids have a box full of kittens…."

Cora snickered and shook her head. "If yer getting one, get two. They can have a playmate. We'll train 'em to stay off my countertops, but they'll be good to keep down the mice."

"We have mice!" Mia hissed.

"In a house that auld? Of course, we've mice! But a couple wee kitties, and they'll solve the issue right quick."

Mia shuddered. "Yeah, okay, yeah. I'm getting two."

Cora chuckled. "Text Henry to come get ye. Ye can head to the store and get what's needed afore they close."

"I've always wanted a cat," Mia grinned and hugged Cora again. "Thank you, Cora!"

"Bah!" She flapped her hands, her cheeks red. "Tis yer house."

"But you live there, too, so if you didn't want them, I wouldn't get them."

Cora eyed her, bemused and shook her head. "Yer a good lass, a little strange but sweet. Now, gaun. Aff wit ye. There's a good dent in yer work, and mine, so packing up will be quick when yer back."

Mia giggled, nodded, and hurried off, pulling out her phone as she rushed to see if the kittens she fell in love with were still available.

As Mia settled down for bed that night, it was with a pair of furry bed warmers. The grey kitten with the black tiger stripes she called Tyr, and the white with the cinnamon mask, ears, tail tip, and toes she named Idunn.

They were wonderfully sweet, loving, and adorably affectionate. It surprised her how affectionate when they followed her around the house rather than running off to explore.

There was no fear in the pair. She expected them to be skittish and hide under the furniture, but they didn't. They pounced along behind her, chasing her heels as she set up a litter box near the back entrance and a second in her bathroom. She wanted to keep the scamps with her at night for a while, just until they were comfortable, but she didn't need any accidents.

Crawling into bed, she smiled when they scrambled up the bedding, jumped across the comforter, and climbed into her lap, where they snuggled together and began to purr.

Mia smiled and stroked their soft fur as she looked around her room.

Candles glowed on Loki's altar next to his new raven statue, a fire crackled in the fireplace, and fresh flowers bloomed on the mantle in a polished crystal vase.

Beyond the windows, the night closed in around the farm. It was still overcast, so she couldn't see the stars, but there was hardly any light pollution on the farm. One day, she knew she would look up and see the glory of the cosmos again.

The night sky in Canada could be so majestic, but it was hard to see from the city. Out here, on Ashwood Farm, she imagined it would be spectacular.

The presence beside her drew her from her musings.

"Thank you."

For?

Mia looked up, but there was no one there. Not physically at least.

She smiled and held out her hand. The warmth of someone grasping her fingers filled her with peace, comfort and joy.

"Everything. I know you had a hand in all this."

If I did, you deserve it. The hardships of the past have not soured your spirit. You make me proud, girl.

Mia blushed and pulled her hand away. "Thank you, Loki."

If you really want to thank me, you will read the good parts out loud.

Mia laughed at his teasing. "You're terrible."

You love it.

Yeah, she did.

Next Chapter

#reflections #au tom hiddleston fiction #rpf #real people fiction #tom hiddleston

9 notes · View notes

samcat0925 · 1 year

Note

About your actor AU, does RL Hunter have Trauma?, And what is his RL relationship with Belos?

RL Hunter has a bit of trauma from when he was in the foster care system for a good majority of his life before Camila adopted him.

He just remembers how a lot of parents would take him in only for them to put him back into the foster care system again after a few weeks or months which made him wonder if there was something wrong with him to make those families not want him around even though he tried everything to make sure that those families liked him so that they'll want to keep him around.

That was until Manny(who in this Au is not dead), Camila, Vee and Luz came along and took him in. At first, Hunter was a little cold and distant with them, out of fear that if he got attached to them and they take him back to foster care, then it'll just hurt him all over again, but Camila and Manny were both very patient and kind towards him. Luz was the typical annoying little sister who always wanted to be in her older brother's business which did annoy Hunter at first but after a while, he got used to her antics. Vee was a bit quieter and calmer than Luz when it came to interacting with Hunter but after the two of them got comfortable with each other, they started talking about their favorite interests.

Eventually, Hunter started to get anxious about the idea that Camila and Manny were one day going to get tired of him and put him back into the foster care system like the past families that took him in that he experienced a panic attack in the middle of the night. Thankfully, Manny was there to help calm him down and Hunter let it slip that he was afraid that they were going to toss him back into foster care once they got bored of him.

After Manny was able to get Hunter to go back to sleep again, he talks to Camila about Hunter's fears and the two devise a plan in which they talk to Luz and Vee the next day about what their options were about the plan which the two twins excitedly agreed to go through with it.

After a day or two, Manny and Camila ask Hunter to come into the kitchen where Luz and Vee also were, and they all show Hunter an adoption form that they had already signed and just needed his signature. Hunter looked at the papers for a few minutes before looking at them, asking them if they were 100% serious about wanting to adopt him. They all reassured him that they had been thinking about this for a while now and if he wanted to be a part of their family, they would love to have him. After hearing that, Hunter starts breaking down while smiling since he never thought that there was going to be a family that would actually keep him and have him be a part of their family. Manny, Camily, Luz and Vee hug him and after Hunter calms down, he happily accepts being a part of their family. Ever since then, Hunter has been a permanent part of their lives.

RL Hunter and RL Belos/Phillip have a relationship similar to Danial Radcliff's(the actor for Harry Potter) relationship to Richard Griffiths(the actor for Uncle Vernon Dursley(R.I.P to this wonderful man)).

By that I mean, onscreen Belos is the absolute worse to onscreen Hunter but outside of that, he’s actually really nice and is kind of a mentor figure towards Hunter and helps give him pointers when it comes to his acting while making sure that he doesn't accidentally hurt the young boy or causes him to freak out since (1) he's a 16 year old boy who shouldn’t feel threatened by Belos and (2) everyone on set knows that Hunter has a little bit of an anxiety problem so they all make sure that Hunter is okay.

