#I was in a meeting and I swear I just sat there thinking about various headcannons

[snail-day]

Yada yada, Husband!Geto with a soft dad bod, blah blah blah… and the faintest dark happy trail just visible above his loose dark sweats as he sways in the kitchen, baby cradled to his chest, bathed in morning light, with coffee brewing for the two of you

[fandomfablesunleashed]

The Fine Line Between Teasing and TMI

Law x reader (she/her) ft. Heart Pirates

Part of the Polar Tang Chronicles but can be read as a standalone! (They're all just various one-shots featuring the Reader, Law, and the Heart Pirates)

Summary: Both you and Law find yourselves at the center of the crew’s relentless amusement—much to your embarrassment (honestly didn't know what to put here)

Tags: teasing, suggestive, swearing.

Words: 1.9k

Notes: You can thank the Infinity Nikki devs for putting the game under maintenance today, forcing me to change my evening plans and, in turn, turn to writing. I started off working on Tangled Lives, but I got stuck somewhere along the way and needed to move to something lighter. So enjoy this lighthearted and suggestive (I don’t know why they all turn out this way, but oops) short story from Polar Tang Chronicles (I already have a little for another one of these).

English is not my first language

Masterlist

The common room of the Polar Tang was filled with the conversation and laughter as the Heart Pirates enjoyed a rare moment of relaxation. Shachi leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs, while Penguin absentmindedly flipped a coin between his fingers. Bepo sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping a warm drink. 

“I’m telling you, it was at least twice the size of the last one we saw,” Shachi insisted, gesturing dramatically.

Penguin rolled his eyes. “You always exaggerate. That Sea King was big, sure, but not that big.”

Bepo tilted his head. “What are you guys talking about?”

“The Sea King we saw last week,” you explained, chuckling. “Shachi swears it could’ve swallowed the whole ship.”

“And I stand by that!” Shachi huffed, pointing a finger at you. “You were there, right? Back me up on this.”

You smirked, tapping a finger against your chin as if considering. “Hmm… I did see it, but I don’t know. It wasn’t that big.”

That earned a snort from Ikkaku, making every head in the room snap toward her. She just grinned, that mischievous look of hers. “You better never say something like that to the Captain.”

 You sighed, rolling your eyes as the crew reveled in the joke.

Almost on cue, the door creaked open, and the laughter died almost instantly.

Law stepped in, his steps heavy and his shoulders slouched, exhaustion written across his face. The lighting highlighted the faint shadows under his eyes.

“Captain, you should rest,” Bepo said, his furry face scrunching with concern as he slumped forward, ears twitching. His voice was soft but insistent, clearly worried about Law’s state.

“Yeah, you look awful,” Shachi quipped, crossing his arms and flashing a teasing grin.

Penguin’s eyes narrowed playfully as he joined in, his lips curling into a smirk. “Captain, you look older than you are.”

Law exhaled slowly, clearly debating whether dealing with his crew’s antics was worth it. But before he could decide, you spoke up.

 “Oh, come on, guys. He looks 26.”

Law’s lips twitched into a faint, grateful smile at your words. “Thank you,” he said, his voice a little hoarse but sincere.

Of course, you couldn’t leave it at that. You let a mischievous glint dance in your eyes before adding, “Twenty-six minutes away from dying, though.”

Laughter exploded around the room once again at your unexpected quip. Even Law, despite himself, let out a small exhale that was almost a chuckle. “Fuck you,” he muttered jokingly.

The moment was light, easy—until it wasn’t.

Before you could think it through, the words tumbled out: “Maybe after you take a nap.”

The crew exchanged glances, wide-eyed, some trying to stifle knowing smirks while others just gawked outright.

Your stomach flipped. Shit.

Heat rushed to your face as you cringed inwardly, realizing the unspoken boundary you’d just crossed. Everyone knew about your relationship with Law, but it was never something that was openly discussed—especially not like this. Until now.

The silence dragged on uncomfortably before Law finally shook his head, his blank stare meeting yours as he rubbed a hand down his face. Without saying a word, he turned and walked out of the room. 

The crew remained rooted in place, their expressions ranging from shock to barely contained amusement. It was Shachi who broke the silence first, his grin as wide as ever. 

“Looks like someone needs a nap for more reasons than one,” he quipped.

Penguin snickered, nudging Shachi with his elbow. “Yeah, that’ll either give him nightmares or some very interesting dreams.”

You groaned aloud, covering your face with your hands as if somehow, by sheer force of will, you could erase the last minutes from existence. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud in front of all of you. I wasn’t thinking, it just slipped out.” You muttered, your voice muffled behind your palms. 

“Don’t worry about it. We all knew anyway,” Ikkaku said, attempting to ease your embarrassment. 

Clione leaned back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, but we didn’t need such a vivid confirmation,” he teased.

Shachi, meanwhile, had completely lost it, laughing so hard he slapped his knee. “Oh, it was just too good. You should’ve seen the look on your face when you realized what you said!”

You shot him a glare, but it lacked any real heat. The truth was, you had felt the exact moment your soul left your body. With a heavy sigh, you dropped your hands and leveled them both with a deadpan stare.

“Thanks,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “I feel so much better now.”

Bepo stepped in this time. “Just give the Captain some time to process it. He’ll come around. He’s just a bit… awkward about these things. Wants to keep it all private.”

Penguin snorted, nodding in agreement. “Awkward is an understatement.”

You winced, recalling Law’s particular brand of awkwardness. 

“Don’t remind me,” you grumbled, rubbing your temples. “I’m the one who has to deal with him in private—” You froze mid-sentence, realization crashing into you.

Silence.

Then—

“Ohoho, private Law?” Shachi echoed, his grin practically splitting his face. “Now that’s an interesting topic.”

“And that’s another comment I should probably keep to myself,” you mumbled, burying your face in your hands once more.

Ikakku raised a hand, cutting off further teasing. “Alright, that’s enough, guys. Let’s not make her any more uncomfortable than she already is.” 

Penguin held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. We’ll lay off for now.” Then, with a pointed look, he added, “But that doesn’t mean we won’t ever tease him.”

“Oh, we’re definitely saving those gems for another day,” Shachi added, still grinning like a madman.

 “You guys are the worst,” you told them, pushing yourself up from your seat.

Shachi grinned. “Oh, come on, you love us.”

You ignored him. “I’m gonna go find Law and apologize for that comment before he decides to throw me overboard.”

Shachi couldn’t resist one last jab. “Just don’t get too distracted when you two are alone.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your flustered state. “Don’t worry about us. You guys just focus on—” you gestured vaguely at them, “—whatever it is you idiots do when left unsupervised.”

Penguin gave you a mock salute. “Aye, aye, Captain’s lady. We’ll do our best to keep the chaos to a minimum.”

The crew chuckled as you left the common room, your mind already racing as you braced yourself for the awkward conversation ahead. 

After giving yourself time to mentally prepare—and hoping Law had actually gotten some rest—you found yourself standing outside his door. You took a deep breath, rolling your shoulders before knocking lightly. When there was no immediate response, you cautiously pushed the door open.

Law was lying in bed, one arm draped over his forehead, but he looked noticeably better than before. His usual tension had eased, and the dark circles under his eyes had faded slightly.

“Feeling any better?” you asked softly.

He let out a quiet grunt in response—his version of yes. His fingers tapped idly against the sheets.

You offered him a small, reassuring smile. “You look better.”

A faint twitch tugged at the corner of Law’s lips, a trace of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Not like I’m about to die?” he teased.

You chuckled as you stepped closer. “No, definitely not.”

Shifting your tone to something more earnest, you continued, “I’m sorry for my comment earlier. Not the first one, though. Honestly, I thought it was hilarious, and I’m still a little proud of it,” you said, grinning with a playful spark in your eyes. “But the other one… I blurted it out without thinking, forgetting the crew was listening.”

 “It’s fine.” His hand lifted in a dismissive wave. “It’s not like they don’t know what’s going on behind closed doors. They’re not children.”

“Then why do they sometimes act like they’re five?”

“Good question,” he laughed.

Without giving it another thought, you kicked off your shoes and laid down next to him. You leaned into him, pressing your body against his side. He instinctively wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. 

 “They’re a bunch of idiots,” he murmured.

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “They may be idiots, but they’re your idiots.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against your back. You snuggled even more, letting the warmth of his embrace settle around you as you both stayed silent for a moment.

After a while, Law turned his head, his golden eyes glinting with something unmistakably mischievous. A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

 “So… I did take that nap. Does the offer still stand?”

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze, and grinned. “Definitely.”

A few hours later, when you and Law finally resurfaced for dinner, the atmosphere in the common room was as lively as ever. The scent of warm food filled the air, laughter, and casual conversations mingling as the crew enjoyed their meal.

“Well, look who decided to rejoin the living,” Shachi teased the moment his eyes landed on you two.

Penguin perched forward on his elbows, smirking. “Did you enjoy your nap, Captain?”

You had been prepared for teasing, but what you weren’t prepared for was Law’s response.

He simply shrugged and—without a trace of shame—replied, “Yeah. The nap was very… rejuvenating.”

Silence.

You could practically hear the gears turning in everyone’s heads.

“Did you just—” Shachi stuttered, unable to finish his sentence. He turned to Penguin, eyes wide with disbelief. “Did he just—”

Mortified, you elbowed Law in the ribs. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” you hissed, your face burning.

Law barely reacted, aside from a slightly smug quirk of his lips. “Just being honest.”

The room remained silent for another beat, as if the crew was collectively trying to process what had just come out of their normally reserved Captain’s mouth.

Then, like a dam breaking, the reaction hit all at once.

Penguin let out a sharp laugh, nearly choking on his drink. “Captain’s feeling especially cheeky tonight,” he muttered, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Shachi sat there with a wide, shit-eating grin. “Must’ve been one hell of a nap.”

A chorus of laughter erupted around the table, a few scattered whistles and exaggerated oohs thrown into the mix. Jean Bart actually slapped the table, wheezing between breaths, while Clione was wiping a fake tear from his eye. Ikkaku was grinning behind her cup, while Penguin and Shachi just exchanged more jokes between themselves, laughing like maniacs. Bepo tried—and failed—to suppress a chuckle, his ears twitching as he cast you a sympathetic glance.

You wanted the ocean to crack open beneath you and drag you straight to the depths.

Meanwhile, Law just kept eating like nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just set the entire crew into hysterics.  Not a single ounce of shame, not a flicker of embarrassment. 

And to think you actually had the audacity to believe you’d embarrassed him earlier.

You shot him a glare, but the only response you got was the tiniest quirk of his lips before he took a sip of his coffee.

The infuriating bastard was enjoying this.

I really hope rejuvenating was the right word to use there. I spent so much time googling to find the good one

[nmakii]

RANT TO ME, I LIKE THE SOUND…

— charlie + angel + alastor talking about their day, completely absorbed when they look at you, completely smitten

— masc!reader (angel)

— charlie

“and then, he kicked me out of the room! can you fucking believe him?!” charlie grumbled, ranting about her meeting with adam as you brushed her hair. “i swear… i’ll go to heaven and i’ll make them listen” she sighed determinedly.

“and… after that—“ charlie wandered off again, thoughts interrupted when she no longer felt the bristles against her hair and instead, you face on her shoulder, hugging her waist from behind.

“oh… are you tired? i..i’m sorry if i was talking too much…” she awkwardly laughed. “no, don’t apologize, babe… keep talking, i like the sound.” you sighed as you kissed her on the cheek.

charlie’s heart tightened at what you had said. you like to listen to her ranting… you’ll have no idea how much it means to her; for you to not dismiss her ramblings, but instead listen closely.

“are you sure you’re not tired though?” she asked one last time. “nuh-uh, i’m wide awake, see?” you said before tickling her at the back of her neck, her ticklish spot.

“agh! noo, i believe you!” charlie screamed out, trying to get herself free from your grip around her waist. “stop! i believe you, no more!!” she cried out as you laughed, stopping your antics.

