#I want to give a special but quiet shoutout

[musings-of-a-rose]

Marcus

Pairing: Marcus (Pike, Moreno, Acacius) x f!reader

Word Count: 6900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I saw a post from @pimosworld innocently asking for a Marcus bachlorette style fic and, while this isn't exactly right, this is what my brain came up with. Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to me ramble and helping me, as well as @vanemando15 for being a cheerleader!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Marcus Pike Masterlist

Marcus Acacius Masterlist

“Thanks for coming to Level Up Comics!” I smile at the customer as I hand them their bag, a quiet grunt all I get in return before they head out the door, the little bell jingling with their exit. I stretch, walking around from behind the counter and heading back towards the display case where several boxes sit in front, unopened figurines and collectibles pouring from them. My family and friends thought I was crazy for opening a physical media store in this age of digital products. They said no one would come in let alone want to actually buy “this crap.”

But here I am, a few years after opening, and I’m doing pretty good for myself. There are still collectors out there who want their favorites in case something happens to their files. They want the figurines from the original manufacturers, rather than printing them themselves. I can’t blame them. There’s something different, something magical about reading the printed word, having a figure of your favorite character that was made decades ago by something other than a 3D printer in someone’s basement.

The bell jingles and I yell out a greeting, shoving a few more figures in the back of the case before standing and turning, a pair of dark brown eyes meeting mine. I can already feel the smile on my face. 

“Hi, Marcus!” Shit, was that too enthusiastic? If it is, he doesn’t let on, his own smile shyly spreading across his face. “How…how are you?”

He rubs the back of his neck with his large hand, his eyes darting away from mine. “I’m..I’m good. You?”

“Good. That’s good. I mean, I’m good. Good. It’s all…good.” What the fuck?

He chuckles lightly, looking anywhere but at me. “Good.”

We’re both silent for several moments. He’s so hot. Way out of my league hot. And the weird thing is, I don’t even think he realizes just how attractive he is. 

“Did my back issue of X-Men come in?”

“Oh!” I slap my forehead. “I almost forgot! Yes. Let me get that for you.” Trying desperately to hide the heat in my cheeks, I quickly walk around the counter, kneeling to sift through the special order pile. 

“You got more figures in?”

“Yeah,” I yell from my crouched position. “There’s a few bins in the back I haven’t emptied yet. Feel free to have a look!” 

“Thanks.” I hear him shuffle off towards the back of the shop just as I locate his order. The door bell dings again and I stand, smoothing down my jeans. A man stands at the counter, his bright blue eyes roaming up and down my body before her plasters on the most ingenuine smile I’ve ever seen. 

“Hi. How can I help you?” I ask him as I place Marcus’s order on the counter.

 “Hi beautiful. I’m looking for a comic.”

I internally sigh. I already know where this is going. It happens several times a week.

“Well you’ve come to the right shop. What are you looking for?”

He chuckles, intending to be endearing. It isn’t. “I’m looking for a very specific issue of Hawkeye. You know who that is?”

Seriously? “I am very familiar with Hawkeye. Are you?”

He scoffs. “Haha. You’re a funny, pretty thing. Anyway, I’m looking for a specific run of his. Do you know what that means?”

Anger surges through me and I grip the desk to ground myself. Out of the corner of my eye I see Marcus at the back of the store, standing and turning towards us but not moving. He’s even hot in my peripheral. 

“Which run are you looking for? Or are you wanting a recommendation?”

He laughs, the vile sound of it echoing off the walls. “A recommendation? From you? What would you know? You’re just a pretty little girl.”

A clunk from the back of the store and I see Marcus trip over one of the boxes. He doesn’t go down, but turns to fix the boxes that he’s kicked over. The man in front of me is unphased, his eyes still on me, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Well?” He spits out. 

I look at him, giving him a smile. “Well, if you’re asking me personally, my favorite run is the Matt Fraction run. Not only because of his artistic style and great story, but the fact that they weaved in Clint’s deafness, drawing him wearing his hearing aids, and even doing an entire issue completely in American Sign Language. A great story and representation of a marginalized community from, in my opinion, one of the best and most relatable Avengers. Now, would you like the individual issues, an omnibus, or the digital version?”

The smug smile slowly fades from his face, his eyes hardening. “You don’t have to be such a bitch.”

“I do when customers act like a bitch.” 

He grabs the fliers on the counter and throws them at me, turning towards the door. “Fuck you and this place!” He tries to slam the door behind him but he fumbles with the handle, flipping me off one final time before disappearing around the corner. 

I sigh, bending down to pick up the fliers. A hand reaches out, large and inviting, carefully helping me pick up the scattered papers. I look up at him, at Marcus, sweet Marcus. Who had heard all of that. 

“I’m sorry Marcus. I shouldn’t have lost my cool.”

He hands me the small stack he’s collected, meeting my gaze. “You don’t have to apologize for standing up to a sexist asshole. I should be the one who’s sorry.”

I combine our stacks, both of us standing as I tap them on the counter to even them out. “Why should you apologize?”

“I should’ve come to help,” he rubs the back of his neck, his ear turning slightly pink. 

I shake my head. “No, Marcus don’t worry about it. I get assholes like that all the time. Really, it’s ok.”

He shakes his head. “It’s really not-”

To my own surprise, I reach out and squeeze his arm. “Really, I’m ok. Thank you, Marcus.”

He smiles at me, opening his mouth to say something, but his phone rings from inside his pocket. “Sorry. Sorry.” He pulls it out, tapping on the clear screen only he can see. “Shit. I have to take this. Work. You sure you’re ok?”

I smile, trying not to show my sadness at his leaving. “I am. Hope everything’s ok at work.”

“Thanks. I’ll uh…see you around.” His eyebrows pull together as his phone rings again, his eyes moving down to the screen before he turns around and heads out the door, pausing to give me a wave through the window before he disappears into the crowd. 

I’ll never meet a man owning this shop. They’re either assholes, taken, or hopelessly out of my league. My own phone beeps and I pull it out, scanning the clear screen with my reservation confirmation. I tap the confirm button, nerves flooding my system. 

I can’t believe I signed up for a virtual version of the bachelorette.

—----

I closed the shop early and rushed home to get ready for that night. I arrive promptly at 7pm as they requested, the giant VIRTUAL LIFE logo on the side of the building bathing the sidewalk in bright blue light. I take a deep breath and walk inside, the door disappearing momentarily to let me in before reappearing behind me. The front desk assistant guides me to a row of elevators and instructs me to head to floor 28. I’m the only one in the elevator, the lights illuminating each floor as we pass it. The elevator stops and the doors open to a small waiting room, black leather couches and chairs surround a coffee table with several tablets, each loaded with some form of entertainment. While it looks like there are windows, if you look closely, you can tell they’re simulated, trying to grant us as much privacy as possible. Although, I think it may be more about guarding their own technology secrets. 

“Ivy?” a woman calls my name from the only doorway in the room aside from the elevator. I nod, standing and smoothing down my dress. 

“That’s me.”

“Right this way.” She leads me into another small office, a simple desk with a single chair for me to sit in. She sits opposite me at the desk, tapping in mid air at what I’m assuming is the computer screen in front of her. 

“Ivy it says here you signed up for the bachelorette program to meet a compatible mate. Is that correct?”

Swallowing down my embarrassment, I nod. “Y-yeah.”

She taps a few more things. “Great. Do you know how this works?”

“You guys take a picture of my brain and show me a story?”

She chuckles, the first time her professional demeanor has broken. “Almost but not quite. After we’re done here, you will be taken to the simulation room. You’ve already done your physical-”

“Yeah. They had me put on this suit and they captured the way I moved. Motion capture, I think?”

She nods. “Yes that’s it exactly. This way, your avatar inside your world will move like you. It helps with immersion.” I nod. “They also completed your brain scan to find the most viable dates and look of mate that you are searching for. You indicated you’re looking for a male mate, is that correct?”

I nod. “Yeah. Yes.”

She nods. “Alright. If you’ll go through the door, someone in scanning will take you. Good luck!” She gestures to a door on the opposite wall from where we entered. I go through the door and another woman greats me, leading me to chair where she has me sit and get comfortable. It reminds me of what the dentist chairs used to look like except way more comfortable. She turns to me, holding a helmet with different little lights on it. 

“Any questions?”

“Yeah. So what will he..I mean, how will I know who he is?”

“You will just know. Sort of like in a regular video game, where you can tell who is important to talk to.”

“Ok..but…will he look like him or?”

That’s reassuring. But then she interrupts my thoughts. “Don’t forget, he will be there too also looking for you.”

She shakes her head. “Your algorithm took in your scan and will give him the appearance of someone you find appealing or comforting. We’ve found it’s easier to accept someone if they have an outward appearance you’re already familiar with.”

“So you base connections on personality as opposed to looks?”

She nods. “Those relationships have the highest success rate, so yes.”

“And after, will you show me who he is?”

She nods. “In the simulation, you’ll go on 3 dates. They may be something as simple as communicating in an office to being a superhero or even traveling back in time. The algorithm takes both of your likes, dislikes, and desires and places you in situations. The more you play along and immerse yourself, or yourselves, into the simulation, the better the outcome, meaning a closer connection. And don’t worry - you cannot be physically harmed. And if it’s too much or you want to stop, you only need to say “End simulation”. Please be aware that time may pass differently in the simulation, but you will only be in for an hour. After, you will both meet here, in reality, and can determine whether you’d like to continue with a relationship or not. Any more questions?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Not at the moment, anyway.”

She places the helmet on my head, the nodes all changing different colors as it comes in contact with me. She squeezes my shoulder and I look up at her. “Just relax and try to go with the theme. It’s more fun that way, ok?”

I nod, wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

“Good luck!” She taps a button on her clear screen and my vision fades to black so just a couple of seconds. But then I’m blinking awake, the tips of my fingers tingling and my toes feeling like they just woke up. My vision starts to clear and the room comes into focus. I’m sitting at a bar, a fancier bar, which explains the nice dress. As my hearing levels out, I realize that the blonde man to my right is talking to me, his body shifted in my direction. His grey eyes are slightly unsettling. This can’t be my mate, can it? 

“...and so I had them fired! Can you imagine? I asked for my steak to be medium and they brought it out medium well. That will teach that guy to listen to the customer at his next job.” Grey Eyes chuckles and takes a sip of the drink in front of him. He nods towards the glass in front of me. “Do you want another?”

“What? Oh, uh sure.” 

He flags the bartender down and orders a rum and coke before making a show of leaning on his beefy arm against the bar. “I’m glad you finally saw reason and agreed to come out with me tonight.”

I give him a small smile. “Yeah. Same here.” This doesn’t feel right. Maybe they got it wrong? Someone bumps into me from behind and grey eyes catches me, glaring at the person who bumped me, who had moved on. 

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah. It’ll take more than a drunk asshole to bring me down.” Grey Eyes laughs, picking up his glass and holding it up towards me. “I’ll drink to that.” I glance down to grab my drink, only to find it wasn’t there. I look back at Grey Eyes and see him frozen in place, the smirk on his face completely gone, his glass shaking as he continues to hold it in mid air. My glass appears next to his, lightly clicking against his glass. 

“Now that’s not very nice.” That voice. I would know his voice anywhere. My entire body relaxes as I turn to look into the dark brown eyes that I love so much.

“Marcus!” I exclaim, ignoring the vein in grey eye’s neck that’s threatening to pop. Marcus on the other hand, looks good. I mean, he always looks good to me but he’s dressed in nice black pants and a light blue button up shirt with matching black jacket. I’m not sure how a blue shirt makes his brown eyes pop, but it does. Marcus pushes his black frames up his nose.

“Hey, Ivy. Sorry to interrupt your date, but this not so kind gentlemen put a little something in your drink.”

“He what?” I blink rapidly a few times, trying to pry my eyes away from him. Grey Eyes vein relaxes somewhat and he sputters out.

“Fuck you man! We’re on a date! What….what are you doing to me?”

Marcus shrugs. “Well, you wanted to make it so she can’t move. Only fair if I return the favor.” 

Grey Eyes goes to say something else, but then seems to recognize the man standing next to me, his eyes going wide.

“Aren’t you the guy that can move metal?”

My eyes snap to Marcus, who is smiling. “I see I have a fan.”

Grey Eyes tries to backtrack. “Listen, man. I’m sorry. I was just trying to get her to loosen up a bit. Have some fun.”

Marcus looks at me, his brown eyes wide and smiling. “Ivy, do you wish to continue your date with this man?”

“Nope.” I pop the “p” sound at the end of the word. “Little hard to have fun when my date is trying to render me unconscious.”

Marcus waves the bartender over. “Call the police. This man is in possession of Freeze Me.”

 A handful of what felt like seconds later, several officers show up and arrest Grey Eyes, who barely puts up a struggle. I turn towards Marcus, my smile stretching my face as I grab his arm. “My hero.”

His eyes dart around the room, his arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “It was nothing.”

Gosh he’s so cute when he does that neck rub thing. Wait. Gotta play along. 

“Is Marcus the Metal Bender actually acting shy around me?”

He chuckles nervously and I think how perfect they coded him. Like he was picked out of my brain. Which I guess he was. 

“Just trying to be respectful.”

I wish he wouldn’t. Wait, are we even allowed to have sex in here? Wow, getting ahead of yourself there, Ivy.

“Youwannagetoutofhere?” He speaks so fast it all comes out in a jumble and I cock my head to the side. 

“What?”

He swallows hard and I can’t help but watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Hell yeah I do.” 

—-

It’s a few weeks later, or at least it feels like some time has passed. That lady did say time passes differently here. Now I’m in an office building, a stack of files in my arms, walking down the hall. A quick glance around tells me I’m in the Heroics head quarters. Marcus appears from around the corner and looks up at me, smiling and walking towards me. But then a man in a much too tight blue suit with a glowing M on it joins him, Marcus’s shoulders sagging slightly as he gives me a sad little wave.

“When are you two going to go on a date already?” A woman with bright pink hair appears next to me. 

“I uh, me?”

She slaps my shoulder. “Yes, you Ivy.” She leans in closer to my ear. “Aren’t you the one who confessed to having a crush on our heroic leader?”

I will the heat rising in my face to not show. “Oh, I uh..I-”

“You know he likes you too.” Her jaw drops when she sees the confused look on my face. “Oh don’t tell me you can’t tell! That man can hardly look at you and he’s taken down alien forces by just staring at them.”

She feels like a close friend so I go with it. “Yeah, ok I like him. Keep your voice down, will you?” She continues walking with me to the end of the hall where I deposit the stack of files into several slots, each one making a small whoosh sound as they’re whisked away to their destinations.

When I’m done, Pink Hair gently grabs my face and turns me to her. “I love you, Ivy. You know you’re like the sister I never had. So please listen to me when I say ask that man out before something happens and you regret not ever trying.”

Well fuck. That is…really spot on to reality isn’t it? 

I never get a chance to answer her as the entire building suddenly shakes, alarms and lights screeching and illuminating the halls. One of the tall filing cabinets starts to topple in my direction and I can only look on in horror, frozen in place by the rumbling building. I throw my hands up, as if that’s going to stop it, but nothing happens. The cabinet is laid gently on its side, floating to the ground. 

“Come on!” I look up into those dark eyes, Marcus extending his hand to me and helping me to my feet. “We have to get out of here!” He tightens his grip and somehow leads us out of the chaotic building out into the streets. Which is also nuts. People are running everywhere and…wait. Is that an alien spaceship coming towards us??

Marcus pulls me behind a wall, glancing around it and waving hand signals to a small group of heroes across the street behind another wall, Pink Hair amongst them. He turns back to me, his face full of worry as he starts to take his shirt off, exposing…not skin but a uniform? No. His hero costume, which is a black shirt,and arm bands. He sees me staring down and he shrugs. “I normally have a tach vest but we’re out of time.” 

“Should you not go out there without one?”

Marcus shakes his head. “I have to support my team. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I mean, people safe.”

“You could just stay here with me? The others can handle-” my words are cut off by a giant laser beam cutting through the street, coming directly from the ship. 

He takes my hand and squeezes it. “Get yourself to safety. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I need you to be safe.” Another laser beam, the sound of some smaller buildings crumbling to the ground. “Go! Get to safety!” He releases my hand. 

I get a glimpse of the deep craters that lasers had left in their wake through the cement of the street, the piles of rubble and dust, and this spurs me on.

“Marcus?” He leans against the wall, readying himself, but he looks at me. 

��Yeah?”

Mustering up my courage, I lean towards his hunched body, softly planting a kiss on his lips. When I pull back, I see his chest heaving, his eyes moving between mine.

“Please make it back, Marcus.”

Before he can answer, the ship comes into view and his team moves out, following behind Miracle Guy, who had flown right up the ship and started punching it. Marcus’s head whips around, assessing the situation and I squeeze his arm once more before quickly moving out of the immediate area. I know I should move more, but I can’t get hurt so… 

The fight that ensues between the ship, the aliens inside, and the Heroics team is nothing short of brilliant. They may argue in the halls, but in the field, they all take direction from Marcus, who is a brilliant leader, playing all of their strengths. Marcus bends metal like it’s made of playdough, a beautiful dance of destruction and strength. Then the ship comes crashing down, everyone moving out of the way except-

“Marcus!” I emerge from my hiding place at a full run as the smoke around the alien ship that’s currently scraping along the road as it crashes and envelops Marcus. The ship stops, groaning as it falls back and lays still, no other life forms moving or detected on board. For a few moments, no one moves. Then Marcus emerges from the smoke, his face soot stained and a small gash in his shirt and along his cheek, but otherwise unharmed. 

“Marcus!” I run to him, his eyes finding mine, his entire body relaxing as he realizes I’m safe, just before I launch myself into his arms, our lips crashing together as my right hand fists in his shirt, my left tugging on his hair. Miracle Guy wolf whistles but I couldn’t care less. I feel his tongue gently lick out and I part my lips, letting him take whatever he wants. But before it can go any further, my vision starts to blacken, the last thing I see is Marcus’s eyes going out of focus as he succumbs to his own transition to the next simulation.

—----

I find myself blinking awake for the second time in what feels like weeks, but I know in reality it’s only been maybe 20 minutes that I was in there. The tips of my fingers and toes are tingling, my vision and hearing clearing and I find myself in…a breakroom. Am I back at the Heroics? The slight weight in my hand takes my focus and I realize I’m holding a cup of tea. I must be on my break. I walk towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking outside. I’m not back at Heroics - the cityscape is all wrong. I hear the door open behind me and I turn, the smile on my face widening as Marcus enters the room. His hair is shorter than the last simulation. And his face is clean shaven, which is a look I’ve never seen on him before. Not that it matters - he’s beautiful no matter what. I wonder what he’ll look like when he’s a little older. Probably hot as-

“Hey, Ivy.” Marcus smiles down at me, grabbing his own mug and pouring a cup of coffee from the carafe. I notice the FBI logo on the mug and figure that must be where we are.

“Hey,  Marcus.” I take a sip of my tea as we both watch the other. But then the door opens again, another agent walking into the room. He claps his hands together, looking at us.

“Hey! Congrats on finally cracking that art case, you two! 8 months is a long time to do an operation like that. Great work!” He shakes both of our hands as we thank him. Marcus catches my eye and, with a small movement, jerks his head towards the door. I nod, thanking the other agent again and follow Marcus out of the tiny breakroom and down the hall, stopping in front of an office door labeled MARCUS PIKE. I wonder if that's his name back In reality. He extends his arm towards his office and I head inside, smiling at him as I do, noting how his eyes dart around, that hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he closes the door behind him.

“I uh…great work, Ivy.” 

“You too.” 

He puts his hands in his pockets and finally looks me in my eyes and he nods once. 

“Listen. Do you..uh..I mean, would you like to…this is coming out all weird.”

I squeeze his arm and he looks down at my hand, taking a deep breath. 

“Would you like to get something to eat?”

My stomach erupts in butterflies. “Like on a date?”

The redness in his eyes spreads down onto his cheeks as he stammers, gesturing around vaguely. “No! No, not uh. Not a date.”

I can feel my face falling. “Oh.”

“Uh, unless you…uh…unless you want to? Make it a…a date?” His eyes are wide and bright, like a damn puppy. 

I smile, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I would love to go on a date with you, Marcus.” 

His smile is bright, lighting up the room. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He let's out a sigh of relief. “Great! I found this great pancake place.”

Pancakes? I love this man already. “It's nearly dinner time!” I can't help the small giggle that I let out. 

“Yeah, well you said your favorite food is pancakes. And they're open 24 hours.”

He remembered my favorite food? I'm so screwed. Damn this program is good. “You're right! I'd love to get pancakes with you. On a date. For a date. When will this date be, by the way?”

“Oh. I uh, would it be too weird if we went tonight? Is that too soo-”

“No! I mean, yes! No it's not too soon. I'd love to go!” If my heart could stop beating through my chest, that would be great. It's not that I'm some young girl getting asked on her first date. I just really like Marcus. Or whomever this is. My heart sinks at the thought of it not being the Marcus I know in reality. 

“Great! I'll pick you up at 7? Unless you'd rather meet me there? I don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Marcus, we just spent 8 months together on assignment. I think I'm comfortable around you.”

He chuckles. “Fair point.” His office phone rings and he apologizes to me, picking it up. I wave ro him and he mouths “See you at 7!”

—----

He picks me up with a flourish of flowers, all long legs and button up shirt that I'm really dying to unbutton. If that's even allowed here. 

But what's more than that is the conversation. I thought I had learned everything about him over the last 8 months. I was very wrong. 

“You were a bass player in a band?” I ask, choking on my drink.

He laughs, holding his hands up in front of him. “What can I say? I wanted to meet more people.”

“I bet you had all the girls hanging on you.”

Marcus shrugs. “Not really. They all want to date the drummer or the singer.”

“Really? Not the sexy bass player?”

Marcus takes too large of a sip of his drink and coughs, pounding his chest. “No, not the…you think I'm sexy?”

I set my fork down and meet his eyes. “If I didn't like you, I wouldn't be here.”

We spend several moments, just looking at each other and then I remember that he's not a simulation but a real person on the other end of those eyes. My heart squeezes thinking about how it won't actually be Marcus. Despite that thought, we really get along well and the conversation flows freely between us. Sooner than I’d like, we’re leaving the small diner, heading back to my place. Marcus parks in my driveway and turns to me, his eyes bright and wide like a damn puppy. We had been talking about books, one of my favorite topics.

“..and I know everyone complains that Tolkien takes 20 pages to describe a flower, but I really love that attention to detail. It makes it more immersive for me. One of these days I’ll get you to read Lord of the Rings!” I tap my fingers on his bicep to emphasize my point.

Marcus rubs his neck. “I uh…I already have.”

My jaw drops. “What? When??”

“When you told me it was your favorite book. Or books, I should say.”

I think back. “Marcus, that was…months ago!”

His eyes meet mine, the light from the street lamp outside adding a sparkle to them. “You said they were your favorite so…I read them.”

My stomach does flips, my heart beating. “You read them all for me?”

He nods. “Even the Silmarillion.”

I can’t help it. This is so fucking hot. I reach out and grip his shirt, pulling him to me, his soft lips pressing against mine, the heat between us quickly rising. His large hand cradles the back of my head, holding me to him as his other hand settles on my hip, squeezing it lightly. We make out for several minutes, Marcus kissing and nipping a path down my neck. 

“Do you want to come in?” I ask breathlessly. 

He pulls back and looks at me. “I do but-” he whispers. “Are we allowed?”

“I…I’m not sure. We could try to-” 

But then my vision starts to blacken around the edges, and before I pass out, I hear Marcus say “See you in the next one!” before we both black out.

—----

Now familiar with the way I wake in these simulations, I wiggle my fingers and toes, giving myself a moment to figure out where I am. The room looks…ok, this isn’t from my time. Roman decor and pillars line the grand bedroom, some food laying on a small table for, I’m assuming, me. A quick glance down shows me in a beautiful white garb and I marvel for a moment at how clean it is. 

BOOM!

The ground shakes and I duck down, completely caught off guard. It’s only after the boom dies down that I hear it - the distant sound of clanking swords and men yelling. I walk to the small window set into the wall and look out, my brain taking a moment to process the scene in front of me. 

I’m several floors up in a sort of round building, a castle I realize as I see the lower tiers, more square in their shape. I’m sure the grounds would have been beautiful, if it weren’t for the massive amounts of soldiers fighting in the streets. I can make out their bodies, the blood, sweat, and dirt spreading almost like a disease. Spear and swords burst from chests or stomachs, limbs separating from their bodies to be lost to the throngs of soldiers. The seem to be moving closer to the castle, which I’m not sure if I want to happen or not. Turning on my sandaled heel, I walk to the door, pressing my ear against the wood to listen. Hearing nothing, I try to open it. Nothing. The door doesn’t open or move, the handle locked into place.

Well, fuck. 

Before I can try and figure out how far down the next ledge is out the window, or if I can even fit out the window, I hear a commotion outside my door. It’s not loud, but I hear a man gurgling and sputtering, a small bit of crimson blood pooling under the door. I grab an iron rod by the fire and hold it up, preparing to defend myself. I know they said I can’t be hurt but damn this feels real. The door opens and a man walks through, wide, muscular shoulders under his Roman armor, Medusa proudly engrained on the front. I lunge, the iron rod above my head but the man turns and grabs the rod and I  would’ve fallen to the floor if he hadn’t caught me.

“Ivy! Here you are!” 

It’s him. Marcus. Only he’s older, probably closer to 50. Grey streaks in his curls and patchy facial hair only accentuate his beauty, a new scar forming across his nose, bleeding lightly down his face. He’s covered in dirt and blood and ash, but I throw my arms around him anyway.

“Marcus! Thank God, what’s going on?”

He cups my face, pushing my hair out of my face. “You are so beautiful, my love. I would bring every army from the entire world to rescue you from this horrid Emperor.” And then his lips are on mine, urgency behind them, but a desire to show me how l much I am loved. This man apparently started the battle outside, for me, and still wants to make sure that I know how important I am to him? 

“We have to flee. Come!” But before we can leave, the door flies open and 5 guards file in, grabbing Marcus and holding his arms out to his sides. I pick the iron rod up from the floor and run towards them, unsure of what I would do but I know I’ll beat the shit out of them until they let him go. But another hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, twisting it hard so I drop the rod. I look up into the eyes of a man that I’m assuming is the Emperor, his golden robes flowing around him. He looks vaguely familiar, like that one asshole from the comic shop.

“Now, now my dear. What were you planning on doing with that?”

I open my mouth to reply, but then he smacks me across the face and I slam down onto the floor. Ok, that hurt. Didn’t she say I wouldn’t get hurt? Maybe she meant I wouldn’t die. Marcus swears, cursing the Emperor for hitting me. 

“Are you alright, my love?” Marcus grunts as the men punch him in the stomach. 

“Marcus, Marcus, Marcus. You’re kind are dying out. I told you to just accept your fate and take your banishment, but instead, you stayed behind and fell in love with a woman. How…stupid.” Marcus tries to speak but he’s punched again, his body hunching over. I try to stand, but then I’m drug up by my hair, the Emperor’s fingers digging at my scalp as he pulls me to his side. 

“This one?” His eyes rake over my body. “She is attractive, I’ll give you that. Even if she is attracted to a brute like you.” I jerk my body, trying to get out of his grip but it’s too tight, my hands gripping his arms to try and get some relief from the stinging at the back of my scalp.

“Let her go. You can kill me, I don’t care, but let her go.”

The Emperor looks from me to Marcus, a sick smile spreading on his face. “I didn’t go through the trouble of kidnapping her just to have you give up. So I’ll tell you what I’ll do instead. LOOK AT ME!” The Emperor bellows from beside me, Marcus’s eyes moving from mine to his. 

He steps closer to Marcus, dragging me a little beside him. “Such a wild man. How about this: you watch as I take her. Then, I’ll drive my sword through her belly so she can slowly bleed out on the floor. Only after the light has left her eyes will I either kill you or lock you up to suffer the rest of your days. How does that sound?”

The darkness that settles over Marcus is unforgiving, his eyes hardening in resolution. He growls and screams, throwing the soldiers off him as he grabs his sword from the ground, swinging it and taking out all of the soldiers in only a handful of moves. He spins, aiming his sword at the Emperor, who has now moved me in front of him as a human shield, a knife to my throat. 

“I’ll kill her, Marcus! You are too weak to save her!”

Marcus’s gaze moves briefly to mine and I release my weak grip on the Emperor’s arms, letting them fall to my side. Marcus shifts his body ever so slightly before he throws something from behind his back. The object whizzes past my cheek, scratching it slightly as the blade buries itself in the Emperor’s neck. He drops his knife and clutches at his throat, his eyes wide with fear. He crumbles to the floor and sputters for several moments before his body stops moving. I run to Marcus, throwing my arms around him again. He grunts and I remember the soldiers hitting him.

“Are you hurt?”

He clutches his side. “I’ve had worse.”

“You are so fucking hot right now,” I speak quietly to him and he smiles. “I’m covered in dirt and blood and sweat.”

“Stop trying to turn me on more I already said you’re hot.”

He laughs but then inhales sharply at the pain. “I’ll take it, I guess.”