#the owl house #toh #toh hunter #hunter #the owl house hunter #toh luz #the owl house luz #toh camila #the owl house camila #toh vee #the owl house vee #toh manny #the owl house manny #toh belos #the owl house belos #toh philip #the owl house philip #actor au

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rottenbrainstuff · 7 months

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BG3 playthrough: still stuck in the Tiefling camp, and an amazing roleplay experience

(Spoilers)

First some quick notes, but then I want to talk about how this game is really making me get into *actual* roleplaying in a way I’ve never had a game do to me before. (I’m not sure why my phone keeps capitalizing Tiefling and I’m too lazy to correct it)

First of all: I am never going to leave this Tiefling camp, there’s too much to do and too many people to talk to. The Absolute is going to overrun Faerûn and I am going to still be sitting here having gruel with Otka and playing my violin for the kids.

What am I going to do if I run across another area that makes me this emotionally invested?? It is going to take me years to finish this game at this rate!!! (Well, this week I’ve had a bit less time to play though, which has also really slowed the progress down)

Hey a quick note: there was a little glitch for me with the Auntie Ethel conversation. I introduced myself to her as my tav, and got Astarion’s approval when I told her about our tadpoles, because he thinks it’s delightful how demented she seems. Then I talked to her again using a different character, got the same conversation, and got a SECOND Astarion approval. (Didn’t work again with subsequent tries) Someone told me you can do something similar when you pet scratch. Nice little bonus.

Ok anyways the main thing I wanted to talk about was the crazy fact that I am actually roleplaying in this game, getting emotionally involved, and legitimately able to make what feels like natural and realistic decisions based on what my character would actually do, rather than… you know… interacting with the game feeling very much like a player. Oh ok, here’s the conversation, here’s the normal dialogue option, here’s the smart dialogue option if my talk stats are good, and here’s the evil option, which is always bad to choose because it messes up your game. And I know, because I am a player playing a game, I should pick the normal option. This is how games always go.

Me and my friend were talking about our extremely different reactions we had to the Druids in the Emerald grove, and why.

So the Druids have been letting the Tiefling refugees stay there, but the welcome is wearing thin. Supplies are running low and goblins keep trying to attack. Now with the old leader of the Druids missing, the next highest in command wants to finally kick these Tieflings out. The current leader is creepy and militant, but mostly the other Druids range from “following orders” to “ok-ish”.

You have been told Nettie the healer might be able to help remove your tadpoles. She’s being a little evasive at first, but it’s because mindflayer infection is serious business and she wants to protect her people. After she realizes you are not going to be a threat, she confesses that unfortunately she actually doesn’t have a way to heal you. Their absent leader might though. She gives you a vial of poison and says she needs you to swear to take the poison if you start to change into a mindflayer, because if you transform in the middle of this grove you are going to kill everyone. You must swear: if you don’t directly swear it to her, she will become hostile and start a fight.

My friend who is playing is terrified of transforming into a mindflayer, and he likes Nettie, so he took the poison and promised sincerely.

In a normal game this would be the “good” route and the one I would normally take, because I am a computer game player playing a computer game and the goal of the computer game is to make the good numbers go up. Right?

My experience of the grove though has been very different from my friend’s. I am playing as a dark urge seldarine drow who is trying to be a nice guy. The Druids have been rude and racist to my character, which I’m sure he’s used to, but the contrast between that and how the Tieflings are friendly and welcoming to me is very noticeable. I had a conversation with the pickpocket kids about how people say lies and racist stuff about Tieflings too, just like they do with the drow. My character has been spending so much time getting to know the Tieflings in the grove, mediating arguments, playing with all the naughty Tiefling children, doing sleight of hand tricks for them, watching them pet Wyll’s cat familiar. (I need to be really clear, I’m not simply imaging that these activities are happening, this is flavour that is actually programmed into the game, ie the kids do literally follow around my cat and make comments about it)

So I get farther into the grove and find some frantic Tiefling parents being held back by Druid guards. Their daughter has been taken away because she stole something, (which she only stole because she thought it would prevent the Tieflings from getting kicked out of the grove, and anyway, it’s since been returned.) and they won’t let them see her. The Druid guards are, as always, being rude and racist to me, and my tav is getting angry at the way the Druids are treating his new friends.

So he goes to talk to the Druid leader, and is absolutely shocked to find she is threatening a Tiefling child with a venomous snake. Yes the kid stole something but I have to say again: she stole it because they are going to die on the road if they get kicked out, and the damned item was returned anyways. The leader is a real nasty piece of work, and when she saw me she even said that she feels this must be a good omen, having a blessed child of lolth visit their grove!!! First of all, yikes lady, but also: Lolth-sworn drow are different from seldarine, my kind rebels against the more brutal and merciless lolth-sworn, this was NOT a good comment to make to my character. By this point in time, my tav is absolutely fucking done with these fucking Druids. Yes, objectively speaking, most of the Druids are not terrible and I can see their point, but I felt like my tav in this specific situation would be feeling quite angry and hostile at this point.

So then we get to Nettie. The very first words out of her mouth to me are that the last time she saw a drow, it tried to cut open her belly, and did I have any plans of doing the same? She brings us into the back and there is a goddamned dead drow laid out on her table. I guess it attacked them and they’re studying it because it also had a tadpole infection but goddamn.

She is being evasive and asking a ton of questions. She confesses that if she decided she didn’t like us, she was going to poison us with this little thorn branch she was holding. Then she holds out the poison and demands that I swear to take it.

As a player, I know the best option is to swear, just to get her to shut up. It makes the good numbers go up, and that’s what it’s all about, right?

But my tav in that moment - I felt like he would have absolutely lost his goddamned temper. I’m doing a dark urge run and he’s trying his hardest to not hurt people horribly, but this has pushed him over the edge of his patience. The Druids have been shit to him, shit to the people he’s come to like so much, they’re dissecting another goddamned drow over in the corner, and this woman is sticking poison in his face and telling him to swear to her that he’ll kill himself. He told her fine he’ll take it, but she says that’s not enough, you need to SWEAR to me. You know what? No, he’s not! He refused, she started a fight and attacked us first, and I switched to non-lethal damage and I knocked her out.

This wasn’t just me making a fun decision on my own, like, oh: I have decided on my own, because there’s no game dialogue for this, that my stardew valley farmer is lonesome and feels like an outsider which is why she gets along with Elliott. This is like. Actual things happening within the game that are provoking a legitimate emotional response from me, and I am able to respond to it in a realistic way. When Kagha called me a blessed child of lolth, I had dialogue options to be offended by it.