— angel

“today, val was a complete dickhead, i swear…” angel frowned, hugging fat nuggets in his top two arms and hugging you in his lower two. “today, he had me filming a bunch’a back shots while getting my hair pulled…” he sighed grimly, pulling you closer as your hands moved to his hair, carefully massaging it.

“are you okay?” you asked worriedly. “‘course i am, you’re here” angel grinned sappily. “afta’ that, cherri and i went drinking at that new club. i didn’t have buy any drugs today, i spent all my money on shots…”

“i’m proud of you, babe. you’re getting better.” you smiled, looking at him lovingly. “ya really think so?” he asked hopefully. “i know so. you’re already doing so well.” you ran your thumb against his cheek.

angel’s shoulders relaxed under your touch as he buried himself deeper in your touch. “love ya so much, babe.” angel smiled, eyes growing heavy.

“i love you too, angie. keep talking if you wanna, i like your pretty mouth.” you said, pulling him closer as you kissed his head.

— alastor

“so, then i headed to the tailor’s… they fixed my coat and when i came out, eugh…” alastor groaned in disgust, telling you about today as he sat by the fireplace in the hotel den. “vox was on various of those picture boxes, singing about how i am ‘outdated’.”

“and, as per expected, his modern technology failed and caused a blackout across the city!” he chuckled to himself. “you don’t think i’m outdated, do you, love?” alastor looked up, seeing you on the sofa as you stare at him, listening to his words intently.

“dear? are you even listening?” he smugly grinned. “of course i am…” you frowned. “i’m just… admiring you, i guess.”

“oh, are you now?” he sighed at your little lovey-dovey habits. “yeah… i like your voice, it’s soothing…” you blushed. “you find my voice comforting?” he asked. “how interesting, perhaps i’ll decide to ramble to you more often.” he grinned, closing his book.

he got up from his seat and over to you as he pulled you close by your shoulder. “now, back to my question— you don’t think i am outdated, do you?” he raised an eyebrow. “of course not…” you said. “hmph, good.” he nodded as he laid your head on him.

[st4rreid]

MDNI

CW: smut, virginity loss (reader), fauxcest, soft dom, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), drug use, alcohol, fingering, swearing, mostly smut barely plot

AN: i was too lazy to proofread but, i did put in effort to make it look pretty :)

Hanging out with Stepbro!Sam again because your parents thinks it’ll keep him out of trouble. He knows you’ll tell them everything so he has to be on his best behavior or get grounded.

Tonight he’s reluctantly taking you to a party, and he hates the idea of his little sis stopping his fun.

When you get there you immediately decide this isn’t your scene; people making out, the smell of weed and the loud music. It totally isn’t your thing.

You’ve been mindlessly swiping through your socials as to not feel so out of place, when he snatches your phone instead replacing it with a beer.

“Don’t you wanna at least try and have fun” he scoffs, tucking your phone into his back pocket.

You try to refuse, reminding both yourself and him that you’ll be grounded if you get caught drinking, but your protests are silenced when he lifts the cup up to your lips and forces you to take a big gulp.

You screw your face up “God Sam, tastes horrible.” but it only encourages him to make you drink more.

Sam disappears for a moment, before returning with an already lit joint. taking a deep inhale before blowing the smoke into your face. You cough disgusted by the thick smell. “Can’t snitch on me for smoking anymore, not when you smell like it too.” he smirks while studying your curious gaze.

“Wanna try?” You attempt to refuse but he’s already pressing it up to your lips, stroking the back of your head with his other hand.

You take a big deep inhale trying to mimic the way Sam had done it. Unfortunately for you it doesn’t go as well and you splutter up a chesty cough.

“Oh, poor baby” he coos, debating if it was the pet name he used or the weed that has you blushing like an idiot.

“Look at you, misbehaving. Can’t tell on me anymore, can you?” he winks before pressing the joint back to your lips “again.”

As the night goes on you feel increasingly confident with Sam protectively guiding you through the house with his hands steadily placed on your hips.

“I’m really tired Sam, we should go home” you slur while making dizzy eye contact with him.

“m’kay princess, let’s go” he’s says, taking your hand.

The drive home was a blur, sat in the passenger seat giggling as you held your fingers out the slight crack in the window.

“Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart” he states before taking you inside and up the stairs.

He steps inside your bedroom with you and you mumble something about wanting to get undressed and that he should go, but he ignores it, undoing the zip at the back of your dress and slowly pressing chaste kisses onto your pulse point.

“Sammy, what’re you doing?”

“getting you ready for bed princess” he states plainly, before slipping your dress off you leaving you in just your pretty lace set.

He continues to kiss down your neck and shoulder pushing you forwards, till your knees meet the edge of your frilly bed. He spins you round, eyeing the front of your bare body and your slightly timid expression.

“We shouldn’t do this Sam”

“shh, you know i’m just looking after you.” he answers, hands placed on your hips drawing small circles with his thumbs onto your stomach.

You move into his touch, reluctantly giving into what he wants. He dips his head, allowing his lips to be level with yours breathing against them before pressing them onto you. His kisses are wet and sloppy, swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, politely asking for entry.

Too jaded for you to notice. He asks verbally “open” to which this time you comply. His tongue wraps around yours gently massaging.

He pulls away laying you down on top of your pretty floral bedsheets adorned with various stuffed animals and pillows and removing his shirt.

“Are you still a virgin?” he questions and you nod frantically. The idea of it amuses him. His perfect lil sis, that he wants to corrupt so bad.

Sam brings his thumb to the wet spot on your panties, “are you sure darling” he chuckles “you’re soaked.”

He hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you into the bulge in his pants, encouraging you to let out a slight whimper.

He drops to his knees, not breaking eye contact with your panties. Leaning in he presses a sloppy kiss onto your mound. “gonna take these panties off ok?”. you reply with a nod, head too fuzzy to let any real words come out.

He bundles the panties into his pocket before returning his gaze to your slick. He rests the side of his face on your thigh inches away, while bringing his finger up to run up to your slit. “ever been fingered baby?” he groans while kissing the soft skin of your thighs.

You crane your neck to look at him “m’never!” you whine, clenching around nothing begging to be filled. With the admission he plunges his finger into you, and you respond by grabbing his hair and tugging hard. “shhh, you’re ok my love” he coos and your walls flutter around him, needy for more. He obliges working you open with a second finger, this time placing wet sloppy kisses on your pulsing clit.

You muffle your moans with your fist, remembering not to be too loud. You can feel him let out a breathy laugh against you. “you’re taking me so well princess, are you sure you’re a virgin?” He knows you most definitely are, Sam just loves to see you get all flustered and defensive.

“your cunts so sweet, here come taste it” he rises up from his kneeling position, smiling to himself with how already fucked out you look.

He kisses you, this time more deep and aggressive making a point to bite down on your lip opening your mouth wide enough to spit into it.

“You’re so fucking well behaved for me, you know that right?” there’s almost a hint of aggression to his voice now, possessed by his need for you.

You’re too overwhelmed to speak, you have been since he first kissed you. all you can do is whimper at the way his bulge is tucked in between your heat, rutting himself into you.

“You want me too fuck you baby?” he questions, smirking when you nod desperately.

“Ask for it.”

“p-please fuck me Sammy” you whine, barely comprehending what you’re asking him for.

He stands, quickly removing his belt, followed by his jeans and boxers. His thick erection slaps against his lower stomach. It’s big you think, or at least bigger than you thought it would be. Tip blushed and leaky precum, and the base decorated by dark trimmed hair.

He returns to his previous position, arms bracing himself either side of your head. Length pressing against your slick cunt.

“You ready baby?” he questions, almost amused by your wanting expression.

“Just be gentle” you mutter, he smirks at this as if he knows something you don’t.

Almost painfully slow he nudged into you inch by inch, it’s a dull, burning kind of pain. But nothing that isn’t bearable. He stops when he’s halfway inside you- not that you know that, to you, you’re stuffed to the brim.

He holds himself there for a minute, leaning down to press a kiss onto your forehead.

“Doing so so well my love.” he looks almost pained, as if he was the one currently getting impaled.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, want me to move?” he doesn’t wait for your response only groaning when he drops his hips, sliding fully into you.

Tears start to well as sam starts to move, he kisses you hoping it would provide an ample distraction to how you’re puffy cunt is bullied by his thick cock.

“my little good girl takin’ me so so well aren’t you” he looks down at you grinning at the way your little pupils have dilated, and how your swollen lips tremble with every thrust.

The feeling of him inside you is becoming more and more pleasurable, Sam senses it too, speeding up his thrusts. There’s a feeling building up in your lower tummy and he can tell, bring his hand down to tease your little nub, as you tangle your hands into his dyed hair.

“You gonna let go on my cock baby? C‘mon do it, cum for me” his verbal affirmation was enough, your heart raced and your mind went fuzzy as you had your very first orgasm on your stepbrothers cock.

The tight grip of your cunt along with the sensation of you tugging on his hair sent sam into overdrive, his thrusts growing messy and desperate. He let out a final grunt before cumming inside of you, leaving you even more full than you thought possible.

He collapsed onto you, his chin in the crook between your neck and shoulder. Both of you attempting to regulate your breathing.

He rose onto his forearms before pressing a wet kiss onto your lips. “Not so much of a good girl shoes now, huh?”

[grogwrites]

The Sound of Sunshine - L.N. 4

Part One • Navigation

Summary: Lando vacations in Hawaii for the first time over the winter break, where he meets a carefree surfer who turns his world upside down

Pairing: Lando Norris x Female OC

CW: alcohol consumption and some swearing

A/N: yayyyy it’s here! Idk how many parts this will have so we’re all just here for the ride heheh. As usual, I do not utilize YN, so OC is a named character xx 🌞 this series DOES have a playlist I put together—it is linked below 💛 Divider is by @enchanthings-a

Word Count: 2.2k

* DISCLAIMER: I do not know any of the people in this fanfiction personally, these are all just the works of my imagination.

Lando’s POV

He was probably on his fourth piña colada as he drunkenly sprawled out on the beach once more. Fresh off the Constructor’s Championship win, and Lando felt phenomenal. Taking a solo trip had been on his bucket list for a while, so he figured there was no better time to take it than after securing the historical title for McLaren. After all, he deserved it.

The familiar taste of pineapple and coconut burned down his throat blissfully. His sunglass hung low on his nose, as he enjoyed the relatively quiet beach. Hawaii had been wonderfully welcoming for his first two days—the girls on the beach were definitely a contributing factor. His eyes grazed through every bikini-clad body in the vicinity until his eyes landed on her. He sat up a bit straighter, even going as far as to take off his sunglasses to get a better view. He had to be sure he was seeing things correctly, because she was gorgeous.

Her dirty blonde hair was braided back into a ponytail, with a few colorful beads woven into some strands of the hair. Her skin was lightly tanned, and she stood next to a light blue surfboard that was painted with various little drawings and illustrations. Each drawing was a bit eccentric. There were some two-headed giraffes, some weird blob things, fruit with eyes…weirdly enough, Lando found the art style creative (despite how utterly trippy it was). She wore a blue surf suit that correlated with her board. Her hands were on her hips as she stared out to the ocean, seemingly lost in thought.

Maybe it was in the way she held herself, or perhaps it was the over abundance of rum circulating through his system, but she radiated sunshine. If the color yellow was personified, it would be the mystery girl that Lando was admiring from afar. He watched as she picked up the board, then treaded into the water. She moved with such precision and grace, it was almost like a dance. Each step, each little movement, was calculated and thoughtful. He brought his knees upwards, then leaned against them, watching as she sat on the board.

Lando didn’t know anything about surfing. He saw the movie Soul Surfer once and it was basically enough to deter him for good. Shark attacks? No thanks. But as a large wave came her way, he watched as she fearlessly stood on her board. It was fascinating to watch in person, as she effortlessly rode the wave with no issues in the slightest. Lando didn’t even realize his drink was gone again until he was met with the horrible bits of pineapple at the bottom of the glass. He grimaced at the texture as he set it beside him. He watched the girl swim back to shore with her board, before she started cheering, and running over to her friends.