“No, that’s my job.” I bring my lips to his, pushing him back towards the chaise lounge chair on the other side of the room. He sits, pulling me onto his lap as I straddle him, my dress getting dirty as I shift my hips. He groans, his large hands sliding up my bare thighs under my dress and fuck! My vision starts to blacken and I hear Marcus whine out some expletives as we both are brought out of the simulation. 

—---------------------------

Hopefully for the last time, I blink awake, wiggling my fingers and toes as I look around the room. The helmet is gently lifted from my head and the woman that had put it on me moves into my eyesight.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m here.”

“Good. Wait just a moment for your body to fully catch up. Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah why did you stop us having sex?”

She studies me for a moment. “It is not allowed in the programming.”

“I cross my arms. “Well your programming is stupid.”

She chuckles so quietly I thought I’d imagined it. “The algorithm wants you and your mate to match based on personality and emotions, not just physical.”

“I can guarantee you it wasn’t just physical.” 

She helps me stand and I shake my limbs out, full feeling returning to them. I smooth out my dress as she readjusts my hair. “Are you ready to meet him?”

Him. My reality man. “Y..yeah.” 

“Right through that door. He’s already waiting for you.” I move towards the door but she stops me. “I just have to say, I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve never seen a situation like yours and his.”

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

So smiles softly. “So…rooted in reality.”

Yeah that’s not confusing. But she doesn’t explain further, turning back to the chair and helmet, starting to clean them. I take a deep breath to steady myself and open the door, walking through and closing it behind me. The man on the other side of the room, my mate, turns towards me and we both gasp.

“Marcus?”

“Ivy?”

We meet in the middle of the room and I cup his face, Marcus tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Is it really you?”

He nods. “Yeah. You? Real?”

“Real.”

He pulls my face to his, kissing me deeply, but then pulling back a moment later. 

“I’ve been dying to ask you out since forever. I never thought I’d be paired with you, here of all places.”

I cock my head to the side. “Why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re entirely out of my league.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s the other way around.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but I put my finger on his lips. “I think we went through several first dates in there. Plus, we’re already friends. Can we…that is, can you take me back to your place first? Then we can eat?”

Marcus’s eyes darken, his hands finding a place on my hips as he pulls me against his body, letting me feel how into that idea he is. 

We’re married a year later.

—----

General Taglist:

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[shinynewboots]

The Alchemy: Adam x AFAB Morningstar!reader Part 2

AN: Hello all! Thank you so much for all the love and support you have given this story!! Once again want to give a special shoutout to @jennieyeager for the wonderful prompt! I do apologize for the wait. I had a lot of different directions I wanted to go and this was the final project. With that being said:

Confession time: I definitely think this is going to be longer than 4 parts! I kept trying to condense this as best I could but these two idiots really took the plot and ran with it so I hope y'all are ready!

Warnings: 18+ eventually, somewhat dubious consent, language, Adam-typical misogyny

Part 1

The clock on your arm was ticking quickly, time moving at a faster pace than you could fathom. You had made the executive decision to not tell Charlie about your arrangement with Adam until it was too late for her to stop it. A cowardly move, perhaps, but you knew she would try and talk you out of it if she sensed even the smallest hint of hesitation in your decision. 

And there was some hesitation. To leave everything you had ever known to marry this man who had only ever been the boogie man of your nightmares? But you thought of Charlie and her mission and dreams and you knew the answer could only ever be yes. 

There was another part of you, a part that you weren’t completely ready to acknowledge, that was curious and intrigued. No one ever chose you first. Ever. And yet this mythic being upon first glance knew that he wanted you. Now maybe it was the slight resemblance you bore to your mother or desire for his weird revenge but it was still you that he had chosen. That had to mean something, right?

So you left a note for Charlie to find once she finally realized you were missing. 

Charlie,

I’m okay. Please don’t come after me. I went with Adam, the leader of the exorcists. He promised in exchange for me, he would stop the exterminations and give your hotel a shot. Please, Char, I had to do this for you. For us. For…everyone. Please don’t tell Dad, though I doubt he would answer your calls anyway. Please don’t do anything rash. I will try and contact you when I can. I love you. Y/N.

The embassy looked more foreboding than it ever had. The building almost looked like an eyesore along the skyline. Almost too perfect to be seen amongst the squabble of Hell. You glanced down at your watch: 0:05.

Five minutes until your life changed forever. 

You trekked through the embassy, the rooms were just as quiet and dark as when you and Charlie were here only 24 hours earlier. You finally made it back to the meeting room where you had met Adam originally. Light streamed through the cracks in the door and you knew he was there. Another glance down at your watch: 0:02. 

There was no use in waiting for the clock to strike midnight. For your carriage to turn into a pumpkin. It was inevitable, so why put it off? Sighing, you opened the door. 

You looked around the room and only saw Adam, his feet on the table, and leaned back in one of the boardroom chairs, a golden guitar in his hands.. He wasn’t wearing his mask so you got a good view of his human features. He also wasn’t wearing his white and purple robe and instead wore a simple black cotton t-shirt and blue jeans. 

There was no one else present, not even his loyal exorcist from the first meeting. Adam was strumming the guitar, his eyes closed, and his expression was peaceful. 

You glanced down at your watch. 0:01.

You cleared your throat to alert Adam of your presence. The gentle melodies from the guitar came to an abrupt stop and you were suddenly face to face with Adam, who had flown to you with such a speed that you still couldn’t wrap your head around. 

“Hey Babe, good choice.” He said, smirking and taking in your appearance. You found your eyes drawn to his lips and the memory of his smoldering kiss only 24 hours early. My, how much can change. Adam seemed to notice because his smirk became a hungry grin and revealed to you his sharp canines. You found yourself so distracted that you missed his question.

“Hard Candy?” He asked again, holding a small wrapped cherry-hard candy in your line of sight. You looked at him, your eyebrows scrunched. 

“Uh, sure. It’s not poison, is it?” You joked, giving a very Charlie-esque awkward smile. 

“Nah, babe. It's for the travel. You ever portal-traveled before?”

You shook your head. 

“Thought so. Don’t want you puking on me or anything once we get there. This should help.”

You nodded and went to grab the candy from his hand. He had other ideas. He unwrapped the candy himself and held it out in front of your lips. You involuntarily took in a deep breath and could once more taste his kiss from even the subtle scent of the candy. 

“Open,” He whispered and you did just that. He placed the cherry candy on your tongue and it took everything in you not to unravel. To forget your arrangement and to try and find out if his kiss was just as sweet and flavorful as the hard candy that now sat on your tongue. Instead, you chose to swirl the candy in your mouth, the juices emitting their pleasant sweet tang. 

“Thanks,” You breathed out, not trusting yourself with any more expression of language than that measly word. 

“It’s fucking good, right?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, wouldn’t expect anything less from a candy from heaven.”

Adam shook his head. “Nah, that's not from Heaven. They don’t get the cherry flavor right. That’s from Earth.” 

“Oh,” You said lamely, trying to locate this special cherry flavor Adam seemed to enjoy. You wouldn’t call yourself a candy connoisseur but at least now you knew one more thing about your soon-to-be husband: His hard candy preference. 

“You ready to go?” Adam asked, holding out his large hand for your grab. 

“You promise that you’re going to stop the exterminations? And give my sister’s hotel a shot at redeeming sinners?” You asked, just needing one last verbal confirmation that you weren’t making a mistake. You could have tried to hold him to a deal but he was an angel. An angel, who despite being a villain in your parent’s history, had done nothing to conceal his true intentions as far as you knew. And you always felt icky making deals. The idea of owning a soul? Could you even own an angel’s soul?

Adam grinned in a way that could only be described as shark-like, his canines glittering in the light. He held a hand over his heart as if to further prove sincerity. “I promise to do everything in my power to stop the exterminations and give your sister’s stupid hotel a shot.”

You breathed a deep sigh and nodded. You gave him your hand and he squeezed it in a surprisingly gentle manner. His hand was calloused, surprising you as you thought all heavenly things were perfect. But his hand was rough and weathered and worked (especially his fingers, which you attributed to his years of guitar). 

A portal suddenly opened in the wall and you got your first glimpse at the Pearly Gates of Heaven. It was even more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. A piece of your heart began to ache. Charlie should be here to see this.

Adam pulled you forward. 

“Close your eyes,” He whispered, his mouth dangerously close to your ear and warm breath tickling you. “And hold on to me.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with wonder and a little disappointment that you couldn’t take in the sight before you for even a moment longer. 

“Trust me, the first trip’s the worst.” He said, and suddenly he pulled you to his side. His body was warm and softer than you had imagined. You closed your eyes tight. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you even tighter to his side. You heard the flap of his wings and suddenly you felt weightless as the ground beneath your feet ceased to be. You could feel yourself flying higher and higher until…

You felt a rush of air and a glorious sun shining on your face. You felt as though the universe had taken you by the belly button and was pulling you closer to it. Your stomach began to flip and you were very grateful for the candy, as the flavor was helping to settle your nausea, at least for a little bit. 

The sensation was lessening and you felt your feet hit solid ground. You hesitantly opened your eyes and were immediately met with various cameras shoved in your face.Angels, winners, and Cherubs crowded around you and Adam. Your mouth had run dry and you couldn’t think. Lights flashed and you felt yourself melding closer into Adam’s side.

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS! Care for a comment?”

“Princess! Over here! How did you manage to get Heaven’s most eligible bachelor to lower his standards to a Hell Born like yourself?”

“Hey Fuckers, get the fuck off my lawn!” Adam growled.

“YOU HEARD HIM, FUCK OFF!” You heard someone else yell. You looked over to see the same Exorcist angel (Lute?) that had been with Adam at the meeting yesterday. She had a menacing grin on the face of her mask and had a spear pointed at all the reporters. Adam gave her a nod which she returned (after she speared through a camera cherub was holding). 

 Adam decided to act quickly since Lute could only hold off so many reports and so he used his wing to shield you and make a path up to the house. You mirrored his footsteps, though you couldn’t take in the world around you due to his wing. Finally you made it inside Adam’s house and were able to take a free breath. 

“Fuck,” Adam cursed. “Fuck Babe, I’m sorry. I don’t know how they found out.” 

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You could still hear the reporters outside but chose to not let it bother you (well, it would bother you at least a little. You had never been one for the spotlight).

“It’s okay. It’s fine,” You said softly, placing a hand on his arm. He looked over at you with curious eyes and you felt your heart stop. And then you felt yourself accidentally swallow the cherry candy. You immediately began to cough and choke as the candy slid down your windpipe.

Adam’s eyes widened in shock and fear. He ran up behind you and began to push on your stomach in a pitiful attempt at the heimlich maneuver. Fortunately, you weren’t solely reliant on him to save your life, and you coughed up the remaining cherry red candy. A sliver of what it had been when you had been given it early. Really Sexy Princess Morningstar, real sexy.

Adam must have been relieved when you stopped choking, at least enough to make a joke. “Fuck Babe, don’t choke again unless its because of me.”

Ah, there was the asshole you had originally met. You had let his kind, sexy gestures fool, but the asshole was still there. 

You scowled at him and began to look around the house. It was a modest house, the perfect size for one or two people. Cleaner than you expected too. You had honestly expected trash and leftover food to be strewn around the house, but you were pleasantly surprised. 

A sound at the front door caused you to jump and you looked to see Lute entering, an irritated look on her face. Adam walked over to her, his hand up to give her a high-five which she begrudgingly returned.

“Thanks Bitch, I don’t know how those fucking reporters found out.”

“You made a bit of a spectacle of yourself, Sir. Apparently one of the Saints let it slip that you requested the Hell Spawn.” Lute said, eyeing you with disgust. The feeling was mutual and you could feel your demon form bubbling under the surface, your eyes beginning to turn a reddish color.

“Fucking Peter,” Adam scowled. He glanced over at you and seemed to feel the irritation seeping from your pores. “Babe, she doesn’t mean it.” 

“Yes I do.”

“Yes she does.” You said, crossing your arms and stepping closer to Adam. 

You and Lute glared at each other. 

“Okay, okay ladies reel it in. Lute, you’re a real one. I fucking appreciate it. Just let the girls know I won’t be at training for a few days while I get Y/N settled.”

“Of course sir. Hell Spawn.” She said, nodding at Adam and then you. Your eyes narrowed. 

“Bigoted Cunt,” You responded, giving her a just as condescending nod. Lute bristled but one look from Adam and she quietly slipped out the door. 

Adam turned to you, suddenly more sheepish than you had seen him in the past 24 hours. He rubbed a hand behind his neck. “So, uh, I only have 1 bedroom. I mean I have more rooms, I just haven’t had a chance to get more beds or anything. So I put your suitcase in my bedroom.”

You know, this is the part of the story where the main character gets nervous. Worries that her very sexy, very annoying husband-to-be is going to ravish her and take advantage. Her mouth would run dry and her palms would get sweaty. Only one bed? Give me a break. 

But you weren’t the main character in the trashy romance novel and he certainly wasn't the main love interest material. And you could make do with the idea that maybe living in a romance trope. And he seemed sheepish enough that it was genuine. 

So instead of doing as you would if you had been the same person you had been in Hell, only a few hours before, you decided to draw on some newfound confidence. You closed the distance between yourself and Adam and looked up at him, a coy smile on your features. “Lead the way.”

This seemed to him, as his features brightened up considerably and he grabbed your hand to guide you to the bedroom. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and you could feel your nerve breaking the longer you walked with Adam. 

When you entered his bedroom, you were surprised to find it to be rather plain. Very few features had been added to the space to make it homey aside from a guitar propped against one of the nightstands. Not a picture or painting or any decor to be seen. Like the rest of the house, it was shockingly clean. On the bed, your forgotten suitcase sat. 

“I’ll leave you to get settled. I'll grab some wine or beer or whatever you drink down below.” Adam said, motioning towards you to begin unpacking your suitcase. You smiled at him, feeling as though you were seeing the real Adam already in the few moments of insecurity he had let shine through. 

“Wine is good.” You said. He nodded and made to move towards the door before stopping and turning back to you. He stood in front of you, his golden eyes meeting your own before they looked lower at your lips. Emboldened, you licked your top lip slowly and looked at his own before devilishly looking back at his eyes. 

His large hands cupped your cheeks and suddenly his lips were on yours. Your senses were once again overwhelmed with that delicious taste of cherry hard candy. Feeling more and more impish, you licked the seam between his lips, a soft request. 

Adam responded in kind and opened his mouth, tongue meeting your own and licking in a controlled, hard manner. Your hands found their way into his hair and tangled in his soft brown locks. One of Adam’s hands left your cheeks and snaked its way down to your waist, pulling you closer. His large hand cupped your hip and squeezed with a firm pressure that sent a pleasant chill up your spine. His body felt so warm against your own and you could feel your resolve weakening. 

(But would it be so bad if it did?)

You reluctantly pulled away from him, your lips missing the feel of his against your own. His cheeks were flushed and his golden eyes were bright and alert. 

“I uh, I should unpack,” You whispered, untangling your hands from his hands. Adam nodded, though you weren’t sure he heard you. 

He coughed awkwardly and you tried to avert your eyes when he tried to discreetly ‘adjust’ himself. “I’ll go get the wine.”

“I’ll unpack,” You replied, mentally kicking yourself for the repetition. You nervously brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. Adam nodded once more and left the room, leaving you alone.

You sighed and tried to calm your breathing. You unzipped your suitcase and smiled forlornly at the picture that sat on top of your clothes. It was a picture of you, Charlie and your parents. You and Charlie were children, grinning wildly at the camera. 

You folded the picture so it just showed the two of you. You placed the picture on what appeared to be the unoccupied side of the bed and continued to unpack.

Tags: @jennieyeager @tati-the-fangirl @alastorswifeee @randomgurl2326 @marxo5 @dragovegogrimborn @ella-janehaven @honestlyshamelesskid @miniaturetalent @klorinda @turtle3586 @naniiiii12 @belladonnadeath

[sidekick-hero]

Dear Future Self

(steddie | 14.5k | explicit | tags: Time Travel, threesome (two Eddies and Steve), self-cest, pwp, double penetration, smut and fluff, POV switches | AO3)

Special Shoutout to @legitcookie with whom I started writing this AGES ago but never managed get very far. I still remember us having so much fun with this idea. I hope you like where I took it 💜

This whole fic is inspired by one of my favorite artists: https://twitter.com/ShinyDirtyCoin/status/1642688399348727808

Summary:

After the events of March '86, Eddie pines for his new friend, the former king of Hawkins High. Too scared to make a move, he has resigned himself to a life as Steve's friend and nothing more. That is, until one hot summer day, a naked guy appears out of nowhere in Steve's bedroom. The naked guy is him from the future, and he says he's here to help Eddie pull his head out of his ass. It turns out that he and Steve are a happy couple in the future. And as if that wasn't enough, he also offers to teach Eddie how to properly fulfill Stevie's needs. Sexy shenanigans ensue.

Spicy snippet under the cut

Then he looks back at Future Eddie. "Okay, then tell us, what is something that you and your Steve have always wanted to try but haven't yet?"

It's clearly the right question, because Future Eddie's eyes go wide, the warm chocolate brown darkening with desire.

"Oh, Stevie. You keep surprising me. You really wanna know?" That last part is clearly directed at Eddie, who's been suspiciously quiet.

Eddie shifts behind him and Steve gasps in surprise as he feels his hard length against the small of his back. He had no idea how turned on Eddie was just by talking about it.

"Yeah." It's just a word, said softly, but Steve can hear the desire in Eddie's rough voice and it makes him shiver with anticipation.

"Good." With that, Future Eddie turns to rummage through Steve's nightstand. The blanket slips from his form, revealing miles of lean muscle and scared, tattooed skin to Steve's hungry gaze.

When Future Eddie turns back to them, he's holding Steve's pink dildo.

"One of the best things that ever happened was when I came home early one day when we first started dating and I found you in my room using this on yourself."

"Oh my God," Eddie and Steve say again in unison. Steve hides his face in his hands, white-hot embarrassment flooding his body. Eddie, on the other hand, wraps himself around him even tighter, his breath hot against Steve's ear.

"Don't. This is the hottest thing I've ever heard. Please, promise to let me watch you someday. Please, Stevie, sweetheart."

Eddie sounds almost desperate for it and it helps a lot to make Steve less embarrassed.

It's Future Eddie who pulls his hands away from his face. "He's right. To this day, I get hard just thinking about it. You're always gorgeous, baby, but watching you give yourself over to your own pleasure is the closest thing to heaven I'll ever get."

"But that's not what I was getting at. After I saw you with your little toy and assured you how fucking hot it was, we decided to play with it together from time to time. Using it on each other, sometimes with our tongues or fingers joining the party. God, Stevie, the first time I added a finger to the dildo in your ass, you went crazy. You came all over yourself with nothing on your cock. Had me almost following you just because it was so hot to watch."

Steve wants to be embarrassed again, feels the blush deepen in his cheeks. But the way Eddie's grinding against his back, his breath coming in the form of quickening pants, the hot breath puffing against his sweaty neck, it's easy to push the feeling down. It helps that he's already hard and aching, and part of him wishes Eddie would stop grinding against his back and just push into him. If he were a girl he would be wet and dripping, ready for Eddie's length to fill him. Ready for Eddie to take him, to use him, to make Steve his.

Future Eddie looks at him, looks at both of them, as if he can read every filthy thought going through their minds. And he probably can. After all, he knows them. He knows them better than they know themselves in that respect.

Future Eddie leans in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "One of the hottest things we ever tried? It was the first time we used that pink dildo while I was fucking you. I had you on your hands and knees, both of us a sweaty mess, and I pushed it in while I kissed down your spine. Had you stretched out with my fingers, three of them inside you next to my cock. You were so fucking full baby, rim stretched so wide to make room for me. And the way you moaned my name, Stevie... I've never heard anything like it."

Steve can feel Eddie's breath hitching behind him, the heat from his body almost unbearable. He knows Eddie is picturing it, just like he is, and the thought makes his pulse quicken. Future Eddie's words hang in the air, a tantalizing promise of what's to come.

"We talked about this later. How much you loved being so full, stretched almost to the limit. You said the only thing missing was the feeling of having two real cocks inside you. The fake feeling of the dildo replaced by the real deal. Hot, pulsating flesh. Two loads dripping out of you."

Someone moans brokenly and he's not sure if it's him or Eddie.

"But you may have noticed," Future Eddie gives his past self an amused look, "but I'm not good at sharing. Especially not you. So inviting a stranger was always out of the question."

His gaze becomes pointed, eyes roaming over their tangled bodies, and Steve feels another shiver run through his body. He thinks he knows what’s coming.

"So," Eddie surprisingly fills the ensuing silence, his mouth pressed to Steve's ear. "You want us both to fill you up? Is that it? Two dicks stuffing your hole?"

READ THE WHOLE THING ON AO3

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. vii

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: Reader and Joel try (poorly) to keep their budding relationship hidden from Sarah. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 6.3k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY. Angst, PTSD (though not explicitly stated). References to abusive parents. A bit of a drunken brawl. Men being generally shitty and misogynistic. Alcohol and marijuana mention. Fluff. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: Strap in, ya'll. This chapter is pretty heavy at times but I promise, it'll be worth it. Things have been going well so we needed to bring some drama! Also, some of my links are breaking and I try to update them but as of right now the masterlist should have links to all the chapters ! Also special shoutout to @str84pedro for reminding me to close out the 'Joel getting his wallet back' storyline. And @ay0nha for the Hank Williams joke. tysm my friends.

-June 27th, 2003-

“Joel.” 

Pleasure swirls low in your belly, his name comes out as a throaty moan.  

“Aren’t you-oh, fuck,” you manage. “-worried y-your neighbors might see?”

You’re splayed open on one of the patio chairs in his backyard, fingers curled in his hair. The dress you’d worn is hiked over your hips, thong pushed to the side. Joel has long since pulled your legs apart, one of them hooked over the cool metal arm of the chair, the other pressed against his cheek, his beard rubbing your skin raw. 

“No.” His lips pull away from the suction they have on your clit, but the two fingers he’s got inside you continue to work diligently, scissoring and curling against a spot deep within you that serves as the cause for all your stuttering. “They shouldn’t be lookin’ over the fence,” he murmurs, voice surprisingly clear and steady considering what he’s doing to you. “And if you stay quiet, you won’t give them a reason to.” 

Joel hums contentedly as he latches his mouth back against the sensitive bud, sucking furiously, and you do as you’re told, panting into your palm to keep your whimpers to yourself. It’s Joel who seems to be struggling the most to stay quiet, especially when you arch your back to press your hips into his face, and he moans against you. He loves going down on you – you’ve learned through lots of experience. As if to prove it, you look down to where he’s knelt between your legs and see that his free hand is squeezing himself over his jeans. 

It’s only been ten minutes since you walked through his front door. Currently, you can’t remember what your plans had been for the night. Seeing a movie? Going to dinner? For a walk? Your brain is mush. But Joel had suggested you have a quick drink on his back patio before leaving and, well…here you are. 

You can’t get enough of Joel, and yet, you never have to ask for him. When you have plans, they’re often abandoned, and you end up tangled in bedsheets together. Whether it’s his place or yours, he’s taken you everywhere and every way you can think of, but you still want more. He is just as insatiable. 

Sarah has been away at camp for two weeks now, which means you’d actually gotten to spend an entire weekend together. This past Saturday, Joel had made good on a promise to spend an entire day in bed with you, and then Sunday was spent the same way after he’d revealed to you he had never had sex stoned. Well, we need to fix that, you’d said. It felt like a huge accomplishment when you were able to drag yourselves out of bed and clean up for long enough to grab a meal at a 24-hour diner that wasn’t far down the road. Such a short drive, even, that when you’d tried to suck him off in the car on the way home Joel had said there ‘wasn’t enough time.’ 

Of course, most of your flings started off with this phase, but Joel still found ways to surprise you at every turn. You didn’t know it was possible to be with someone who was so thoughtful, so sincere. It was easy to trust him, to be yourself with him, even if you were still learning how.

Tonight is your last night alone before Sarah returns from camp, and Joel’s determined to use it to his full advantage.  

After you’ve come on his fingers, against his tongue – and he talks you through it – Joel pulls you onto his lap. He’s still on his knees, crushing you against him, and you can feel him straining through his jeans.  

“We’re not gonna make it to the movie, are we?” It’s more of an observation than it is anything else, pulling back from one of his greedy kisses.

“You wouldn’t be upset if we didn’t go, would you?” There’s some sincerity in his expression, like he almost feels bad. 

“Stay here with you, or go see a terrible action movie?” you say, shaking your head, steadying your breathing. “That’s a tough one.”

Joel rolls his eyes, but doesn’t hide his smile. “Want to go upstairs?” 

“Sure.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At this point you’ve been in Joel’s room more than once. But you notice new things each time. There’s photos of him and Sarah he has framed on his dresser, one from when she’s just a toddler, and he looks not much older than a kid himself. He has a stack of books there too, but they’re collecting dust, one of them is some sort of thick construction manual, and the other is titled Everything You Need To Know About Creating a Startup. You would sooner crack those open than you would your old law textbooks. There’s always a pile of clothes on the floor, and you don’t think the chair in the corner has ever not had a couple pairs of his work jeans strewn over the back.

Joel lays back on the bed, stretches out like a cat, his arms above his head, flannel and t-shirt combo lifting to reveal the swathe of hair that trails down and disappears into his jeans. You’re well accustomed to his body at this point, but it still doesn’t stop your stomach from flipping every time any inch of his skin is revealed to you. The muscles in his biceps flex as he props his head back on his forearm, looks over at you, pausing in the threshold. “Why are you bein’ shy all the sudden?”

“Can’t I just look at you?” 

Joel’s face gets flushed, or at least, it sort of looks like it does, and he holds a hand towards you. “Get over here.” 

You step forward to take his hand, and he tugs you onto him, shifting his weight so the line of his body is pressed against yours. Since he’s already gotten you off, and you had a few moments apart while walking upstairs, you’ve both calmed down a little, and the kisses he gives you are lazy, exploratory. 

Outside, all the light has nearly left the sky. A cool breeze filters through his open windows, the sheer curtains billowing out. When you shiver, Joel pulls you closer, one broad, warm palm raking up your arm, brushing over pebbled skin. 

Joel makes love to you slowly, languidly, hovering over you. This isn’t new, it’s how he always seems to like it. Before, it had never been your favorite. You used to think it meant there was a lack of enthusiasm, but you must have been with the wrong people. With Joel, it just makes sense. You’re still able to taste the desperation dripping off of him when you trace your tongue along his collarbone, and can feel how badly he wants you in the unhurried drag of his fingertips. The way he touches you, so confident, but also so tenderly, makes you feel insane. All you want to do is take and take. And he’s so eager to give it to you. 

When you wake the next morning, your cheek is resting on his sternum, and his palm in the dip of your spine. Window still open from the night before, you can hear the morning doves calling – probably what woke you to begin with. Something you’ve learned is that when given the chance, Joel loves to sleep. You do too, obviously, but it doesn’t seem to come as easily. So when you tilt your head back to look up at him, you’re surprised to find him already awake. Sunlight glitters off the amber in his eyes, and there’s such a warmth to his gaze that your first instinct is to turn away. 

But you don’t. You let him kiss you, let his beard tickle your neck. 

“I love waking up next to you,” Joel whispers. 

Even though you’re too afraid to say anything in return, he doesn’t hold it against you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-July 5, 2003-

Sarah answers the door to her house before your knuckles can even make contact with the wood. She all-but pounces on you as you step over the threshold, wrapping you in a hug that’s so tight you barely can breath, and pulling back before you can return it. “How are you? Where have you been?” 

“I’m good, just busy,” She’s been back for a week and you still haven't had a chance to see her. Work has been hectic, and you’d even had to work during the holiday yesterday to meet a deadline for a new client. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” she gives you another quick hug.

You wait for her to pull back before she speaks again. “How was camp?”

“So much fun,” she nods. “But I got eaten alive by mosquitos so I’m kind of happy to be home.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t know how well I’d do out in the wilderness for so long.”

“Oh yeah,” Sarah raises her eyebrows. “The New Yawk-er,” she says with an unconvincing accent, but grimaces. “Sorry, that was bad.”

“We’ll work on it,” you pat her shoulder.

There’s a fresh smattering of freckles across her nose from the days she’s spent outside under the Texan sun, which is unrelenting this time of year. It also seems she’s grown another inch since the last time you’d seen her, but you can’t be certain. “My dad is upstairs. Running late as usual,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You can come in. I have so much to tell you.”

You act tentative, because as far as she knows, this is your first time in her home. When you sit on the couch, she plops next to you, leaning against the cushions. “What’s this?” you reach for one of the many photos strewn out across the coffee table. 

“Oh, that’s my dad and his brother when they were kids.” The photo is of the two young boys seated in a red wagon. Tommy’s got a half-eaten strawberry in his hand, his lips and cheeks stained red. And he’s leaning back against Joel, who's wearing a cowboy hat that’s far too big for him, his plump cheek resting on the top of his brother’s dark curls. You are ashamed by the twinge of bitter longing that twists in your gut when you see their carefree smiles, despite it being one of the sweetest one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. But you’re even more ashamed that for one quick second, you wonder what Joel would look like with a son that age. Would he be just as adorable? “My dad was going through a bunch of old family photos the other day,” Sarah says. 

“Cute,” you observe. 