I am, once again, just absolutely blown away. My friend and me were talking about how we’re both playing “good” characters but how our game experiences still have been so different that we had completely different reactions.

I think that’s absolutely amazing. I can’t remember any game I have ever played ever where I was able to actually get into the roleplaying aspect as much as this, and feel like I was making choices totally based on what my character would do, because this situation was utterly unique to the experience of my friend who is playing the exact same game.

I’ve only really scratched the surface of act 1 here. What the heck else is going to happen by the end?

#bg3 #bg3 playthrough #baldur’s gate 3 #spoilers

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pinkchaosstories · 1 year

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Blood and Thorns - Chapter 7 (part 1)

Chapter 7 (Part One): Parties and Invitations (Read Chapter 1 (part one) here) - (See here for a complete list of chapters) **Updated with minor (though important) changes April 30 2023

Just a quick Author’s Note: if you’ve read B&T on other platforms, you might notice these parts going forward will be different. I’m currently going through another round of editing! Thank you everyone who’s read any part of this and please leave your feedback/comments and/or like/share/reblog/etc. 😘

The Magnus-Monroes hosted the engagement party a week after Frigga’s birthday. It was small, just the coven members and their families, and much more relaxed than the formal ball had been. It was a calm environment, the witches mingled easily, mostly talking about their own magical work or some work that was going on as the summer solstice neared. Frigga and Marcus were arm in arm, accepting congratulations from different members, and Frigga was in a good enough mood that evening that it was almost nice. Everyone had something to say, mostly about how good the match would be for everyone and how they were relieved for Marcus to finally settle down.

In between the well-wishes, Marcus would lean into Frigga and crack some joke or make an observation. After Victoria Bloodswell had politely and somewhat coldly congratulated them, he took the opportunity. “That woman is almost as scary as your aunt. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s turned into a ghost herself. Should we ask the Blackwoods to hold a seance the next time we need to hold a business meeting?” He stuck the tip of his tongue out and winked. Frigga giggled, lightly slapping Marcus’ arm that linked with hers. “Shush, she’s just like that. She’s not my aunt’s biggest supporter.” “Really? I had no idea! I thought she constantly looked like she was trying to explode your aunt’s brain telepathically for fun,” Marcus teased. Anyone who saw Victoria Bloodswell interact with the Thornehearts would see the bad blood. Something about leadership being stolen from her family, blah blah blah, generations ago founders did a thing, et cetera. It was all very abstract, and Frigga wasn’t sure there was any truth in such claims as the family had never been able to produce sufficient proof to back them up. She briefly looked around the room, taking in the scene. Who hadn’t they spoken with yet? They’d seen the Morgansons and Cromwells, Ophelia and Aphrodite Rynauld were in a lively conversation with Morgan Blackwood about something, and the Downspires were in the middle of searching for their youngest daughter who, Frigga was pretty sure, was hiding under the table with Leland in the opposite corner of the room. It was cute, actually, Leland’s friendship with Celeste. She was about a year older than him and was quite gifted. Leland had some kind of crush on her. Frigga couldn’t blame him, she was a cute kid, and it was honestly good for him to be around someone his age who was magical. He wasn't very interested in the comings-and-goings of the coven, so being around Celeste was a good way of getting him involved in the group’s social life. A small exploding noise followed by surprised yelps and coughing of two small children captured Frigga’s attention. She quickly glanced at Marcus, who nodded and released her to investigate in the other corner of the room. She was readily joined by Sapphire as it sounded like Leland might be hurt. But when the two children crawled out from the table they were uninjured. Leland was covered in some sort of neon blue dust, like it had exploded in his hands. It painted the entirety of his pastel blue button-down, his palms heavily coated, most of his face, and some even settled into his mop of short red curls. Celeste giggled, less heavily affected though was decorated with a significant coating of blue down the front of her pink dress and in her black coiled buns as well. “Something magical happened!” Sapphire and Frigga looked from Celeste to Leland who laughed in a carefree way, who was starting to get to his feet. “She was showing me her conjurations, and I wanted to try!” “Wait, Leland, did you do that?” Sapphire asked breathlessly, grabbing a napkin from the table they’d crawled out from under. “Yeah, it didn’t go very good! It exploded!” The room froze when everyone heard Leland’s explanation. And then Aurora Morgansons began to excitedly clap closely followed by the rest of the guests, and Frigga and Sapphire gathered Leland up in a big hug, his aunt planting a kiss on his cheek much to the young boy’s obvious embarrassment. He had finally confirmed it: he was a witch and Frigga was ecstatically proud of him. Once the applause died down, Frigga took her brother to get cleaned up while the party continued on, more excitedly and energized than before. It was rare a youngster would be confirmed around so many people, but everyone had been privileged to see it. It was a happy thing. She carefully led Leland to the nearest powder room and had him sit on a chair after making sure he wouldn’t accidentally ruin it with the blue dust. “Hang on, I’ll get us a towel or something.” “Sure, thanks Frigga.” The young boy peered around the room curiously, his legs kicking the seat. She found a rag, dampened it, and pulled up a stool next to him to start working on the stain. “This is exciting, huh?” she asked cheerfully. Leland shrugged. “I guess, but I don’t think it matters.” His sister frowned and looked at his face. His complexion matched hers, pale skin littered with freckles, but he had their father’s brown eyes. He looked a lot like their father, actually. “What do you…why do you say that?” Leland laughed, as if the answer was obvious. “Auntie already said you had to be the next heir, right?” Frigga shrugged, rubbing forcefully at his shirt sleeve, checked to see if she was making any progress, and winced slightly because there was absolutely no change at all. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean anything at all. Magic isn’t just for coven work, my magic helps me too!” Leland rolled his eyes. “But auntie is going to make me study more. I already get so bored. It’s borrrring!” The stain wasn’t coming out. Frigga scowled at it, her nose wrinkling in frustration. “Yes, it can be. But,” she paused and looked at her brother, a mischievous smile on her glossed lips, “there’s lots of things that make it fun. Want to see?” Her brother grinned and nodded furiously. Frigga sat up and looked around the room for inspiration. It was a small room, painted soft pink with white crown moulding, shiny marble tiles, and wall-length mirrors. There was also a large painting in an ornate hardwood frame hung on the wall behind the pink velvet chaise Leland was perched on. The painting was of a woodland scene. Someone had fallen asleep in a pasture and was surrounded by all sorts of small animals. It was perfect. Frigga focussed in on a small rabbit in the front of the painting, pointed a finger at it, and released a soft burst of energy at the painting. It impacted, bursting like fireworks, and suddenly the rabbit began to animate, jumping out of the painting and around the room leaving footprints of blue sparkling light behind it. Leland shrieked with laughter, and Frigga couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s reaction. She pulled a few other creatures from the painting, a bird, a mouse, had them join the rabbit in running around the room and under the chairs, one even hopped into Leland’s lap. His eyes were huge with wonder, and when he went to pet the rabbit, it and the other animated creatures dissolved into white light, reappearing back in their original spots in the painting. Leland burst into applause, and Frigga nodded in a smug bow. “Why thank you, sir!” “Cool! Why don’t you do that all the time?” “There isn’t a lot of practical uses for this kind of illusion, but sometimes if I can’t sleep, I animate a few of the angels on my ceiling to dance for me.” “You think I can do it too?” Frigga nodded, picking the rag back up to half-heartedly wipe at the boy’s mussed up face. At least that was coming out though it still left a small tint of blue behind. “I think you can do anything you want, Lee.” He looked down to where she had scrubbed at his shirt. “You can’t use magic to clean it?” Frigga sighed in frustration as she finished wiping his face and started at his hair. “No, you can’t clean magic stains out with magic. Or anything it seems. I think you’ve gone and changed the colour of the fabric itself, but I don’t want to mess with it until you’re not wearing it anymore.” She grinned and leaned in close, as if to tell a secret. Leland mirrored her. She whispered, “Wouldn’t want to accidentally explode you.” Leland cackled. “I don’t think you can do that, Frigg!” She crossed her arms, a brow raised comically high. “Oh, you don’t do you?” Leland rigorously shook his head. “Nope!” “I think I could!” “Nu-uh!” “Uh-huh!” And they had about ten rounds of “nu-uh” and “yeah-huh” before dissolving into a fit of giggles. Frigga knew she was going to be missed if they were gone much longer, but it was nice to spend time with her brother away from it all. And honestly? It was nice to escape from all the social chess she’d had to play all evening. When the siblings calmed down, Frigga sighed. “I think we should be getting back.” Leland groaned. “It’s boring, though.” Frigga smiled sympathetically as she stood to hang the rag on a nearby towel rack. “Yes, it is.” “Isn’t it your party?” “It’s still boring. And stressful. Just be thankful you don’t have to deal with coven stuff.” “Why?” Frigga thought for a way to phrase her complaint that wouldn’t turn him away from magical practice generally. “I love our members, of course I do. And the magic we do is so much more powerful than any one of us can do on our own… But I’m not fond of all the social duties that come along with it, let’s say that.” Leland nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Do you think Gertrude will make me a cake when we get home?” Frigga chuckled as she held her hand out for Leland, offering to help him from his seat. “Maybe. Like a birthday cake?” Leland took her hand and jumped up from his seat. “Yeah, but for magic-day.” Frigga took a deep breath, steeling herself against the thought of returning to the party. But her chest softened with a thought. “I think I know someone that could do that for you, Leland.”