Lando didn’t even notice she was here with other people, though his head was so foggy from the alcohol that he didn’t think he’d notice anybody else on the beach if they weren’t her. Despite the overwhelming tunnel vision he had from the rum, she was still brighter than the sun in his eyes. He wanted to go talk to her—he desperately wanted to; but he knew that if he were to go over there in his current state, it wouldn’t end well. He couldn’t talk to someone as beautiful as her while he was this far gone. It’d be way too hard of a hit on his ego; it’s not a risk he’s willing to take.

Then, she looked over at him.

Lando’s whole world seemingly stopped. The small action could’ve sobered him up instantaneously; it was like a bolt of lightning straight through his heart. Then, she smiled. Maybe it was the fact that he was drunk and dehydrated, but he decided to write his sudden dizziness up to love at first sight…but then again, he’d always been a hopeless romantic when he’s wasted. And right now? He was definitely wasted. As he drabbled himself through a lecture on drinking too much, he hoisted himself to his feet. He grabbed his towel off of the sand, then shook it out.

“You, uh, look like you had too much fun.”

Lando turned, and thought for a moment he was going to throw up. Part from the rum, and part from the fact that she was right next to him now. She folded her arms across her chest, with a playful smirk on her lips.

“Huh?” He choked out as his face immediately flushed in embarrassment. He watched as she bent over, picking up his empty glass from the sand. She brought it up to her nose, sniffing it lightly.

“Piña colada?” She laughed in amusement, meeting his gaze again. “You know, rum just makes me puke.”

“I, uh—“

“Did you forget words today, pretty boy?” She teased, with her tone light like a song. Lando was utterly hypnotized. Every slight movement she made, every word that fell from her lips—she was like a drug. He soaked in her presence like it was something he couldn’t live without. She extended her hand towards him confidently. “I’m Kailani, but everyone just calls me Kiki.”

“Lando,” was all he blurted as he took her hand in his. He probably held his breath for the entirety of their brief handshake, until he dropped it once more. “Sorry, I just, um, can’t think straight right now. That was my fourth one.” Kiki’s eyes widened as she looked at the empty glass, then back to him.

“Holy shit, Romeo,” her voice was laced with amusement. Lando was surprised at the sudden vulgarity in her speech. “I can barely get past two. You must have a high tolerance for alcohol.”

“I mean, I party a lot,” Lando drunkly shrugged. “Plus I sometimes get sprayed with champagne at work—if I win, anyways.”

“Is that, like, a sexual thing?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who the hell gets champagne at work? What are you even winning?” His face was beet red almost instantly.

“Holy shit,” he buried his face in his hands. This was going horribly for him. “No, fuck. Sorry. I’m a Formula 1 driver? You know, the champagne celebrations on the podiums?” He looked back at her, but her expression was blank—like his explanation went right over her head.

“I’ll pretend like I know what that means,” she finally said, punctuating her sentence with a wink. “Soooo, you’re clearly not from Hawaii, given the accent.”

“Bristol,” Lando clarified, though the word barely came out in any sort of understandable fashion. “I was born in Bristol.” Kiki smiled.

“Hmm,” she hummed before holding out her arm. “You can barely stand up straight. Let me help you get back to wherever you’re staying.”

While Lando had enough shots at his dignity today, he definitely wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to put his arms around her—he’d be fucking stupid if he were to reject that offer. After all, she was the one who suggested it. It’d be rude to decline, truly. He gave her a lopsided smile before swinging his arm around her shoulders. She smelled like coconut sunscreen, which, just then, became Lando’s new favorite smell.

“You’re pretty,” he found himself slurring before any ounce of sober Lando could try to stop him. Kiki just laughed as they made their way along the beach, towards her surfboard. Her friends had seemingly disappeared, leaving it at just the two of them.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she stated. “Maybe when you’re sober again, we can grab a drink—non-alcoholic, of course. You’re cut off.” Lando raised his eyebrows, then looked down at her.

“Does that mean I get your number?” He asked, trying not to sound too giddy (and failing miserably). Kiki just smiled, but remained quiet. Lando groaned at her teasing, then looked ahead once more.

“Let’s see how long I last with drunk you first, Romeo,” she commented. Her arm left his back far sooner than he would’ve liked, sending an ache through his chest. His arm dropped down to his side as she picked the board up. “Where are you staying?” She faced him again, but Lando could barely process his thoughts. He was never a big fan of brown eyes, but perhaps brown could be his new favorite color, too—he was discovering an abundance of new favorites today, with her.

“The resort down the block,” he finally responded. Kiki whistled.

“That’s pricey,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him as she wrapped her arm around him once more. “Romeo’s got money.”

“I’m a celebrity, you know,” Lando bragged, though it wasn’t much to be impressed by in his drunken state of mind. “I can’t believe you don’t know what Formula 1 is.”

“I don’t have a TV,” Kiki explained simply as they began walking again towards the parking lot. Lando’s eyes narrowed. No TV? He guessed it wasn’t completely unheard of, but still, odd nonetheless.

“You could look me up on Instagram,” he proudly suggested. “I’ve got nine million followers.” Kiki stopped in front of an old, beaten up pickup truck. It was a horrible teal color with rust along the tire rims, and chipped paint on the doors. Lando looked down at her. “There’s no way this thing runs.” She tossed her surfboard in the bed of the truck before unlocking the passenger side door.

“Oh, she runs,” Kiki met Lando’s gaze with a mischievous smirk. She studied him intently, with her eyes grazing his body from head to toe. Lando cleared his throat as she opened his door. “And I don’t have a smartphone. So that cancels out your Instagram proof, Romeo.” Lando tentatively climbed into the truck as she shut the door behind him. No TV, no smartphone…what did she do for fun? Lando couldn’t really comprehend why someone would willingly go without those in their life—how did she keep up to date with anything?

“How do you call people?” He asked as she climbed into the drivers seat. The truck barely sputtered on as she put her keys in the ignition. She laughed before backing out of her parking spot.

“I have a phone,” she clarified, “just…not a smartphone.” He watched as Kiki reached down—rolling down her window with a small lever on her door. Despite his speechlessness at how off the grid she seemed to live, Lando couldn’t help but feel a smile tug at the corners of his lips. It was refreshing, in a way.

“I couldn’t last twenty four hours without mine,” he admitted with a drunken laugh. “I’ve got people calling me constantly. Whether it’s about work or media appearances…it’s exhausting.” Kiki laughed along with him as she stuck her free arm out of the window while she drove. She leaned her head back against the seat, sighing.

“God, I couldn’t imagine,” she stated. Lando rolled down his window, then watched as they drove down the streets of Honolulu. “The only time work calls me is if the school is closed for inclement weather.”

“School?” He repeated. “You work at a school?”

“Elementary music,” she clarified. “We’re working on our Christmas program right now.”

The truck began to slow as she entered the parking lot of the resort. It was about as busy as it was when Lando first left it over five hours ago. He subconsciously let out a long sigh, dreading going inside. While taking a solo trip was nice, there were too many people at the hotel who seemed to recognize him. Plus, getting out meant leaving Kiki—he didn’t exactly want to do that just yet. He turned his head to find her already staring at him, which prompted another crooked grin from him.

“A music teacher,” he cooed. “A surfer and a music teacher? Weirdly fitting.”

“Do you need help getting inside?” Kiki questioned as she shifted the vehicle into ‘park’. Lando lazily shook his head.

“Nah, they’ll spread rumors,” he murmured disappointedly. “I can see the article now: Lando Norris spotted with an absolute babe—“

“Oh god,” she laughed. She pushed a few loose strands of her damp hair behind her ears. “Then I guess I better give you my number so I know when you make it to your room safely.” Lando eagerly grabbed his phone from the pocket of his swim trunks.

“Well, of course,” he agreed while passing her the device. “For safety purposes.” Kiki took it from him, with her fingers gently brushing against the back of his hand. He stared dreamily towards her, watching as she added in her contact information. When she passed it back to him, Lando felt like a kid on Christmas.

“I cross my heart that I will let you know when I’m in my room,” he said as he put his phone back in his pocket. He opened the door, then hopped out of the truck.

“Oh,” she clicked her tongue in disapproval, “sorry. I only deal in pinky promises.” She held her pinky out to him. Lando rolled his eyes, but accepted the gesture anyways.

“I pinky promise, then,” he hummed. “Drive safe, Juliet.”

* None of my writing is available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated.

©️ grogwrites, 2024

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@lilaissa @cabbyhabs @gogeroni @fat-meh @xivilivix @henna006

[mypoisonedvine]

𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 (part III) | frater imperator x reader

(part I) (part II)

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 | your first trip together ends on a sour note as some of your suppressed concerns about your relationship begin to show, but a delayed wedding reception might turn it all around.

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 | 6.7k (fucking hell)

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 | jealousy/insecurity, MORE heathers references for some reason???, alcohol consumption/slight intoxication, nothing too bad but I swear the slowburn is almost... burnt, or whatever just bear with me

The next day of your visit to Brussels was mostly boring meetings; you almost wanted to ask him why you both had to travel all this way to do the same things you always did, but ultimately you did understand the value of this trip even if it wasn’t especially exciting.  And though you weren’t really capable of assisting with any of the business side of things, you figured out after a while that you were mainly here just to be here— because it would be weird if you weren’t.  Because it would be, for lack of a better word, suspicious if a newly-married couple were traveling separately.

So, you were here, sitting beside him as he and the clergy of the local church discussed various important topics— mission work, ministry, how best to spread the message of Satan and bring in the age of the antichrist… you know, the usual.

His hand rested on your leg again— maybe a little higher than before?  You weren't certain, but it made you smile to yourself as you tuned out the boring conversation going on around you.

You glanced down at the leather-covered hand by your knee, his fingers moving slightly; the silver grucifix embossed on the back shined in this light.  Absent-mindedly, you traced it with one finger, not even noticing that it made him look over at you— not even really appreciating that his hand was still under there, and could probably feel you drawing shapes over his skin.

“Frater,” a clergyman interjected sternly, “do you have a response?”

You'd both totally zoned out, and were quickly brought back to reality; Copia jolted in his chair and cleared his throat as he sat up straighter.  Worst of all, he took his hand off your leg to clasp them both together in his lap.  “I-I’m sorry?” he coughed.  “I fear I lost my train of thought, could you repeat the question?”

“Don’t ask Frater Imperator so many complex things so early in the morning,” Comis scolded his fellow cardinal, “he didn’t get much sleep last night— non?”

He wore a lopsided grin as he playfully elbowed Copia in the side, who nervously reached up to run his fingers through his hair.  “Oh, well— eh— I just lost focus for a moment, is all…”

“Sure,” Comis agreed sarcastically.  “Maybe we should take a break, anyhow.  Give us all a chance to stretch our legs.”

“That sounds nice,” you agreed quickly, mainly just jumping on any chance to get out of this stuffy room and personal conversation.

The meeting room had a sort of lobby outside— or maybe it would be called a parlour?  A sitting room?  You weren’t really sure, but it was fancy; there was tea and little cakes and things, the whole place was so detail-oriented like that.

Copia was busy making small talk with some clergymen and women, while you were nursing a cup of lemon-water just to have something to do with your hands.

You heard someone coming up the stairs but didn’t think much of it at first.  “Sister Imperator,” a Sister greeted you— though you didn’t really process it until she reached out and touched your shoulder, making you turn around.

“Consortia,” you added once you realized she was addressing you.  “Sister Imperator Consortia.  Sister Imperator was my mother-in-law.”

“Oh, yes— I’m so sorry for your loss,” she offered gently.

You realized they were under the assumption that you knew her much better— maybe you would’ve if you’d been dating Copia before marrying him like, you know, most people do.  Instead of trying to explain, you just accepted her sympathies with a nod; it was a loss, after all, just not as personal as she might’ve imagined.

“I thought you might want to visit our convent,” she suggested.

“O-oh, um,” you stalled, nervously glancing over your shoulder at Copia as he sipped on a glass of water, “I—”

“He’ll be just fine,” she promised, leaning into you and lowering her voice.  “He knows meetings like the back of his hand.”