But Sarah doesn’t seem as interested in them as you do, so to avoid any suspicion, you put the photo down. You let her recount her trip, starting with day one, and moving on. Sarah explains what it was like to live in a cabin for a week, to sleep for a night under the stars. She learned archery, and swam, and rode horses, and hiked, and wove friendship bracelets with the other girls there. She shows you one of the multicolored woven bracelets on her wrist, and pulls an identical one out of her pocket to fasten around your own. It’s so thoughtful you aren’t quite sure how to thank her, and you’re hit with a fresh wave of guilt over the secret you’ve been keeping. It had been easier to ignore when she wasn’t around. 

You hear Joel shuffling down the stairs before he comes into view. “You ready, babygirl?”

“Yeah,” Sarah answers. “We’re waiting.”

“Hey,” Joel says when he reaches the landing. He pauses, looks between you and Sarah, huddled on the couch together, and then nods at you once. “Nice to see you.” 

“You too,” you say, rather rigidly. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Of course,” he says over his shoulder as he heads into the kitchen. He’s trying so hard to be nonchalant, you almost buy it. Almost.

The county fair only lasts a week, and tonight is the last night you’re able to go. Sarah had called you at work a few days earlier to invite you. She seemed adamant that although it was a yearly tradition to go with Joel, she wanted you there. I asked my dad already and he said it was fine. It had been awhile since you’d gone to a carnival, and you weren’t one to turn down the opportunity to eat a funnel cake and drink some fresh-squeezed lemonade. 

“Alright,” Joel returns from the kitchen with his car keys, all business. “Let’s head out.” 

He holds the door open as Sarah filters outside, followed by you. But you stop yourself in the threshold, turning to Joel. “Did you remember your wallet?” You ask him out of habit, because historically speaking, he’s always leaving it behind. 

Joel pats his pockets, groans, throwing his head back. “Shit.” and then disappears back inside. Briefly, you worry that Sarah might have picked up on the implications of the question – maybe you know him a little too well – but she doesn’t even seem to be paying attention, and you scold yourself for being so paranoid. 

“Good catch,” Joel says as he exits the house, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket. He grins at you and Sarah. 

You bite back a teasing remark. Are you sure you’re the oldest child in your family? Sometimes he seems just a tad too frazzled, forgetful. That might’ve drawn a laugh from him, or a pointed ‘Shut Up’. But you’ve got to keep that sort of thing to yourself, if you can.

You pile into the car, Sarah in the back and you on the passengers side, but it doesn’t stop her from leaning forward to stay in the conversation while Joel puts his elbow over the bench seat and looks over his shoulder to back out of the driveway. It’s a hot night, so he’s only got on a fitted t-shirt that’s a tad too tight through his chest and upper body. You do everything in your power not to let your gaze linger on him. It’s hard to believe someone could make putting a car in reverse sexy, but if anyone could do it, it’s Joel. 

“Do you like The Chicks?” Sarah asks from behind you, once you’re on the road. 

“I don’t listen to much country music,” you’re honest. 

“You live in Texas,” Joel interjects. 

“Yeah, you live in Texas,” Sarah echoes. “I think you’ll like them. Dad, will you play my favorite song?” She nudges you to get your attention. “He finally fixed his radio.”

“Is your seatbelt on?” Joel does a double-take when he notices how far up she’s sitting. 

“Yes, I actually can get a pretty good range of motion with this thing.”

“Well it needs to go across your shoulders,” Joel adjusts his rearview mirror so he can see Sarah better. 

“It is, Dad,” she chastises. “Can you please play the song?”

You smirk. Joel puts one of the discs sitting in his center console into the CD player, and then skips forward two tracks. 

“Turn it up,” Sarah says immediately as the first few bars of quiet guitar kick in. 

“I should’ve never bought you this album,” Joel grumbles, but reaches out and obeys. 

I said I wanna touch the earth, I wanna break it in my hands, I wanna grow something wild and unruly….

“Are you going to learn to play this on guitar like I asked?” she questions Joel, who is focused on the road.

“No,” he deadpans.

Oh, you play guitar? You’re tempted to ask, like he doesn’t put on a show for you every time you decide to get stoned on your back porch – which has been often, lately. But it seems a little too risky, so you keep your mouth shut. It’s better right now to be an observer.

“Why not?” Sarah asks. 

“Not my style.”

“It might be good to expand your catalog outside of Hank Williams and Johnny Cash,” Sarah encourages. 

“I play more than just them,” Joel defends himself.

“Whatever you say,” Sarah says, but looks over at you as though she’s skeptical. You grin and roll down your window. 

I said, cowboy take me away, fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue…

“Turn it up,” Sarah prompts again.

Joel pretends like he doesn’t hear her, so when she requests again, you reach out to do it. Instantly, you’re met with a firm, smack on the back of your hand. “It’s loud enough,” he says.

“Dad!” Sarah exclaims, and seems almost shocked that he would do such a thing, offended on your behalf.

Joel doesn’t turn from the road. “She’s fine.”

“Ouch,” you dramatize, shaking out your hand, egged on by Sarah. 

“Oh, come on, I barely touched you,” Joel reaches out, squeezing your hand gently in response. A force of habit. For a second, you’ve both forgotten where you are, who you are with. Joel pulls away, clears his throat and looks back at the road. “You’re fine.”

You know if you look for Sarah’s reaction, you’ll give yourself away. So instead you continue to antagonize. “What if I was turning it up for myself?” 

“Yeah, dad. It’s a really good song.”

“It is,” you nod. “I’m enjoying it.”

“Stop that. Don’t encourage her,” Joel warns you. 

You reach back out to turn up the radio. 

“Oh, come on,” Joel rolls his eyes, realizing he’s outnumbered, but he sort of laughs as he does it, running his hand through his hair. 

I wanna be the only one for miles and miles, except for maybe you and your simple smile…

You look over your shoulder to wink at Sarah, who is beaming. Satisfied now that the music is blaring from the truck’s speakers, she settles back against her seat and looks out the window, the wind tousling her hair, her sweet voice singing along faintly to the rest of the song. Joel gives you a sidelong glance when she’s not looking, the same unidentifiable warmth in his eyes that you had seen last weekend, and you let your eyes remain on him for another moment, before forcing yourself to turn away. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun is down, and the lights of the carnival glitter and twinkle as you weave through the crowd. Sarah’s arm linked through your own, the other around a giant stuffed teddy bear you’d somehow managed to win at the shooting gallery booth. All those summers of your brother forcing you to play ‘target practice’ with his BB gun when you were supposed to be honing your serve finally paid off. There’s a band playing swing music somewhere, but there are so many people around, and you’ve sort of lost your spatial awareness. Joel and Sarah both seem to know where they are going, so you stick with them. 

Every now and then, in the fleeting moments when Sarah runs up ahead of you, or turns her back to look at something, Joel will take her place. You had been a little worried that your teasing in the car may have gone too far, but he doesn’t seem upset. It’s quite the opposite, really. He’ll wind an arm around your waist, put his lips to your temple, squeeze your hand. He seems completely at ease despite the relative chaos around you, and always manages to pull himself away just in time. 

“Should we go into the funhouse?” Sarah asks, after your little group has pulled off to the side. 

“Eh,” you wrinkle your nose. “I’ll pass.”

“What?” she’s incredulous. “No! You have to, come on.”

“I don’t really want to,” you shake your head. 

“Why not?”

“Sarah,” Joel interjects. “She said no.”

“They make me claustrophobic,” you say, tone much softer than her father’s. You were pretty sure you’d be fine, but it seems dumb to traumatize yourself doing something that’s quite literally supposed to be fun.

Surprisingly, Sarah doesn’t continue to press, and instead turns to her father. “I think I’ll stay back,” Joel says. “But you go ahead. We’ll wait.” 

“Ugh, lame,” Sarah rolls her eyes, but doesn’t protest, pushing the giant stuffed teddy bear towards it. Joel tucks it under his arm – he’s already holding a bag of popcorn, and she bounds off.

“I didn’t know you were claustrophobic,” Joel says, his eyes locked on Sarah until he sees her disappear into the attraction. Then he turns to you.

“Only in specific situations,” you explain. “Plus, did you know that funhouses were originally invented to give people panic attacks?”

“What? Really?”

“No,” you say. “I just made that up.” 

Joel shakes his head. “I guess if I’m thinking about movies I’ve seen, nothing good ever comes from a funhouse.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Carnivals in general don’t usually great media representation.” 

“Well, I hope you’re having fun at this one.”

“I am,” you smile at Joel. The crowd is just tipsy enough to be pleasant, and it’s not late enough in the evening for any children to be having the tired-hungry-overstimulated meltdown yet. Plus, you’re in good company. “Are you?”

“I would be havin’ more fun if I didn’t have to watch you walk in front of me in that little dress all night.”

You look down at the floral sundress you’re wearing. It’s very flattering and feminine, and felt right for the hot summer evening. “You don’t like it?”

“No,” Joel says. “I like it a little too much.”

“Oh,” you nod. “I mean….I did sort of wear it because I figured you would.”

“Darlin’,” Joel puts his head back and groans dramatically. “Please don’t tell me that.”

“What’s the issue?”

“Because I can’t touch you. I could now, but instead I’ve gotta carry all her shit.”

You snort, amused, crossing your arms. “You’re in the trenches, huh?”

“Exactly. At least you understand,” Joel smirks. You’re unable to resist the urge to lean close enough to wrap your arms around his torso and kiss him, despite being rather out in the open. Joel lets out a noise that sounds like relief, hand on your waist, keeping you from pulling back. 

“How long do you think she’ll be gone?” His eyes flick behind you towards the funhouse. “Think we could sneak off, pay off a carnie to keep watch so we could- what’s that face?” 

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “You’ve clearly thought this through…”

“Well, I’ve been third wheeling all night so I had time to get creative,” Joel drops his hand from you and turns you both around so you can see in between two booth games. “You see over there, between those two tents…there’s a dumpster-”

“Sounds hot…”

“Right?”

“...And also kind of like the beginning of an episode of Law & Order.”

Joel loses it, and you steal a bite of popcorn from the bag in his hand to hide how satisfied you are at making him laugh so hard. You nudge him in the ribs with your elbow when his hand goes to cover his eyes. 

“What’s so funny?”

The smile doesn’t leave your face as quickly as Joel’s does when you both pivot to find Sarah standing behind you. “Hey babygirl,” he offers a weak grin. “That was quick.”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “There wasn’t a line.”

You try not to act suspicious, but you’re wondering how much she heard. Apparently, not enough to be skeptical, because she continues on. “And you’re right,” she looks at you. “It wasn’t very fun.” 

“Yeah,” you nod, reaching to take some more popcorn out of the bag in Joel’s hand, hoping it just seems like a nonchalant, platonic thing. “They’re kind of a lot right?”

She nods, shrugs, and then reaches for the popcorn herself. You might be in the clear, and make a pointed effort to keep more distance between you and Joel for the rest of the night.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Do you think we should stop for another snack?” Sarah asks, like you haven’t already eaten your weight in junk this evening. But you’ve arrived at a little picnic area surrounded by food trucks and vendors. “Maybe we can sit down for a little.”

“That sounds nice,” Joel says. “Why don’t you two get in line, I’m gonna run to put this in the car.” He lifts the prize you’d given to Sarah up with a grimace. Somehow, he ended up carrying the plush bear all night.

“Is it too heavy for you?” Sarah teases. Joel doesn’t even answer, just rolls his eyes and turns around. 

“I’ll be back,” he calls over his shoulder. 

Sarah’s giggles subside and Joel disappears into the crowd. 

“Where do you wanna go?” you ask her, putting your hands on your hips and taking in the area. At this point in the night, many people attending appear to be fairly plastered. At this point in the evening, most of the families with younger children have cleared out, and it’s well past dinner time, so there aren’t a ton of people hanging in the area. “I probably owe you dinner. And your dad a beer, since he’s paid for everything.” 

“He’d like that,” Sarah says. “I’m glad you two are friends.”

“Oh?” you glance over at her. “Yeah, me too.” Sarah just stares at you, doesn’t say anything. “You have a nice family. You, your dad, your Uncle Tommy…”

Sarah just keeps studying you.

“What?” 

Her eyes narrow, just a touch. You recall what Joel had told you about her picking up your mannerisms, but you never realized how horrible it was to be on the other side. Still, it was you, who had taught her this, so you do your best to appear confused. What do you want from me? It works, and she smiles, shakes her head, then looks at the ground. “Nothin’,” when she looks back up, there’s something melancholy about her expression, and she kicks the toe of her Converse into the gravel. “Can we get a funnel cake?” 

“Lead the way.”

As you follow her to the food truck, her petite form gets jostled by some of the patrons waiting in line near a drink stand. You have to squeeze through them to get by. There’s a picnic table near the walkway where a bunch of men sit – hunched over, listening to a man on the end of the bench tell a very animated story. Several empty draft cups and beer bottles are stacked or lined up on their table, and the sickeningly sweet smell of the tipped cigarillos they’re smoking makes your nostrils burn.

Just as Sarah’s about to pass them, the man talking stretches his arms wide, and the hand that just so happens to be clutching a solo cup filled to the brim reaches out directly into Sarah’s path. 

It’s too late. She collides with his arm, and the beer is knocked from his hand, landing on the picnic table and spraying everyone in the vicinity with liquid and sticky foam. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Sarah says, putting her hand over her mouth, genuinely apologetic. 

And that’s where it should’ve ended. 

“What the fuck?” the man, who looks to be about your age, maybe a little older, gives her a once over. 

You reach Sarah. “Are you alright?” you ask, stepping between her and the man, turning her away from his nasty glare. Before she can answer, he speaks up again.

“You better learn to watch where you’re fucking going, girl!”

Sarah’s jaw drops, even though she’s staring at the gravel. You turn to face the man. “Hey,” you keep your voice light. “Calm down, dude, it was an accident.”

“Oh, it was an accident?” The man looks down at his shirt, soaked through, then back up at you, his hand landing on the table. “Seems like a pretty big fuckin’ accident.”

“She said sorry,” you shrug. And if you really want to get down to brass tacks, asshole, it was totally your fault, you think, but you keep your cool.

The man drags himself to his feet. Your head tilts back to look at him, notice how he hulks over you, and you ignore the feeling of your heart rate picking up. But you stand your ground, pushing Sarah backwards without looking, hoping to put some space between her and what is becoming an increasingly ridiculous situation. Who the fuck picks a fight with a middle school girl?

“Are you at least gonna pay for another round?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you pretend to reach for your purse, even though you have no intention of giving him any money. Prick. You can’t help yourself. “You’re at a county fair in Texas, what do you want, like, two dollars?” 

The man flicks the plastic tip of his cigar onto the ground. For a brief moment, your eyes float towards the men at the table behind him. Some of them are watching, seemingly amused, while others stare at the table. Like they know they should be doing something about this, but they aren’t. They won’t. Typical. 

The truth is, you’re scared. You’ve been here before. Helpless, praying that some adult would intervene - and being let down every time. Surely, someone had to know. Surely, someone could’ve helped you. In the end, you had to do what you were doing now. Look out for yourself.

“Shut the fuck up, you fuckin’ cunt.” He says it like it’s supposed to end the conversation. But being a woman who's been on her own most of her adult life, and regularly seen as a threat to men’s fragile egos, you give him zero points for creativity. 

Your fatal flaw is your mouth. It can get you into trouble, it can get you out of trouble, but one thing is certain; when you’re angry, you always have shit to say. 

“Is that all you got?” you ask. 

Any bit of bravery that remains vanishes entirely when the man’s hand rises. You take a step backward but know it’s too late, flinching in anticipation. Sarah, who's huddled behind you, clings to your waist, and you nearly topple over her but luckily, you don’t lose your footing. 

The impact never comes. 

Well, not for you, at least. 

Joel has materialized, seemingly out of nowhere, and his hands are fisted in the collar of the man’s shirt. He’s yelling something unintelligible, and it doesn’t really register because you are too focused on the fact that he looks like a wild fucking animal – teeth bared into a nasty snarl, his voice gravelly. Your Joel, the sweet and gentle man who you’ve come to care so much about looks positively feral. 

Of course, it’s only then that the other men at the table decide to intervene. It takes three of them to pull Joel off before he can do any significant damage, and they all scatter, heading out in the opposite direction. 

You can’t move. It could’ve been worse, you think. There wasn’t even a punch thrown. But it caught enough attention from the crowd that you can hear people murmuring amongst themselves now, like they deserved to have an opinion as bystanders. 

Sarah releases her grip from you as Joel makes his way back towards you both, looking shockingly calm after what you’d just seen him do. His daughter tucks herself against his chest, he murmurs something into her hair. You’re still frozen in place, but you manage to turn your head away from the scene, sniff, and straighten up. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Joel’s voice is in your ear, his hand is on your shoulder, his face coming into view. For one split second, you’re struck by the impulse to pitch forward, to bury your face into his chest and allow yourself to be comforted. That’s until you see Sarah under his opposite arm and you remember where you are. You’re not a child. 

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Like he doesn’t believe you. You nod, step away enough that his hand drops off of you, and you cross your arms. “I saw what he-”

“I’m fine,” you put every bit of venom that you can into your voice without letting it crack, and you see the change in his face. Whiplash. Oops. That’s too far in the opposite direction. “Really, I’m good,” you say, much more gently this time. Then you force a smile, before realizing that even if you are okay, it’s not really appropriate to smile in this type of situation so you abandon that strategy. 

Breathe. Reset. 

Reaching out, you squeeze Sarah’s arm. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her cheeks wet, but she doesn’t appear to be crying anymore. “Are you alright?” you ask her. 

Sarah nods, relaxing slightly. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“Of course,” you answer, and now that you’ve shoved every emotion that came bubbling up back to their rightful place, you’re able to offer: “Guess I’m not too great at deescalating.”

“Well, he wasn’t very nice.”

“He was a fucking asshole,” Joel rubs her back, but doesn’t release her. It’s only then you can see he’s still on high alert. “But I think that’s our cue to get out of here.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Keeping control of your emotions, as you have gotten older, does not work as well as it used to. And this…event….feels like you’ve gone to pull a loose thread off a sweater, only to realize it was the one that held the whole damned thing together. You don’t realize until it’s too late, and the next thing you know, you’re on the floor of your closet, scraps of fabric all over the floor, and no idea what to do with them. Oh, and it’s cold outside, so now you have nothing to wear. 

In the car on the way home. Sarah and Joel chat a bit. They go over everything that happened in detail, starting with the spilled beer. You don’t speak. You can feel your heartbeat thrumming in your body, your jaw clenched so tightly it’s begun to ache. It’s hard to tell if you want to scream or cry – maybe both, but as the whole situation solidifies itself in your memory, you’re starting to feel like it might be more of the latter. And you just want to get home, so when it happens, you can be alone.

It’s not great to know that you have fucked up the whole vibe. Unfortunately, you cannot give anything else right now. Joel keeps looking over at you, and you imagine he thinks you’re acting pretty pathetic. 

Joel pulls into his driveway, puts the car in park, and you can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Until he speaks up. 

“Sarah, can you give us a minute?” he asks, and you hear his car keys jingle. Elbow on the window frame, fist pressed against your nose, you stare at the dashboard. “I’ll be inside in a little bit.”

“Yeah…” Sarah answers, though she sounds timid. There’s the click of a seatbelt, and she slides out of the car on your side. As she passes your open window, she pats your shoulder gently, and you nod. You watch her walk up the path to her front door and ignore the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you. 

He says your name, and you give in, turn to look at him, just for a second. “Thank you for looking out for her,” So earnestly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there earlier.”

“Yeah, well….it wasn’t your fault.” 

“It wasn’t yours, either.”

“Yeah.”

The front door slams closed. Sarah’s inside, and Joel reaches out, moves a bit closer to you. He lays his hand on the side of your face, guiding you to look at him. You can’t meet his eyes, or he might see right through you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Has something like that-?” 

You know what he’s getting at. You don’t need to hear the rest of the question. “No.”

"Please," Joel takes a deep breath, dropping his eyes. “You can tell me the truth.”

You hate that he knows you’re not. And you hate yourself for hurting him, for being so cruel and dismissive when he’s only trying to help. But what is going to happen if he knows you? If he really knows who you are? “Joel,” you shake your head. “I can’t get into it.” 

“Okay,” he says, nods. 

“But….” you raise your hand, let it clasp around his wrist, over his watch. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Why don’t you come inside for a little, huh?” He asks. “Watch a movie with Sarah and I?”

“I don’t know, I-” You’re not sure how much longer you can keep the tears to yourself. You’d been planning on letting them out the second you walk inside, and bottling them up for more time sounds excruciating. So what are your valid excuses? “She might figure out that-”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t care about that right now.”

“It’s late.” You say, as if you’re actually going to sleep tonight.

“You just spent the whole night with us. What’s another hour or two?” 

Those were your two best shots. Joel finally asks. He’s pleading with you, you can see in his face. This is for him. It’s not even about you. Well, it is. But it’s sincere. He’s not just pitying you. “Alright.” 

Sarah seems just as relieved to see you walk through the front door as Joel had been when you agreed. She sits between you on the couch while you watch some shitty action movie Joel picked out, and falls asleep curled up against his side. Once her measured breathing fills the room, Joel reaches over to clasp your hand, thumb rubbing over the back of your palm, and he doesn’t let go.  

Your plans to end the night crying yourself to sleep are long forgotten by the time you get home.

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[corrosivesaints]

been having an absolute blast discussing the undead gene roe au in the ww2 rpf server so i was compelled & wrote a lil ficlet about him. special shoutout to @upontherisers @leftenantjopson and @historicboii, i love discussing our soggy boy together 😌💕

set around ep6-Bastogne. CW: for gore, descriptions of a head wound, mentions of an animal death, and vague references to suicide under the cut.

“WITH BLEEDING INSIDE THE HEAD THERE IS A METALLIC TASTE AT THE BACK OF THE THROAT.”

-Jenny Holzer

He’s wet. That’s the first thought that filters in. He’s wet and it’s cold. His head hurts, and he can’t see, and his breath rattles in his chest doggedly, an automatic response that refuses to quit. Gene coughs, once, twice, feeling something thick and viscous in the back of his throat. Everything smells like fresh, red meat. His limbs are stiff, uncoordinated. With a great deal of blind fumbling, he manages to get on his hands and knees, where he hacks out a wad of what feels like blood and phlegm, slithering out of his throat like a secret he don’t want to reveal. He blinks his eyes, shakes his head roughly. Every bone in his skull throbs, and his right ear is ringing, a loud high-pitched whine, the same tone of a German shell whistling overhead.  His vision is fading in and out, giving him faint impressions of his dank little foxhole, his bag lying abandoned, his helmet knocking against one knee. 

Then his hand closes around a foreign object and every muscle in him locks up. 

Hoobler. He had to–Hoobler was shot, he had to get to him. Fuck. He couldn’t see, he couldn't hear, Hoobler is gonna die, he has to get up. 

He tries, he really does, but his limbs aren’t cooperating. The unidentifiable object is small and bitingly cold. Metal. His fingers wrap around a handle. A gun, is the singular thought that floats to the front of his mind. Suddenly, he’s nauseous, heaving again, bile and blood and the food he foraged that morning hitting the ground with a wet smack. His vision is clearing incrementally, but his right eye is irritated. He swipes at it, and there’s blood. Why would he have blood on his face? Why isn’t anyone coming to get him, to lead him to Hoobler? 

Why is it so quiet?

He blinks down at the gun, and tries to think. His headache is powerful, overwhelming, painful enough he’d be sick once more if there was anything left in his poor stomach. Gene snatches his hand away from the weapon, which gleams mean and dark in his intermittently clear vision, the lines of it foreign. Hoobler…he had found a German luger. 

Gene wipes at his eye, because the blood is still running into it, alarmingly hot and sticky. Hoobler. The thoughts keep snagging in his brain: a gun, Hoobler has a gun. Something happened, something bad. Gene’s bleeding, did he get a hit to the head? He explores upwards after he cleans his eye, following the natural fault lines of his own skull until he–until– 

Gene lets out a wounded noise, like a dying deer he saw once, when his sister had missed the killing blow, sprawled out on the wet earth, eyes rolling in its head. He had not been able to help the animal, only holding its head as it had died, beautiful and awful, blood soaking his shirtsleeves. It’s a look he has never forgotten, and has seen on boys in trenches and foxholes, aid stations and the backs of jeeps. Gene has been wounded, in much the same way. A cold knowledge steals over him. 

Hoobler was dead. Gene has failed him. The whine in his ear grows louder, if that was possible. Hoobler bled out, hot and tacky and full of fear. Hoobler is never going home. Another wasted life Gene could not save. Dead because of human folly, because of a German Luger, because Gene wasn’t fast enough, he wasn’t trained enough, and he didn’t have any goddamn supplies in this Godforsaken forest. 

He shudders, the cold making him feel ancient beyond his considerable years, as if he’s wandered the earth since the Greeks besieged Troy, or since St. Peter was put to the cross. Is this how they felt, old men watching young men die? Sentencing them to a miserable death for ideals that Gene is finding hard to think ever mattered in the first place. He crouches in his foxhole, blinking slowly and letting his vision crystalize. He needs to be able to assess what happened. The world is strange, fuzzy shades of gray, indistinguishable from the trenches of 30 years ago. If not for his uniform, it could be 1917. Gene coughs, waits for the ground to feel steady under him before pulling his bag over. His hands don’t shake as he pulls out his canteen and a wad of gauze. They never have, no matter how exhausted, how cold, or how scared he is. 

He traces the fine contours of his skull again, the touch light and hesitant. He doesn’t know what it looks like, but probably grisly, the shoulder of his jacket is stiff with gore. The smell of old blood is overpowering. He stares at the Luger and tries to remember what happened after Hoobler died. His memory is a dark hole, faint impressions, despair and the goddamn cold and how tired he is, worn down to the bone, one war behind him and another dogging his steps. Gene volunteered for this, but he might have made a terrible mistake, a decision he can’t undo, just like he can’t stop every death that happens under his hands or–

Gene shudders, stares at the Luger. There’s a memory, just out of reach. His thoughts are sluggish, hazy. He’s running on instinct mostly, even if the wounded he’s caring for is himself. His fingers feel the edge of sharp bone, flabby skin, and then–warm, squishy meat. Gagging, he rips his hand away. He’s thankful there’s nothing left in him to vomit. He takes a deep breath, in and out, and then reaches back. Hot viscera and God, why did you make it so he’ll always remember what a man’s brains look like and feel like, red and grey and pitiful in the mud? Gene bites back a whimper. His touch hurts, a foreign, clumsy intrusion to a place that should never be exposed, his fingers wooden. Fluid sluices down his face and neck, fresh and wet, blood and God only knew what else, slick like the fearful sweat gathering under his arms. 

After a long tense few minutes his questing fingers find the foreign material–the bullet–nestled in the cradle of his insides. It slithers free, a perverse sort of birth, and he stares down at it in the palm of his hand. It’s misshapen, half crushed as some shrapnel ends up after encountering the strangely hearty resistance that can exist in a body. Such a small thing, and he suspects that will continue to shock him.

He’s been sitting hunched over for he doesn’t know how long when a voice comes over his head.

“Doc?” It’s Lip, his voice pitched low, cautious. He comes into view, eyes scanning the area methodically. “Everything alright? The boys thought they heard a–”

He stops abruptly, his focus landing on Gene, his mouth clicking shut into a stern line. Gene glances around, taking in the sight clearly for the first time. His foxhole is a crude gap in the ground, reminding him of a hastily dug grave, one end splattered with blackened-red gore, as if someone tried to bury a body they had bludgeoned to death. 

“Gene,” Lip keeps his voice low and methodical. “What happened?” He’s worried, Gene can feel it radiating off him, acrid and sharp. He blinks, turning his attention back to the bullet in his hand. He doesn’t know. 

“I don’t…” he licks his lips nervously. His head still aches, and conversation is difficult to string together. “I don’t know,” he admits softly. Curls his hand closed, wishes he could hide the evidence so Lip won’t worry, he’s got more than enough on his plate basically running Easy Co as they are slowly suffocated by the German line. 

“Okay,” Lip says, possibly to reassure himself as much as Gene. He carefully climbs down next to him. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up huh?” He puts down his gun, picking up the canteen and producing an old rag, gingerly dabbing at the mess crusted around the wound. Lip sucks his teeth and lets out an involuntary hiss in surprise at one point. Gene does his best to stay still, to not whine at the pain and let him work. 

“Do you remember what happened?” 

“No.” Lip ain’t stupid, he’s probably aware that a man doesn’t bleed that much or get a hole in his head and be as collected as Gene is. If he does think anything of it, he’s hiding it well, face lined with a type of paternal concern as he cleans him up. Gene’s trying his damndest to push past the dark and the pain, to remember, but he’s a hollow shell, has hardly any strength left in him to try. He worries the bullet between his fingers as if it’s one of his rosary beads. This looks bad. The army don’t approve of men deliberately hurting themselves, he does recall that. However, it’s only a problem if he has. 

The Luger sits at Lip’s side, unassuming and slight. The gun was chilly to the touch when he had grabbed it, but Gene’s not a great baseline–he runs too cool, especially his hands, which are compounded by cracked skin and weeping sores from the chill of the Ardennes. He has no idea how long he’d been laying in this hole, bleeding out from a wound that wouldn’t kill him anyway, regardless if he had turned the gun on himself or not. 