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the-type-a · 1 year

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Hihi I’m am so so so so so sorry for the amount of asks I have here but popular Courtney/loner Duncan has been on my mind and ur so good at writing-

I’m so sorry take ur time

Omg don’t be sorry! This took a little longer to write because I had so many ideas, but I think I like how this last draft turned out! (Plus I was super busy with Halloween sooo here’s a little treat for today)

—

Duncan hated everyone, it was just a fact. He didn’t have many friends, and he liked it that way. On occasion he’d heard his name in other’s conversations, they called him a lone wolf and he agreed. It was easier for him to do whatever he wanted when there was no attachment. That all changed when he laid eyes on her.

Courtney Rosales was the pure definition of perfection. Her brown hair that fell straight to her shoulders, the dark color of her eyes that made him feel hypnotized, the curve of her hips, everything. Duncan remembered the first time he saw her, she walked past his locker toward her wuss of a boyfriend, Justin. Of course they’d be together, the school's most popular boy and girl? Go figure. It had only lasted a few weeks though.

The first time they interacted with each other was a different story. It was during the schools spirit week, Courtney had set up a stand to promote for Student Council President. Boy was she persistent with this endeavor. Duncan took it upon himself to rile her up a bit. There was no doubt she was going to win, as she was the only one running, but it still didn’t stop him.

“What would happen if someone decided to run against you?” He asked her as he leaned against her stand.

“Absolutely nothing. I’ve made a habit of winning.” She stated proudly before trying to nudge him off the stand. This, of course, only made him lean further. Now the two were at eye to eye level, Duncan with his signature smirk, and Courtney with her cutting glare.

“I’m thinking of running, you know.” It was a lie. He’d never be caught dead doing something like this, but her reaction was well worth it. Courtney had laughed so hard she almost fell off her chair. Duncan thought it was adorable, but kept his cool. If there was one thing he knew was that he’d lose the upper hand if he showed any type of weakness around her. Courtney was not a force to be reckoned with. She was determined, cutthroat, and Duncan loved it.

“Please leave.” She said once she calmed herself down. Courtney had to give it to him, he could make quite a joke. As if anyone would be dumb enough to go against her, she was President of almost every club, on her way to be valedictorian when the time came, and she was well liked. Duncan wouldn’t have a chance, unless he threatened everyone for their vote, which he’d never do since he simply didn’t care enough.

“Cute, but I think I’ll stay.” Duncan said as he toyed with some of the self made buttons on the stand. He picked one up and studied it. There was a picture of Courtney in the middle with the words “Vote for Courtney” in nice cursive writing. She snatched it from him, “These are for voters, not you.”

“Who said I wasn’t voting for you?” He asked as he snatched it back and stuffed it in his pocket. Courtney rolled her eyes, of course Duncan had forgotten his last question. Was this all to get a rise out of her? To make her look bad in front of the school? It made sense, but she would never stoop to that level, not in public at least. She pulled him by his shirt so he was somewhat hovering above her, “Go the fuck away, Duncan.” She said through clenched teeth.