And he’ll probably fare better without me touching the back of his hand…

Nodding in agreement, you slipped out of the sitting room and followed her.

The woman introduced herself as Sister Nomina and guided you through the winding halls— Cardinal Comis had shown you the wing that housed the convent the night before on his tour, so you knew where it was, but you hadn’t been inside yet.  

“We keep a garden,” Sister Nomina explained, “and we have some outreach programs— an orphanage, a literacy program.  But nothing compared to what your church is doing!”

“Oh, yes,” you replied, “I suppose our reputation precedes us…”

“It must be very exhilarating, being in the Church of Ghost,” she presumed with a wide smile. 

“Well, I wish I could take more credit for all the work that's been done,” you 

The two of you arrived at the convent; visually it was similar to the one you'd been living in up until recently, but the inhabitants were quite different.  For one, they dressed a bit differently, and seemed to be more lenient with uniform (Sister Imperator would've never let that fly back home…).  And for another thing, they were much more excited to see you than anybody in your convent would've been on any given day. 

Actually, a group of nuns flocking to you excited reminded you of that day of the fateful clergy meeting— it felt like a lifetime ago already.

“Ladies, Sister Imperator Consortia from Linkoping,” Nomina introduced you to the group of women surrounding you, before reversing to introducing all of them to you.  “Sisters Mila, Lascivia, Camille, Perita, and Triette.”

“Lovely to meet you all,” you nodded, smiling warmly. 

“Give her some room, ladies, please!“ Nomina scolded gently, shooing them back with her hands until they took a few steps away from you. Admittedly, you appreciated the extra breathing room.

“Everybody's been looking forward to your visit immensely,” Nomina justified. “I hope you don't mind answering a few of their questions.”

“Of course not!”

Sister Camille piped up quickly: “As Sister Imperator Consortia, what responsibilities do you have?”

“W-well, I'm not qualified to serve on the clergy,” you explained, “because I wasn't nominated by the clergy— I was nominated, well, by my husband. So, mainly my job is to support him…”

“Did you grow up in the church?” Sister Perita asked politely.

“Well, yes and no,” you replied.  “I wasn’t raised a Satanist, so not in the traditional sense— but I ran away to join the church when I was still just a teenager… ever since then, up until rather recently, I was living in convents much like this one.”

That seemed to surprise Sister Triette.  “You really were another Sister of Sin, just like us?” she observed.

It wasn’t until then that you realized they didn't just find you interesting, but that they looked up to you— a role model of sorts, a Sister like them who was perceived as achieving some kind of greatness; it was sweet, even if you felt their admiration was misplaced.  “Yes, I was,” you nodded.

“Did you work closely with the Papa?” Sister Mila asked.

“No, my role mostly involved stewardship, administration, occasional gardening—”

That seemed to confuse them.  “So, then, how'd you fall in love?” Sister Perita wondered.

Your eyes widened; maybe you should've seen some of these questions coming and had answers prepared, but you were completely caught off-guard in that moment.  “O-oh, um, it's not a very interesting story…”

“No no, please!  We've all been dying to know since we heard you two were coming!” Camille insisted.

The Sisters leaned in excitedly in anticipation; you hadn't realized the news of your marriage had so much impact.  Then again, Copia was technically a celebrity— you just weren't used to his popularity outside of your own church.  “You're not all just trying to get pointers to seducing clergy so you can get a promotion, right?” you wondered with a frown.

“No!  We just want to hear how you two met,” Perita explained, “and how you realized you loved each other— and how he proposed!”

They all clapped and giggled excitedly, but all you could manage was a nervous grin.  The real story was definitely not going to satisfy them; you felt guilty imagining disappointing them with some clinical explanation of it all.  “W-well, how we met is sort of… obvious, I guess.  We met in Mass, when he was the Papa— he served me communion.  I didn't know him as a cardinal, I hadn't moved to his church yet, but he… well, I was pretty intimidated by him.  You can't blame me— it's the Papa, after all…”

Up until then, you had told the truth— but you started, for lack of a better term, winging it at that point.

“The first time we spoke— it was an unexpected thing, you see.  We bumped into each other, literally; I wasn't paying attention and he was rushing to get to a clergy meeting— I helped him pick up some books he’d dropped.” 

Clichéd?  Absolutely, but you felt like that was ultimately what they wanted to here: a too-good-to-be-true story about how an ordinary Sister was swept off her feet by such an important man.  Why the Papa would be running around carrying a stack of books is an absurd question for another day…

“We got to talking… we had more in common than we expected.  We bonded over—” you fought back a smirk as you figured out an easy lie— “slushies, actually. He said that traveling with the band meant hardly ever being in the same place, but that there was almost always a convenience store with slushies wherever he was. They became a comfort, I suppose.”

You decided not to go on and say that the two of you had played strip croquet together… probably too obvious of a reference.

“We were just friends for some time, but eventually we started to grow real feelings for each other,” you concluded simply.

They broke out into a collective aww; “What's he like?  You know, when he's not in front of so many people.”

“Um… he's not that different, I guess,” you mumbled, “maybe not as dramatic.  But he's so sensitive, too, and gentle…”

“I’ve always thought he would be that way,” Sister Lascivia agreed, “but intense, too, you know— like, dominating.”

You choked on your own throat for a second.  Why were you thinking about him at all?  “U-um, what makes you say that?” you wondered.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, biting back a grin, “he just seems that way.”

“Y-you mean, on stage?” you pressed, but the line of questioning shifted suddenly when Sister Perita interrupted.

“And the proposal?  It must have been some fantastic gesture!” she assumed.  “Only fitting for a rockstar, right?”

“You’d think, but he doesn't really act like that… he's so humble.  Actually, it was very intimate,” you decided.  “He knows I can get a little overwhelmed with those big crowds, so instead we went out in a— um, little rowboat onto the lake nearby our church, right around sunset, and watched the stars come out… he played a little guitar for me, just to be nice because he knows I love how he plays— and then under the full moon, he told me that, uh…”

Why was your heart racing?  Why could you picture it so clearly in your mind, as if you weren’t just making it all up as you went along?

“That meeting me had made his heart whole,” you concluded.  “That he couldn't go on unless he knew we were going to spend the rest of our lives together… and he showed me the ring and— and, you know, all that.  Of course, I said yes right away.”

“Oh wow,” Sister Mila cooed— she looked as close to having heart-shaped irises as you’d ever seen anyone in real life.

But of course, another had to chime in as well: “And you don't get jealous, knowing how popular he is?  Plenty of people would kill for your spot, you know.”

You willed your eye not to twitch.  “He's, um… he's never given me any reason to be jealous,”   He's loyal, he always has been, even when we were just dating.  B-but we didn't date very long before we married…”

You realized you couldn’t retroactively ascribe some kind of fidelity to him— after all, he’d been a rockstar (as Perita had put it) on tour… 

And he’d been to this church before.  Your heart almost stopped as the sick thought entered your mind that he could’ve, potentially, hooked up with any of the people in this room; certainly Sister Lascivia would’ve probably jumped him if she got the chance, but she was far from the only candidate.  Come on, he was Papa fucking Emeritus the fucking IV, he had his pick of the litter if he so desired.

You knew it shouldn’t make any difference to you, you knew it was none of your business and you had no right to worry about it— but just the idea of him with one of them— with anyone—

“I guess he married you so quickly because he loves you so much,” Sister Nomina smiled.

You smiled back, even if you felt like you were still trying to keep bile down.  “Yes, I guess so.”

“And now you’re married to the head of the clergy; it’s like a fairytale or something!” Sister Mila beamed, clutching her hands together.

What kind of fairytales is this girl reading? “It all really has nothing to do with his status— Frater, Papa, Cardinal, he could be a janitor for all I care,” you assured her.  “I married him because he's the most patient, talented, generous man—”

You noticed the way many of them seemed to straighten up suddenly, the way Sister Perita’s eyes widened, and you spun over your shoulder to see Copia sauntering up behind you.  He had a good poker face, but there was an obvious smugness to it.  “What’s that they say?  Speak of the devil?” he mused as he leaned against the doorway.

“Oh, hello… dear,” you blurted out— seems you’d used up all your creativity on that fake meet-cute and proposal, didn’t have any left for a good term of endearment.  

“You’re not telling stories again, are you?” he asked, approaching you slowly, the slightest swagger in his step.

“Everyone’s very curious about you,” you explained.

“No, I don’t think so,” he denied, “they already know about me— they’re curious about us.”

Us sounded so nice when he said it like that.  He touched your shoulder for a moment, sliding his hand down to clasp at your upper arm.  Paradoxically, he acted more confident with an audience; you couldn’t tell if this was for your benefit, or theirs.

“Don’t go running off without me, hm?” he scolded sweetly.

“Yes, Frater,” you answered politely, wondering afterwards if it was too formal.

It didn’t seem to deter him: he brought his hand to your chin and held it delicately, keeping your head tilted up towards him.  “I worry when I lose sight of you,” he explained.  “We have to get ready for Mass soon, will you meet me at the chancel before the service begins?”

“Of course,” you agreed, smiling a little as he looked down at you so… lovingly?  Could that be the word?

You wondered if he would kiss you right then— you hadn’t kissed in public since your first kiss, and you thought you wanted to keep it that way… but wouldn’t it be a little fun, to show him off just a bit in front of these ladies?  Wouldn’t it be the best way to rub it in that he chose you?

Instead he only stroked your jaw with his thumb for a second, before letting go of you and stepping back.  He gave only one moment of attention to the women around you— with a quick bow of greeting and a polite “Sisters” — before spinning on his heel and departing.

You pressed your lips together and kept your eyes on the door even after he was gone; there was a heavy silence until the echoes of his steps down the hall faded.  Then they all broke into the squealy, girlish reactions you were expecting.

“Great Belial below!” “He’s so sensual!” “You can tell he’s completely enamoured with you!”

“O-oh, enamoured?” you repeated sheepishly.  “I don’t know, he’s just— like that…”

But your face warmed and you had to reach up to partially cover it with your hand— you didn’t want them to see your growing smile, in case someone asked why you were so giddy over a small interaction with your own husband.  

You departed from the convent not too long after that, knowing you didn’t have much time before Mass began and wanting to give yourself time to navigate to the chapel.  A walk through the church alone would’ve been a nice opportunity to clear your head, if your head was actually capable of clearing— but no, instead it was swirling with memories.  Memories all the way back as that first time he served you the body and blood, when he’d apparently taken an interest in you which eventually lead to this; memories as recent as the way he’d touched you just before.

Did it still make you feel a little nauseous knowing Sister Lascivia— and likely tens of thousands of other people— were somewhere out there thinking about how dominating he must be?  Yes, but you also felt a little proud of yourself… because that’s all they had, their thoughts.  You actually had a shot at finding out for yourself.

If you ever found the nerve, that is; regardless, you tried to push that thought process aside and actually listen to the priest as he officiated Mass that evening.  Of course, you really weren’t able to do that until being mentioned by name got your attention.

“And we have some visitors this Mass!” the priest announced.  “Frater Imperator and Sister Imperator Consortia—they’ve come all the way from the church of Ghost in Sweden!  Give them a warm welcome, will you?”

As the congregation applauded, Copia stood up; you followed suit quickly, getting a good look at the sea of people in pews all looking at you both.  You hadn’t seen a crowd like this since your wedding.  

Your smile was genuine but flustered when Copia placed his decorated hand on your shoulder; it already made your heart tremble when he did it in front of a few Sisters of Sin, this was on a whole new level.  He guided you a little closer to him, tucking you into his side, and you looked out over the massive crowd before glancing at the glove on your shoulder— namely, the wedding ring on it.

Then you looked at his face, at how polite and distinguished he looked standing before all these people.  “What do I do?” you asked your husband in a whisper.

“Hm?” he pressed, only briefly glancing at you.

“With all this attention,” you clarified, “what am I meant to do?”

“Just smile,” he encouraged.  “All they want is to see you.  Just give them a smile, maybe a little wave if you’re feeling generous.”