“Gene,” Lip says slowly, and that’s the first time he’s ever used his Christian name. “This is,” he pauses, pressing his mouth into a line. “Does it hurt?” He’s deliberately not touching the main injury, but up close it’s clearly obvious that Gene’s got a hole in his head, has layers of bone and brain on display, and any other Easy man wouldn’t be sitting up, wouldn’t be cognizant like he is if they were in this state.  

“Yeah,” he says. He hopes that Lipton can’t see it too well in the fading natural light. 

“We don’t got any morphine.”

“I know.” 

Lip sighs, his gaze darting to the gun and then to Gene. 

“Is there anything in the wound?”

“No.” Gene opens his hand briefly, and Lip’s face goes a shade pale. 

“Okay,” he repeats. “Okay. I’ll give it a quick wash and bandage. You got gauze, Gene?”

“Shouldn’t waste it.” The wound will close up on its own. All that will remain is a faint scar and a gap in his memories. Other guys need supplies more, Gene will see the end of this war just like he did the last, but not every Hoobler or John Julian will. Lip gives him a stern look at that, brokering no argument. Cowed, Gene hands over the bandages. 

He holds the canteen up to Gene’s head and warns, “You might wanna bite on something, boy.” Gene agrees, clenches the fabric of his cleaner sleeve between his teeth and nods. Lip cleans the wound. Gene howls, thankful the sound is muffled. It would bring the Germans right down on ‘em. Bright, sharp, searing pain lances through his skull, every nerve screaming as Lip flushes out the wound. It’s agonizing. It seems to go on forever, and Gene is weak and dizzy when it finally ends, panting just the same as that deer had, a lifetime ago and thousands of miles behind him. He’s trembling again, and wet. His coat is ruined. 

“Hard part’s over,” Lip reassures him with a squeeze to his shoulder. The contact is warm, the heat Gene’s been missing for months, for years even. He lets himself lean against the wall a bit as Lip preps the gauze. Turns out he’s an alright nurse, he takes directions well when Gene gives them so the bandage doesn’t obscure his eye. The fabric gets sticky quickly, and Lip frowns. “That’s still bleedin’ bad, maybe I should have Luz radio a jeep.”

“No, it’ll stop soon.” Gene presses a hand against the bandage, trying to gauge how bad it is by touch alone. He should have Ralph check it when it’s healed up a bit. Can’t risk anyone guessing at the truth. Dubious is probably the kindest adjective to use for the expression Lipton’s wearing.

“You’re not staying here.” Gene, too tired to pick every fight, yields to that logic, letting Lip haul him out of the hole and put his helmet back on. It don’t sit right, with the bandages. Lip empties the Luger, raises his brows briefly, and pockets it. 

“You really don’t remember anything?” Gene shakes his head. He’s got a guess, which is probably right anyway, but it would be shameful, and rotten, if it was true. The kind of action they shot men over, that his grand-mère would disapprove of, a horrible mortal sin in the eyes of the Church. 

If Lipton doesn’t believe him, he doesn’t hint at it, just herds Gene along to his own foxhole, which is a slightly better hole in the ground, covered with a torn tarp and currently sheltering a miserable Luz.

“Woah,” he says at the sight of them.

“I gotta run up to CP, Doc got nicked by a stray piece of shrapnel. Get him some rations and something hot if we got it,” Lip orders. George nods numbly as Lipton disappears. Gene huddles down and braces himself for a long night of not one but two people fretting over him.

“Jesus, get over here you’re shivering,” George says, shaking his head, throwing off his shock as he pulls Gene over and throws a blanket over him. Gene sniffles. He’s so used to the permanent damp chill that surrounds him he forgets how badly the weather here has been affecting him.

“Stray shrapnel,” George mutters, patting his pockets to see if they’ll produce some K rations, or miraculously, something he can brew, like coffee. “You’re our medic,” he adds in an angry undertone, as if he would fight all the Germans in the Bois Jaques single handed at the perceived offense. Gene leans into his shoulder, into the heat of another body. His sister said he was like a lizard, always seeking out the best heat source to bask in. George, not finding anything, calms, wraps an arm around him, unphased by how dirty his uniform is. Luz runs hot, like a bony furnace. Gene’s aware he probably smells pretty awful, but he can’t bring himself to reject what’s being offered. 

“I’m okay,” he says, “just cold.”

“Did Dike put you up alone again? God, what an asshole.” George glares at the opposite wall, and if looks could kill Dike would have been dead a hundred times over. Genes sighs, a tide of exhaustion washing over him. He’s been running on scraps for so long–food, heat, medical supplies, hope. It’s awful to understand why he might have…if he really was at the end of his rope. 

“That’s insubordination,” he protests, but it’s half hearted even to his ears. 

“The army can kiss my hairy ass,” George declares hotly. “Get some rest, I’ll shake ya if someone hollers for a medic.”

“Thanks, Luz.”

“Anytime, Doc.”

Gene closes his eyes, curls into the warmth, and sleeps.

[gretavangroupie]

Crave (Chapter 1)

Word count: 10.4k+

Pairing: Josh x Female Reader

Summary: After pushing the girl you love into the arms of your best friend, you're left regretting your choices.

Warnings: 18+ as always, language, drinking, sexual situations, smut, fluff.

Crave Playlist

A/N: Special shoutout to my beta, my co-writer, and my dear friend @gvfjess none of this would be what it is without her touch.

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JOSH POV

It’s been a long day. The longest day, and it wasn’t even over yet. 

The night before spilled into the earliest hours of this morning, your time spent twisted in between the sheets with the woman you’ve been waiting for. The sound of your alarm blaring would come too quickly, harshly pulling you back to reality.

Today when you wake up though, you feel like you’re still in a dream. Your eyes flutter open to find her still curled next to you, her fingertips running across your body causing goosebumps to rise in the places left behind. You take a deep breath and the remnants of her perfume clouds your senses. You are absolutely positive it does not get better than this. Starting your morning this way is enough to get you through today’s session. With the promise of seeing her later, you head to the studio, hoping that you’re not the last one there. 

The entire drive you can’t help but smile from ear to ear, reminiscing on the events from the night prior. You replay her giggles, you wish you could hear that sound every day for the rest of your life. Your cheeks start to heat thinking about the way she got brave after a few drinks. Beginning to touch you more often, intentionally brushing her thigh against yours, moving her face dangerously closer and closer to yours while staring at your mouth. You hope these memories will stay in your mind forever, like a film, just for you to press play when you need it. 

Finally you arrive to the studio and realize that you are in fact the last one there, but you don’t dare explain why. The smile plastered to your face should explain enough. As you step into the sound booth, everyone stares at you questioningly. 

Jake stares at you, silently asking what you’re so chipper about, you responding in your head, and as if he could hear you he raises his eyebrows with a nod. 

Sam looks puzzled sitting on the couch, not caring enough to pry, and Daniel…won’t even look at you. 

What’s eating him?

“Well, are you ready to get this over with?” Danny asks the group.

“Let’s do it.” Sam replies.

The day goes relatively smoothly. You re-record the chorus of a song, as Sam sits at the mixer. Danny comes over the intercom, “Josh that sounded like shit, lets re-cut it.” He says harshly. 

“Um, typically its me criticizing myself…and I thought that was a pretty good take…” you reply defensively.

“No, it wasn’t, just do it again.” He snaps.

What the hell? Apparently he is still in a mood. He was quiet at the bar last night. 

“Okay, Sam, can you run the track back please, seems I am ‘doing it again’...” You say snidely. 

After a little bit of back and forth, things seemed to mellow out for the rest of the day, but you can tell something has Danny pissed off, and you have all been walking on eggshells around him all day. You decide to confront him as you begin to wrap up for the day.

“Hey man, is everything okay, you seem…volatile.” You question.

“Oh, no Josh everything is just perfect, really…” he says sarcastically.

You give him an insulted look and shrug your shoulders, walking away.

Jeez, whatever it is, he does not want to talk about it. Fine.

You brush it off and decide to move on. You’re still reeling from the best night of your life, you aren’t going to let your moody friend put a damper on it. You don’t deserve to deal with his bullshit anyway, it’s not like it’s your fault he’s having a bad day.

You feel a twinge of nervous excitement in your chest as you realize you’ll see your girl shortly. There is no better feeling than seeing her after a long day, but this time it’s different. She really is your girl and now that you’ve had her, you’re never letting her go. 

Okay, Josh. Just have to play it cool with the guys for a bit, let them warm up to the idea. Maybe I’ll start flirting in front of them a bit. Let them see us in action so it’s less of a surprise.

As you get in your car the nerves begin to fill your chest. The drive over isn’t too long, part of the reason you always go there. At first it was just easy to go where Jake and the guys wanted to go, but then as you got to know her… it changed. You wanted to go there, you wouldn’t think of going anywhere else. 

Why are you so nervous? You see her every single day… You were naked in her bed together less than 12 hours ago, get it together man.

As you roll into the gravel parking lot, you take a deep centering breath, throw your door open and step out. The rest of the guys pull up around the same time, rowdy as usual, ready to have a drink and unwind. 

You all clamber inside the front door, the little bell ringing over head, a sound you’ve grown to love. As everyone rushes straight to our usual table, you look over to the left and there she is, both hands on the bar top, leaning against it with a smile as she sees you all coming in. 

She is so breathtaking. I hope she never stops greeting me with that smile, it’s intoxicating.

“I’ll grab the first round boys, the usual?” You ask, as they continue walking, nodding their heads in agreement.

Ready to rip the band-aid off, you walk over to the bar with a sheepish smile on your face. Holding your hands together nervously.

Somehow she is even more beautiful now than she was before. 

“Hello, doll…” you say with a smile, finally making eye contact with her.

“Well hello stranger…” she says playfully, giggling out of obvious nerves, her cheeks blushing slightly. 

“Sounds like we are all up for the usual tonight.” You say.

“I think I can do that.” She says reaching over to grab a few glasses.

“Did you guys have a good day?” She asks, making the drinks.

You bring your hands up to cradle your cheeks, your elbows that are placed on the bar top supporting the weight of your head. “Yeah it was…an interesting day for sure.” You reply, pondering.

“Really? Why does it seem like a bad thing?” She asks.

“Ahh, just band stuff… not everyone got to wake up to you this morning.” You reply, flirting a little.

You see her swallow and blink forcefully.

Okay, maybe laying it on a little too thick, reel it back dude. She hasn’t even said anything about it yet, you need to slow down.

“Well, I’m sure these will help…” she says pushing the drinks forward.

You smile at her and nod, taking the drinks back to the table and setting them down. Trying not to overthink whatever interaction just happened.

Hoping to deescalate some of Daniel’s tension you pat him on the back and hand him his drink.

“You did great today dude, this is gonna be our best one yet. I just know it.” You say.

He picks up the glass and throws back the entirety of the Whiskey.

Damn, I haven’t even sat down yet…

“You good, Daniel? I haven’t even taken a sip yet…” Sam laughs as he brings the bottle of beer to his lips.

“Yeah man… didn’t get much sleep last night. Counting on a whiskey slumber tonight.” Danny replies, with an edge on his voice.

Jake shoots you a curious look, and you slightly shake your head insinuating that you have no idea what’s going on. Sam looks at you the same way.

Why would I know?

Suddenly you see Sam’s face change as an idea crosses his mind. 

“Hey, pretty lady!” Sam stands up and yells across the bar, hoping to grab her attention. Her eyes landing directly on him, never faltering.  

“My friend Daniel here, needs a refill, already! I think there was a hole in his glass. Why don’t we do a round of shots too, I think we could all use a night of fun.” he wiggles his eyebrows and laughs as he sits back down. 

She nods her head and begins making the shots, lining up the glasses and pouring in the alcohol. She then mixes a few more drinks, shaking the metal shaker, looking directly at you, a sudden warmth creeping across your chest. 

You turn back to the guys, so not to be obviously staring at her. 

“You really just cant go one night without making us all suffer, huh Sammy?” Jake jokes.

Sam shrugs his shoulder and bounces his legs excitedly as she begins to walk over to the table with the tray.

“Alright! Hey! Have a shot with us!” Sam pleads with her, she looks torn on whether she should or not, you can see it on her face. 

What is up with her tonight? Just this morning you were on cloud nine. Or at least you were… is she regretting it already? 

“Here, you can have mine. Doesn’t mix well with my beer.” Jake says, handing her his glass.

Sam raises his eyebrows as he begins his toast, “To the best bartender around…” 

Everyone tips their shot glasses back, swallowing down the spicy liquid.

“Bartending isn’t the only thing she’s known for around here, huh?” Daniel says, under his breath.

What the fuck does that mean?

Daniels eyes are staring daggers directly into her, and she looks shocked at the harshness of his statement, you still unsure of what is going on. He is practically shaking with anger.

You can’t let him attack her, he can say whatever he wants to you, but not her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask confrontationally.

“Well, I mean she is pretty good lay, too. At least I think so… What do you think, Josh? Saw your car at her apartment before the sun came up this morning. Did she fuck you so good? Fuck you right to sleep? She’s good at that.” he asks pointedly at you, letting out a small scoff.

What? How would he….wait…Her and Danny? They hate each other….oh god. 

When would they have gotten together? How long has it been going on? Why does it hurt as bad as it does? Why is he doing this now? In front of the guys? Fuck this.

Trying to ignore the pain in your chest and your mind racing a million miles a minute, you narrow your eyes at him.  

“Danny. I think you need to shut your fucking mouth. Now. Before you say anything else that you’ll regret. We can talk about this in private. Not here.” You snap at him.

“No, I think we should all talk now. That way Jake and Sammy can know what they are getting themselves into if she tries to go four for four with us.” He replies, bitterness lining every word.

Holy shit, he is really trying to cut her deep. He is pissed.

“Go on… Tell them how we’ve been fucking for weeks. Sneaking around after hours… 

Pretending to hate each other, while we fuck our brains out behind closed doors. Tell poor Josh here, that he isn’t the only one who has been inside you lately. Whore…” he says, practically spitting venom. 

You feel a pang in your chest as the words leave his mouth. 

Weeks? How did you not know? 

You slept together… why didn’t she…say something. Oh god, I told her how bad I’ve wanted her. That I’ve been thinking about it for so long. This explains why she is acting the way she is. It wasn’t supposed to happen. At least not in her mind. 

You look to her as the shot glass in her hand falls and shatters to the floor. Her breathing is rapid and her eyes beginning to fill with tears. Despite your anger and embarrassment you want to grab her, steal her away from this. But you cant, your head is spinning and you aren’t sure what to do but you know that you absolutely cannot let him talk to her like this. Not ever. You quickly stand up and tower over Danny, getting as close to his face as you can.

“Don’t you ever speak like that to her again. Especially here?! Where she fucking WORKS?! This is exactly why you will never be with her, dude. You are a fucking dick. Why would she want to be with someone who isn’t even man enough to treat her with respect?  Get a fucking grip. This conversation is finished, the three of us can continue it elsewhere.” You yell, overcome with emotion.

You feel tears forming in your own eyes, you can’t tell if it’s because you’re mad, hurt, embarrassed… maybe all three. Her eyes meet yours for a second before you tear them away from hers. 

You don’t want her to see you upset. 

How could you be so stupid to think she wanted you the way you wanted her. 

Struggling to get the words out you turn to your twin, needing to get out of there quickly,

“Jake, can you get the tab? I need to go.” you manage to say, unable to hide the emotion in your voice.

Jake nods and motions towards the door, you know he can tell that you’re upset, feel it even. He doesn’t dare ask. You throw back the rest of the drink in your glass, grab your keys off the table and walk straight out the door without a look back.

As you reach your car you fling the door open and get inside slamming the it behind you.

“Fuck” you yell, hitting the steering wheel with both hands. You place your elbows on the wheel, resting your head in your hands. You sit there just for a moment, trying to process everything that just happened.

She’s been sleeping with Daniel for weeks. She didn’t tell you and slept with you. Danny found out and he is furious. Well, now you’re furious. How did I get into this mess?

You throw the car into reverse and back out of the parking lot, tires spinning as you leave. You see Sam and Daniel walking to Sam’s car as you pull into traffic.

God, I cannot believe I was so stupid as to think her and I would ever be anything. I should have never told him to go after her. He must have done it… the one time he actually listened to you…

Speeding down the interstate, the music blaring from the speakers is interrupted by a phone call. Jake is calling. You blow out an exasperated breath, knowing exactly what he wants. 

“Hello.” You say blankly.

“Josh… what the fuck?” He asks.

“I have no idea. I thought… I didn’t know they were…this whole thing is fucked.” You reply.

“No, I know you didn’t know. I didn’t know either. None of us did. I mean, what the fuck are you doing leaving her like that? I thought you liked her?” He replies.

“I don’t know, seemed like the right thing… I don’t know….fuck…I just couldn’t stay there. I would have said something I didn’t mean and I do like her, I have always liked her. Last night we finally… we came together and I thought she wanted me too…but now, I don’t know up from down. ” You say, struggling to explain.

“I think she does, she was a mess when I was closing out. I think you need to go back. Talk to her, figure this shit out. You and I both know Danny isn’t going to do it. She needs someone, and I think it’s you.” He says imploringly.

You breathe a long sigh out, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel checking the time on the clock.  You whip your car around, heading back to the bar, knowing that Jake is right.

“Alright, fine.” You reply.

“Good, you call me if you need anything. I am going to call Sam, see if he is tending to Daniel’s fire or if I need to step in. We can’t let this shit come between us… I think you know that.” He says scolding you.

“I fucking know, Jacob. I’m not a child. If I thought things were in jeopardy I wouldn’t be going to her, I would be going to him. I’ll talk to him, okay? Just let me talk to her first, figure things out and then I’ll talk to him.” You reply.

“Alright, good luck brother.” He says ending the call.

You smash the red phone button on your steering wheel, making sure the call ended. 

You can’t help the hot tears that fall from your eyes, littering your pants with tiny wet spots. You can’t believe the dramatic turn of events that have happened today, waking up feeling on top of the world and ending the day under the weight of it. You are upset with her, with him. 

You pull back into the parking lot, it’s empty apart from her car. 

Maybe I should go in? Jake said she was a mess, I shouldn’t let her revel in it.

No. Wait for her to come out. Give her some space. What am I even going to say? I am so furious. 

I just need to talk to her. Just need to hear it from her. Give her a chance to explain everything. Maybe it didn’t happen the way I think it did. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions.

You tap your fingers on the center console impatiently, just waiting. Replaying everything that happened, tears continue to leak out of the corner of your eyes. 

You really thought she wanted you. You thought last night was it, the turning point you had been waiting for after so many weeks of flirtatious conversations and innocent touches. I guess it didn't mean to her what it meant to you.

You don’t know how long it has been, you have been sitting here for what feels like an hour, watching and waiting to see the door open. Finally, it does. You immediately jump out and see her approaching, her hood up on her coat. Her face is red and splotchy. She has definitely been crying and is still clearly upset over everything. You lean against the front of your car, giving her the option on whether she wants to talk. She doesn’t say anything, you’re not sure if her silence is because she has nothing to say or she is afraid she will lose it again. 

“You think we can talk? You manage, almost a whisper. Something about her disheveled appearance leaving you breathless.

“I don’t think I am good company right now.” She replies, gripping the cuffs of her coat nervously. Even when you’re upset with her, you can’t help but find everything she does absolutely heartwarming.

“Please. We really need to talk. Tonight.” You beg, hoping she will just take the chance to tell you everything from her perspective. Even if it is the last thing you want to hear, you need the closure. Maybe it will help you move on. Or at least try to… Maybe she will surprise you, tell you that her time with Daniel was a mistake, and you’re the one she wants. 

Snap out of it. Feeding those delusions is not helping anyone. 

She looks at you for a minute, contemplating her options.

“Okay, you can come over to my place…God Josh, I am the one who should be begging for you to talk to me. Not the other way around.” She cries out, clearly dealing with internal conflict just like you are.

“Let’s just talk when we get there.” You say reassuringly as you step back into your car, starting it and following her out.

The drive there you prepare yourself for what is likely to be a hard conversation. You need to hear it from her though. It’s the only way. The time spent with your thoughts causing your anger and sadness to bubble up, not sure what emotion you’re feeling most. You want to be mad, and you are. But ultimately you’re just upset. The amount of grief you have over a relationship that never even began overtaking the animosity you have towards her and Danny. 

You pull into the empty parking space next to her car, and walk up the stairs to her door. She fidgets with the key and unlocks the door, immediately shedding her heavy layers on the table near the door.

She throws herself onto her couch and holds her head in her hands. You can tell she is beating herself up pretty badly.

“Josh, I…” she stops.

You sit down next to her and place a hand on her back, just trying to help her relax a bit. You realize how deep in this you are, still needing to comfort her when you feel like you have a knife in your own chest. 

“I need you to tell me everything. I don’t care about what happened, but I need to hear it from you. Please.” You say, tears nearing the brim of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

“It was never supposed to be like this, Josh. It just… happened. and now…” she stops again, her eyes also filling with tears. 

“I know…” you reply, just hoping that offering a piece of understanding will help her get it out. “I really wish you would have said something to me last night. I never would have said the things that I said if I had known. It didn’t have to be this way.” You say, not trying to add to her pain but hoping she will understand that she should have told you what had happened between them before you shared your feelings and took things to the level that it went. 

“I thought it was just going to be the one time, and I thought he did too. But every time we would see each other…. I think we both knew that it was never just the one time.…I guess it really all started at the bar.”

Were we in the same room? All I ever saw was Daniel being an ass… How does he still get the girl after acting like a complete dickhead? 

“At first everything was so normal. You all would come in every night, you’d order your drinks, we would small talk and that was it. Somewhere down the road you started to become my friends. Each of you in your own ways. Sammy, the dramatic jokester always down for a good time and a song, Jake the very serious problem solver, the voice of reason within your group, and someone I could count on to keep things in check when it began to get too rowdy. And you, my shoulder to lean on and a friend I could always talk to about anything, you were a constant each night. I would look forward to your turns to get drinks knowing I would always feel warm after our conversations, whether they be 5 minutes or 25.”

You were my constant too. All I ever saw was you. If only you knew how many hard times you got me through by just the thought of speaking to you for a minute or seeing your smile after a shit day. You will never understand what you mean to me.

Shaking your head from your thoughts you refocus, and listen.

“Then there was Danny. I wouldn’t say we ever became friends, we were hardly acquaintances.… In the beginning he wasn’t mean, he was just, quiet, almost shy.  Somewhere along the way something happened…. Feelings began to form right under our noses. Every night, stealing glances at each other. His eyes lingering on mine for just a little too long. We both felt it. We were like magnets to each other. I think we both denied feeling it for so long that it got lost.”

I guess I did notice them looking at each other a lot… I thought they were both just being hyper aware of the other’s presence, trying to avoid one another at all costs. How stupid am I to not realize what it actually was.

“He had a girlfriend and I was still relatively new in town, I was trying to settle in… One night it changed. You remember… he got so drunk, he was trying to fight people, calling me names… I know now, he was just hurt, looking for someone to blame.”

I remember it well, the first night I felt like I had to protect you.

“After kicking him out that night our dynamic changed. He was no longer watching me from across the room, instead he was glaring, and I would return it. It became an obsessive need to match his energy. His words cutting me, so I would cut him right back. We both craved it. I could just tell. I started to see a fire in his eyes each night he would walk into the bar, he craved the toxicity of whatever it was we were dancing around. So we continued, every night being as hateful as we could to each other.”

You feel a pang through your heart. Your stomach is in knots and you aren’t sure you want to hear any more. You know you need to though, to understand the depth of this connection they share.

How could she not see me? Not notice me longing for her, too? Why could she only see him? Why would she want him? With his hateful words and impulsive actions, when I have so many beautiful and tender words waiting… just for her. Only for her. I could write a million words about her and it would never be enough. 

You swallow down the pain in your chest, and try to focus on what she is saying. 

She is so beautiful, you don’t understand why she couldn’t just want you like you wanted her. She has so much to offer that Danny will never see…never value like you do.

“A few weeks ago, a guy came into the bar and I was talking to him. Things were going good… I thought he might have liked me. But then something I have never seen in Danny made its appearance. He was…jealous. He lied to the guy and made him believe something that was the farthest from the truth. Was awful about it too. He just couldn’t stand the thought of someone else having me. He wouldn’t admit it at the time, but I see it so clearly now.” She says through shaky breaths.

You remember this, that night. She was so upset, you talked to her for a while afterwards, but you see now that her anger was rose colored.

“I was so furious at him that night. I knew I was going to go straight to his house and smack him right across the face. But when I got there, with all my courage gathered up, I froze. I could hardly even remember what I was doing there. I remembered I had his house key from when I house sat, so I told him thats why I was there. He had just showered and he was only in a towel. It was the first time I really ever looked at him like that, you know? The first time I ever really saw him.  His hardened, mean facade turned playful and alluring, just for a split second, and I liked it. I was attracted to it.”

You know. You know right then. She loves him. The way she’s talking about him, its so… clear. Anything you thought she might have felt for you, couldn’t have been real. It had to be the alcohol. You should have known better. Thousands of screaming fans, but the only face you ever really saw was hers. But she hasn’t seen yours in the same light.

“My head was spinning. I rushed straight home, the whole way convincing myself that was I was feeling wasn’t what I thought. Replaying every hurtful thing he ever said in an effort to stifle back that feeling. That was the night I knew that things had really changed between us. It was shifting, to something else. Something more. I can keep going but I don’t want to say too much, I don’t want you to be upset. I know this is a lot….”

You snap back quickly, “No, keep going. I need to know.”

“You texted me the next day, and invited me to come to your party at your house. I didn’t think I was going to go, but something convinced me I should. I wanted to go, simply because you had asked me. I was happy to hear from you outside of the bar. I knew he would be there, I was nervous, but knew I had this underlying craving to see him. So I decided that if I was going to go, I was going to make it interesting.” She says.

Another blow to your chest.

I thought you came for me. When you texted me you were coming I couldn’t stop smiling. Jake asked what I was so happy about but I gave him some bullshit excuse about just being excited to be social. I tried on what must have been 15 outfits before I found one I thought you would like. I wore my favorite cologne. I was sure that was the night I was going to tell you how I felt after all this time. 

“After what had happened the night before, I knew that things between us were going to heat up. The build up was finally reaching the apex. The entire night our eyes never broke from each others. Silently calling for one another. Each of us with different people, just wishing it was the other. We could both feel the electricity in the air between us. I decided that I was going to really push his buttons. I acted on the feelings that I was feeling, knowing he would cave. I knew I had him, I could make him do anything I wanted. Finally, he snapped. He drug me out of the party and took me back to his house.”

Your breath catches and you feel your self wincing almost outwardly from the pain of her words. 

He did it? He actually took her for his own? How could your own best friend not see that you were in love with her? 

“We both knew we shouldn’t be doing it, but we just couldn’t stop. How could two people who have been so awful to each other end up in this situation? All night we fed off of each other, using each other like a drug. We were addicted. It was harsh and vile and wonderful. We both knew things wouldn’t go back to how they had been. We snuck around for weeks, lying straight to all of your faces. Slowly the hatefulness started to wear away, the hate fucking became regular fucking, maybe even something more. His feelings were shifting, and he was still pushing them back….”

A heavy sigh leaves your chest. 

What a fool, the most beautiful girl in the world, and he still won’t commit to her. 

What a mistake. I would never let you go…

“Right before you all left for the UK we had a big blowout fight, and he told me that we would never be anything more than what we were in that moment. That he would never be with a girl like me. It killed me, I thought we had gotten past it. Because I mean, wasn’t he with me? We were fucking? Anyways, the only thing I could do was to fight him back. I said something I didn’t mean and we didn’t speak after that. Not the entire time you were gone.”  

Every night you would think of her face, while she dreamt of the guy sleeping above you, and you had no idea. The guy who was fucking groupies while this beautiful girl just waited to hear from him. 

You feel sick, and your breathing becomes shaky again as you listen.

“The night you guys came in after you got back was the first time we had spoken or seen each other in weeks, but the spark was still there. I could see it in his eyes no matter how much he tried to pretend it was gone. I overheard you all talking about him getting with a groupie and the way he looked at me when he knew I heard… I thought I had been shot. I couldn’t even comprehend why I was so hurt. I was sad but couldn’t let him see that. As far as I knew he had moved on from whatever we were doing.”

You nod your head to show her you’re still here, still listening. 

“But you were there to pick me up, to make it go away. I will never be able to tell you how much that meant to me. It was the most beautiful night I’ve probably ever had, even with all the alcohol. You were perfect and gentle and tender. Everything I ever wanted for myself Josh, really.” She cries. 

It meant everything to me. I will never let it go. It may have been the best night of my life, just to be followed by the worst. 

“But something wasn’t right. Somewhere in the very back of my mind, I was still wanting him. Wishing for him to come around. Hoping he would realize that maybe the feelings he was stifling back were something more.”

When will I ever be enough…

“I think a part of me has always known that we would end up together, but ignored it, and hoped it would die down. But it didn’t. In fact that part got bigger, more needy. Desperate for him. Constantly longing to be near him. I wish more than anything that I didn’t feel this way about him. I know it’s wrong, every part of me knows I shouldn’t feel this way. But I do and I cant push it back anymore. I haven’t ever felt like this about anyone. I just wish it could have been different. I wish it could have been you Josh, I really do. But it’s him, it’s always been him.”