Duncan didn’t move once she released her grip from his shirt. There were so many thoughts going on in his mind; the way her strawberry lipstick smelled, the freckles that popped out above her nose, the way her grip held him in place. The list could go on, and she’d be proud of that if he ever decided to tell her.

His eyes darted to her lips. Fuck, he messed up. Courtney’s cheeks redend once she realized what had happened. Before either could make a comment the bell rang. Courtney pushed herself up, forcing Duncan to stand straight up again.

From that point on Duncan had made it his mission to get to know her more, even if it was just to push her buttons. No, he didn’t go the normal route with just asking her out, he needed to play it smart.

Now, the light banter turned into something more meaningful. It was like the two found each other on a daily basis, never missing the opportunity to tease the other. Duncan was shocked when Courtney was able to come up with witty remarks, but it ultimately made him so much more interested in her.

What shocked him the most was how Courtney, little miss perfect, did not let the status quo become an obstacle. She made sure people knew who he was, how couldn’t she? Although Duncan hated the attention, he liked that he was on Courtney’s mind. Everyone had their fair share of comments when the two interacted with each other, and it was only a matter of time before one of them made a move.

#duncney #td courtney #td duncan #total drama courtney #total drama duncan #small drabble

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darling-drag-brainrot · 1 year

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hi there milo!!!! how are ya? it's question time <3 tell me a story about yourself. any story, from any time—yesterday, when you were four years old, middle school, anything. don’t focus on making it interesting or cool, just tell me something that feels nice to talk about!! is there an old friend you miss? a sledding hill you used to go to? what was the last meal you made? tell me something, but be sure to add details!!

Omg hi!!!!! Thank you for the questions because I love love LOVE hearing from you and I love answering stuff lmao 💖

Okay so a story I love telling because I am lovesick and also obnoxious is the story of how me and my girlfriend got together because it’s hilarious and silly and very U-Haul Lesbian trope of us 🥺 Also,,, apologies in advance this story is long because it contains so much backstory and I cannot shut up about my girlfriend because they are amazing.

So, imagine you’re me. You’ve just moved into your new building for your second year of college. You have some super cool new friends in said building and a super cool, super chill roommate. And all you could want now, is a girlfriend. Though you assume that’s not something you’re gonna get for a LONG time, which you’ve made peace with.

So, One day, I’m sitting in the communal kitchen with some of my building-mates. We’re all just chatting and joking around when one of my friends from down the hall let’s us know that his roommate finally moved in. This is shocking news because by this point it’s almost two weeks into the school year and while we knew said friend was supposed to have a roommate, we had yet to see them and had just assumed they’d never move in. None of us at this point have met them, and we have no idea what they could be like. My worst fear is that they’ll end up being the most frat bro kind of cishet white man to ever exist.

Spoiler Alert : They weren’t that.

Just as we’re speculating about this mystery roommate someone new enters the kitchen.

The prettiest person I’ve ever seen in my life enters, soft smile on their face and I’m instantly smitten. They have long, flowing black hair with a reddish tint, large brown eyes, deeply tanned (as in clearly non-white tan), and despite the fact they’re in extremely simple casual clothes they carry themselves like an off duty model.

I think in that moment I reached a new plane of existence because I vividly remember feeling my heart skip several beats.

Then they introduced themself.

Their name was Sasha. They were a third year. And they used they/she pronouns.

And to top it all off, they were the elusive roommate that we had just been speculating about.

Imagine you’re me in this moment. Faced with the most gorgeous creature in the world. Informed that this gorgeous pretty creature is now living down the hall from you. You can only imagine my internal panic. Though I tried to rationalize to myself that with how busy college students are, I’d likely never seen them outside of briefly passing each other in the hall. Hopefully I’d not have to see them again, because if I had to interact with them more than once I’d probably embarass myself.

So about an hour later my friends and I are still in the kitchen long after Sasha has left to unpack, and we’ve switched to the topic of the previously open door to one of the empty rooms in the hall which had mysteriously been locked earlier in the day.

Cue Sasha entering the room.

Cue Sasha overhearing us.

Cue Sasha proclaiming they know how to lockpick.

Cue about an hour straight of Sasha gathering everything they can from paper clips to bobby pins to butter knives as half the building gathers to watch them try to break into this locked door.

Then once this plan fails they drag their roommate around the back of the building to simply slip in through the window and unlock it from the inside.

Cue the plot twist.

The reason the door is locked is because the room is no longer empty. Someone has moved in. And Sasha nearly just climbed through the window, stopped only by the fact they saw all the luggage that the new person had left in the space.

So Sasha and us all abruptly stop lockpicking and as people scurry back to their rooms I sit back at my kitchen chair to watch Sasha begin wandering around the kitchen, rambling nonsensically about memories and erasing doubt and stuff that sounded vaguely cult-ish.

They tear down all the informational posters stuck to the communal corkboard before gathering my friends to crucify a large stuffed bear to said corkboard in a way that resembles a cult-ish crucifixion of Christ.

Fun.

At this point I am confused, intrigued, and mildly worried that this cute person is legitimately off their rocker. But once the bear is crucified they scamper off to bed with a big smile on their face and in my ‘ooooh pretty person’ haze I simply accept the fact that sometimes the hottest people are the kookiest.

I expect this to be the last I see of them but from that point on I start seeing them every time I’m in the kitchen (as that’s my favourite place to study). They sit next to me and chat, we browse Etsy together, we chat incessantly all the time, every single day until my friend begins asking me when’s the wedding.

This culminates in Sasha and I staying up ALL night in the kitchen on a whim- chatting, doing makeup, and being obnoxious as hell (I found out in the morning that everyone in the building could hear us talk all night cause the walls were so thin and I felt so bad).

And so, to not have everyone in the building constantly pissed at us for chatting so much, I one day (about two weeks into our knowing each other) invited Sasha into my room.

They immediately made themselves at home on my bed and we chatted for hours. My roommate came in and struck up a conversation with them and before I knew it I had woken up in the morning with Sasha wrapped around me like a blanket.

Now at this point I am even further smitten for them. They’re funny, creative, smart, unpredictable and a very good person to talk to overall. So maybe I invite them back to my room the next day hoping they’ll end up staying the night again. And when they do, under the pretense of it simply being ‘cozy’ and I am thusly emboldened to bring them back to my room a third night.