He was a showman, he knew what he was doing— you tried to copy him, with moderate success.  It was comforting, somehow, to see him in his element.  Unfortunately, how comfortable he was here only served as kindling for the flame of insecurity in the back of your mind.  Because he’s him, and you’re just… you.

And there in that sea of congregation members were plenty of those people you’d had mentioned to you before: the ones who would kill to have your spot.

~

“You should be proud of yourself,” he grinned as he took his seat across from you on the jet once again— it felt like so much had happened since the last time you were here.  “You shouldn’t be so adverse to social engagements, you’re a natural.”

“No, definitely not,” you laughed a bit, “but I didn’t hate it as much as I thought I would.  You made it easier for me.”

“They love you already, darling,” he promised, and the casual affectionate name made you smile even more, though you tried to hide it from him.  “So does everyone back at our church— anyone who knows you would, really.”

Your heart swelled, but you just hummed and looked away in lieu of responding.  

Of course, as soon as your heart was happy, your brain had to pop in and ruin it: that smile on Sister Lascivia’s face, the way she was so clearly picturing your husband in some kind of compromising way.  And the horrible, sick idea that maybe she didn’t have to just imagine it.

Copia was already prepared for a quiet flight— he had his legs crossed and a book open in his lap, his chin resting on one of his hands as he read.  You looked at him for a moment, appreciating how calm he seemed to always be; sometimes it was hard to believe he was the same man with that rockstar reputation, but you knew it was too naive to assume just because he could be quiet that he must not have lived to the fullest in his time as the Papa.

You managed to distract yourself by watching out the window as the jet took off, but once you were high enough to break through the clouds, the view was basically just white light and was not nearly interesting enough to keep your mind occupied.

It shouldn’t have even mattered!  So what if he was a bit more intimately acquainted with someone you’d met on that trip?  It didn’t make any difference now.  Yet, it was all you could think of, and even knowing it would only bring you pain, you compared yourself to her— she was quite pretty, after all, even with that habit covering up most of her.  Maybe she was more his type… maybe she was exactly his type.

By that point you’d basically convinced yourself it was true, without any evidence at all.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but for some reason you couldn’t seem to hold back the words forming there.  “Do you know any of the Sisters there?” you heard yourself ask before you could stop yourself.  “I-I mean, did you know any of them before today...”

“Eh… no, I don’t think so,” he mumbled.

“But you’ve been to the church before,” you recalled, “you know Comis.”

“Well, yes, he’s their main ambassador— Sisters come and go, you know.”

You nodded, and he looked back down at his book.  You let the moment rest for a few seconds that felt like an eternity.  “It’s just that—”

He sighed a little and shut his book.

“They seemed to be so fascinated by you,” you explained.  “I think you had quite a few fans there.”

“Fans?  You mean, the band?” he raised an eyebrow, and you nodded.  “Then that’s not me, is it?  I just sang for a while— I’m interchangeable, by design.”

“But still— you were, are, so popular.”

“Eh… if you say so…”

“Come on,” you tilted your head, a bit of frustration leaking into your tone, “don’t be like that— you know what you’re doing.”

He looked a little confused, if not almost hurt by the implied accusation of deceitfulness.  “What are you asking me about?” he pressed, narrowing his eyes.

“Did you fuck any of them?”

Your eyes widened when you heard yourself say it— you really couldn’t believe you’d just word-vomited it out like that.  He seemed a little shocked, too, but much more amused than anything.  You didn’t like it at all, the way he smiled; it made you feel even more stupid for asking it, for thinking it even.

“I’m sorry,” you said instantly, “I shouldn’t have—” I shouldn’t have started this conversation while we’re trapped together for four hours, for one thing— “it’s not my place.  Forget I asked, it doesn’t matter.”

“Now now,” he cooed, “if it concerns you, then it matters.”

He was teasing you— dangling it in front of you.  “It doesn’t concern me,” you assured, “in every sense of the word— it’s none of my concern.”

“You look concerned.”

“Yes, but… that's my problem, not yours.”

He sighed, looking at you as if he were a little disappointed for some reason.  “Do you remember our vows, tesoro?”

You swallowed thickly.  Not really, I'm pretty sure I was in the middle of an anxiety-induced blackout.  “Uh…” you stalled.

“We agreed to care for each other, to share our hearts forever,” he reminded you.  “That means that if something upsets you, then it upsets me.  Even if you think it's silly— and from what I can tell, it's not.”

“Of course it is,” you rolled your eyes.  “It's silly to ask a famous musician if he slept with any fans— of course you did.”

“I did,” he admitted, “but surely not with the frequency you're imagining.  And not with anyone in Brussels, if that's any comfort.”

You crossed your arms over yourself self-consciously, looking out the window even though the cloudy scenery hadn't changed much.

“Of course I've had lovers before— you have too, I know.  I hope we won't hold that against each other.”

“Yes, of course,” you sighed.  “Obviously I never expected, or even wanted, either of us to be virginal or something, Satan forbid.  And there's nothing wrong with you meeting women on the road, either… it's just… is it wrong that thinking about it makes me kind of want to strangle someone?”

He laughed; “No,” he assured, “I don't think so.”

Unfortunately, he was right— that talking about it made you feel a little better.  

“Is it wrong that I think you're especially sexy when you're jealous?”

Your throat caught and you looked away from him quickly, holding your face in your hand as an excuse to cover it, but he obviously noticed the way you crossed your legs tightly.  His eyes raked over you, you could feel it somehow even when you were refusing to actually look back at him.

“I don’t think you have much right to be so shy, after asking me such personal questions,” he purred.  

“I-I’m not being shy,” you denied in a mumble, “I just didn’t expect you to say that.”

“I hope it doesn’t offend you—”

“No!  No,” you assured quickly, letting go of your heated face to look down into your lap.  “You’re being sweet, thank you.”

“It’s only the truth,” he insisted.  “Let’s always tell each other that, alright?  Just the truth.”

You nodded in agreement, finding the strength to meet his gaze again; the look in his eyes was just like the one he’d had when he found you in the convent.  It must not have been just for show, then… 

“Promise you’ll get some rest while we fly,” he sighed, “we won’t be landing until the late evening and we have quite a day ahead tomorrow.”

You only remembered it right then: your wedding reception.  As if you hadn’t had enough excitement for a lifetime in this week already.

~

It was a unique reception in a number of ways, probably too many to count.  First of all, most receptions happen right after the wedding, of course— but late night Masses left little time for that.  Secondly, receptions usually have speeches and sentimental things for the families of the betrothed; while Copia’s family of phantasms were in attendance, they didn’t have much to say, and what could they say?  They didn’t even know you.  So, instead, your reception was much more of the good stuff: dancing, eating, drinking, and good old-fashioned partying.

And then there was, you know, the demonic statues and sacrifices.  But that, to you, wasn’t so out of the ordinary.

You were seated at the head table with him, watching the crowd in all their merriment, feeling an odd sense of pride— of responsibility for all this joy.  It wasn’t like you’d planned this, it was a gift from the clergy who had done the work of putting it together, but technically you were half of what was being celebrated.

Maybe it was just appreciation for home, after your trip to Brussels.  It was always nice to see familiar faces filled with joy.

He leaned in closer to you so you could hear him over the music as he spoke, and you felt his breath on your shoulder.  “I'm sorry we didn't have time for this sooner,” he said.

“Oh!  I wouldn't have known what to do if we'd done it any sooner,” you admitted with a laugh.  Not that you especially knew what to do now— but you at least, by now, knew how to fake knowing what to do.

“And I’m sorry we couldn’t do something a little more traditional,” he added.

“Traditional?” you repeated with a laugh.

“What’s that American thing, where they feed each other the wedding cake?” he raised an eyebrow.  “Maybe we should have done that… I’ve always thought it looked sweet.”

You had no idea he had any opinions about things like that; it was endearing to imagine he ended up watching wedding videos at some point and wanted something like that for himself.  “Well, we can still do that another time,” you offered, “when there aren’t so many people watching.”

Again, you didn’t quite put together how that sounded until he cleared his throat and his cheeks pinkened at bit; of course it sounded suggestive when you phrased it like that, how could you have not seen that coming?!

Before you could correct yourself, though— or decide if you actually did need to correct anything— the ghouls on the chancel began playing a familiar song.

It didn’t sound the same, of course, with another singer filling in, but you could so easily hear Copia’s voice in those words:  You'll soon be hearing the chime, close to midnight…

He stood up suddenly, and you looked up at him.  “May I have this dance, cara mia?” he asked with an extended hand.

You took it with a smile; “I think one of the privileges of marriage is that you don't have to ask me that.”

Guiding you to the dancefloor, it felt like one of those movie scenes with the way the crowd parted for you on their own.  Was there a spotlight on you or was that just your imagination?

One of the few things you'd known about him before marrying him was that he was quite a dancer— what you hadn't known until now was how much you enjoyed dancing.  He made it easy, guiding you through the moves so well that people would probably think you had more experience than you did.

You had every right to be nervous, and you were, but for the first time it felt sort of… good?  Surely the alcohol in your system was aiding you, but it wasn’t just that.  Your heart was racing but you didn’t feel the urge to run and hide; he was smiling at you, he was pulling you closer, and for just a few moments you were suddenly fearless.

I just wanna be, wanna bewitch you in the moonlight

I just wanna be, wanna bewitch you all night

He spun and dipped you, making you laugh with exhilaration.  When he pulled you back up, the look in his eyes almost took your breath away… so determined, yet romantic and vulnerable.  A look you felt like only he could pull off.

If the song’s lyrics were some sort of manifestation, then it was working: you were totally bewitched by him.  It was just the two of you and the music playing, it was just his hands holding and guiding you, it was just this perfect moment that you could hardly believe was happening to you.  Weren’t you just an ordinary Sister this time two weeks ago?

You knew when the song was nearly over, and when he spun you one more time and pulled you into him, your hand came up to the side of his face, your leg lifted to slightly straddle his side… your eyes drifted down to his lips.

Just one more split-second and you would’ve kissed him.  Not just any kiss, you would’ve kissed him like you never had before— like nobody ever had before.  

But the crowd of people around you instead began to proudly clap and cheer, and it tore you out of the moment; honestly, you’d sort of forgotten you were surrounded by all the guests.  You looked away from Copia and smiled at the people who had watched you dance, hardly even noticing that he never stopped looking at you.

It went by too quickly— not just the song but the whole night.  All too soon, you were back in your room; ears still ringing, heart still thumping, and (less enjoyably) feet still a little bit sore from dancing in new shoes despite having changed into your night clothes and comfy socks already.

As Copia walked to his side of the bed in his own signature embroidered pyjamas, you fell back on the bed limply, laying your arms out wide and staring up at the ceiling with a sigh— a happy sigh of course, a does this night really have to end? sigh.  “That was wonderful,” you announced with a beaming smile.  “I didn't think I'd enjoy it so much, but it was perfect.”

“I hoped you would,” Copia agreed.  “You've seemed so tense— I'm not sure I ever saw you looking so relaxed, and joyful… you look so beautiful that way.”

“Y-you don't have to flatter me,” you mumbled, pulling your arms back in towards yourself as tilted your head back to look at him— upside down, but still at him.

“Of course, I never would,” he assured, laying down carefully on the bed beside you.  “It's just the truth.  I bet everyone was as taken with you as I was… but only I got to dance with you.”

You smiled a little more softly, admiring how sweet he could be— a side of him you felt privileged to see so close.  You wanted to say something, but you really had no idea how to respond to a statement like that, or even how to just take the compliment.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked quietly.

“O-of course,” you answered, “you can tell me anything.”

“I-I'm a little embarrassed,” he admitted with a soft laugh, “but I… I've seen Heathers.”

You tilted your head, laughing in confusion.

“I don't know why I lied to you before,” he shook his head, “I know it quite well— I saw it in theaters when it was released!  I just— I thought— I'm not sure.  I guess I liked you explaining it to me.”

Your heart jumped, and you looked down at the bed under you sheepishly, as if your finger tracing the pattern on the quilt was fascinating all of a sudden.

“I wanted to give you an excuse to talk to me,” he added.