It will always be you for me, my beautiful girl. Always.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you nod your head that you understand, because you do. You understand that she loves him, he probably loves her too. You have to let her go to him, but you also have to tell her how you feel, how you’ve beenfeeling. It’s now or never. Your heart is beating out of your chest, you’re almost sure it’s loud enough to be audible. You take a deep breath and begin.

“Every night we come to the same bar. Do you know why?” You ask.

“No.” She whispers.

“In the beginning, it was because of convenience, a quiet place to go with good drinks… Towards the middle it became comfortable, a familiar face to always greet us and a place to relax, and somewhere around the end it became my escape. Where I could walk in and forget my outside life, knowing I would see you there.

Every night when we would walk in and I would see you, every minuscule inconvenience of my day would be gone. You were just so beautiful and refreshing. So easy to talk to and connect with. I pined for you from across the bar for as long as I can remember. Everyone knew it. Sam, Jake. Everyone except you and him. But I couldn’t bring myself to make a move, couldn’t risk losing it. My safe place. 

The day I invited you to that party, I thought maybe I would be able to tell you…I saw you and him inside. The way you were looking at each other. I think I knew then too. He came to me outside, he was worked up, anxious… a mess. I knew then he felt the same way about you that I did, so I did what any good friend would do. I put my feelings aside, I told him to go get you. He didn’t understand how I knew, but I did, because I saw you the same way he did. The way he looked at you… it was the same way I did. But you didn’t see me, you were too busy looking at him. I didn’t know you went home with him that night. I don’t know how I didn’t see it coming. I basically forced it to happen. ” you say,  tears close to falling.

The biggest mistake of my life so far. I basically pushed you into his arms. 

Her eyes are searching your face, looking for any emotion to cling to.

“Josh, I…I’m so sorry…” she says, grabbing your hands, rubbing her thumbs across your knuckles. The feeling of her skin on yours, twisting the knife deeper in your heart. Taking another breath you continue. 

“For weeks I tried to work up the courage to tell you at the bar, but I never could, especially knowing how Danny felt that night. You two were always arguing and you would always seem upset and I just wanted to comfort you. I knew the timing wasn't right. We left for the UK and I thought about you every single night. I would lie awake in my bunk imagining your smile waiting for me at the bar when I got home. I almost texted you a few drunken nights, always reigning myself back in. I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same. 

The day we got back I couldn’t wait to get to the bar. To see you. To be close to you. 

You know what happened next. While I know now that it shouldn’t have happened, I am glad it did. If it was my only chance to have you I will never regret taking that chance. I only wish you would have told me beforehand. It seems we are in a mess now and I’m not sure how we fix it. ”

It shouldn’t have happened, but I will never, ever forget it.

“Josh, I care about you so much and I wish things could have happened differently. I’ll never be able to tell you how badly I wanted it to be us. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am that it  isn’t us. You’re kind, thoughtful, intentional. You are everything I should want and need in a partner. I would be so lucky to ever have you, in any lifetime, but I think in this one I end up with someone else. This story doesn’t have a happy ending for us.” She says, tears flowing down her cheeks.

I wish it was us. I so badly need you to see yourself how I see you. Worthy of only the best and sweetest kind of love. Not this. You deserve everything. But you deserve to be happy, and if this is it…. I will be the bystander.

You reach up and swipe away the tear away from her face.

“I know. I knew as soon as I saw your face tonight, he may as well pulled your heart out right there. I knew you loved him.” You manage.

“Josh I don’t love him?” She replies shocked.

You know she just doesn’t understand her feelings yet. It’s clear to you though. As painful as it is to admit, she talks about him like he puts the stars in the sky, even after all of his faults. The same way you talk about her. 

“But thats the thing. You do. You always have, you just haven’t realized it fully yourself yet. When he enters the room, your cheeks flush. When he talks to you your breath catches in your throat. You bite your lips and lean closer to him, and him to you. When he tells a story, you are captivated, hanging on his every word, even from across the room. Shit, you just talked about him for twenty minutes straight… I know what it feels like to be in love, but now I can say I have seen it too. You just spent so much of your time and energy fighting with each other that you never stopped to ask yourselves what was fueling the hate, what kind of tension it was. All along it was what would eventually turn into this. If you feel like even a tiny bit of that is true, you’ll go to him. He loves you too, I know he does.” You reply.

How could he not? 

You can see the panic, the relief setting in on her face at finally being able to put a word to the feeling. It crushes you.

 It should be you, not him. You’d give anything to be in his shoes. 

“Oh god. Everything is such a mess…everything is ruined.” She cries.

“It’s not, it’s only really just begun. You are an amazing woman, any man on Earth would be lucky to have you, even for five minutes. But like you said, your story doesn’t end with us, it ends with him. I will never understand, but I know somehow that this is the right thing.” You say.

I truly will never understand why for once it couldn’t be me. What am I doing wrong? What am I missing? 

“I think I do love him. I don’t know when it happened, but it did. Neither of us wanted this. This wasn’t part of the plan. I don’t even know how to fix it…Oh god, and Jake, and Sammy…they hate me too. I could see it on their faces…” she says nervously.

There it is, the words to end it all. She does love him. I need to get out of here. I need to go lay down and pretend this entire night didn’t happen. 

You place a reaffirming hand on her shoulder, gripping it slightly.

“I will smooth things over with them, leave that part to me. Jake was just feeling what I felt. It's literally in his DNA. Sam is Daniel’s best friend, he will be on his side first and foremost. But you know he can’t stay mad about anything. I will talk to them both. Things will be okay. You just need to fix it with Daniel.” You say confidently, you know you just have to explain to Jake and he will take care of Sam.

“But won’t seeing me with him… I don’t want to hurt you Josh.” She whispers.

I am already hurt, I don’t know if it gets worse than this.

You know she needs you to help her down the right path, so you gather your courage and tell her. 

“Seeing you happy is what matters the most to me. Do I wish it was me? Of course. But just know, I will be watching and at the first sign of him not treating you right, I will be there to put him in his place and take you for my own.” He says, with a soft smile. “So go. You need to tell him everything you just told me. All of it. Bring the fire with you. Hold his ass accountable, never let him talk to you like that again. About pissed me right off. Be mad at him, yell at him, but mostly, tell him you love him. It’s time.” You say.

“You heard him tonight…. He doesn’t want to see me. He wants nothing to do with me.” She says doubting herself.

“Is that why your phone has buzzed two times since I have been here?” You ask with a smirk.

She runs to her phone and a tiny smile crosses her face and you know. 

“He may not be blood, but he is still my brother. I know him like I know myself. This is why we had to do this, tonight. We needed to do this, so you could go to him without the burden of this.” You say gesturing between the two of you, standing up, and pulling your coat on.

“I forgive you, and I’ll always be here for you. But please, go to him and fight for this. One day I will have my great love story, but this one is yours.” You say.

I wish it was our love story my girl. You deserve this love, not whatever misconstrued love he is offering. Deserve anything you want. 

You grab your keys off the table, taking one last look at her beautiful face, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek, the only way you can have her now. Releasing her and stepping out the door, shutting it gently behind you.

Alone, again.

You walk down to car, taking refuge in the cold cab. Waiting to let the tears fall until you pull away. 

This is the right thing.… You are doing the right thing. She loves him. You have to let her try. 

Gripping the steering wheel you fight through the tears to make it home. You keep saying that over and over in your head. Trying to convince yourself that you didn’t just make another mistake by giving up the fight and pushing her right back to his arms, again. 

When will it be your turn? How are you supposed to move on? Anyone else doesn’t hold a candle to her, and now that I’ve had her… I’m fucked. 

As you pull into the driveway you put your car in park and immediately go inside. It’s late and you know you have to go to the studio tomorrow. You turn the shower on the let the water warm up and you look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are bloodshot and your hair is a mess. You look like you have been through it. You find yourself replaying what Daniel said tonight, and how he must have thought you did what you did on purpose. You might be pining over his girl, but you would never do that to him. He is your brother, and if you had known they were already getting together you would have never allowed the night to go where it went, no matter how badly you craved it.

Fuck, I need to talk to him. Maybe tomorrow at the studio. Unless…Surely he wouldn’t no show… Right?

Shedding your clothes you jump into the scalding hot shower, hoping to wash away the night and the hurt that came with it. As the water cascades down your face you think of her. How her face looked when she cried, the slight shake of her hands when she was talking. The emotions radiating off of her body.

You push it from your mind and finish your shower, quickly changing and getting into bed. You pull the string on your lamp and plug in your phone. Closing your eyes, begging for sleep to take you away, but it doesn’t. 

You toss and turn all night, the conversation from tonight replaying over and over in your head. Her words on an endless loop. 

 ‘I’ll never be able to tell you how badly I wanted it to be us.’

It doesn’t matter, your actions speak louder than your words, and you chose him. I still wasn’t enough, even if deep down you knew that it should have been me. 

You toss and turn the rest of the night, sleeping in small increments when the loud blaring of your alarm pulls you from the longest stretch you were able to manage. 

You only have about two hours until you need to be leaving and you are already dreading it.  You pull yourself out of bed and begin your morning. Well, afternoon at this point.

A while later as you sit on the couch you think about what the day will be like today, and your mind wanders to Danny. You shoot him a quick text, testing the waters.

You: You’re coming today, right?

Daniel: Yes.

You: Ok.

Okay, well at least he replied and he’s coming.

Throwing your phone on the coffee table, you try to read more of your book but you just cant seem to get her out of your head. So you let her stay, just for a while.

.

.

As you open the door to the studio, you are the last to arrive as usual. As you step into the sound booth all of them go silent on their conversation and stare at you. 

“Oh come on… what? I am only 10 minutes late this time!” You say, thinking they were talking about you being late. There is a weird energy surrounding everyone, but you know that things are probably still a little tense from last night. 

“You ready to get started?” Jake asks, changing the subject.

“Let’s do it, did you listen to that sample?” Daniel replies.

“Yes, sounds better. Let’s start with that.” Jake says.

You look between the two of them and then over to Sam who has a smug look on his face. You raise your eyebrows at him and he shakes his head slightly.

Ok…something is definitely up.

You wait all day for the blowup from Daniel, but it never comes. He seems to be acting fairly normal, which can only mean one thing. She went to him last night. It would explain all of it. Although you shouldn’t be surprised, you did tell her to. 

Wrapping up the session you are all sitting in the mixing booth chatting when Sam speaks up.

“Sixty’s?” He asks.

“I’m in.” Jake says, placing his guitar in the hard case, clipping the locks.

“Yeah, I will meet you guys there.” Daniel replies.

“Okay, twist my arm…” you joke. When in fact you are dreading stepping in there today, knowing that something definitely has transpired between the two of them.

As everyone gathers their things and head out the doors Daniel grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“Josh, we need to talk.” He says.

“I know, I was hoping to avoid it though.” You reply with a smile. Really hoping to brush it all under the rug and head out to drink your sorrows away. You’re not sure you can handle hearing him talk about her after the conversation you endured last night. 

“I’m sorry about last night man, I was so heated. Didn’t occur to me that you had no idea.” He says.

“No, I didn’t know and I’m sorry I slept with your girl. I would have never…. You know… If I had known…” you stammer. Looking for the right words.

“Thank you. For talking to her last night. I owe you everything for sending her back to me.” He says, letting out a relieved breath. 

I should be happy for him, I can tell he is genuinely happy right now. He loves her too. But fuck, it should be me. 

“Brother, I would do anything for you. I knew she loved you 5 minutes into our conversation. She told me everything I would ever hope someone would say about me one day. I told her she needed to go tell you all of that. I’m guessing everything went well?” You ask, hoping for more information but trying not to pry.

“It did…more than well. I just don’t want there to be any hard feelings between us. I love her, but dude I love you too. Need you both.” He says with a hopeful smile.

“Ah, you cant get rid of me that easily. No hard feelings. Love her hard, she deserves it.” You reply, grabbing your stuff and nodding towards the door. Both of you getting in your cars and heading to the bar.

You pull up at the same time, parking and walking in together. Its strange to think that just last night you could barely look at each other and now here you were horsing around walking through the front door. You look over and she isn’t there. She must be off tonight. 

Sam and Jake are already seated at the table, giving you both strange looks when they see you both on such friendly terms.

As you sit down, you break the ice. “Oof. I am ready for a cocktail. Who’s buying?” 

After a minute of silence Sam is the first to give in. “Alright fine…” he jokingly stomps away to the bar to grab the first round.

As he’s ordering the drinks you hear a bell, indicating someone new has entered the bar. She walks in and immediately your stomach is full of butterflies at the sight of her. You can tell she feels uneasy, not wanting to make eye contact with the table yet and walking faster than usual. When she finally approaches the table, you try to make her feel more comfortable.

“Ahhh, there she is. If you can’t be serving us, your company is the next best thing.” You say with a smile that she returns back.

I will live with being just friends for eternity if it means I get to continue to see that smile on your pretty face.  

She takes the empty seat next to Daniel, placing a kiss on his cheek as he puts his arm around her bringing her in closer.

Like a lightning strike through your body the sadness hits you. You knew it wouldn’t be easy to see them together, but you weren’t expecting it so blatantly. 

Sam returns with the round of drinks for everyone. “Alright you bastards,” he starts while handing everyone their drink of choice. Once everyone has something in hand he raises his up to the ceiling.

“To all of us getting along again, and to whatever fucked up things happened staying in the past. All that matters is that my brothers are happy.” He says making the toast. You all nod your heads and take a drink. Danny places a kiss on her forehead and you turn your head pretending not to notice but you do. 

I’m not happy Sammy, cant you see that?

Fuck it, let’s get drunk. 

Playing it off, you pat Daniel’s shoulder ensuring to him that there are no hard feelings. The only feeling you are really feeling right now is heartbroken.

You turn to Jake who has his eyes fixed on the door. You can sense his emotions shifting and notice Sammy become tense as well. You look over as the door is closing behind her. 

Olivia? Holy shit…

“Well… to what do we owe this great pleasure?” Sam asks sarcastically as she approaches your table.

“C’mon Sammy, after all the years we’ve known each other THAT is how you greet me? I’m hurt.” she lets out a dry laugh and focuses her attention to Danny. 

He is in shock, he has gone rigid and you can tell he is nervous. 

This is not going to go well. Don’t fuck this up, Daniel. 

HER POV

“Hi, I’m Olivia. I’m sure Daniel has told you all about me…” she reaches her hand to yours and shakes it dismissively.

Olivia? The Olivia?

“So what are you doing here?” Jake asks her in a very questioning tone.

“I’m in town for work, thought I might find you all here…did you miss me?” she asks, staring directly at Danny.

He doesn’t reply, he is still shocked. The entire table is obviously uncomfortable, unsure how to handle this conversation. 

“Anyways, just thought it would be nice to…catch up… see what’s new, although I can see a few things are definitely….new.” she says pointedly.

You look to Josh, and he shakes his head staring directly at you, trying not to draw attention. Danny is rigid underneath you, a warmth rushing over his skin. He removes his arm from around you and folds his hands in his lap, the sudden panic growing in your chest is enough that you feel like you need to remove yourself from the situation for a moment and collect your thoughts. 

“I’ll be right back.” You announce, Josh’s eyes never leaving yours. He can tell you’re anxious. Danny doesn’t even look at you as you walk to the bathroom.

As you walk into the bathroom you shut the door and lock it behind you breathing heavily as you lean over the sink. You look at yourself in the mirror.

He loves you. He wants you. Not her.

Why does it feel like you are trying to convince yourself?

You smooth out your hair, and fix your clothes trying to regain your composure. The last thing you want is for her to think you are intimidated. 

You clear your throat and walk out of the bathroom, only to find that your seat has been taken.

What is going on? 

Don’t make a scene. You know your place in Danny’s life. We just fixed things, we love each other.

You lock eyes with Josh and you see him bite his lip as he realizes your seat is now taken. He quickly grabs another and pulls it up next to him, nodding for you to sit. 

As you reach the table you sit down next to Josh, and he leans over and whispers in your ear when no one is looking.

“You’re okay, just talk to me. She’ll leave eventually.” He says.

You nod your head and listen to him ramble. Danny’s eyes cut to you a few times. You can tell he is stressed out, but not enough to do anything about it. In fact, he hasn’t spoken a word to you since she walked in. 

She doesn’t leave, she has made her self very comfortable within the group, reminiscing on old times and laughing. You are feeling really uncomfortable and Josh can definitely sense that, placing his hand on your back and trying to talk to you separately to not be a part of their conversation. 

Your knee begins to bounce anxiously at the fact that Danny is allowing this to continue.  All of this. 

Shouldn’t he ask her to leave? Things with you two were still a little rocky to be in this kind of situation. 

Then she starts her questioning. 

“So Daniel, how long have you two been seeing each other?” She asks, almost sarcastically.

“A few weeks now…” he says looking at you with a small smile.

“How did you meet?” She asks.

“She is actually one of the bartenders here.” He answers.

Josh’s hand grips your shoulder, in silent support.

“Oh… I see.” She replies with a disgusted smirk.

I would like to smack that grin right off of your face, bitch. 

Sam quickly changes the subject. “What about you, Olivia? Still chasing people around trying to find anyone desperate enough to have you do their social media?”

You smirk to yourself. 

One point for Sammy.

“Actually, Samuel, I am working with a great team now. I run socials for a few bands. Really moved up since I worked with you guys.” She snaps.

Jake scoffs. “Well good for you.”

You can tell there is definite tension between her and the guys. She hasn’t even dared talk to Josh, let alone look his way.

As the conversation drifts else where you turn to Josh. “I think I’m gonna go, this is… weird.” You whisper.

“No, don’t go yet. Please…” He begs, “Lets go up to the bar and sit for a minute? One drink, then you can go?” He asks.

How could you say no to him? Especially after the day you put him through yesterday.

“Okay.”

“We are gonna go get another drink? Anyone want anything?” He asks, and before anyone can even open their mouths he says “No? No one? Sounds good!” And he ushers you off to the bar.

You both take a seat and you breathe out a deep sigh of relief.

“Fuck, that is really awkward… Danny hasn’t even spoken to me since she walked in.” You say, staring at your empty glass.

“Here’s the thing about Olivia…she… had this... hold over him for so long… I don’t know if she ever really got her claws out of him. He thought she was it for him. She broke his heart, was super hateful to all of us… it ended really badly. He was messed up for a while… I don’t know what has come over him tonight but its like she has got him back under her spell. I’m sure as soon as she leaves things will go back to normal. Don’t sweat it, sugar.” He says, patting your shoulder.

“But Josh, isn’t that kinda… fucked up?” You ask. “I mean… just last night he told me he was in love with me and now he is sitting, talking and engaging with his ex girlfriend? Right in front of me... as if I’m not there?” 

“Oh it one hundred percent is…” he says before you cut him off.

“Bruce…. We need shots… please.” you ask practically begging.

“Two Fireballs, por favor.” You say. 

He grabs two shot glasses and pours them up sliding them to you. 

You clink your tiny shot glasses together and drink them down, hoping it will get rid of the anxiety in your chest. 

“What is she doing here? What does she want?” You ask. 

“She said she’s here for work, but… more importantly why did she come to this bar that she knows we would be at? She is here to cause trouble as usual. Without a doubt. ” He says.

You let out a deep sigh. 

“I should have known. I couldn’t just have one uncomplicated thing in my life.” You say.

His hand grazes your back. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.” He says.

You know what he means. You know he could give you that. Deep down you know you have feelings for him, but they are nothing compared to what you feel for Danny.

“I know.” You mutter. You look over your shoulder to see Danny still talking to her. 

“Okay, I think I’m going to go. I don’t want to be here anymore.” You say defeatedly.

“Can I walk you to your car?” He asks, sounding hopeful. You don’t deserve him...

“Sure, let’s go.” You say, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

“Aren’t you going to go say bye to Daniel?” He nods his head in the direction of the table, your eyes travel and see Danny. Still next to her, hasn’t moved an inch.

“No.” You reply, pushing the front door open and stepping out into the cool air.

.

.

.

.

[siilvan]

fortuna redux

characters (ocs): mylène "petra" scholten de ridder, freya "mini" mactavish

summary: the medic of the 141 suddenly becomes two.

genre: general, fluff, light angst?, fem!oc

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, mild descriptions of blood/injuries, mildly superstitious stuff, they're so sister-coded...

word count: 3k

note: “but navi we want bloodsport” i know babygirls, it’s gonna be my next post 😔 i just need to be cringe with my oc first…

also big shoutout to @sofasoap for giving me the much-needed confidence to write this AND for trusting me with her beloved mini 😌 this is going to get zero notes, but idc, i wrote it for fun lol

you let out a soft breath as you sift through documents, analyzing dossiers and combat records until your eyes burn and beg for a break. it's the season of new recruits, which means late nights, early mornings, and headaches for yourself. why did you offer to train them when price asked?

probably because ghost has a track record of sending new faces running for the hills. as the one-four-one's only other commanding officer, you're the only one fit for the job. fantastic.

after a much needed break – that consisted of you laying back in your chair with a damp cloth over your eyes – you grab the next document off the pile on your desk and scan it like you did with every other. you stop short before you even finish reading the name at the top, though.

freya mactavish.

surely, it can't be...

you flip through the pages of the dossier, blinking at the information that only served to confirm your suspicions. scottish, twenty-two years old, combat medic, has an older brother in the special forces...

"no fucking way." you mumble, staring at the picture attached to the file. you recognize her from pictures that soap's shown you over the years – she is, without a doubt, the "mini" he's told you so much about. why haven't you heard about the transfer request until now?

when you come across the combat records, the reason is glaringly clear. she hardly passed on all fronts; if she was any other recruit, this file wouldn't have even made it to your desk. she can't match the rest of the team in the field, you'd all end up slowing down to accommodate her. it's nothing that can't be fixed with dedicated training, but with how precious the task force's time is, you simply don't have the time to bring new recruits up to speed.

with a quiet groan, you push back from your desk and gather up the files on her, heading out the door and padding down the hall towards price's office.

you round the corner and spot him unlocking the door, his back facing you.

"captain!" you call out from down the corridor, catching his attention. price turns to look at you, pausing with the door held open as you approach.

"you're up early, petra." he comments, reminding you to glance at the time. five am— shit, you spent the whole night pouring over those files. "got something for me?" he continues, pulling your focus back to him.

you nod, waving the document folder at him. "i've got some questions about one of these recruits."

his eyes flick between you and the folder, before a low chuckle escapes him. "think i might know who you're talking about." he mutters, motioning for you to follow him into his office.

he shuts the door behind you and clicks the lock shut before circling around his desk and settling in his chair. you sit across from him and lay the files out, starting when he nods for you to speak.

"i'm assuming you've connected the dots between the surnames?" you ask, earning an affirmative hum. "you've known soap longer than i have, so maybe this makes sense to you, but—" you flip through the pages of the dossier and slide it towards him, pointing out the large boxes of redacted information with two companies logos plastered at the top of the page. "—i can understand mi6's involvement with this, but what does the cia want with a low-ranking british soldier?"

price leans back in his chair and drags his eyes from the document to you. "it's a long story." he shrugs, pulling a frustrated huff from you.

"come on, price, don't give me that." you reply, shaking your head. "soap's never mentioned anything like this. is there something i need to be worried about if we recruit her?"

his tongue darts out and wets his lips as he lets out a noise, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "even i don't have all the information, scholten. all i know is that she's damn good at what she does." he sits up straight and thumbs through the dossier, glancing over it like he's already familiar with the contents. he probably is.

"you've been tripling as this team's commander, medic, and medical intelligence expert since its formation. you've already got ghost and myself to handle most of the leadership, but you need someone to help with the rest." he asserts, unclipping the picture from the rest of the stack and holding it up to face you. "you need the assistance and she's reliable. trust me on this."

you blink at the photo, then at him. "she barely passed any of the physical tests – even her marksmanship scores were average at best. there's other medics with better scores, captain. i know we cherish family on this team, but i'm not willing to send someone unequipped onto the battlefield."

price sets the picture down and sighs, low and heavy in his chest. "did you see what she's called?" he asks.

you furrow your brows at him. "something like... what was it, 'lady fortuna?' what does that have to do with this?"

"lady luck, lieutenant. she doesn't look like much on paper, but whenever she's in the field, people always come back. the only person that serves to suffer when she's working is herself." he smiles as a noise of confusion tumbles from your lips.

"never pegged you as the superstitious type," you start, squeezing your eyes shut and pinching the bridge of your nose. "that isn't reassuring, anyway. i can't risk having a soldier, especially family, die under my watch, even if it means the rest of the team makes it home unscathed."

price places a firm hand on your shoulder, jostling you and forcing you to look at him again. "it's your refusal to let her die that'll keep her alive." he mutters, and the plan in his mind finally clicks with you.

she'll keep you from working yourself to death. you'll keep her from dying in her work.

a mutual safety net.

price, you clever bastard.

"you were never going to let me say 'no,' were you?" you cock your head to the side, slumping back in your chair.

he shrugs, mirroring your position and producing a cigar from one of his pockets. "i always respect your judgement." he lights it and places it between his lips. you move to gather the documents and stand, before he snaps his fingers, remembering something. "a transport just picked her up, by the way. she'll be here in a few hours."

you pause mid-action and glower at him. "guess i should get started on the training schedule, then."

⋆⋆⋆

"corporal freya mactavish, reporting for duty, ma'am."

you eye the younger woman curiously, noticing the way she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, shrinking a bit under your scrutiny.

bright blue eyes, just like her brother. she's a few inches shorter than yourself, about five-four according to her files, and you feel yourself soften a bit at the glimmer in her eyes – a soldier desperately wanting to be acknowledged. again, it reminds you of soap.

"so, you're the new recruit?" you regard her with a gentle smile in an attempt to ease her nerves. when she visibly relaxes from her stiff stance, you turn to price. "i'll take care of her, captain."

price uncrosses his arms and chuckles. "don't be so quick to write her off, petra. who knows, she might end up surprising you." he says, tapping your arm and giving mini an encouraging nod, before walking out of the room and leaving the two of you alone.

you turn back to her and rest your hands on your hips, silently studying her again. you don't miss the puff of her chest under her vest when she inhales deeply and opens her mouth to speak.

"you can call me mini, lieutenant," she utters, the stiffness from earlier returning, her shoulders locking up as she stands more straight. "i know i'm not much of a soldier, but..." she trails off, her gaze flitting from yours to the empty space between you.

your brows furrow as you tilt forward. "but?" you repeat, urging her to continue.

she drags her focus back to your face, but still avoids looking directly into your eyes. "my brother's told me a lot of stories about you, and... i swear, i won't disappoint you."

she's sheepish, hands flexing as she confirms her statement, and you almost let the pity you feel flash across your face. she's so similar, yet so different from her brother. every word is said like she has something to prove; to you or herself, you're not sure.

"we'll have to swap stories sometime," you start, stepping closer to place your hands on her shoulders. "soap's always going on about you, he's very proud." you assure her with a gentle squeeze. mini rolls her eyes at it, but smiles nonetheless.

"i hope he hasn't mentioned any embarrassing childhood stories..." she mutters.

you pull back, recalling the many stories the sergeant's told about his family since joining the squad. "just a few. we can share those later, we've got a busy day ahead of us."

⋆⋆⋆

you had hoped the combat records would be out of date, but to your chagrin, they reflected mini's performance well.

her shots are hitting the target... most of the time, at least. you've had to correct her stance and grip more than once, give her several basic tips— so now, you're standing behind her, eyeing the target over her shoulder, your fingers twitching at your sides as you watch her form slip again. before you can correct it, however, she pauses and shifts, fixing her posture and adjusting her grip on her rifle.

it's been three hours, but she's showing some improvement, you think to yourself, the edges of your lips twitching up.

mini lowers her gun after emptying another clip and lifts the headphones from her ears, turning to you. "what do you think?" she asks, searching your face for approval.

you take off your own headphones and step closer, squinting at the target. most of the bullet holes lie around the edges, near misses, or scattered around the torso of the silhouette. there's a handful of headshots, but for three hours of work, it isn't enough.

"you're getting better," you sigh, facing her once more. her face drops and you rub the side of her arm in a small attempt at comfort. "you just need more practice, is all. that's why i'm here."

she huffs and shakes her head, setting her rifle on the counter. "you're supposed to be leading me in the infirmary and the field, not holding my hand through the basics, lieutenant." she complains in a low grumble, crossing her arms tight over her chest. your eyes narrow as your hand drops back to your side; you know her frustration lies with her performance, not you.

mini trails close behind your right shoulder, listening intently as you rattle off the list of activities for the day. basic marksmanship, physical tests, close-quarters combat... things that the rookies even younger than her are working on.

"you aren't going to be seeing as much action as the boys or myself, but you still need to be capable enough to defend yourself if necessary." you say, stopping in front of the door to the shooting range.

she hums, standing in front of you. "i know i'm not as skilled as the rest of you, but i can hold my own." she replies, furrowing her brow.

"i'm not clearing you for duty until you show some major improvement." you assert. her eyes widen, pupils turning into small saucers, before the crease in her forehead returns.

"lieutenant, you can’t—"

"i can," you state, perhaps a bit too stern, as the rest of her rebuttal immediately dies on her tongue. "price put you under my watch for a reason. i can't in good conscience send you out underprepared." you continue, softening to a low murmur.

mini merely stares at you, the gears turning in her head. after several seconds of this, finally, she relents with a barely-audible exhale.