So, the day of the third night my best friend and I go out to lunch and I ramble about Sasha for approximately two hours. My best friend immediately demands I ask Sasha out because (and I loosely paraphrase here) she had ‘never seen my eyes light up so much’ when talking about another person before outside of maybe when I talked about Louis Tomlinson from One Direction for several hours straight.

I tell my best friend that maybe- MAYBE- I will admit my feelings to Sasha… at some point.

I admittedly was like 99% sure that Sasha liked me back by this point due to them sleeping in my bed multiple nights and also the ways they would make romantically themed jokes to me constantly under the guise of ‘teasing’ (the second night I woke up and got ready for my class with them crooning for me to ‘come back to bed my dear husband’ and I nearly collapsed).

But I was anxious and also scared and a little bit of a wimp.

Then, at dinner, I’m sitting with my roommate, their friend, and Sasha. Sasha and I are holding hands in a totally platonic normal friendly way (I swore) and chatting when the friend turns to us and goes ‘Are you guys dating?’

I freeze like a deer in the headlights and struggle to respond. Because NO we technically are not dating but I don’t want to say no too agressively because then Sasha my think that I’m disgusted by the concept of dating them and will feel bad.

After a long silence my roommate states that me and Sasha are not dating.

About five minutes later the friend smirks and goes (to me and Sasha) ‘Okay, but you guys have hooked up before right?’

Cue me and Sasha agressively shaking our heads and denying this because we have not in the slightest.

The rest of the meal was unbearably awkward from this point on.

Then: Night Three.

It is is one in the morning, Sasha is in my bed, we are literally cuddling and staring into each other’s eyes and I can’t take it anymore so I blurt out.

‘You know I’m attracted to you right?’

Because subtlety is dead and I can’t think of anything smarter to say.

And Sasha goes, ‘Good, cause I’m attracted to you too.’

And then I launched into a long ramble about how much I liked them but I was worried and didn’t want to label us or go too fast because I had emotional trauma still from my previous girlfriend and I liked Sasha so much it maybe scared me.

And Sasha listened and smiled and comforted me and told me we’d take it as slow as I needed and they would always respect my boundaries.

And then (because omg how sweet is that - I had never had someone be so understanding before) I felt the insane urge to kiss them but because I was still trying to take it slow I simply kissed their cheek instead.

Then badda bing badda boom we fell asleep and I woke up buzzing with excitement as I told my roommate (who was unbelievably happy for me) and my friends and my best friend (who all were just waiting for Sasha and I to figure it out) that I now had a girlfriend.

Then uhhhhhhh time skip to now and me and them have almost been dating for two months!!! How awesome!!!!

They’re super sweet and awesome and I talk about them on my Instagram all the time and I once had them sit for like two hours while I infodumped about RuPaul’s Drag Race and Crygi and Drag Con until they agreed with me that Gigi Goode is fantastic. And I also made them read some of my fics which they thought were cute!

Okay that was SUCH long winded story I am SO sorry but I just get excited when I talk about my girlfriend cause they’re sweet as pie and also I just think the shift from me thinking they were cute but nuts to spending every hour of the day with them to literally having them sleep in my bed for several nights before I asked them out after knowing them for two weeks is hilarious.

Especially because ever since we got together my girlfriend hasn’t slept in their bed in their room for more than like three days. They just sleep in my room (shout out to my roommate who literally doesn’t mind and actually thinks it’s cute and has invited in Sasha as the unofficial third roommate).

Yeah so that’s my story gjdnfnfnf sorry it was a novel.

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berenwrites · 1 year

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Whole New Us Ch9 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Whole New Us: Trauma Bonded and Beyond

Also on AO3 | Or here CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 | CH12 | CH13 | CH14 | CH15 | CH16 | CH17 | CH18 | CH19 | CH20 | CH21 | CH22 | CH23 | CH24 | CH25 (Mature) | CH25 (Fade to black) COMPLETE

Summary: Steve has been ignoring his own problems, he’s been busy. They’ve all been busy, preoccupied with fixing everything that was broken. Vecna has been defeated, but the Upside Down is still there, and the gates are not completely closed even though Hawkins has almost returned to normal. It’s been a couple of months and the aftereffects of Steve’s encounter with the demobats is about to come back to bite him. However, it also brings some unexpected hope.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Rating: Teen (with mature content in later chapters)

Chapter 9. From The Sublime to the Ridiculous

Given that Steve was pretty sure Keith still didn’t like him, the fact he still had a job after being off for nearly a week was kind of amazing. It was also a little bit intimidating, however. So far, the only people he had interacted with since his significant life change were people in the know about the Upside Down. He could not imagine what would happen if he lost it and grew fangs or claws in the middle of a shift.

It didn’t help that leaving Eddie at his house was the last thing he wanted to do. Wayne was going to be keeping Eddie company for part of the day, but that didn’t help Steve’s inner worrywart all that much.

“Feeling better?” Keith asked as he walked in.

“Um, yes, thank you,” he replied, shocked by the enquiry.

When he and Keith worked together, their interactions tended to be minimal.

“Robin was graphic with her descriptions,” Keith said. “Thank you for not sharing at least. You’re on returns.”

“Okay,” Steve just agreed and watched his boss walk away to the office.

He owed Robin yet again.

About the only thing worth noting until around lunch time was how hard he had to work to remember to keep his customer service smile teethless. He doubted anyone would pay enough attention to notice his new fangs in their retracted state, but he wasn’t about to take the risk. Turning on the Harrington charm was more work when he had to think about exactly how much of his upper teeth were showing. Not that it stopped him with the few female customers who came in on a Tuesday morning.

If he could make some of the ladies smile by being nice to them, he was going to do it. It was good for business, and he was in a surprisingly good mood when he forgot to be anxious.

He was about to ask Keith if he could take his lunch when warmth and the fizz of delight zipped up his spine. Unfortunately, he dropped the tape he was holding because it was such a surprise. For a second he tried to chase down why on earth standing in front of the horror section could have caused such a reaction, before it dawned on him, the feeling wasn’t coming from him at all.

It was Eddie.

Looking at his watch, Steve came to the conclusion Wayne had arrived early to visit with Eddie. Picking up the copy of Halloween he had been about to reshelve, he smiled to himself. He was glad Eddie was happy. Of course, now he was going to be wondering all afternoon if Eddie’s apparent delight had just been seeing his uncle again or something more. It would undoubtedly drive him crazy, but it was hard to begrudge such a burst of joy.