“You… you could've just… talked,” you told him quietly.  “It wasn't like I would've ignored you.”

“Yes, I know,” he sighed, “but the moment never felt right.”

“How does the moment feel now?” you asked shyly.

“Oh, tesoro, everything about tonight feels perfect.”

Your heart skipped a beat; everything?

You wondered, of course, if he would try something again; it was hard not to imagine that, since this was such a similar set of circumstances to that very first night.  But it felt so different, too— it felt less terrifying, for one thing, and less confusing.

But instead of letting yourself wonder about that for too long— afraid he’d somehow see it on your face, and know what you were picturing— you sat up a little bit and propped yourself up on your elbows.

“I asked why you chose me already,” you began, “but I never asked the bigger question, did I?  That is, why you got married at all.”

He sighed shortly before he answered.  “My mother, she asked me to get married.  At first, I thought it was just the will of the clergy.  I understand now it was much more than that.”

“She wanted you to be happy,” you assumed.

“Yes, yes…” he trailed off, looking to the side.  “She knew I didn't want to be alone anymore.”

Your heart twisted a little; “I figure the Papa himself never has to be alone,” you mumbled through a sheepish smile.  “You could take anyone to bed you wanted, a new companion every night.”

He chuckled a little.  “I think you know that's not what I mean— I learned better than anyone that being by oneself and being alone are different things,” he explained.  “Even if I did find the time and energy for a thousand lovers, I would've still been lonely without a real partner… something to call my own.  But I never had the time— or, I told myself that, to justify why I didn't have anyone.”

You understood that better than he could know— better than you wanted to realize.

“My parents loved each other, but spent most of their lives apart,” he explained.  “I don't want to be like that.  I don't want to have something beautiful and let it go to waste.”

He looked at you right then, and it seemed like it meant something but you wouldn't let yourself imagine what.

“Could I kiss you again?” he asked softly.  It sort of completely caught you off-guard, not what he said but the way he said it: the unsureness in his voice, the slight flush on his face.

You didn't answer with words, you simply reached up and brushed your fingers through the hair at his temple, where it was turning silver— another reminder of how long he'd been alone. 

You moved your hand in to cradle his face, leaning closer.

There was something shockingly comfortable about it, like you'd known each other for years.  You had grown to care for him, you couldn't deny that, but you surprised even yourself by how you pulled him closer as he kissed you.

It brought back memories of your wedding night, of course, and you couldn't decide if it felt like just yesterday or months ago.  All that fear and anxiety you'd been nearly crushed by then— it was only a distant memory, to the point that it was almost hard to believe you were the same person who had felt all that.

In some ways, you weren't.

His hand gently rested on your side, before carefully moving around to your lower back to keep you pressed against him.  Why did that feel so perfect?  His head tilted a little more, his kiss deepened a little more, you sighed a little heavier. 

As he pulled away, he looked into your eyes; you saw something new and totally indescribable in them.

If he kisses me again, I won't be able to say no to him, you realized.

He only smiled at you gently, his fingers brushing over your cheek.  “Goodnight, darling,” he offered quietly.

You were still in shock just a bit as he kissed your temple softly, before pulling back and turning to face away from you as he climbed under the covers.  Blinking quickly, you wondered if you would've asked him not to stop if he'd given you a chance.

Slowly laying down yourself, you faced towards him and sighed a little as you looked at the back of him.

You stared at him for so long that night, watching him sleep, willing yourself to just reach over and wake him; to run your fingers through his hair until he stirred and turned to face you.  And then you wouldn’t have to say anything, you could just kiss him and he’d understand.  All you had to do was lift your hand and touch him… then his arms would be around you, his lips would be on you, his weight would press you into the bed…

You fell asleep before you ever found the nerve.  But that’s not to say you fell asleep quickly; no, not at all.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

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Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments, Talk Of Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Possible Food/Body/ Eating triggers.

A/N: I rewrote this damn chapter about 50 times. See the author's note at the bottom to see how it was originally going to end!

A/N 2: I accidentally deleted chapter 8 and couldn't recover it. I swear I almost deleted my whole account because I was so mad. I wrote it again, and it's actually much better than the first one.

You look in the mirror as you try on your fifth outfit that consists of jeans and a nice sweater. You felt ridiculous that you were this concerned about what you were going to wear. You were just meeting your sister, not going on a date or anything. It shouldn't feel like a big deal as you're making it out to be, but it was. You had a feeling this meeting was either going to get the two of you on track or say goodbye forever. Honestly, you don't think you're ready for either of those options.

“What happened here?” Yoongi said as he came into the bedroom and saw the mess you created.

Your clothes were thrown all over the room after you tried them on and discarded them in frustration. Random shoes lie by each other, nowhere near their matching mate. You didn't care, though. You only cared about trying to look your best without making it look like you were trying.

“I can't decide what to wear,” you tell him and throw your hands up in frustration. “Do I dress up? Do I just wear jeans? She's going to be dressed perfectly, I know it.”

“It's not a business meeting,” he comments, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle. “You don't even have to go.”

“I want to hear what she has to say to me,” you say. “I just, I need to do this.”

“I'll come with you,” he mumbles into your neck.

“No,” you whisper.

“I'll sit in the car and wait,” he offers and makes eye contact with you in the mirror.

You turn and wrap your arms behind his neck, hugging him. His own arms tighten around your waist, not wanting to let go as he buries his face further into your neck. His lips press against the smooth column of your neck. You were so thankful that you had him, but you had to stop relying on him so much.

“I don't want you getting hurt,” he says quietly. “We both know how she is. With how you have been avoiding your mom, I can guess what your conversation is going to be about.”

“Yoongi, I promise you that if it gets to that point. I will walk out and be done with her. I promise. I have to do this on my own. It's important to me that I do this on my own,” you tell him.

“Come to the studio when you're done,” he tells you, finally giving up on convincing you to stay home. Moving his face close to yours, he rubs your nose with his own. “Will you do that?”

“Yes,” you whisper and press your lips against his. “I’ll be fine.”

You look out the window at the coffee shop where you sit and wait for your sister to show up. They have various colors of red and pink hearts cut from paper taped to the windows in honor of Valentine's day coming up. You wonder if you and Yoongi will do anything that day, but you know you probably won't. It's okay, though. You don't really think that it's that important of a holiday. Last year, he made you dinner followed by the rest of the night in bed. You chuckle to yourself, thinking back to what Lisa had said. Maybe you will take a picture of what's hidden in your closet to intince him to come home that night. No, you're still too embarrassed just thinking about it.

You turn your attention to the glass of water on the table that you ordered when you sat down. It was cold in your hands as you played with it, turning it around and around as the ice clanked against the clear surface. You are not much of a coffee drinker and only drank it socially when you felt like you had to. Jisoo and Lisa need their tall latte, something with extra pumps of stuff to drink every day to survive. Yoongi drinks his black, and it takes like dirt. Much like flowers, you never understood the appeal of coffee and why people liked it so much. Maybe it was the caffeine or just the routine of having it every morning. You check your watch and see you have been waiting for ten minutes, but it sure felt like hours.

The bell to the entrance of the coffee shop jingles as you see your sister finally enter and look around the shop for you. When she spots you, you see her take a deep breath and walk over to the table in the far corner where you sat. There weren't many people around you, you thought that was for the best. As she sits across from you, you sit up just a little straighter in your own chair, straightening your posture. The server comes by and takes her order before either of you can say anything to each other. She ordered some soy something, and it sounded nasty.

"I'm surprised you actually texted me back,” she said, looking at you as she pushed her perfectly smooth hair behind her ears. It didn't seem that she was nervous at all, or she was at least good at covering it up.

“Me too,” you say truthfully as your foot under the table starts to tap quickly. “What did you want to talk about?”

There's a heavy silence that passes between you two as you stare at each other. You break eye contact, and you let your fingers grab a brown paper napkin that was in front of you. You roll it up and unroll it, over and over again, just to keep your hands busy. You wish you could at least appear half as confident as she looks. You both smile at the server, who brings the drink over and places it in front of her on the table. You watch as she takes a sip and places it back down on the table.

“Mingyu and I have been going to couples therapy for the last few months. It was his idea. He admitted during a session that our family dynamic is making him have second thoughts, and he is afraid to have a family with me,” she tells you. “He doesn't like how mom hovers or how you and I don't talk. I promised him that I would sit down with you and try to talk this out. See if we can repair our relationship.”

“Here I am,” you say, and she nods her head.

“I’ve thought about what I wanted to say to you for weeks before I finally got the courage to reach out to you, but now I don't know anymore. Now that I'm here in front of you, it all sounds stupid.” she admits. Her fingernails lightly tap a steady rhythm on her coffee cup. “I even wrote everything down and rehearsed it, but it still just comes out all wrong.”

“Just say it,” you urge, and your fingers grip the napkin harder. The ware on it starts creating small tears in the thin brown material. You were both nervous.

“As much as I don't want to admit it. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and…” she whispers, staring at her coffee and stirring it with her spoon. “I think I was jealous of you.”

“What?” You ask, your voice full of disbelief and face full of confusion. Your sister is jealous of you? There was absolutely no way that you heard her correctly. “What do you mean?”

“She was always so overbearing with me. She had to control everything in my life. I had such high standards to live up to, and I had to work so hard to get there because I couldn't let her down. She told me all the time that I couldn't let her down. If I wasn’t the best, I was letting her down. I had to come first in everything. Etiquette classes, pageants, dance, student council, valedictorian ….” she trailed off, remembering everything that she had been a part of. “I had to be perfect but not you. She left you alone, and I HATED you for that. I hated that you didn't have to put in all that hard work that I did. I hated that you could make mistakes, and I couldn't.”

“You were jealous that I was ignored and yelled at?” you ask, scrunching your face at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Yes…no,” she looked frustrated as she looked up at you. “Remember when we would go camping at grandma and grandpa's cabin?”

“Yeah, the whole family went. You hated going,” you answer, wondering why this was important. “You looked miserable the whole time.”

“No, I didn't hate it. I was just never allowed to do anything. You got to go play with our cousins running around outside in the woods and I had to sit with mom because she didn't want me to get dirt under my nails or god forbid any scrapes that could be seen from a stage. You got to go to birthday parties and sleepovers. I couldn't because she always had to make sure that was sticking to my diet. I had to make sure I could fit in all my costumes at all times. She made every decision for me, but you…you got to do whatever you wanted,” she explains. “My whole life revolved around her and making her happy. All my decisions in life before I moved away were all made by her. I don't even think I know who I really am. I only know the person she crafted me to be.”

“I didn't know things were like that,” you told her softly.

“When I got to college, I almost had a panic attack because I didn't have her there with me telling me what to do. It was like I got so reliant on her, and I was scared,” she said with a sad smile. “Then I met Yoongi.”

You squirm in your seat at the mention of his name. Deep inside, you hoped that you could avoid any conversation about him. Unfortunately, you know he is a big point of contention right now, and he wasn't going to go away. He was going to be in your life forever, but there was no way you could possibly ever think about picking your sister over him if you were forced to choose.

“What about him?” you ask nervously, biting some loose skin on your dry lips.

“It was like….he was the first thing that was all mine,” she said thoughtfully.

“Thing? Do you hear yourself?” You ask, your jaw dropping a little. “Yoongi isn't a thing. He is a person.”

“I know that. You know what I mean,” she snaps a little bit but takes a breath and calms herself. “It was so great at first. We would go out on dates and hang out with friends in the dorms. It was almost like I finally had a normal life for once. A life that I made on my own, and mom had nothing to do with it. Then he started wanting to hang around you because he was always worried about you, and I didn't want to share his attention. I didn't know how to share his or anyones attention.”

“We were friends,” you tell her.

“Just friends? You know, he never got me anything for my birthday. He always said that he didn't like celebrating them,” she whispers as she slowly turns her engagement ring on her finger. It sparkled beautifully when it caught the sunlight at the right angle.“He always got you something though, didn't he?”

“I guess,” you can feel guilt swirl in your stomach because you can't deny her words.