"let's do this, then."

the sound of an irritated groan brings you back to the moment. you look just in time to see mini lean back against a nearby wall, her head tilting back and knocking lightly against the surface. she shuts her eyes and breathes in deeply, prompting you to go quiet as she steadies herself.

once her eyelids flutter open again, you speak. "let's take a break, yeah?" you give her a tight-lipped smile. "we can worry about the physical and close-combat tests later. we have plenty of time."

mini eyes you for a few seconds, deep blue irises swimming with about a hundred different emotions, cascading across the surface like waves crashing against jagged rocks during a storm. you've never seen so much conflict in soap, even in his worst times – whatever she's feeling clearly goes deeper than irritation over slow progress.

"how about we hang out? get to know each other a bit?" you suggest, brushing past the observation.

she seems to ease up at your words, her fingers interlacing in front of herself as she silently considers a response. a short, yet eager, nod of her head brings a more genuine smile to your lips.

you find yourself comfortably settled in on one of the worn couches in the common room after cleaning up the range, leaning back against the arm of the couch to face mini as you talk to her, mug of steaming tea in-hand.

"johnny's never been pleased with me following in his footsteps," she confesses after taking a healthy sip of her tea, her legs crossed under the blanket you haphazardly slung across your laps.

you hum, lowering your mug to rest atop your knee. "can't blame him. once you're in this field, you stop wanting your family close." you chuckle, before adding, "i wasn't particularly happy when my brother joined the forces, so i get where he's coming from."

mini grumbles into the rim of her cup and sends you a half-hearted glare. "i'm perfectly capable, though." she mutters, earning another curt laugh from you.

"i'm not saying you're not – even though there's still a lot to improve on – but, think about his perspective." you lean forward, motioning with your hands as you continue. "his little sister, who sounds very prone to injury and bad luck, going into such a dangerous line of work? i'm surprised he doesn't have you attached to his keychain."

you both pause, waiting to see who concedes in the argument first, before another thought crosses your mind. "speaking of luck," you start, catching the raised brow she sends your way. "ever since i read your files, i keep hearing about this whole 'lady fortuna' thing. even the captain's pretty convinced you're lucky."

another beat of silence passes as you both sip on your tea. you eye mini curiously as her eyes dart anywhere but your face, avoidant, but not nervous by any means.

"i don't want to sound like i'm bragging, especially in front of you," she trails off, only perking up again once you dismiss her concerns with a wave of your hand. "i guess, uh... i've been told that i've got this knack for bringing soldiers home unscathed, even on dangerous operations that should end with casualties. it's become something of an urban legend." she says, eyes settling on the steam rising from her cup.

"and yet, you are always getting injured. guess the luck comes at a price, huh?" you comment off-handedly.

her mug lightly clacking against the table nearby catches your focus, drawing you back to her as she wrings her hands together.

"when one person's fortune rises, another falls," she utters, looking focused as ever as the words leave her lips. "bearing misfortune is the cost of giving good fortune to those around me."

for a second, you almost think she's joking. harmless superstitions exist everywhere in life, but this is a new for you – not only is mini convinced of it, but even the captain believes it to some extent.

when her eyes drag up to meet your gaze, you feel a pang in your chest.

the zero-sum game. one party's advantage is equal to another's disadvantage. mini's misfortune is equal in value to the good fortune of those around her. what could possibly match the value of saving lives, though?

death isn't the opposite reaction; to lose the fortune entirely is a worse fate. suffering is a fate worse than death for the benefactor— it's perpetual, iterative, something that would stick around for the rest of her life. save a life and have your own ruined, it's an equal trade. you set your cup aside and reach forward to wrap your hands around hers, holding them in a loose grip.

"let's split the cost." you murmur.

mini blinks at you, confused. "what?"

you squeeze her hands gently, warming when she mirrors it. "there's no sense in one person bearing the world's misfortune alone. i'll carry some of it and you'll save some of that luck for yourself."

she shakes her head and retracts her hands, sitting up straight and leaving you leaning forward. "i don't think that's how it works, lieutenant. it's not something you can just give or take." she stutters out, stifling a nervous chuckle.

"it works that way if we say it does. you can give out as much luck as you need and we'll bear the burden of it together." you take another sip of your tea and let out a low sigh. "i won't take 'no' for an answer, from you or from fate." you add a moment later.

mini giggles, finally giving in with an affirmative nod and a "yes ma'am" escaping her amidst the giggles.

you don't believe in superstitions about luck or fate. the choices a person makes is what defines them, not a third party pulling the strings. however, if it'll bring her some comfort, then you're happy to bear whatever misfortune you can. at the end of the day, keeping your team safe is more important than shallow beliefs.

as a bright grin crosses her face, you make a silent vow with yourself.

you won't let her suffer.

whatever it takes, you'll bring her home safe.

[kohakhearts]

for fic writer meme: 7, 18, 26, and 40, and feel free to answer for both fic and original work if you want :D

thank you!! :D

7: how do you choose which pov to write from?

in terms of 3rd/2nd/1st, usually i default to 3rd but some stories just...are meant to be 1st person, if that makes sense lol. like i have one original project where the mc gets possessed by a demon at some point and it's told in 1st person to like...really solidify the idea that they've become one person in a sense. in terms of which character the pov follows, that's just a result of blorboism LOL. in original works it's just...who the first character i conceived of was, usually. i'd say the protagonist but lets be real - nerissa is NOT the protagonist of osa. she's his older sister :p (she gets protag status by oes on account of getting herself killed so he doesn't have to put himself in harm's way anymore ofc)

18: do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? how do you come up with titles?

it really depends on the fic. sometimes i have a title before anything else. sometimes it comes midway through after i've written a particular line and been like "oh that's good, let's make that the title!" and sometimes it's well after the fact when i'm staring at the ao3 draft like what the fuck do i call you. i'd say usually it's the first scenario though, and then i try to work the title into the text somehow. i've taken inspiration from a lot of things for titles, but in general i like my titles to reference specific lines or motifs in the fic itself!

26: which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

...pretty much any multichapter i've ever written LOL. i'll give a special shoutout to ratc and entanglement for being ideas that i was like "oh this will be like 10k words probably lol" and then turning into novels. entanglement in particular, for getting so long i had no choice but to divide it into chapters lmao

40: if someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

ok there are actually a lot HAHA. i was going to commission a piece of nerissa and poseidon from the scene in oes where they're sitting on the back step at emerson's house after poseidon accidentally possessed her. that's definitely one i'd love to see an artistic rendition of. and probably the final scene in oes, too, or the scene in osa where nerissa carries him out of the sea at namthi!

as for fic...i have a lot of fic, so i'll try to keep this short hjsdfhjdkf but in terms of recent ones...there's this scene from this year's christmas fic where goh kissed gary for the first time:

or tbh...i'd love to see an artistic rendition of my palletshipping hanahaki au. y'know, for the flower imagery

or like ANY scene from sound sleepless, honestly. i love those quiet, late-night conversations (relatedly...a friend drew a scene out of common ground a few years ago, which i ADORE). the scene near the end with ash and lucario is also a fave of mine that i think would make a really sweet drawing.

there's also a scene in entanglement that i won't share bc it's big plot spoilers but it's one of those sappy "character a is crying and character b wipes the tears off their face" scenes we all know and love haha

ok i'll stop here but genuinely....there are so many. and i have received a few fanarts for scenes or character in osa that i love so, so much. and i would love any kind of art someone drew for something i wrote. i love that spirit of collaboration that comes out of things like that!!!

get to know your fic writer!

[softsnzstuff]

How about a nasty cold that takes out one member at a time? By the time there's one man left standing, the cold is absolutely brutal compared with what the others experienced. The recovered band mates take care of the sick one, feeling slight guilty about getting him so sick.

Yes! Here’s a Corroded Coffin fic set in my Rockstar AU (Eddie is 28, guys are 26-27). Shoutout to @dontfeeltoohot for helping me brainstorm the details for this fic! Hope you all enjoy! 🤍KB

*****

Saturday

They’ve barely started rehearsal when they have to pause. The band functions as a whole, but the drummer sets the beat. And Gareth was struggling today.

They start off with tuning their instruments, interrupted every now and then by Gareth coughing or sniffling, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

After that, they move on to playing through a few songs. Eddie’s singing the bridge of Midnight Masochist when Gareth’s nose starts to tickle.

“Eh’KTSHiuh!”

He sneezes openly towards his lap as he tries to keep drumming, but the tickle overpowers him. He stops drumming and brings a hand up to loosely cover his mouth.

“AESHuhew! iiTSCHH!!”

Eddie stops singing and leans against the mic stand, turning over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at his friend.

“Jesus Christ Gareth, don’t tell me you caught another cold.”

It’s a running joke amongst the guys about how frequently Gareth catches colds. They love to tease him any chance they get.

“So what if I did?” Gareth gives a watery sniffle and runs the back of his hand under his nose.

“Nothing man, just don’t get me sick.” Eddie teases.

“Yeah man, me either. We got The Tonight Show next week.” Jeff adds.

“Hihh okay…” his nose starts to twitch again.

“No no no no! Turn away!” Jeff yells.

Gareth turns the other way last second, misting the air to his left, “H’ETSSCHew!”

“Dude!” Tim yells, jumping out of the way.

“snlff ugh. Sorry.”

“Aww,” Eddie sticks his bottom lip out as he walks a box of tissues over to his friend, “Gare bear’s not feeling well.”

“Fuck off man.” The younger man scoffs at the use of his childhood nickname, but takes the box and sets it down next to him. “Let’s finish this so I can go home and sleep.”

“You heard the man,” Eddie says dramatically to his bandmates, “From the top.”

***

Tuesday

The next band practice isn’t until Tuesday. Everyone is there except Eddie. Jeff and Tim are tuning their guitar and bass. Jeff barks a cough and has to take a sip of water.

“Man this sucks. I feel like shit.”

“You’re telling m’be!” Tim adds, “Have’t been able to breathe through m’by nose since last n’dight.”

The two both shoot a death glare towards Gareth, who isn’t looking because his face is buried in his shirt collar.

“A’YESHiyue!”

“Bless you!” Eddie saunters into the studio, just barely five minutes late.

Tim sneezes twice as well, so quiet you wouldn’t know unless you saw his head bobbing.

“And you?” Eddie asks.

Jeff coughs again, “and me.”

“Jesus H. Christ! I walk away for three days and you all sound like you got hit by a bus.”

“Well maybe if Gareth covered his mouth every once in a while.” Jeff complained. He was always a bit prickly when he was sick.

“I said I’m sorry.” Gareth whined, sniffling again.

“Too little, too late dude.” Tim said, with no heat behind it.

“Well shit, I’m sure Jeff wants to go home to his girlfriend so she can make him mommy’s special soup.” Eddie teased, knowing his friend was a momma’s boy.

“It’s good soup okay.” Jeff defended.

“I’m sure it is, Jeffie.”

“I want somb soup…” Tim mumbled.

“Me too…” Gareth added.

“Okay I hear ya, let’s just run a few songs and we can cut rehearsal early today, yeah?”

They’re only two songs in when Jeff’s nose steals the show. The 27 year old erupts with a succession of fittish rapid sneezes.

“ii’ktsch! Tsch! TsCH! T’ssiew! Eh’Tschh! EH’iiTSH!”

The guys all laugh, this being another one of their running jokes.

“Good luck practicing with this happening every couple songs.” Gareth smirks from behind the drum kit.

Jeff manages to flip off Gareth before ducking down into another quick fit.

“K’sch! E’ksh! H’tsch! Eh’TSCH!”

“If I said ‘bless you’ that many times, I’m pretty sure you’d be a priest.” Eddie deadpanned.

Gareth hit the “ba dum tss” on the drums.

After taking a beat to recover, Jeff pointed at Eddie and asked openly, “How the hell is he not sick?!”

Tim nodded, “I was wondering the same thing!”

Eddie shrugged, “Guess I’m just built different.”

The lead guitarist laughed and dodged the papers being thrown at him as his friends “boo”ed at the comment.

“Let’s just call it a day. We can do one last rehearsal on Friday since the show is Saturday. Get some rest, boys!”

***

Friday

Eddie regretted his words IMMEDIATELY after waking up on Friday. His throat was sore, his nose was runny and his head felt like it could explode.

He’s had a lot of embarrassing moments in his life but one of the worst was definitely showing up sick right after telling the band he was “built different”.

“HyESHuhew! T’sCH! Eh’KSHT! … morning boys…”

Gareth stood up from the drum kit and pointed at his best friend, laughing. “You fucking idiot! Built different my ass.”

Most of the guys were feeling better by now, just Eddie feeling like garbage.

“Dude are you gonna be good for the show tomorrow??” Jeff asked, slightly concerned.

“Yeah SNF I’ll be fine. Don’t worry your pretty little head about me. I’ll just mouth the words today? Save my voice?”

They all nodded in agreement, and waited for Gareth to count them into the first song.

***

Saturday

Eddie was sweating. Partially from the low grade fever he’d spiked overnight and partially from nerves. They’d flown into New York on a red eye and he was losing his voice. This was going to be a disaster.

He swallowed past the pain in his throat as he buttoned up his shirt, assistants in the green room fixing his flyaway hairs and touching the guys up with makeup.

“Sorry I’m gonna-” Eddie holds up a finger to the makeup artist as he twists away, “H’etSCH! Isshiew! T’schIEW!”

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay man?” Gareth pats a hand on his shoulder as he walks by to grab his jacket for the show.

Eddie clears his throat, “I’ll be fine.”

***

The interview goes alright. Eddie apologizes for the raspy voice and the guys joke it off making the audience laugh sympathetically. They probably only talked for 10 or 11 minutes, the other guys taking most of the questions.

When it came time to sing, Eddie was nervous. He wasn’t sure why. He’d performed hundreds of times. Some of which, he was sick for as well. But for some reason this felt different. Performing at less than 100% just for a camera.

It felt weird. It felt like every part of him was on display for the world to criticize. His red chapped nose, the quiver in his voice, the tired glaze over his eyes.

The 27 year old winced as they finished the song, trying to smile past the cringe that was creeping up on him. This had to be top 3 worst performances for him and he was certain the Internet wouldn’t let him forget it.

When they’d gone off stage, Eddie had immediately flopped onto the green room couch, face in the cushions.

“You did great Eddie!” Tim offered.

“It was fucking awful Tim, don’t kid yourself.” He mumbled.

“Take it easy man, you’re sick. It’s okay!” Gareth knelt down next to the couch.

Eddie sat up, “That was the fucking worst performance ehh ever- e’TSCHew! TISSH! H’ekshiYUE!”

The guys frowned, feeling guilty that Eddie seems to have gotten this cold worse than the rest of them had. Jeff and Tim felt a bit like they were in some uncharted territory, but Gareth - Gareth has known Eddie forever. The curly haired man exchanged a glance with them and put a hand on Eddie’s back.

“Well we’re flying outta here tomorrow morning. How about we hit the hotel. You can shower and sleep. We can pick up smoothies on the way to the airport yeah? Your favorite. And then you get to see Steve tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

Eddie kept pouting but softened a bit hearing Gareth’s plan.

“Snfsnff that sounds nice.”

“Alright then. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

[beastdrive]

Beast Drive is a Bloody Roar fanspace for creative contributors and casual appreciators of the series alike, welcoming discussion of existing characters and story as well as sharing various fanworks. Engagement with the series on this blog can include general appreciation and celebration of BR canon, lore analysis (meta), character headcanons, and other methods of creative expression. Everyone is encouraged to not only share already existing fanworks but to also create new original works of your own!

Blog Navigation | Meet the Mod | What is Bloody Roar?

Since this is a new blog for a relatively quiet fandom which surrounds a niche fighting game that's old enough to drink, Beast Drive will rely heavily on assistance from followers to gain traction.

If you would like something showcased on this blog, then please read under the cut for Beast Drive's submission and askbox policies.

Recent Updates

[07/20/2023] - Pinned Post is our 100th post yaaay!

Disclaimer

Beast Drive is an inclusive space made for fans from all walks of life with respect to unique personal identities. To be explicitly clear, this blog is run in support of and makes room for marginalized people who are frequently pushed out of fandom and gaming spaces.

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PG-13 / ESRB rated T / PEGI 12 / CERO-B / etc

Check the "What is Bloody Roar?" page for content warnings.

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Questions directed to the mod, rather than the community, might be answered privately unless requested otherwise.

Anonymous Asks are currently enabled!

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This helps showcase various fanart, fanfic, and other fanworks by fellow creators who love Bloody Roar! You can help fill the queue by sharing links to BR tumblr posts that you think deserve a reblog, provide information for promotional posts on fics and artwork, or host your work right on this blog. I'd also love to see any commissions you've received and give a shoutout to the artist!

Submissions are currently enabled!

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Beast Drive only accepts images that you have made yourself or that you have express permission from the creator to let me host. This is to ensure there is no accidental theft or misattributed credit. If there are any images posted in error, please let me know and I will remove them immediately!

Please also be respectful of non-English speaking artists. Many of them do not want their artwork hosted externally, even when given proper credit. Let's respect their wishes.

Community Activities

I'd really like to use this space as a sort of community hub to spotlight other Bloody Roar creatives! Some things I've considered implementing are art and writing challenges through weekly or monthly prompts to inspire thought about the series.

Check this page to learn more about community activities!

Credits

Bloody Roar is the intellectual property of Eighting and Hudson, now owned by Konami. Banner and icon are from BR2 & BR3.

CARAMEL MAMA Naochika Morishita is the lead artist for Bloody Roars 1, 2, and 3.

BLOODY ROAR WIKI The fandom wiki still maintains its own active community.

ZSPN COMMUNITY CHANNEL Catch recent online matches from loyal players around the world.

[unsaintlike]

While I sit here and enjoy some blessed peace and quiet before shit gets crazy here in a couple hours, I just wanted to take a moment and give a quick shoutout to one very special woman. It ain't an exaggeration to say she's kept me sane these last couple of months, throughout the whole concussion ordeal, and then in hoppin' straight back into the thick of things and workin' various shows for various companies. I say I do it 'cause I love it, and while that's true, there's no denyin' that I wouldn't be able to do it without her supportin' me and remindin' me to take a moment to breathe every now and then. So, thank you, Anna. Don't know what I did to deserve it, but I truly am grateful to have you in my life. Love you, sweetheart. @99thequeenslayer

[checkoutmybookshelf]

10 Characters 10 Fandoms 10 5 Tags

Rules: choose 10 favorite characters from 10 different fandoms -- no double dipping! Then tag friends or mutuals to complete the game as well.

Tagged by @apocalypticavolition (who I extremely blame for making me pick favorites. I am now the Miette meme sending this mutual to jail for 1,000 years)

Top 10

Jaina Solo of the Star Wars Expanded Universe (technically its now the Legends Continuity, but fuck Disney for that) - The unhinged drama that the extended Skywalker and Solo clans has a special place in my heart, but Jaina's A+ mix of badassery, trauma, angst, communication issues, and severe allergy to feelings makes every stage of her life an absolute treat to watch. That and the fact that she is the last Solo kid standing as of Disney's murder of the EU makes her the best in my book. Teenage me DESPERATELY wanted to be Jaina Solo. Adult me wants to give her a hug and take her out for a synthale.

Lady Sybil Ramkin Vimes of Discworld - This might be a low-key surprise pick, since I have previously cited Granny Weatherwax and Sam Vimes as Discworld favorites, but Lady Sybil also holds a special place in my heart, because she is literally an amazing partner to Sam without losing any of her own interests and personality. She is also a complete badass in a quiet, competent way that adult, married me would give literal years of her life to have. And then there was the time she absolutely let Serafine HAVE IT because she was pregnant, being held hostage, and Sam's life was in danger, but the goddamn tipping point was that Serafine DIDNT RESPOND TO THE ANNUAL LETTERS. Perfection.

Iskierka from the Temeraire series - She breathes fire, she is a holy terror, and she is basically a pirate masquerading as a soldier. Iskierka is a queen without equal.

Briar Moss from the Circle Universe - I just desperately want to give this poor traumatized boy a hug, but he already has three sisters and two mothers to do that for him. I genuinely think Briar's three books are the best written and executed in the Circle Universe, and his journey feels deeply grounded in a way that the girls' don't, because within their origins and cultures, the girls all came from some level of privilege. Briar is a grounding force that I deeply appreciate.

Dau from the Warrior Bards trilogy - Dau, much like Briar, is in desperate need of a hug. Another traumatized boy, but his one literally has to go on a three-book arc to learn how to feel his feelings and how to people. Basically, we have to socialize him, and watching Liobhan try to do that is by turns hilarious, heartbreaking, and rage-inducing. Dau tries so hard that he makes everything about five times harder than it has to be.

Lan Chitward from the Valdemar Universe - OK, I might prefer guys who need hugs, because Lan is a beautifully executed tragic hero. This kid ends up half trained and sans mentor and support system on the front lines of a war with his lifebonded partner and the phyrric victory claims both their lives. Before that though, Lan gets to speed run found family, and it's just delicious because it twists the knife even deeper. I have my issues with Mercedes Lackey, but in Lan she nailed a tragic, doomed hero.

Penelope Featherington from Bridgerton - The Netflix series is objectively better than the book series, but even in the books Pen is my favorite. Our girl is a WRITER, and she isn't afraid to use that skill. There also aren't enough writer protagonists out there, so shoutout to this lovely one.

Fire from the Graceling Universe - Fire is a fascinating protagonist because she is quite literally a monster, and just existing in the world for her is an exercise in understanding what humanity is...even in those humans who lack it.

Ikenna from the Blood Gift universe - Our beautiful murder barbie is inimitable and frankly I want there to be MORE books with her. And murder barbie speaks to my heart in some extremely specific ways.

Nyneave Al'Meara from the Wheel of Time - *yanks braid, smooths skirts* Literally if I didn't pick her, Nyneave would walk out of those books and come for my head, and I would have no choice but to agree with her because she is very much the best.

@giaelesramblings

@iliiuan

@tatithetinybooktuber

@lillywhitefield

@reddy-reads

[duck-era-lexi]

topster album chart (ranked it by listenablity as an album)

deepdive under cut

row 1

five seconds flat is first, it is my absolute favorite album of all time and i think it is an incredibly coherent album. it encompasses my aesthetic so well and is so soft and beautiful. doomsday, reckless driving, and ceilings are some of my favorites, but there are so many good songs on this.

the next four are just taylor albums, evermore is better than folklore in my opinion. folklore has more coherence yes but evermore has ivy so therefore it is better. i'm glad you understand. red is pop, it is screaming in the car but also sobbing in the car and while i love it dearly my vibe is more chill than that. midnights is iconic and i have a lot of memories with it, as it was my first taylor album. out of all of these i also listen to midnights as an ALBUM the most.

row 2

We start off the next with the other lizzy album because ofc, she's just amazing and she somehow does the same quiet powerful voice over and over again and still keeps her songs from all sounding the same. lizzy's songs make me want to cry but in a good way, in the way that i can actually process my emotions instead of keeping them bottled up inside.

cigarettes after sex is the album on here that i think is best as an album, and i would never really put any of these songs on a playlist. that's because they all sound the same. :D but i find the original cas particularly memorable because of the association i have with my ex best friend, as well as my sleepy times before i even MET her. basically we bonded over this album and it's special to me.

parachutes by coldplay is a very popular, well known album and while i do have emotional attachments to it, i don't as much as the others. this album is pure depression and sadness, while i feel as if most of my other music focuses on processing the sadness and moving forward. regardless, it is high on this list because of how each song is similar but all amazing in their own right.

speak now! i would've put the original speak now on this, but yk, taylor's version. it's only been out for a week so i haven't gotten to bond with it that much but me and the old speak now go wayyyy back. major comfort album, would be above folklore in a perfect would but alas the rerecordings didn't achieve quite the effect i had imagined.. looking at the vault tracks when i say this.

harry's house by harry styles, another very coherent album that is another one of those things that i would not put in my playlist but is amazing on aux. perfect aux album imo

punisher... emotional trauma... <333

good riddance, great but i dont know what's going on with those vault tracks. songs themselves are great but as an album i don't feel like it's super put together. i am only being negative because with how much hype i have around gracie and this album it really should be in the top section, but i don't think it feels right there.

rep, overplayed but amazing. no emotional connection tho like with speak now and such. obv getaway car but that cant hold the entire album on its back. also note that my friend influenced this

adventure island, gotta give a shoutout to purrple cat and this is the best of their albums

rapunzel i don't really listen to but it fits my vibe and i could hypothetically listen to it.

positions, super coherent album but a bit overplayed. absolute girlboss feelings though, and i think it is the best ariana album (even though everyone thinks dangerous woman is better...)

_________

okay, so i don't really have much to say abt the rest of the albums but they're great!!

[millenniumringg]

as the new year approaches, I just want to say a big fat THANK YOU to my followers and my friends for your epic support <33

I especially want to thank those of you who have, like, read my fics and interacted and just, like… humored me to no end NDJSBDB you have no idea how awesome you are for that <33

Cheers to another year of writing and being cool :] because all of you are cool already :]

[lavienjin]

first love | myg

synopsis: After an incredibly long day, Yoongi found you crying in the copy room. Though he doesn't talk much, you've always found his presence comforting, and it didn't surprise you when he stayed and listen to you vent. However, while you sought comfort in his embrace, he proposed a special offer to reduce your stress with the magic of his hands. The only catch to your arrangement? You couldn't fall in love.

But wouldn't you know it, just as your friendship deepens into something more, you find an old notebook sitting on his bookshelf, and in it, a collection of poems. The last entry has you reeling because it's addressed to you. And in that page, a single line is written: Without you, I am nothing.

→ part of the virtue, vice, and everything nice collab.

pairing: yoongi x reader

wc: 11.3k

genre/rating/au: 18+ | fwb, coworkers, f2l au | smut, angst

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, semi public sex, multiple smut scenes, multiple orgasms, oral (m. & f. receiving), masturbation, exhibition, lots of feelings. like a lot of feelings :(

author's note: i'm fully aware that this song is about a piano but i don't want to write angsty musician yoongi since it hits a little close to home, so i put my own spin into it. thank you to the lovely @ddaechwita for the banner! this is part of @missgeniality's wings collab so please make sure to check out the rest of the authors! ♥

i wanna give a shoutout to one of my favourite authors out there! @yoonia happy heckin birthday, my love!! i tried to channel your energy when i was writing this. truly, your fics give me a lot of inspiration!!!

m.list | ao3

You first entered Helion Game Company together as interns, assigned to comb through thousands of customer complaints while sitting across from each other.

Yoongi didn’t speak much; opting to tilt his head every time you greeted him good morning, but the way his eyes twinkled as he listened to you talk about your weekend caused a confusing array of feelings to emerge quietly in your heart. And the feelings continue to blossom whenever you return to find the occasional tangerine next to your computer after you’ve had a long day.

To you, Yoongi would always be that seemingly aloof coworker with a tight rein on his emotions, but one whose voice can command the entire room with just the simplest of words. It wasn’t surprising that he rose quickly through the ranks and you watched with quiet pride when he was inducted into the Senior Sound Engineers circle for the next version launch of the company’s hit mobile game.

Though it took you a few more months, you soon joined him in the ranks to work alongside the project with a team of Creative Directors. Introducing yourself to a room of ambitious souls was a nerve-wracking experience, but it was only made bearable when you caught Yoongi’s eyes in the back of the room as his warm presence continued to provide a quiet flow of support that strengthened your nerve. Ever since that day, you held his gaze steadfastly whenever you presented a new concept to the team, and if you’re lucky, you’d find a tangerine sitting prettily on your desk the next morning.

With the highly anticipated one-year anniversary launch coming up soon, you’re swamped with endless meetings to finalize the details that would be included, so much so that you’d find yourself reminiscing about the early days. Though combing through a never-ending list of demands from players was tedious, you relished in the quiet that surrounded you and Yoongi, the two of you lost in your own worlds with only the clicks of keyboards accompanying your routines.

As time and busyness enveloped your lives, they robbed you from seeing one another and it didn’t surprise you to learn that the sprouting feelings you once had for the ebony-haired man were eventually absorbed by the cacophony of noise around you. However, not all is lost, because you’ve gathered the scattered petals on the ground and chose to call it a different name: friendship.

And though it felt like months since you last talked or even been in the same room with each other, you couldn’t help but smile at the rare moments when you’re greeted in the morning with the comforting scent from the small, citrus fruit.

---

The day started out rather pleasant, the stifling summer air made way for a gentle breeze, cooling down the normal heatwave that lurks in the alleys of the city. You hadn’t even slept that terribly, even waking up before your alarm clock to enjoy the morning air as you sipped coffee from your favourite mug. As you smiled at the chirping birds in a nearby tree, you just can’t shake the feeling that today was going to be great.

Or so you thought.

As soon as you arrive at the office, your lifted spirits deflate as your assistant frantically calls your name in near tears.

“Dowon leaked the character concept,” she informs you in a high-pitch shriek as you shouldered your way through a sea of panicking bodies. “Namjoon wants to see you.”

From what you can gather in the few minutes you had with your assistant as you turned around to walk in the other direction towards Namjoon’s office, the newest artist in your team, Dowon, had posted a selfie of himself on Twitter that contained the early sketches of the not-yet-released Yuna in the background. He hadn’t realized his mistake until he checked his ever-buzzing phone, and upon looking at the encroaching thousands of retweets and likes, his panic was evident in his pallor. Although he deleted the tweet immediately after his discovery, the news had already spread like wildfire – with users reposting the tweets on multiple platforms outside of just Twitter.