~*~

If there was one thing Steve knew without a doubt it was that if the kids wanted something there were only so many times ‘no’ would work. Hence, he did not argue when Dustin rang and asked if he, Mike and Lucas could come over after school. El was unavailable or he was sure she would have been included as well. He was also well aware he was not the only one who had missed Eddie.

He would have offered to pick them up, but his shift didn’t end until five thirty, so there were bikes scattered in his driveway when he finally made it home. As he opened the door, the first thing he heard was someone playing the guitar and Dustin yelling at the top of his lungs.

“I hate you all!” was the first sentence he could actually understand from the dramatic wailing.

That was when he figured out the tune. It was Neverending Story. He couldn’t help smiling as he realised it was clearly torture-Dustin time.

“You mentioned Suzie five times in the last ten minutes,” that was clearly Mike’s voice, “and you know the penalty.”

“You asked about what I was building in my basement and it’s a project with Suzie,” Dustin defended himself, “of course I mentioned her. How about we come up with something really embarrassing for every time you mention El?”

“El goes to school with us, how am I supposed to not talk about her?” Mike demanded.

“That would be your problem,” Dustin said giving Mike a glare as Steve walked into the room.

“Hi Honey, I’m home,” he called since nobody seemed to have noticed his entrance.

“Great, then you can take your kids,” Eddie shot back with typical comedic timing.

“Oh, so when they’re causing trouble, they’re my kids? Right,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips.

He was answered by a dramatic strum on the acoustic Eddie was holding. Wayne had to have brought it with him when he visited. It looked as if Eddie wasn’t letting it go any time soon.

“Should we be worried by how domestic you two are getting after just a few days?” Dustin asked as they both burst out laughing.

“Domestic he says,” Steve replied. “Does that mean you’re not in my house expecting to eat my food, because I can let you starve if you’d prefer.”

He was never going to admit he had half a freezer full of meals he had prepared in advance for just such invasions so he had things to throw in the oven that weren’t out of a packet. If the kids ever thought about it and realised that they would never shut up about it.

“Although given the mess on the coffee table, you’ve already helped yourselves to snacks,” he added.

“We’re growing boys,” Lucas told him with a grin.

“Because sugar and additives are so good for healthy bone and muscle development,” he countered.

“You are such a mom,” Mike complained.

“Someone has to be,” Steve replied, “or you’d all die in sugar comas. Now I’m gonna go change and I expect that mess to be cleared up by the time I come down or this playdate is over.”

“I think he means it,” Eddie said in an ominous tone and gave him a wink.

“Of course I mean it, I’ve been dealing with these gremlins for years,” he replied and headed for the stairs.

It was good to see them all so relaxed and normal, but he wasn’t letting them get away with trashing his house.

~*~

Steve liked to cook, it calmed him down, and he’d taken to dragging Eddie into it as well. It was just the two of them today and they were making a simple casserole for lunch. Steve was on the afternoon and late shift, with Robin joining him after school, meaning there was time to do lunch properly.

“You know I’m gay, right?” Eddie said, completely out of the blue as they were standing shoulder to shoulder preparing ingredients.

“The way you flirt with everyone I thought you might be bisexual,” Steve replied without even thinking about it. “Thanks for telling me though.”

Eddie didn’t reply, so he glanced over from the carrot he was dicing. The other man was staring at him with one of those narrow-eyed I-am-coming-to-some-sort-of-conclusion stares.

“No, definitely gay,” Eddie said after a few moments, “I just can’t deny the ladies a taste of my charm on occasion, and I am an unstoppable flirt.”

Steve grinned and rolled his eyes a little.

“Useful cover too,” Eddie added, “since most people don’t really know much about bisexuality.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, going back to his chopping, since he was perfectly happy to talk about this if Eddie wanted to, “I didn’t until a friend educated me on the subject.”

He wasn’t about to out Robin even though he was pretty sure she was working up to telling Eddie herself, but he also wasn’t going to lie about something that was clearly important to his friend.

“And why did they do that?” Eddie asked, and Steve could feel the other man’s gaze on him.

Steve took a moment to think. He could tell where this conversation was going, and he could head it off or let it run its course. They’d been living in each other’s pockets for a few days now and it was getting much harder to ignore the chemistry between them. He wasn’t dense, he knew it wasn’t just all him, but Eddie was still so vulnerable. Yet, Eddie’s sudden announcement was a neon sign if ever he saw one.

He took a deep breath.

“Because they noticed I was confused about something after they came out to me and I confessed that I didn’t think I was gay because I definitely liked girls, but I wasn’t sure because sometimes I kinda felt the same way about a few boys,” he explained.

“Holy fuck,” was Eddie’s response to that. “Harrington, you hide that well.”

“Yeah, well with my dad, anything remotely non-conforming is a big no, and he had an absolute fit with my obsession with Han Solo when I was a kid, so I learned young that even a hint of something not completely ‘normal’,” he made air quotes with his fingers, “was not acceptable in the Harrington household. Was a real dick about it when I was younger too. Thank fuck we all grow up eventually.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, seemingly still thinking it through. “Wait, Han Solo? I have literally heard Dustin complain that you refer to Return of the Jedi as the one with the teddies, but you know Star Wars.”

“Gotta keep you nerds on your toes somehow,” Steve replied and carried on with his veg prep.

“Dumb jock,” Eddie complained.

Steve smiled to himself as they continued in companiable silence for a while. He was pretty sure the conversation was not over.

“So,” Eddie said eventually, “what’s your type.”

“Well, brunet, obviously,” Steve replied, “given the whole Han Solo thing.”

“Yeah,” Eddie commented, “I would have put you down as more of a Luke Skywalker guy.”

“Nah, I prefer a sharper tongue,” Steve continued, deliberately not looking over at Eddie, “and big brown puppy eyes are a plus, y’know, or red.”

Eddie dropped his knife. Steve put his down and turned properly this time. Eddie was looking down at his cutting board, but slowly turned as well.

“You’re not messing with me, are you,” Eddie said, but it was a statement, not a question.

“No,” Steve replied anyway.

“You really..?” Eddie asked, trailing off.