“I tried to be perfect for him,” she says as a couple of stray tears fall down her face. “I did everything I thought I was supposed to do. I gave him all my attention. Had as much sex as he wanted, but it just wasn't enough. Why wasn't I perfect enough for him? Why couldn't I earn his love? I was good at earning people's love and attention.”

“You don't have to earn someone's love,” you explain. “That's not how that works, and you don't have to be perfect for anyone.”

“Will you be honest with me?” she asks softly, and you nod your head as you feel your nerves kick back in. “Were you ever with him when he and I were together?”

“No,” you say automatically. “I wouldn't have done that to you. We never crossed that line.”

“I could see the way he would look at you when he thought I wasn't around. He never looked at me that way. I….just could feel him slipping away from me, but I didn't want to let him go. I knew if I let him go…..he would run right to you,” she told you. “I was right.”

“I….” You start, but nothing else comes out. She was right, and once again, you couldn't deny it. He did run to you…eventually.

“How awful is that? I kept all three of us unhappy because I didn't want to fail at being someone's girlfriend,” she says, wiping her face. “I didn't know how to deal with failure because if I failed, that meant I wasn't perfect. It was never an option before.”

“He told me he felt guilty for how bad your relationship got,” you tell her, and she looks at you questioningly.

“Did he say anything else?” she asks, hiccuping slightly.

Yes, you thought to yourself. He called her suffocating, but there was no way that you could tell her that. She didn't deserve that, and you didn't want to hurt her. You had to choose your words wisely.

“He just said that you two were just…too different,” it wasn't a lie he did say that. “He said that it would have never worked out, and he should have broken it off sooner.”

The two of you fall into silence again. You take your water in your hands again and turn the glass around and around once again. You notice the ice has melted quickly. The condensation makes your hands wet this time, and you move to wipe them on your jeans. It leaves behind streaky handprints on the material of your jeans. Your sister takes a sip of her soy coffee and looks out the window as she sits her mug back on the table. She looks like she's trying to gather her thoughts. You give her the time she needs.

“I love Mingyu. I really love Mingyu,” she says, still looking out the window. “I honestly don't think that I ever TRULY loved Yoongi, not like I love Mingyu anyway. I was just so desperate. I'm just terrified that I will make the same mistakes…”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. “He loves you. He obviously wants to work on it if he wants to do therapy with you. He's fighting for you two, and you should work with him. You need to let Yoongi go. You're not a failure. You just….didn't know any better.”

“I'm sorry,” she said as her bottom lip quivered. “I'm so sorry. I see it now, I do. I know how awful I was. I'm working so hard to change for Mingyu….for myself.”

Tears well in your own eyes. You've never seen her like this. You have seen her cry, of course, throw a fit and have a tantrum, but this….this is new. This was raw, real, and it hurt you to watch her like this. You blink, and your own tears flow freely down your face.

“You don't have to accept my apology,” she says softly, wiping at her face again. “I probably wouldn't if I were you.”

“Can I say something?” You ask, your own voice shaky.

“Yes,” she says just as softly as before.

“I'm still hurt,” you tell her, and she looks down at her coffee. “I think a part of me will always be hurt no matter how many apologies I get or how much time passes. It's always going to linger somewhere.”

“I understand,” she says, nodding her head.

"But,” you continue, but your breath catches and you hiccup. “I want my big sister in my life.”

You start crying openly and sniffle as your nose starts to run. She looks at you with wide eyes and new tears form in her eyes. She blinks, and they fall down onto her perfectly unblemished face. This time, she doesn't wipe them away. They fall onto her pretty sweater, leaving wet spots as they soak into the material. You're sure if you look around, people would be staring at the two of you crying together in the corner. The two of you probably looked messy.

“Really?” she sobbed.

“Yeah. No Mom. No Yoongi or Mingyu,” you say. “Just you and me. I think we can figure it out if we don't rush it.”

You reach your hand across the table and place it in the center with your palm up. She stares at you for a moment before slowly reaching across and taking your hand in hers tentatively. You both smile a teary smile at each other. You don't even think that you can remember ever touching her like this…ever but it felt nice…almost normal.

“We will figure it out,” she promised, squeezing your hand. You nod your head…..you will.

Yoongi was walking around his studio with his earbuds in his ears when you finally arrived. You and your sister stayed sitting in the cafe for another hour, drying your tears together. You steered your conversation to her wedding. You wanted to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a happy topic. You learned she hired a wedding planner, and she thinks that's why your mom has been on your ass about helping you so much. Her wedding planner was lovely, but she was a no-nonsense woman who wasn't afraid to shut your mothers suggestions down or kick her out of a flower shop or two when she tried to take over. Everything makes sense now as to why she was so pushy. She told you not to give into her demands and even offered to give you her wedding planner's business card. You refused, saying you were already too far in now to stop. You hope you don't live to regret that decision.

Yoongi's head snapped up and looked at you when you entered the room. You could feel your bottom lip begin to tremble as you stood there and stared at him. He ripped his ear buds out and let them fall to the floor with a clattering sound as they bounced. Launching yourself at him, you wrapped your arms around him tightly.

“I fucking knew it,” he snapped. “Give me her number. I will deal with it once and for all.”

“No,” you cry out, gripping onto him tighter. “It's fine, it's fine. We…we're good. We are going to go to their wedding.”

“What?” he asks and pulls away from you as he looks at you like you grew another head. “Did I just hear you right? You and me….me… going to her wedding?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “I'm going to send her and Mingyu an invitation as well,” you say, and he sits down in his chair.

“What happened?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. He looks at the floor for a minute before looking back at you just as bewildered as before.

“Turns out…..she was hurt just as much as I was,” you tell him and he cocks his head to the side in contemplation. “We are going to take things slow and get to know each other….without anyone around.”

“Okay, I get it,” he says, raising his hands in surrender.

Yoongi sits back in his chair and crosses his ankle over his knee. He looks at his computer and then back to your exhausted and blotchy face. Turning his chair away from you. You watch as he shuts down his computer and presses a few buttons on his thingamajig behind it. You'll remember what it's called later.

“Let's go home,” he says, standing up and bringing you close to him.

“What about the album?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I'm close to finishing it,” he tells you, as he drops a quick kiss to your lips. “It will still be here tomorrow.”

“Home?” you ask softly.

“Home,” he confirms.

Yoongi takes your hand in his. It's the same one your sister held not too long ago. You smile brilliantly up at him. Home.

《Chapter Five》

A/N 3: Okay, so originally, it was not a happy ending for the sisters. MCs sister couldn't take responsibility for anything and even accused her of wanting Mingyu. The more I sat on it, the more I wasn't happy with it. This was the final outcome.

Tagged Readers:

@mggv97, @granataepfelchen, @kam9404, @svnbangtansworld, @futuristicenemychaos, @notarshia

[cameronspecial]

OMGGG, I woke up today and thought of smth. It's gonna take forever to make if you do make this, but..

Drew starkey and Y/N, they meet at a fancy restaurant like this GIF

And Y/N thinks he's cute and she's like there waiter or smth and Drew is out for dinner w the cast to celebrate season 4 starting and she's just like really smiley or smth, anywaysss. They get eachothers numbers and talk a bit later that night and she finds out he's a Actor and he played in OBX and what not so she starts watching it and they eventually get tg after more talking. IDK, I WANT IT TO BE LONG LOWKEY, OR CHAPTERS OF THEM MEETING AND TALKING, HE FINDS OUT SOME HOW THAT SHE STARTED WATCHING OBX OR A MOVIE HE PLAYED IN AND SHES ALL BLUSHING AND EMBARRASSED, IDK ITS SM TO ASK- PLSSSS PLSSSS PLSSSSSSSSS PLEASEEEEE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE😭🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

-Autumn

That's Him?!

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

Y/N has been texting Drew all day. She shouldn’t have slipped him her number last night, but he was too good of the match not to take the chance to get to know him better. The table he had sat at was big, filled with, who she assumed were, his co-workers. They were all polite and respectful, helping make her job easy by being patient and stacking their plates when they were done, yet he stood out to her even in the sea of faces. He was attractive, no doubt, and always caught her attention with the most charming smile. He would joke and try to make polite conversation as she served his table. So once the time for them to close their cheque came, she took the opportunity to write her number down on his receipt. It turns out, the feeling is mutual. 

I swear I didn’t know that Nair was a hair removal product. Logan didn’t believe me though. She giggles at his recounting of when he accidentally caused his brother to go bald, not noticing her sister’s arrival in the living room. 

The shift in the couch beside her causes Y/N to turn her sister. “Are you still texting that guy from last night?” Via inquires. Y/N bites her bottom lip to hide her smile, “Yeah. He’s really sweet.” “Well, hopefully, this turns into something more because you need to get laid. Anyways, I’m going to watch my show down here.” The older sister doesn’t say anything as her sibling picks up the remote and switches it to Netflix. 

Y/N continues her conversation with Drew, letting the show on the TV drown out in the background until a familiar voice sounds throughout the room. Her eyes flick up to the large screen and back down to her phone. She recognizes the buzz head and can’t believe his presence. She also doesn’t know why she never thought about asking him where he works. “That’s him?!” she yells, pointing at the screen. Via looks at her sister like she has grown two heads, “What are you talking about?”

“That’s Drew. That’s who I met yesterday and have been talking to.”

“Hold on, you are telling me that the Drew you have been talking to is Drew Starkey.”

“I guess.”

Via pauses the show and pulls out her phone. Her sister waits patiently as her sister types something in. The phone is turned in her direction and she looks at the various pictures of her new friend on the screen. “Yeah, that’s definitely him.”

———

After a few weeks of texting, Y/N and Drew finally set a date on their calendar. His hand rests on her lower back, leading her while the hostess shows them to their table. She sits across from him with a massive grin. His hand rests in the middle of the table and she reaches out to place her hand on his, almost knocking down her empty wine glass if it isn’t for his quick reflex. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I guess I’m still feeling a little Kooky.” Her eyes glance towards his face to see if he reacts to her teasing. His face remains stoic as he tries to figure out if she used the word for the reason he thinks she did. She recognizes his attempt and pushes it even more by going over the menu. 

“I wonder if they have any fish. I’m in the mood for menhaden or as it is otherwise known as pogue.” 

Certain that the jig is now up, he sets his menu down to give her his full attention. “So you know?” he confirms. She nods, “Yes, I found out a few weeks ago when my sister was watching the show in the living room. How come you didn’t tell me?” He sighs, playing with the hoop in his ear. “I didn’t want you to treat me differently. Or for you to be scared of entering a relationship with me because I travel a lot for work and sometimes get followed by a crowd of fans.”

 She gives his hand a soft squeeze. “I understand why you would fear those things, but I promise you don’t have anything to worry about. You are still plain old Drew to me and I have a thick skin from being a waitress, I think I can handle a few teenage girls.” 

He gives her a thankful smile and holds his hand up to her, “Why don’t we start over? I’m Drew Starkey. I act for a living and I think you are the most beautiful girl I have seen. I would love it if you would go on a date with me. She giggles and takes his hand. “Nice to meet you, Drew. I’m Y/N. I wait tables and I would love to go on a date with you.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[ggensblog]

we're just making it worse | r.j.l.

back to series masterlist | back to main masterlist

part one: the invitation

contains: remus lupin x fem!reader, modern! no magic! au, swearing, angst, jealousy, let me know if i missed anything !

word count: 1.8k

100 days before the wedding..

“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t take this one day off- this was important to me, Remus!” you’re fuming, pacing in your kitchen, trying to find something to do with your hands. You opt to put some of the drying dishes away, almost grounding yourself.

“My work is important to me- I thought you of all people would understand that!” Remus is standing in the doorway, watching you, trying to get your attention. “You’re always going, going, going, you never stop for a second and realize that the world doesn’t revolve around you!” This stops you. You turn around, a whole new fire burning in your chest.

“I am not the one that completely blew off my girlfriend’s event to sit in a fucking office for a couple more hours-”

“No but you are the one that missed our anniversary last month.”

You huff and turn back around, continuing to put the dishes away. Why were there so many of them?