When you enter Namjoon’s office, his back is turned towards you. He’s talking to someone on the phone in harsh whispers, though your deafening heart rate makes it hard for you to piece together the words.

“G-Good morning,” comes a timid voice from your side.

You blink in surprise at Dowon’s trembling figure. Of course, he’d be here, but your mind had been so preoccupied with the disaster that you hadn’t noticed his presence. With his shoulders raised to the skies, he sinks into himself, unable to meet your gaze. You’re suddenly parched, throat constricting around your reply, unable to push the words out, so you offered him a half-hearted smile instead.

Your attention is stolen when Namjoon clears his throat. The blue tie on his neck is slightly loose, and the way he sighs as he slumps on his dark leather chair causes a stone to drop in your stomach. When Namjoon regards you with his steel gaze, his mouth is pulled into a grim line.

“I assume you’ve been informed about what happened?”

Dowon squeaks from beside you and you steal a quick glance at the pitiful man, your heart clenching at the unshed tears in his eyes. He isn’t the best artist in your team, but he does work the hardest. If Namjoon decides to terminate his contract, it will be hard for you to hire another artist so late into the development.

You nod. “Minju told me what happened on our walk to your office, yes.”

Namjoon’s face is unreadable, a stone mask that doesn’t betray what he’s thinking. The only indication that this situation may be worse than what you’d imagine is the way Namjoon’s tongue prods the inside of his cheek, a rare expression you’ve only seen a handful of times in your employment.

You’re unable to breathe with the thick, palpable tension in the air. Namjoon studies both your figures in the silence, and you wonder if he’s quietly enjoying this.

“Dowon,” he says calmly. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m—I’m sorry, sir. It w-won’t happen again,” Dowon stammers. He bows as he balls his slacks into his fists.

Namjoon nods and returns his attention to you. “Tell me, how’s his performance as of late?”

You feel a prickling sensation as Dowon’s pleading gaze snaps to you. “His work is consistent.” You maintain the intense eye contact with Namjoon, resolute in defending your employee. “You won’t find another artist like him this late in the game, sir.”

Tension releases your body from its hold when Namjoon shifts his gaze away from you. The breath of relief you let out seems to reassure Dowon, and from the corner of your eye, you can see the way his shoulders begin to relax.

“Dowon, you may go,” Namjoon announces.

You offer a congratulatory smile at the man beside you, one he returns with a deep bow before he scurries out of Namjoon’s office. The unsettling feeling returns to your stomach when the door shuts behind you.

“Unfortunately,” Namjoon mutters, his expression turning grim once more. “I have some bad news for you.”

---

You can’t stop the hot tears from making their way down your cheeks as you barricade yourself in the copy room. Your team, possibly sensing your ire after you left Namjoon’s office without so much as a hint of a smile, has left you alone to wallow until it was time for them to go, where they quietly slip away without so much as a wave.

“Stupid thing!” you grumble, kicking the wheel of the copier in frustration.

For the past hour or so, you’ve been trying to print the incident report you’ve painstakingly typed out all afternoon. Your meeting with Namjoon has left a nasty mark on your otherwise pristine office life. You can’t blame him, knowing that the decision has been made prior to you stepping foot on the ugly navy carpet of your office, but you can’t help the anger that rises steadily towards the man either.

After Dowon left, having been dismissed by Namjoon, your boss informed you that you’ve been written up for your negligence, which, as you spat out to him that morning, was complete and utter bullshit. Namjoon patiently listened to you rant as you plead your case, but your passionate words didn’t make a dent in his armour.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon murmured as he handed you a yellow slip. “Please have this signed along with the incident report. I expect it on my desk first thing in the morning.”

The beeping from the printer breaks you of your thoughts and you cast your gaze down to the LCD screen flashing red and yellow, signifying yet another paper jam on the side of the printer.

Defeat pulls you down on to the floor, where you bring your knees close to your chest as you bury your face into your hands.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You lift your face to meet Yoongi’s worried gaze. Great.

“Yeah,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just been a really long day.” You let out a half-hearted chuckle, one that Yoongi returns with a sad smile.

He makes his way to your crouched figure before sitting down next to you, both your backs leaning against the printer. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Though you’re touched by his sincerity, a part of you hesitates to tell him what’s wrong, especially since your interactions thus far have been minute due to your busy schedules.

Sensing your reluctance, Yoongi nudges you lightly with his shoulders, a growing smile on his face. “Come on,” he urges. “I’ve heard you talk about your weekend since we were interns. You were never shy about discussing your thoughts before, why are you hiding them from me now?”

With a shuddering sigh, you smile gratefully at Yoongi before highlighting the unfortunate moments from this morning. True to his nature, Yoongi listens closely as you speak, chiming in once or twice with a few hums. Though as you begin to retell what happened in Namjoon’s office, Yoongi tenses beside you, his once worried expression morphing into fury.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi slams his fist to the copier behind you. “That’s bullshit!”

“Yeah? Well, tell that to Namjoon,” you snicker. In all the time you’ve known Yoongi, you have never seen him so upset. “It’s fine, really. I’ve never been written up before, so it’s not the end of the world. Plus, Namjoon said that it was out of his hands,” you sigh. “I just hope it doesn’t look bad on my performance review.”

Yoongi releases his bottom lip from his teeth, but not after he tortures it to a point where you see little pricks of red peeking through the soft tissue. Your hand moves on its own as you wipe his bottom lip with your thumb, tutting at the small injury. When you realize what you’ve done, you snatch your hand away quickly, your cheeks aflame when Yoongi looks at you with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, force of habit!” you stammer. “I have cousins and they’re a messy bunch, always wrestling with each other and getting cuts all over.”

God! What was wrong with you? With a silent prayer for the ground to open up, you bury your face into your hands, trying to hide away the embarrassment colouring your face.

“Thank you.”

With an amused chuckle, Yoongi gingerly removes your palms from your face to force your gaze back to his. “I mean it,” he whispers as he lets go of your hands. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you utter just as quietly. “Really, I should be thanking you for listening to me; not just about this fiasco, but for all the times I bugged you during our intern days.”

Yoongi tilts his head, his smile faltering slightly. “That’s assuming that you’re a bother.” At your protests, he begins to laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, I like listening to you talk,” he beams. “If I hated your voice, I wouldn’t have listened to you drone on and on about the countless awful blind dates your friends set you up with.”

“Oh my god! Why would you bring that up?” you laugh, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “Anyway, I should probably get on with this,” you pat the printer a few times, “I still have an incident report to print out.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the mention of your task. “Leave it until the morning. It’s all formality anyway.”

“I would never have guessed that one of the greatest sound engineers in our company is a troublemaker.”

He chuckles at your teasing grin. Maybe it’s just your imagination, but there’s an amused glint in his eyes as he murmurs, with a voice so low that goosebumps appear on your skin, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Your thoughts slow to a crawl as he pins you with his gaze. Was his face always this close to you? Breathing becomes secondary as your heart hammers in its cage. What was he thinking behind those rich irises?

“Yoongi, I…” you begin, but you’re not sure what you wanted to say next.

The spell breaks when his lips curl up into an easygoing smile. “Come on.” Yoongi stands and offers you a hand. “I’ll help you with the printer, only if you promise to get a drink with me.”

Bewildered at his sudden offer, you can only muster a nod as he helps you stand.

“Okay, let’s see what’s going on with this thing…”

You watch Yoongi work on the printer for a few minutes, though really, your mind is drifting further away as the feelings you thought had disappeared seem to resurface back into reality. After opening two separate compartments in the printer, Yoongi’s able to find the source of the jam and removed it, instructing you to press a few buttons on the small LCD screen. Like magic, the flashing red warning sign stops and a little jingle resounds instead before the machine begins to spit out your documents into the tray.

“How did you…” you begin, staring in awe as the printer staples your report together.

“Well, the IT guys were taking a long time to appear this one time and our team really needed to print some reports. Since no one seemed to know what to do, I just rolled up my sleeves and opened it to find the issue,” he explains as he hands you the stack of paper. “Ever since then, every time this printer acts up, my team usually comes to me for help.”

Yoongi flashes an amused smirk in your direction as he wipes his toner-covered hands with a handkerchief. “So, ready for that drink?”

---

The walk to the trendy bar just a little way outside of your office is filled with a round of 20 questions. It’s strange to see Yoongi in this light, so animated and full of life. He talked about college; how he switched majors from business despite his parents’ disapproval. In return, you talk about your favourite musicians before learning that you listen to similar genres.

When you enter the mostly full bar and squeeze yourselves into the booth, the conversation never ceases, only stopping briefly when a waiter comes to take your order. Not wanting to drink on an empty stomach, you ordered a plate of appetizers – wings and nachos – to accompany your liquor.

“Good choice. They have the best nachos here,” Yoongi comments just as the waiter takes your menu and leaves.

“Oh? Do you come here often?”

“Yeah. They have live music a few times a month and my friend recently got a gig here, so I showed up to support him.” Yoongi points to the dim stage area where a microphone and a singular chair stand.

“That’s sweet of you! Okay, what else don’t I know about you, Yoongi… Do you have a secret identity? Office worker by day, criminal mastermind by night?” you tease.

Yoongi laughs into his hand, shaking his head. “Oh, if I was a criminal mastermind, I wouldn’t be stuck working at an office job. I’d just steal a bunch of money so I can live in peace.”

Just as you begin to ask about his plans for conquering the world, your food and drinks arrive, holding off the conversation for a later time. You’re too busy munching on your nachos and sipping your liquor of choice that it takes you a moment to realize that Yoongi stopped eating.

“What’s up?” you ask.

Yoongi studies you as he brings the glass of beer to his lips. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re finally yourself again.”

“It helps that I have a friend to talk to,” you beam. “Thanks for taking me out tonight too.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiles. “Sorry, I got a bit in my head there because I felt like I was pushing you to go when you didn’t want to.”

“Honestly? I’m glad you did. If not, I would’ve been at home alone to just drink myself under. That can’t be healthy.”

“Oh, and drinking in a relatively crowded bar is?” he fires back before bursting into laughter.

“That’s not what I meant!” you protest with a pout, stuffing your face full of nachos.

You continue to eat until only the platter empties. Through the night, the empty glasses beside you increase in quantity as you let yourself go with the flow of conversation and music. Once, Yoongi made you try something called a ‘Blue Moon’, his favourite beer imported from the Midwestern area of the United States that is served with a slice of orange.

“That reminds me, I never thanked you for the tangerines you leave on my desk,” you muse, drinking the last of the beer. The citrusy taste lingers on your tongue even as you switch over to chug a glass full of water.

Yoongi grins as he raises his glass. “Of course. A good job always deserves a reward.”

“Oh, and what kind of reward are you looking for?” You couldn’t help but snort when Yoongi chokes on his drink.

“You’ll pay for this one day,” he pouts as he cleans up his mess with a napkin.

Sure, your day was less than stellar, but after the Yoongi’s presence, you couldn’t help the smile that found its way into your face as you crawled into bed.

---

The next couple of days after the incident was just as you expected. The office is abuzz with gossip when you enter, with some brave folks asking if what transpired during Namjoon’s office was true. You confirmed what little you could, preferring to keep the details of your write up a secret, away from loose lips.

Though the energy surrounding your team has shifted, some are wary of working with Dowon in the event that another leak, your spirits lift slightly when you spy a familiar round orange fruit on top of your files this morning. Unlike all the other instances however, this one has a note attached to it.

“Drinks are on me tonight.”

And maybe… just maybe, things aren’t so bad after all.

---

“Fuck!” You slam the empty glass to the table, causing a few patrons to look over in your direction.

“Whoa, settle down there.” Yoongi’s comforting presence has not placated your anger the way it normally would.

Despite the launch happening within less than a month, your team is behind on some of the last-minute touches for the characters, making you work overtime for the past few days now. Speaking of the devil, your phone chimes and you spy the email that one of your employees sent you, asking for approval on a last-minute design change.

You type your confirmation with a low grumble under your breath, upset that even with the weekend within sight, your team is still hard at work.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you mutter as you lock your phone and stash it back in your purse. “I’m sure it’s hellish on your end too and I’m taking this out on you.”

“I guess I should feel honoured?” he snickers, raising his glass to you. “When you were written up, you barely opened up to me and now look at us, drinking away our stress in the same booth every other day.”

You tap the bottom of his beer with your glass before taking a sip, grimacing as the liquor burns its way down your throat. “Well, it beats drinking alone,” you sigh.

Over the past month now, ever since the incident, you and Yoongi have made a point to meet at the bar every now and again, mostly to complain about work.

“Your blood pressure is off the charts, huh?”

“I feel like I’ll probably die before I reach 40 if this is how my team handles every launch,” you grumble, not affected by his joviality.

“Relax, tomorrow’s Friday! And then we have a long weekend ahead of us. Just bear with it for one more day, okay?”

You grumble an unintelligible response as you sip on your drink. Numb from the drinks, you’re not as perceptive as you usually are, completely missing the way he’s currently staring at you. His lips are downturned as he absentmindedly drums his fingers on the side of his beer before he finally pipes up.

“You know… I can help you with that. Your stress, I mean. I know that this was pretty much my idea – to get drunk and forget the stress” – you can’t help but raise your glass and chug as he continues to speak – “but I may have a healthier alternative.”

“Okay, spill. What do you have in mind?”

“I can always make you cum.”

As though he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb in your time together, Yoongi continues to drink his beer nonchalantly, while your mind struggles to comprehend what he just said.

“I’m sorry… what? Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am,” he shrugs. “I mean, I heard an orgasm is the best way to get over your stress and I’m pretty confident in my abilities.”

Your brain is unable to form the correct syllables to convey your thoughts.

The fact that Yoongi finds you attractive is a miracle in itself, especially when he walks around charming everyone in the office with his swoopy black hair and easy smile. Maybe your crush on him is slowly rearing its head again after all these years, but you aren’t sure if you’re willing to risk changing the relationship you currently have. Being Yoongi’s friend has been easy; he’s a great listener and you’re only scratching the surface behind the quiet exterior he presents.

However, somewhere deep inside, you must’ve wanted to change the dynamic to something more, or else why would you be questioning his proposal so intently?

While you’re busy staring into the amber liquid in your glass, Yoongi reaches out to cover the back of your hand with his, breaking you from the internal struggle in your mind. “Hey, if you’re not into it, don’t worry,” he chuckles, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m just offering my services. No strings attached, kind of deal.”

The question stands: why? As you stare into the hand that’s currently enveloping yours, you can’t fathom why someone like Yoongi would give you the time of day. It didn’t seem real – his proposal. But then, your gaze drifts to his face and after spending so much time with him, you know that Yoongi isn’t one to joke around.

“Don’t think about it too hard, okay?” He speaks just as he spies the waiter coming towards you with your check. “Looks like the bar’s going to close pretty soon. So, how about we get out of here and call it a night?”

---

That night, you toss and turn in your sheets, feeling a sense of emptiness. You can’t help but replay the scene from the bar – specifically Yoongi's nonchalant proposal.

Unable to sleep, you think. And then you think some more. Until your head is swimming with alcohol and something else.

And that’s when you call Yoongi at 3:22 in the morning, slightly surprised that he’s still awake.

"On the topic of what we talked about in the bar tonight…” you begin, biting your bottom lip nervously.

Yoongi groans on the other line. “I’m serious when I said you shouldn’t worry about it. We’re cool. If you’re not into the idea, I get—”

You cut him off before he could ramble further, smirking into the phone. “How confident are you?”

Instead of answering, Yoongi chuckles. “Wear a skirt and you’ll find out tomorrow, hm?”

---

It isn’t strange for you to be seated next to Yoongi during the manager’s meeting, especially since how closely you have to work with the sound department, but you can’t help but squirm in your seat as you attempt to listen to Namjoon summarizing the development reports he received in preparation for the launch.

Your seat is pushed almost flushed against the table, with the edge digging into your abdomen, to hide Yoongi’s fingers that are currently trailing ambiguous shapes into your skin. Coupled with the fact that he’s currently holding your panties hostage in the pockets of his slacks, every time you feel the cold bite of his metal rings when he travels higher, you clench around nothing while trying not to whine in front of the twenty-something people gathered in the room.

Taking a chance to look around the room, you’re only met with bored faces and yawning mouths, and there’s a subtle groan when Namjoon moves the PowerPoint slides to talk about last season’s numbers. However, whatever brilliant revelation he’s about to impart on you is drowned out by the roaring desire when Yoongi’s fingertips brush against your folds.

He whistles low while staring at the pie chart, and the few chuckles floating from the back of the room assume that he’s talking about the high numbers last season brought in, when in actuality, Yoongi’s pleasantly surprised at how wet you already are; your pussy sucking his fingers in down to the second knuckle.

The breath leaves your lungs when Namjoon raises an eyebrow when his gaze floats over to the two of you.

“Tell me about it. You really knocked it out of the park with the background music for the new area,” he chuckles, nodding his praise to Yoongi.

The corner of Yoongi’s lips twitch, a smirk threatening to take over his features. Oh, if only your coworkers knew.

Your poor bottom lip is bruised and swollen from your constant need to swallow down your moans. Sweat slicks all over your arms and back as you sit rigid, your legs pushed apart, and Yoongi’s unhurried fingers traverse your sopping cunt, taking care not to make too much noise in the otherwise quiet meeting room.

“All right, that’s pretty much all I have for you today. Thanks for letting me drone on for an hour,” he winces when he looks at the clock, “…and a half. Enjoy the rest of the day,” Namjoon chuckles as he adjourns the meeting.

You exhale gradually when Yoongi leaves your cunt as the others begin to stand. On one hand, you’re relieved, grateful that you weren’t caught because you were definitely breaking a slew of code violations while you’re getting handsy on the table. On the other, the strong need to orgasm only surges in your veins, wanting nothing more than to have Yoongi fuck you right then and there; consequences be damned.

“Aren’t you getting up?” Yoongi quips, an amused grin on his face.

You glower at his smirk, unable to form a sensible comeback with your heartbeat still steadfast on a thundering rhythm. When you do get out of your chair, the grip you hold on to the back is strong, your legs feeling like jelly after being teased for so long.

“I’m fine,” you grumble as Yoongi extends a hand – the one that was inside of you just mere moments ago.

With your shaky legs, you walk stiffly out of the meeting room, but not after stealing a glance around the remaining crowd to see if anyone noticed anything strange. Everyone, including Namjoon, seemed indifferent.

“And how was that?” Yoongi questions once you’re out of earshot.

“Unbelievably hot. I think I could’ve cum if Namjoon kept on talking,” you admit with a grin.

“Interesting,” he hums. “Do you have any meetings after this?”

Before answering his question, you look through your phone calendar. “Nope, I don’t have anything until 2pm.” That’s a lie – you meant to check in with your artists all day today, but the curiosity got the better of you and you wonder what it was he has planned.

“Come to my office in half an hour? I’ll make sure we’re undisturbed.”

Though he posed it as a question, you know it’s anything but.

Yoongi walks away with a smirk and you have to bring your legs together as you anticipate what he has planned next.

---

This is nothing like the meeting this morning.

Yoongi has you pressed up against the copier, holding your leg up as his fingers return to their rightful place inside you. The metal bits dig into your shoulders as you shift your hips, allowing him access into your deepest parts.

“Yoongi—”

The whine you let out is nothing short of pathetic as you rut in time with his thrusts. The sleeves of his dress shirt are seeped with your arousal, yet Yoongi doesn’t care, too focused on your pussy swallowing his fingers whole.

“Look at you,” he breathes, marvelling at the way your chest rises and falls rapidly. “So needy and wet. Keep your voice down, hm? We don’t want the whole office to hear us, do we?”

You inhale sharply before busying yourself with your bottom lip as he slams his hand repeatedly inside, his fingertips stroking the patch of nerves that has your body jerking in his grip. The coil has been building for some time now – your head is already swimming with desire. When his thumb presses circles on your clit, you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you come undone.

“S-So close,” you whimper. You’re arching your back as you’re practically sprawled all over the copy machine.

“Just let go, cum all over my hands,” he rasps before dipping lower to graze his teeth along your pulse point. “Cum for me.”

With a strangled moan, your body obeys his command. “Yoongi—fuck.”

While your team is out there, perfecting the project that’s due in a matter of weeks, you’re pulled apart at the seams – the orgasm slamming into you like waves as it cascades down your spine, making you shudder.

“Good girl, so good to me,” Yoongi mumbles absentmindedly into your hair. “So pretty when you cum.”

Your vision is blurry, filled with dancing lights as you attempt to calm your breathing. When Yoongi slips his fingers out of your cunt, you hiss, aching at the sensitivity. He massages your thighs with a hum, paying attention to the leg that was propped up for the entire duration of the… events.

“How’d I do?” he teases as he helps you smooth out the wrinkles from your skirt.

You’re honestly still reeling. Though your heart isn’t traveling a thousand miles an hour, it’s still clocking in the upper hundreds. Yet, your body did feel lighter, your mind also clearer somehow. You must admit, Yoongi orchestrated your body like an expert conductor – as though he’s known you all your life. No one has made you cum that quickly before.

Perhaps you should’ve kept those thoughts to yourself because you can see the way Yoongi seems to glow at your compliment: pride filling his chest along with a confident smirk on his face.

“Now, can I have my panties back, please?” you whisper as you hold out your hand.

Yoongi seemed to think for a moment, his lips turned upwards to the side. At your amusement and horror, he shakes his head. “I think I’ll hold on to these for the rest of the day.”

“Yoongi,” you state flatly, nervousness clawing up your belly, but you can’t deny the thrill either, so you don’t push it.

After he makes sure that no one seems to be paying attention to the copy room, Yoongi helps you sneak away, but not before filling your thoughts with some of his other ideas.

---

Your day passes like a blur, and you find yourself locking your legs more often as your distracted brain thinks about the events that happen this morning. The idea of Yoongi walking around the office with your lace underwear stuffed in his slacks makes poor company when you’re trying to work.

Too engrossed in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized that your assistant had let herself in until she called your name again with a cough.

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “I’m a bit distracted right now.”

Your assistant merely smiled demurely as she hands you a stack of reports you requested. “Here’s the information on the developments we’ve made over the past few months and the breakdown of the new region from the programmers for next year’s launch. We can start meeting with them to talk about what they want the art team to start working on.”

You skim through the details, humming along as your assistant explains the finer points of what is written. “Thank you, Suha. This looks good,” you praise.

Suha bows to you with a proud smile, but instead of leaving, she shifts her weight as she stands. “Actually, I was wondering if I could leave in half an hour?” she requests.

A mischievous idea pops in your head and you have to thread your hands together to avoid immediately texting a certain dark-haired man. “Sure,” you chirp in a voice too high as you fail to hide your excitement. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Yes, Suha. You’ve done a good job. Please feel free to leave now if you’d like.”

Suha claps her hands together and bows. “Thank you!” she calls out before disappearing.

When the door to your office closes shut, you fire out a text and hum, fingers drumming impatiently on the oak table as you wait for Yoongi to arrive.

---

“Took you long enough,” you smirk when he opens the door.

“Well, unlike some people, I was busy managing my team.”

Poking his head one more time to make sure that no one’s noticed his arrival, Yoongi closes the door firmly behind him, locking it in place.

“Now, why have you brought me into your office, hm?” he asks rhetorically before stuffing his hands in his pockets and pulling out the familiar garment. “Could it be because of this?”

You laugh quietly with a shake of your head. “Maybe it has something to do with that,” you muse, watching him approach with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “Or maybe it’s because I’m just so stressed, you know?”

Yoongi chuckles at your insinuation before leaning forward until your faces are inches apart. “And,” he husks, wetting his lips with his tongue, “How can I help you?”

You hum as you grab him by the collar, crashing your lips against his as an answer to his question. In a spectacular feat, Yoongi’s strong arms lift you up from across the table, pulling you flush against his chest as he sits you down in front of him. Your legs wrap around his torso, causing your skirt to rise to display your bare pussy towards him.

Yoongi’s rough hands dig into the meat of your thighs as he grinds into your core. “Tell me. How did it feel walking around the office with no panties all day, hm?”

“Exhilarating,” you admit in a breathless moan, body aflame with desire as you feel his erection drag against your clit.

“And look at you now, so needy and ready for more. What do you think your team would say if they saw you like this?” Every few words are punctuated with Yoongi’s fingers undoing the buttons to your blouse.

“God, don’t ask me that,” you pout, arching your chest forward. “I don’t want to think about work right now.”

At this, he laughs. “Have you been thinking about work at all during the day? Some might say you’re a little distracted.”

Yoongi cuts off whatever retort you had prepared when he kisses along your jawline and down your neck, nipping the skin just harsh enough to send shivers down your spine, as he continues his mission to free your tits from their cage.

“Pretty,” he mumbles into your skin while palming your breasts.

The combined stimulation is almost too much for you to handle. With his hard cock dragging against your bare cunt and his lips attacking your neck, it doesn’t take long before your skin is riddled with goosebumps as you clamp your lips shut to stop yourself from moaning too loudly.

You find a moment of clarity when Yoongi unbuttons his pants, but just as you reach out to help him, a knock resounds at the door.

The two of you looked at each other in a momentary state of panic as you buttoned up your blouse in haste. Your hands tremble, making it hard for the plastic beads to slip into place, but somehow you managed to not wrinkle your clothes too much, though your heart thunders in your ears when you hear Namjoon, of all people, call your name from the other side of the door.

Making sure you’re both half decent, you unlock the door and yank it open, revealing a startled Namjoon in front of you.

“Uh… hey. Are you okay? Why was your door locked?”

You’re sweating and shaking, almost getting caught by your boss will do that to a person, but somehow you manage a curt nod, and when you lie, your voice actually sounded believable. “Yeah, just got a call about some interesting news from my family. How can I help you?”

Namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before shaking his head. “How about we talk inside?”

“That… um…” Your brain stalls for an excuse but fails. With a dejected heart, thinking that you’re probably going to get fired at this rate, you seal your fate and let your boss in… only to find yourself staring into an empty office.

Where had Yoongi gone?

Namjoon closes the door behind you and makes his way to your desk. You trail after him but before glancing around the room again. You find your answer when you sit down in your chair. Hunched under the desk is Yoongi, who has both his feet tucked under his chin as he grins at you. If Namjoon catches the way your eyes widen in surprise, he says nothing as you sit down.

“I’m just here to see how you’re doing, especially with the launch happening so soon. Is there anything I can help you with?”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, especially when you accidentally brush against Yoongi’s leg. “I really appreciate the offer, but you really don’t have to check in on me every single time we have a launch. This isn’t my first time, sir.”

Your boss only sighs, sinking into the chair. “I know, truth be told, I wanted to tell you that I’m in the process of getting your write up to disappear from the HR records since it’s really not your fault.”

“Wait… huh?” You blink at Namjoon slowly, genuinely surprised that he’d go through such lengths.

Namjoon only shrugs. “Yeah, I mean. I feel pretty awful about it. So, I pulled some strings and you have been granted your clean record back. That’s all I wanted to say, really. It just didn’t seem right if I brought it up in the hallway,” he grins, showing off his dimpled cheeks as he finished his explanation.

“Thanks, boss,” you mumble gratefully. “It means a lot to me that you’d do that.”

“Don’t mention it.” Namjoon chuckles. “Anyway, what’s with the interesting call? Is your family okay?”

“Yeah,” you squeak, unprepared for him to call out your lie. “They’re okay, I swear. Just some trouble with my cousins…”

Namjoon seems satisfied with your response, nodding after you trailed off. The silence feels suffocating. After a few more heartbeats, Namjoon stands to leave, calling out behind his shoulder as he opens the door, “Well, if you need anything else, you know where to find me.”

The instant the door clicks shut, you jump away from your chair as you help Yoongi stand.

“You all right?” you ask, looking him up and down before deeming that he’s fine.

The easy-going smile returns to his face almost immediately, giving you a full view of his gums. “That could’ve been bad.” Yoongi checks his watch and smiles, pointing at the time. “But, it’s now technically the weekend. So, how about we pack our things and get the hell out of here, huh?”

---

Yoongi’s apartment is everything like you’d imagine, clean and monochromatic with hints of blue popping here and there. Lining the walls of his bedroom are framed jerseys from a few athletes you recognize, all of them signed and probably costing a good fortune. Besides the decoration, there’s really only one other piece of furniture aside from the bed. Standing on the wall closest to the window is a black floor-to-ceiling bookcase, filled with all sorts of books and a few random photographs of his younger years.

But you have no time to observe fully, not when Yoongi pushes you on the bed with a quiet chuckle, demanding your attention once more as he kisses the length of your throat.

“Now, where were we?” he teases into your skin.

You can only giggle before the sound turns into a groan when his hand digs into the skin of your ass. “I have no idea, but I say, let’s just fuck.”

“Good answer.”

Yoongi doesn’t care to discard your clothing, choosing to simply ruck your skirt to your waist before his hands fit between your legs.

“Yoongi—ah! Stop teasing!” you whine, pressing your back into the mattress as you writhe under his touch.

“Not until I get a taste of you first.”