“Yes, really,” he said with a nod. “You drive me completely crazy, but I like it, I like you. Only it’s been so fucking weird around here I didn’t want to complicate things for you, so I didn’t say anything.”

“Since when?”

“Since when what?” he asked.

“Since when have you liked me?” Eddie asked, voice quiet.

“Since you dived into a lake to help save me and turned out to be a funny guy with a heart of gold,” he replied. “And every day since we got you back, I’ve been falling a little more.”

“Jesus, Stevie,” Eddie replied, “you don’t do declarations by halves do you?”

“It’s a character flaw,” he said. “You slamming me against a wall with a bottle to my neck was kind of eye-opening too, but I put that down to adrenalin at the time. Didn’t figure out it might have been something else until looking back on it.”

Eddie was staring at him again, but this time with his mouth open.

“Was it the danger or the manhandling?” Eddie asked eventually.

Steve shrugged.

“Haven’t figured that out yet,” he replied with a small smirk, even though he could feel himself blushing.

“Jesus Christ, you’re trying to kill me,” Eddie said, eyes flicking to his lips.

“That would be a waste after dragging El into the Upside Down to save your ass,” he said, enjoying the effect he was having on Eddie.

The low-level hum of Eddie in the back of his brain was sparking with exciting things.

“So, if I kissed you right now, you wouldn’t object?” Eddie asked, nervously biting his bottom lip.

“More the opposite,” he replied.

He licked his lips, an unconscious gesture until he noticed himself doing it. Eddie did too. Those big beautiful, deep brown eyes focused in on his mouth like a homing beacon. Standing his ground, he waited as Eddie stepped into his personal space. They were almost the same height, Eddie being just shorter than him, but he felt anything but bigger as Eddie reached out and lightly placed fingers against his neck.

It sent shivers up his spine, pulling a soft gasp from his lips as Eddie’s presence in his head increased at the physical contact. A hum of anxiety, excitement and something else Steve couldn’t quite name burned through him, joining with what he was feeling himself. As Eddie leaned in, Steve’s eyes drifted shut of their own accord and he immersed himself in the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his own. It was short, chaste even. Eddie’s lips were soft but a little chapped.

Steve immediately wanted more.

As Eddie went to pull away, he reached out himself, threading his finger into the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck. He leaned in this time, meeting halfway for a longer, much firmer reuniting of lips. Eddie nipped at his bottom lip and wound an arm around his waist, bringing their bodies closer together. When Eddie urged him backwards, he just went, moving until his back hit the wall at the end of the counter.

He found himself crowded into the corner, and he reciprocated by carding his other hand into Eddie’s hair as well. It was so soft. Ever since Steve had washed it for him on the first day out of the Upside Down, Eddie had let Steve help him keep it in condition and it was paying off. Steve could run his fingers through it all day if Eddie would let him.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered against his mouth, sounding kind of amazed.

Steve could only agree, making a small needy noise. He opened his mouth, flicking his tongue over Eddie’s bottom lip, inviting. He was immediately answered. The slide of Eddie’s tongue against his was obscene and he opened his lips further, wanting more. He let Eddie plunder his mouth while he tightened his fingers in Eddie’s silky hair.

It was just about perfect, but he soon discovered they had forgotten one thing.

“Ow,” Eddie said, pulling back.

Steve probably would have reacted to that, but he didn’t have the chance. It was as if someone connected him brain and body to the mains powered by one Eddie Munson. His senses went into overdrive, sight, taste, smell, touch, hearing, all focused completely on Eddie as the underlying metallic tang of blood filled his mouth.

He could only gasp as he became aware of everything all at once. Want, need, anxiety, caring, all bounced around inside him, telegraphed like they were his own, mixing and churning with what he was already feeling. Overloading his ability to completely comprehend what he was sensing.

“Steve, hey, hey, Stevie,” Eddie said.

He couldn’t respond. He barely remembered to breathe as he was overwhelmed. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was feeling. He felt more awake than he ever had, as if someone had injected him with the most powerful stimulant known to man. Every sense was alive. He could feel everything from Eddie’s hand on his hip to the low ache in his back and feet from standing for a good percentage of the morning. Only he couldn’t focus on any individual part as it all bombarded him. All his brain would scream at him was Eddie.

“Holy fuck,” Eddie moaned into his neck, “I can feel that. What the fuck am I feeling?”

At least Eddie was a little coherent. For a good few seconds Steve could only cling on for the ride.

“Jesus Christ,” he said when he was finally in control enough to do anything except shake. “I … oh god … that …”

He had no idea what he was trying to say, and he belatedly realised his otherness had come out.

Eddie pulled back and as their eyes met, Steve couldn’t help it, he laughed. For a second Eddie stared at him as if he had grown another head, but slowly Eddie smiled too and then laughed along with him.

“Shit,” Eddie said, still laughing. “What the fuck was that?”

“Your blood,” Steve said. “Oh my god, I feel like I just had a tanker full of coffee with a chaser of Eddie Munson.”

“You lit up in my head,” Eddie revealed. “Only felt you though.”

“Yeah, a feedback loop would be a bitch,” he replied. “I got a hit of Robin’s blood once, but it was nothing like that.”

“You’ve tasted Robin’s blood?” Eddie asked, if the wide eyes and slight twist of his mouth anything to go by, somewhere between shocked and jealous.

“She wanted to see the fangs and pricked her finger,” Steve explained with another breathless laugh. “I got a momentary blast of what she was feeling, but this was like being wired to an outlet and you at the same time. I feel like I could run a marathon right now and not be tired.”

“I caught my tongue on your tooth,” Eddie said, “and that was still the best kiss of my life.”

“Me too,” Steve replied, even though his brain was still turned up to ten.

He wondered if this was what it felt like on cocaine.

“Not that I want to let you go, ever,” Eddie said, blinking as if trying to clear his brain, “but maybe we should get back to making lunch. I don’t think I can take that again without ending up in a heap on the floor.”

Steve nodded, going to push himself off the wall when he discovered something of a problem. “Um, I think my claws are tangled in your hair,” he said as he failed to free his hands

End of Chapter 9

Chapter 10

#stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie lives #stranger things #st: whole new us #fanfic #post season 4 #vampires #kind of vampires #hurt/comfort

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