With a final peck to your lips, Yoongi drops to the edge of the bed before pulling you towards him until you feel his hot breath against your pussy. He takes his time with eating you out – alternating between licking your folds and sucking on your clit – as you moan and gasp around him. Your arousal seeps out of you in a steady trickle, a puddle forming on his sheets.

“Shit…” you grunt. “Do I taste that good?”

“You do,” he mumbles, the deep vibrations from his voice causing you to arch your back. “God, I can taste you all day.”

True to his word, he drowns himself with your pussy, paying more attention to your clit as you feel the orgasm slowly spreading through your body.

“Yoongi, wait,” you breathe, tugging at his dark locks so he’d look at you.

And what a sight he is to behold.

The bottom half of his face is wet with your arousal as he smirks up at you with pupils so blown out, they’re almost black.

“I wanna cum with your cock inside of me,” you confess, sitting up to pull him into a deep kiss. “Haven’t you teased me enough today?”

Yoongi hums into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body before pushing you back down to the mattress. “I guess that can be arranged,” he chuckles.

With your help, his slacks and underwear are thrown haphazardly on the floor. His cock stands proudly for you to admire; with a leaking reddish tip and a prominent vein running down one side of the shaft. Unable to help yourself, your hand wraps around his length, causing Yoongi to groan as his eyes flutter shut.

“I thought you wanted my cock?” he teases breathlessly.

“Not before I get a taste,” you counter.

Chuckling, he props his pillows along the headboard before settling back, making it easier for you to crawl over and swallow his length. Intent on keeping eye contact, you make short licks around the head before travelling lower, sucking on the tender skin of his balls before moving back up.

“Oh, fuck—” he grunts, hips jumping up when you wrap your lips around the tender head.

While still staring at him through your lashes, you lower yourself until about halfway, the weeping head knocking against the back of your throat making it hard for you to breathe. You hollow your cheekbones as you exit, earning a lovely, guttural groan from the dark-haired man below. Yoongi places a hand on your head as you continue, pumping him in tandem with the movements of your head as you bob up and down his length.

Your remaining hand digs into the skin of his thigh as you take him deeper down your throat, until you manage to sheathe all of him down to the base. Tears spring in your eyes as you whimper around his length, but despite this, you refuse to stop, not when you spy the satisfied smirk on his face that only aids the desire that’s already strong in your veins.

The grip around your scalp tightens as he attempts to pull you off. “I can’t… I’m going to cum if you keep this up.”

His words only add fuel to the fire and you speed up your ministrations despite Yoongi’s attempts to make you stop. Saliva collects into a wet, messy pool on the sheets as you swallow him into your throat. The tears cascade down your face, yet you can’t help but smirk proudly, especially when his lovely eyes flutter shut and his mouth hangs open as he chants your name.

“Fuuuck, I’m going to c-cum—shit!”

You inhale sharply as you push your head down, until his soft curls tickles your nose. A second later, your mouth fills with the salty, bitter taste of cum as Yoongi jerks under your touch, digging his nails into the sheets. You help Yoongi ride out his orgasm with a few pumps of your hand, making sure to collect all the excess without leaving a drop behind. When you’re sure there’s nothing left, you open your mouth to show him your reward before gulping it down with a smile.

With ragged breaths, he watches you swallow with a quirk of his lips; one of the corners pulled up into a half-smirk. “God, that was so fucking hot.”

“It’s your reward for making me feel good this morning,” you wink.

“Are you ready for round 2?” Yoongi asks with a grin.

“I should be asking you that…” But your words trail off when you notice that his dick is still very much hard. “Talk about stamina,” you mumble.

Yoongi chortles as he studies your shell-shocked face. “You look like you’ve never been properly satisfied,” he hums.

“After tonight? I have a feeling that may be the case.”

The two of you burst into laughter before he pulls you closer, kissing you unhurriedly as his hands explore your body to discard your clothes until you lay bare before him.

“You really are gorgeous,” he mumbles as he draws abstract shapes into the small of your back. Catching your eye roll, he chuckles. “I mean it.”

When he sits up to capture your lips, it’s all soft and filled with an emotion you’ve yet to name, and you wished your blood wasn't roaring in your ears because it’s making it incredibly difficult for you to hear what he’s whispering into your skin.

“What were you saying?” you ask when you part. “I think I missed it.”

Yoongi only smiles, but it’s not the brilliant grin that shows the pink of his gums, no, this one is more subdued – delicate – as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Nothing,” he replies, voice low and airy. “I didn’t say anything you don’t already know.”

It’s a strange response, but you really can’t push it further, because in the swirling abyss that exists in the dark pool of his eyes, lies an answer that you’re uncertain you want to know just yet.

Instead, you kiss him again, gliding your lips to get his to open, so your tongues can meet and have the conversation you’re too afraid to voice – for the sake of preserving the moment. You kiss him with ferocity, pushing him back onto the pillows as your hips grind against his hard length.

And when you lower yourself onto his cock, you forget the vow you made, because in this moment, with the moonlight filtering past the sheer curtains in his room, Yoongi is breath-taking. With his soft, dark hair splaying all over the pillows and his slightly swollen lips parted open in a quiet moan; you know you’ve fallen in love. Yoongi’s sincerity is your undoing, ever since the two of you met and sat next to each other when you were interns, and now? As you learn more about him and manage to breach through the quiet exterior? You’re a goner.

And maybe you’re delusional, but you swear, when your lips find his as you begin to move, you can taste the faintest trace of oranges.

Your nails drag down his chest as you roll your hips with his thrusts. “Please,” you beg, but you’re not sure what for. “Please, Yoongi.”

Despite your lack of instructions, Yoongi seems to know exactly what you need. “I got you,” he murmurs as he holds you before flipping you over, letting your chest rest on the mattress below.

Yoongi kisses your spine as he bottoms out again, making you moan into his pillows as he begins to move. “You’re so tight, shit,” he rasps as his fingers find your clit between your legs.

He keeps a steady pace, rocking you back and forth against the bed as you writhe with every drag of his cock and fingers. The only word that exists in your vocabulary at this moment is his name and without shame, you call out to him in a series of pathetic whines. You need him to know how good you feel, but without the ability to form coherent sentences, this is all you can do.

Though just like before, it doesn’t take him long to decipher your tells and he increases his speed, driving his cock deep into your pussy.

Finally, your tongue seems to want to move again. “Feels good… Yoongi…” you manage.

“Yeah? Me too. God, me too.”

He turns you over again then, so that you’re facing him once more. Yoongi crashes his lips to yours as he begins to thrust in earnest, pushing himself deeper than before. Your vision is filled with stars as you grab hold of his neck, rutting in tandem with his drive. What little hold you have left on your sanity wanes as the pressure builds – release so close that it leaves you gasping.

“Gonna-ah c-cum,” you moan, digging your nails into his back.

“Let go,” he commands, and again, he repeats, “I got you.”

The coil snaps at the sound of his promise. “Yoongi!” you shriek, tumbling down the chasm of pleasure. Your walls tightening around his length triggers a second orgasm from him, and with a groan of your name, he floods your insides with his seed.

“Shit… I didn’t—fuck—you felt so good, that I, uhm,” he stutters. Yoongi’s body shudders with pleasure even as he comes down from his high. With a heaving gasp, he collapses next to you, arms too tired to hold himself back up.

You pull him into an embrace while shushing his mumbled speech. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m on the pill, so don’t worry,” you assure him. “And if you’re worried if I came, didn’t you hear me scream? My throat is so sore now, holy shit.”

The both of you chuckle, the airy sounds mingling together. In the silence that follows, you don’t think about the feelings that surged in the midst of your coupling; refusing to acknowledge that he’s the reason that has your heart running a thousand miles a second. It isn’t just because of the nature of your relationship, but you’re genuinely worried of the possibility of losing a friend… and yet… Yoongi feels so perfect in your arms like this, with his smiling face smushed slightly to your chest. In the singular day since you’ve started this relationship, he’s made a habit of trailing shapes on the small of your back while humming quietly to a song you don’t know.

The soothing action pulls you away from your overbearing thoughts for a second. While planting a kiss into his hair, you ask him, “What’s the name of this song?”

“You like it?” Yoongi nuzzles further into your skin, breathing you in. “It’s my own original piece. It’s called ‘First Love’ and I wrote it about my piano back in my mother’s house.”

In your time together, Yoongi’s never mentioned his family or much of his childhood really, though you never thought to ask about them either.

“Music will forever be my first love,” he hums, dark eyes turning glassy as he recalls the memories. “I remembered slaving so hard over the keys that by the time I managed to master my first classical piece without making any mistakes, it drove me to tears,” Yoongi chuckles. “Ever since then, I practiced like a mad man, every single day after school. Just to play one piece after the next. My mother was mad; not because I was making too much noise, but because my studies suffered a lot.”

Your silence allows him to continue, but not before he peeks at you to make sure you haven’t fallen asleep. When your eyes meet his, the two of you smile, but his is much wider, a perfect showcase displaying his pearly teeth. He rolls over so your head lies on his chest, and his hand moves to trace shapes on your shoulder instead.

“My mother threatened to take the piano away, so I ended up working extra hard, on both music and my grades, but somehow it still wasn’t enough. There’s a time when she came into my room and ripped a bunch of the music sheets that I’ve painstakingly collected,” he sighs sadly, casting a faraway look towards the ceiling.

Your heart bleeds as he recites some of the words to the song. The lyrics personifies music as though it truly was his first love, but one line leaves your heart aching and shattered: Without you, I’m nothing.

It’s the decisive and almost unhealthy, nature of the words that cuts you deep. You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but it sounded like he’s shackled to his muse; needing it solely to live.

However, Yoongi isn’t seeking validation, nor is he looking for you to disagree, so you keep your mouth shut as he continues to talk about his life – about having to work two to three jobs while going through college and once he graduated, unable to find a suitable job in his field that lead him to work with Helion today.

“And that’s when I met you,” he chuckles as he tightens his embrace. “Something about you reminds me of the day I learned Chopin for the first time.”

“Why? Because I make you want to be a better person?” you tease, poking him lightly on the cheek.

Yoongi looks down at you with a cocky smirk. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

---

When you wake up the next day, the sun is peeking into the otherwise dark room through the crack in the blackout curtains. The bed next to you is empty, though the lingering warmth from its previous occupant tells you that he left not too long ago. Sure enough, you find a note on the nightstand tucked under the glass of water.

Gone out for bagels. Text me your order.

You’re smiling as you down the glass, reading the swoops of letters repeatedly before reaching for your phone.

You: just a plain bagel with cream cheese. Strong coffee. Please and thank you. Yoongi: yep.

Yep.

That one simple text turns you into a giggling mess as you shove the screen close to your face.

Setting your phone aside, your thoughts are too deeply intertwined with yesterday’s events that you can’t help the burning desire that flows through you once more. You’re satisfied; of course, you are, but the thought of spending another day with him, without having to worry about work for another day, especially with the launch being so soon, has you melting into his sheets.

Your breathing hitches as you close your eyes and lay back on the bed, caressing your own skin like Yoongi did the night before. Your fingers pale in comparison to his, yet you let the memories guide you as you tremble with every drag of touch against your clit.

“Yoongi—” you mumble into the quiet morning air.

You press your face closer to his side of the bed and the familiar scent of his cologne has you careen closer to the edge. The whine you let out is nothing short of pathetic as you rut desperately into your hand while your mind conjures up an image of Yoongi leaning against the doorway, bagels abandoned in the kitchen while he studies your actions with amusement.

“Jesus, wetting the bed so early in the morning?” He’d tut, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Guess you can’t get enough of my cock, huh?”

“N-No… need you,” you whisper, hips raised from the bed as your fingers work quicker – wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs to make their mark on the sheets below. “Fuck—need you so badly.”

You press your head into the pillow while you crowd your pussy with another finger. It isn’t enough – nothing compares to the sheer girth of his cock and how effectively it stretches you out to make a mess out of you.

Three.

It requires three of your fingers for you to feel full as you replace your hand with the veiny arms belonging to Yoongi in your mind. You imagine him leaning over you with his signature, ever-present smirk on his face as you writhe under his touch. He’d provoke you to be louder, punctuating his words with every drag of his fingers against the patch of nerves in your cunt so that everyone could hear who this pussy belongs to.

It’s sudden – how the forest fire eclipses your whole body that snaps the coil in half. All because your filthy mind conjures up a final image of Yoongi commanding you to let go.

“Shitshitshit—Fuck! Yoongi!” You cum with an embarrassingly broken whine of his name, your fingers plunging deep into your pulsing hole that causes your arousal to squirt on the bed below.

You crash back to the reality of the bed with ragged breaths. The room spins slightly when you open your eyes and you have to blink several times to get the squiggly lines to float away from your vision.

When your breath evens out, you survey the room you’ve neglected in the heat of the moment. You didn’t get a chance to see very much of it last night and with your brain so occupied this morning, this was the perfect time to snoop into your coworker’s life.

Like the vague recollections of his living room, his bedroom is mostly devoid of furniture aside from the bed and the large floor to ceiling bookshelf on the further end of the wall. With nothing else to do, you hop from the bed to take a look at the books, smiling to yourself as you survey the rare photographs in each shelf of a younger Min Yoongi.

As your fingers trail the large tomes of stories, dictionaries, and magazines, you stop when you notice a gap between the end of the shelf and a copy of Don Quixote. Curious, your finger reaches into the gap to produce a small, yellow notebook the size of your palm. The title on the front is illegible, scrawled on by a small child, so you decide to delve through the pages to see what lurks behind.

You chuckle into the book as you read through entries dating as far back as the early 2000s. It’s a collection of poems – written by the one and only Min Yoongi. The earlier pages contain stories of playing outside and ice cream along with brief glimpses of his intelligence as he laments about the fleeting nature of summer.

You’re pleasantly surprised to find that he’s continued the tradition as you study the entries, his once messy handwriting morphing into the swoop of cursive you’re familiar with. It’s interesting to see his life in small glimpses: his teenage self agonizes over his future while the Yoongi in his early twenties begin to explore topics of dreams and goals.

You read each sentence carefully in an attempt to retain all the emotions he’s spilled on the page. Who knew that Yoongi has such an artistic mind?

When you reach the more recent entries, you hesitate, wondering if it’s all right for you to read through them. Unfortunately, your curiosity outweighs the small voice of conscience, so you pressed on.

The thought of Yoongi hunched over his bed scribbling into the tiny notebook makes you smile. You imagine the way his shoulders would curve inwardly while he balances the pages on his lap and that devilish tongue of his would wet his lips occasionally as he thinks.

You suppress a groan as your treacherous mind recalls what that tongue did to you the night before.

Shaking the dirty thoughts away, you return your attention to the last entry on the page. Unlike its predecessors, this one is short, containing only a title and a single line. However, the title itself is confusing - a seemingly random mix of consonants and vowels forming a word you know for sure does not exist in the English language. You figure it’s some sort of code, but your sluggish mind refuses to piece together the anagram, still dipped in sleep and the aftereffects of your orgasm. You grab your phone with a sigh, employing trusty, old Google to do its job. When you input the title into the search bar, for once, autocorrect comes to your rescue… but at what cost?

“What?”

Disbelief exists in the knot of your eyebrows until you reread the page in its entirety. Realization kicks in slowly, but when it does, you gasp, throwing the notebook and the device away to the floor as if they burned you.

Because the anagram spells out your full name. This entry was written for you.

And the disquiet in your stomach is due to the emotion so easily evoked by a single line, one that you’re all too familiar with:

Without you, I’m nothing.

---

“I’m back. I got a bunch of bagels because I wasn’t sure which one you liked,” Yoongi calls out as he enters the apartment.

The silence that greets him makes him smile as he assumes that you’re still tired after last night, but when Yoongi walks into the bedroom, your name dies on his lips as he looks on in horror: at the yellow notebook – his yellow notebook – lying face down in front of your feet. Your shell-shocked expression tells him all he needs to know. You’ve read the latest entry.

This all feels like déjà vu; just like the first time he caught you weeping in the copy room. His own bedroom feels foreign to him as he takes a hesitant step inside. Yoongi wants nothing more than to laugh it off as a joke, but he knows you won’t buy the lie.

“Yoongi?”

His attention snaps from the swirling patterns on the carpet to your face. Instead of fear, you seem curious, could he take it as a good sign?

“How much did you read?”

The voice that comes out of his mouth sounds foreign even to his own ears.

Your eyes drift lower then, to the notebook on the floor. “All of it,” you admit in a quiet voice. “I read all of it.”

The room fills with a blanket of tension. With a heavy sigh, you stand and brush past him, heading to the living room.

Yoongi’s eyes trail after you as you sit on the cushions of his couch. With an indescribable smile, you look straight into his eyes.

“Let’s talk.”

---

Despite your invitation, it’s you that sits mum on the couch next to him, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I saw it, you know.” Yoongi begins with a humourless smile. “The discomfort you felt was written all over your face when I recited that one line.”

You wait for a bit, holding a space for him to talk should he feel the need to elaborate. “You know, I feel like I do the talking in our relationship, but I’m going to need you to listen to me again, okay?” you say as you mirror his solemn grin. After taking a shuddering breath, you explain, “I don’t want to be the sole reason you live, because without me, you should still be something. I mean, you’re so… you,” you gesture at his figure. “Funny, and kind, and sincere. Someone I can trust and even lean on after all these years.”

His face doesn’t betray his thoughts as he refuses to meet your eyes.

“Yoongi,” you reach out to envelope both his hands into your own. “I love you.”

You can tell he hadn’t expected the confession, but his surprise quickly disappears as he laughs bitterly.

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in this confession?” Yoongi asks sarcastically and his lips twitch into a faint hint of a smile.

“But… I don’t want to be in a relationship where I feel like you’re not being true to yourself,” you advice as you squeeze his hands with your own. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be with you, but I just need you to know that you are your own person first.”

Yoongi nods as he digests your words. When he finally returns his gaze to you, he seems more relaxed, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you,” he murmurs as he squeezes your hands in return. “I think I really needed to hear that.”

“So… what happens now?” you ask meekly, despite being the cause of this whole mess.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he speaks, and when he does, there’s a quiet surge of confidence that you hadn’t heard from him before. “I want to be with you,” Yoongi admits. “But I think I’d also like to take things slow.”

“We can do that,” you grin.

And the following week, it’s you that leaves a tangerine on his desk; a signaling promise for tomorrow.

moon’s notes: ah! don’t we love a semi-ambiguous ending? i didn’t have the heart to end it sadly, so i hope it still makes sense!! thank you so much for reading through this lovely little piece. i appreciate all your love!

thanks for being part of the taglist! (½): @diorejeon @hwngsgf @clumsymandu @yoongskook @bringmetheksj @wacdon @itsallabouthedetails @chimchoom @sunshinerainbowsbts @mrsparknamjoon @thedarkwinterrose @somewhereofftheglobe @typicalgenzworld @nch327 @moonchild1 @kooafraid @syazkook @kookie-vuitton @tenmonthsjay @jimilter @hoseokstrashcan @imcompletelyok @sa1ntsuga @jungkookah-lover @vantxx95 @love2luvya-blog @nochuel @yoontaethings @kookieebangtan @Madamdoue @squeakymeekster @jkbabiey @jikookiekosmos @novilara @btsis7okay @sunflwrxclouds @taecal @fancycollectormoon @Starbrightday @chimmy-licious @outrofenty @codeinebelle @hey-youre-appreciated @sugaslittlekookies @fan-ati–c @bbangtanlove95 @ppeachyttae @taebae19 @ggukkieland @mellygallagher @greezenini @gukkmoans @Jimmeojimin @koolvrr @daggersandicedcoffee @doublebunnykoo @jamlessstars @shrimpmsg @mrcleanheichou @ysltae @etherealyoonkoo @unicornbabylover @majolittlemixgurl18 @Asifihaveaclue @ionasfeelings @moonreadsfics

[boul3vvard]

Rengoku x GN! Reader

(One shot)

★Warning(s): none really reader uses gender neutral pronouns😛 Rengoku might be a lil OOC so… 🏃🏾‍♀️ also SOME of the characters are color coded.

★Y/n L/n = Your name/ Last name

★Words: idek💀

★Notes: this is my first request from @coolminahi (thank you very much🫶🏿) not gonna lie I don’t think this is my best work but I’ve been going back and forth on this for about 2 weeks or what felt like 2 weeks😭😭 but again thank you so much for this request it was really fun🙏🏿. Also got help from some of my friends on this one so shoutout to them🫡. (And the usual..might be some grammatical errors and punctuation😮‍💨 I’m not really good in that realm LMAOO) enjoy🫵🏿

“I know you all are probably confused about the sudden request for a meeting but I’m happy to tell you that we have a new Hashira with us today.” master ubuyashiki said as the Hashira quieted down and made it to their respective area’s quickly, some of them with shocked expressions across their faces. “with all due respect master do you think it’s a smart idea to have a stranger come in too late in the game? I mean we are already so close to our goal in taking down Muzan we don’t need a weakling to come and fuck it up” Sanemi the wind Hashira, said annoyed as Tengen nudged him for using foul language towards their master while the rest agreed. “I apologize sir but I agree, this is way too risky” Obanai the serpent Hashira said. “They have done an outstanding job climbing up the ranks and have worked so hard to earn such a title so please, I know I can count on you all to welcome them with open arms. you can come out now y/n” Hinaki and Nichika 2 of the eldest quintuplet children of the masters held both of your hands as you walked up blindfolded. Why the hell are they blindfolded I hope they’re not trying to fight like that. Ha, this is gonna be a fun way to get yourself killed. “Hi everyone my name is y/n l/n the ____ Hashira, it’s my pleasure to meet you guys I have heard a lot about you all but have never had the chance to meet any of you in person, it’s such an honor to be fighting alongside everyone,” y/n said with a dainty smile one that made the flame pillars heart flutter a little bit.

“Why the hell are they blindfolded,” Sanemi asked rudely but said what everyone else was thinking. “it’s to control my power” “control your power” Shinobu repeated “well you see my eyes play a special part in my breathing form, when I take my blindfold off I’m able to go all out,” you said revealing your eyes to everyone. “oh my” Shinobu the insect Hashira gasped. “well I’ll be, you are one of the most stunning people I’ve ever seen,” Tengen said with his eyes wide open. “besides my beautiful wives of course” he bragged. “wives?” “Oh yes, they are the finest kunoichi around, although I don’t mind having a 4th” he looked at you almost predatory, and winked“ “4TH” y/n gaped as the others laughed. “AHH YOUR EYES THEY’RE SO BEAUTIFUL, YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL,” the love Hashira said with a squeak. “Oh th-thank you,” you said as you tried to hide your face in your hands feeling like it was on 10,000 degrees. You backed up a little bit into someone’s chest “oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“ “NONE OF THAT, TIS ALRIGHT!! MY NAME IS RENGOKU KYOJURO BUT YOU CAN CALL ME KYOJURO..only if you want” holding a hand out to you, y/n smiled softly grabbing it.

“I don’t give a shit about none of that I just want to see if they are strong enough to hold the title or was the master just bluffing,” Sanemi said holding the hilt of his sword. “IF WE HAVE THE MASTER's WORD THEN I TOO BELIEVE THEY'RE STRONG ENOUGH” Rengoku yelled while holding your shoulders “oh you wanna fight me?” you said, the shy act you had going on finally disappearing. “Oh this will be good” Shinobu cheered as everyone watched the battle that was about to unravel in front of them. “just cause you’re a newbie doesn’t mean that I’ll go easy on you” he sneered. “Noted” y/n smiled a little more wickedly. Sanemi swung his sword at y/n not giving them a chance to unsheathe their sword as well, y/n swiftly dodged it twisting their body up in the air “they’re quick” Tengen said as y/n quickly swung their sword at Sanemi narrowly missing his head. “tch” Sanemi looked at you with an angry panicked look. “What’s wrong? I’m just trying to see if you’re strong enough to hold your title,” you say mockingly as you shrugged your shoulders. Y/n then quickly kicked their foot under Sanemi’s pointing their sword at him “I win”. y/n reached a hand out to the man giving him a sorry look. “I don’t need your pity idiot, move” Sanemi smack their hand out the way and left.

“They’re so cool” Mitsuri whispered to herself. “that was flashy, you’re strong I expected that though” Tengen slapped you on the back for a job well done. “first of all OUCH second of all thank you“ you winced as your back started to sting. Muichirou was in no mood to speak so he stuck his tongue out at you and you mirrored his actions. “Don’t mind him he doesn’t like change at all, Mitsuri and I are gonna hang out later if you want to join, you know so you could tell us a little more about yourself” Shinobu said “um no thank you I was planning on focusing on my training for a little bit,” you said with a bow. “there’s no need for none of that I understand, there’s always a next time,” Shinobu said with a smile. “yea” you smiled and waved back as you left.

You decided to train far into the woods as it was the only place where you were not able to break anything. You trained for about an hour before you decided it was time for a break. You sat with your back against a tree and closed your eyes taking in the peace that you craved for so long. “Do you mind if I sit with you” you opened 1 of your eyes then immediately shot up nervously. “did I interrupt you?” He said as you scooted over to give him some room. “n-no not at all, I was just taking a break from training for so long” “oh I see” a wave of awkward silence washed over the both of you. “Soooo do you come to this area of the woods often.” you said as you turned to look at him “yea this is where I come to relax all the time, it’s so quiet” “oh sorry I didn’t know I was in your way,” you said as you were about to get up. “no problem it’s better when you’re with someone… what you did in today's meeting earlier was truly amazing, you know I’ve never seen someone move as quickly as you did besides Tengen” he trailed off. “well maybe you and I could train together sometime” you laughed. He stared at your face for what seemed like forever, you started to feel a little insecure at the way he looked at you. *was something on my face*, your face began to flush with embarrassment until he finally spoke up. “your eyes are truly the most beautiful I’ve ever seen they look like two gemstones have been enfolded into your irises” he said with a huge smile wiped across his face. “th-thank you” you stutter as your face began to heat up. You were still not used to being showered in compliments all the time because of your upbringing so It was still so foreign to you. Rengoku placed his hand on your forehead, “are you okay? you don’t look so well, Are you sick or something?” He said worryingly. *I FEEL LIKE I'M GONNA PASS OUT* you screamed at yourself. “I’m okay, I’m totally fine,” you said grabbing his huge calloused hand with two of your soft ones. “I’m just not used to praises like that” “and why’s that?” he said tilting his head to the side. *he’s quite adorable* you thought with a soft smile “I don’t know” “well you should get used to it I’m only telling you how I see it” he said with a chuckle, you doing the same. The two of you enjoyed the silence together taking in the greenery surrounding the both of you. It was peaceful. It wasn’t until you looked over at him again and were met with him dozing off. “you can go to sleep if you want, I’ll be on the lookout if anything happens okay” you whispered trying not to wake him. and with that, he fell asleep.

You ended up falling asleep yourself while failing to keep your word. You were out for about 15 minutes until you felt someone pick you up. “I DIDNT MEAN TO WAKE YOU, MY APOLOGIES” he yelled waking you up completely as he lifted you onto his back a lot more energetic than he was before. “I should be the one apologizing, I said I was gonna wake you but I ended up falling asleep as well,” you said softly a blush appearing on your face. “NONSENSE, AT LEAST WE WERE ABLE TO GET A MOVE ON, BEFORE SUN DOWN, THAT WOULD BE A DISASTER” “you’re so loud you know” you chuckled “you also don’t have to carry me I can walk the rest of the way” “I DONT HAVE TO BUT IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE TO, ALTHOUGH I DONT KNOW WHERE YOUR ESTATE IS SO YOU WILL HAVE TO DIRECT ME” “okay,” you said burying your face into the crook of his neck

The two of you conversed the entire way home, he would ask you questions about your family and your life as you did the same. You found out that he has a younger brother and just by the way he explained him to you, you knew that they had a very strong bond with each other, you could tell how much he admired his younger brother it kinda felt like you knew him before getting the chance to know him. He also told you about his parents, you wanted to know more about them but the slight change in his tone told you everything you needed to know, plus you didn’t want to be nosy only realizing that the both of you didn't even know about the existence of each other earlier this morning so you bit your tongue.

“Thank you for taking me home, even though I told you I could walk myself” you nudged him. “I TOLD YOU ALREADY, IT IS ALRIGHT U DONT HAVE TO THANK ME, PLUS I WOULD NEVER BE ABLE TO FORGIVE MYSELF IF I LET SOMEONE AS PRETTY AS YOU GET HURT” it felt like the wind got knocked outta your system. “DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG?” He asked. “no, no it’s just..you think I'm pretty?” “OF COURSE, YOU'RE GORGEOUS” you took the chance and tested the waters a little bit. “so you’d walk anyone you find attractive home?” You asked “Have you ever walked the love Hashira home?” you said changing the question quickly. “NO, SHE ISNT EXACTLY MY TYPE, PLUS SHE'S MORE OF A LITTLE SISTER HAHA” “oh so you have a type?” the way he became tense made you laugh out loud. “I’m joking I just wanted to mess with you haha” Another wave of silence rushed past the both of you, it started to become awkward. “well I think I’m gonna call it a night, I’ll see you around” you began to turn around until he grabbed you by the wrist. “DO YOU WANT TO HANG OUT LATER ON?” “are you asking me out on a date?” “ONLY IF YOU WANT TO THOUGH, IT DOESNT HAVE TO BE A DA-“ he said his cheeks turning a deep shade of red. “I would love to” you smiled at him before parting ways.

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