“There you go again! Just keep going, maybe you’ll avoid this conversation like you do the other ones.”

“This is hardly a conversation, Remus.” you mutter, putting the last cup in the cabinet before turning and leaning against the sink. Your arms crossed against your chest. “You said you would be there.” Your throat was tight, and you swallowed in an attempt to choke down any emotions that would send you into a spiral.

“And I said I'm sorry. I would have been there if I could but-”

“They needed you. I got that. But I needed you too, Remus.”

There is a moment of complete silence in the room, and you’re thankful that Pandora had chosen to stay at Xenophilius’s place that night.

“You know what, you’re right. We’re too busy for this.”

“For what-”

“For this relationship, Rem. I see my coworkers more than I see you and I know for a fact it’s the same for you.” You look down to your feet for a moment then back up to meet Remus’s eyes. His jaw was set, not quite clenched, but tense with the air of the room.

“What are you saying- that we should call it quits?”

As soon as those words left his mouth you wanted to cry. To crumble and apologize for everything. To take it all back. But instead, you shrugged. “Maybe it’s what we need. It isn’t healthy to keep putting ourselves through this- this hell.” Your arms drop to your sides and your gaze shifts to the clock on the oven.

“If that’s what you want.” You look back to Remus when you hear him move out of the kitchen. You watch him take his coat and phone and put on his shoes. You want to scream as you watch him walk out the door, shutting it with a slight force as he leaves.

As soon as you’re left in the dim light of the kitchen by yourself, you slide down to the floor and bury your head in your hands as the first tears fall.

Your phone begins to ring on the counter, you stand and see Pandora’s name light up the screen.

“Hello?” you sniff.

“Are you okay?” She asks on the other line, concern dripping from her tone.

“How did you-”

“I had a feeling. What happened?”

You took a deep breath, but it didn’t do much as you choked on your sobs, muttering words you didn’t think you would.

“We broke up.”

✩°｡⋆˚⁺

38 days before the wedding..

You stared down at the piece of cardstock in your hands. You had just gotten home from a particularly long shift and found an envelope with a note from Pandora that just said ‘be home late tonight, xx’. You opened the ornate envelope and pulled at the piece of cardstock and a few other pieces of paper.

Save the Date! Lily and James are Getting Married!

The back of the cardstock had the date and location details. The second piece of paper held further details about the dress code and reception. The last piece of paper was the RSVP card. A few tick boxes sat with various prompts such as whether you’d be attending, what you wanted for the rehearsal dinner and reception dinner, and if you were bringing a date.

The More the Merrier! We encourage you to bring your plus one to help us celebrate this special day!

You sighed, and stuffed the pages into the envelope once more. You were overjoyed that Lily and James had finally decided on a date and you were honored to have been invited, but the thought of bringing someone to the wedding that wasn’t Remus made your stomach churn.

The More the Merrier!

You took the envelope into your room and sat it down on your desk before throwing yourself into bed.

✩°｡⋆˚⁺

37 days until the wedding..

“There she is!”

Your friends smiled as you sat down at the table. The restaurant bustling around you as you settled into your monthly lunch, a long-standing tradition since you graduated university to keep in touch.

“Sorry I’m late- Greg wouldn’t leave me alone.” You mentally cursed your chatty co-worker who happened to catch you as you were packing up for the day. Dorcas waved your excuse off, passing you a carafe of water. You happily poured yourself a glass.

“So what’s new?” you looked up to the rest of the group. Dorcas, Regulus, Pandora, Evan, and Barty sat around you and you felt the weight of the day slip from your shoulders. Dorcas leaned over to reach for something in her bag, then revealed a familiar envelope.

“Are we going to talk about this? I can’t believe those two finally decided on the details. You lot are all going- right?” Pandora scoffed lightheartedly.

“Of course! Lily asked me to be a bridesmaid 2 weeks ago- it has been torture keeping it secret!” She exclaimed, leaning her head on your shoulder. You laughed, picking at one of the plates of appetizers on the table.

Barty flew into conversation with Dorcas about how he was surprised he and Evan were invited but excited nonetheless, Regulus mentioned something about Sirius being the best man and needing to go because it might be the only time he sees his brother in a formal suit. You laughed along as the conversation came easy. 

“Are you going to bring a date?” Pandora asked the general group- though everyone already knew that Barty and Evan would inevitably go together and Dorcas would be there with Marlene. Pandora was without a doubt going with her long-term partner, and that left you and Regulus to try and deflect the topic onto the other.

Unfortunately Regulus’s wit was too quick for you.

“Sirius said something about Remus having a date.” Eyes turned to you. In that moment your seat at the table no longer felt like an inviting rest and more of an interrogation.

“Really! That bloke managed to convince someone to spend an entire evening with him?” Barty blurted, trying to ease the tension. Evan shoved his elbow at him.

“Good for him,” You tried to hide behind your glass as you gulped down the rest of your water. You wished you could have stopped yourself from what you said next.

“I actually have someone I’m thinking of asking as well.” This managed to raise the brows of even Regulus.

“Really? You’ve been seeing someone and you haven’t told us?” Dorcas’s face twisted into one of betrayal. You wanted to kick yourself, your competitive jealousy taking over your common sense.

“Uhm- not really, just someone I’m thinking about asking. Since plus-ones are encouraged and all.” This was painfully awkward. You needed an out. Thankfully your borderline-psychic roommate caught on to your agony, perking up.

"Speaking of- oh my gosh did you hear that Alice and Frank are pregnant?" You made a mental note to thank Pandora later at home, because the group- the gossip fiends they are- immediately turned to Pandora and throwing questions at her.

You, however, looked down to your phone and mindlessly checked the time, letting your thoughts wander.

Was Remus really bringing someone? Sure it had been two months already, but did he really move on that quickly? Who was he bringing? Were they someone you knew? What if they-

Pandora lightly kicked your leg under the table, sparing a sympathetic glance your way before diving back into her latest piece of gossip.

You were quiet for the rest of the lunch, chiming in here and there about what was new and old in your life the past month. Once you all wrapped up, you were quick to grab Pandora and head out the door and towards home.

You thought you were in the clear from any further poking and prodding at your shoddy story. You should have known better because the moment the door closed behind you, before your shoes were even off, Pandora was opening her mouth.

“So who is this mystery person you’re ‘thinking of asking’ to the wedding?” the air-quotations were sign enough that she was calling your bluff. You sighed, throwing your keys into the bowl by the door and walking over to collapse on the couch.

“There isn’t anyone- I just didn’t want to look like I was still hung up on- him, when he’s clearly moved on.” Pandora joined you on the couch, criss-crossing her legs and facing you. She placed a hand on your knee, her eyes wide and full of wisdom you wish you could tap into.

“There isn’t anything wrong with going to the wedding alone. I don’t think anyone would judge you. But if you did want to bring someone, you have plenty of time to find them. Anyone would be lucky to go with you.” She offered a soft smile that you returned. You nodded, taking a deep breath and finally relaxing for the first time since you sat down at lunch.

“I know- it just feels like he’s 10 steps forward and I’m losing or something.” You shrugged. Pandora shook her head, “It isn’t a competition, but leave it to you two to make it into one.” She patted your knee once then stood from the couch and moved towards the kitchen.

You sat there thinking, of course it wasn’t a competition, but if it was you were behind. You couldn’t turn up to the wedding empty-armed while Remus lived in bliss with whoever he was bringing.

“Hey- did you hear me?” You blinked, then turned, “I asked if you wanted some tea.” Pandora repeated, her brows drawn together in concern. You nodded wordlessly then looked down to your phone, a new-found determination filling you.

You could totally find a date to the wedding. Like Pandora said, you have plenty of time and plenty of options. It was just a matter of ‘who’.

a/n: here we go! part one of this fic! i hope you all enjoy, and i would love to hear your thoughts! see you in the next part !

[southsideserendipity]

I saw your post about Mikey so I hope this is okay & what you were looking for. Mikey meets a girl that is like sunshine whenever she walks in the room & makes him finally feel worthy/valued so he’ll do anything to make her feel special in return

Sunshine (Mikey Berzatto x Reader)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of weed and alcohol.

Word Count: 4.2k

I found a good boy and he's on my side You're just my eternal sunshine, sunshine

“John, John- you listenin’ to me?!” Mikey was pacing his office, trampling over receipts and month-old sticky notes while aggressively combing his hands through his tussled black hair. “I’ll have your money. When have I not paid you, goombah? I didn’t see the invoice, you should see this fuckin’ office, not enough time to organize this damn shit show” he responded, kicking a stack of papers in the process. 

Bending down, he began rummaging through the various papers littering the office floor, attempting to compile them into categories. “John! You there?! Fuck.” Mikey frantically pat himself down, a sudden yearn for nicotine overcoming him. Finding his carton of Marlboros, he slipped the end of a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Letting out a sigh, John grunted, “Yeah, I’m here, Mikey. I’ll give you a couple more d-” before being interrupted by the vibrations of Mikey’s phone. 

“Fuck me, that jagoff is calling” Mikey thought out loud. “Listen, John, I hear you, you’ll have your money, mmkay? On my ma, I swear to ya, I gotta go though there’s another ball-buster on the other line. K? Ciao.” Before John could respond, Mikey stood up to accept the other call.

“Mark, brother, hey, before you start… I know, I know.” He picked up his phone, taking it off speaker to slip it under his ear. “I— Listen, I know. I hear you. I- Hey, you gon’ let me speak, or wha’?!” Speaking with his hands he continued to pace around the room, his booming voice stifled by the cigarette. 

The lunch rush at The Beef was dying down, exposing you to increasingly longer bits of the chaotic conversation occurring in the office. This was Mikey’s typical presentation; disheveled, malnourished, and overexaggerately buzzed off of caffeine, nicotine, and italian-ness. Although he was impossible to reason with in this state, you took it upon yourself to fix him up his favourite; a mortadella sandwich with sundried tomatoes, pesto, and mozzarella.

“You think I don’t know that? Pft, c’mon! Mark, man, you’re killin’ me!” You stood in the doorway, observing Mikey as he stood with one hand on his hip, the other flailing around to exemplify his frustrations. In one of your hands was the plate holding the lunch you made; in the other was a Chicago Bears BIC lighter.

Subtly knocking on the already open office door, Mikey whipped around to face you, his inconvenienced facial expression seamlessly evaporating into his wide-tooth grin. Mouthing ‘meet me outside’ was all it took for him to fake an excuse off of the phone and trail in your footsteps.

Albeit cheesy, you had that captivating effect on him, your hidden-well insecurities and past failed relationships blinding you to the fact that Mikey was infatuated with you. That, in combination with the 15-year age gap between you two. For Mikey, none of those factors changed the fact that you were his daylight, sunshine in human form.

Outside in the back you sat on a milk crate, the pre-Spring Chicagoan air fluttering over your skin. Moments after, Mikey joined you by sitting on an adjacent crate close to you after propping open the door. “Thanks, Bella” he said as he leaned over, his palm squeezing your thigh in an attempt to physically communicate the appreciation he held for your act of service. 

You offered out the plate to him, prompting him to begin devouring. He gruffly moaned after taking his first bite. “Mhhhh, shit, this is like Marry Me chicken but in sandwich form.” You giggled in response with your hands resting in your lap, watching as he attacked it hungrily. Mid-bite, he motioned with his head towards the other sandwich on the plate, “Ain’t gonna eat itself, Italiana.”

“I’m not hungry right now, Mike,” you responded, suddenly losing your appetite as you thought of the most effective way to check in on him without him brushing it off. Mikey had a fortified ‘I’ll deal with it maself’ attitude; his hard-headed, traditional Italian, ‘Godfather’ persona caused him to keep you far away from the messes he had gotten himself into. In his eyes, you are more than capable of dealing with life’s bullshit, but his innate urge to protect you from harm’s way and unnecessary stress made it difficult to involve you.

“What was going on in there?” you motioned towards inside with your head. “Ah, nothin’ doll.” He shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to brush off the topic, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Just some bills that need payin’, I got it covered. Business good today? Any jagoffs give you trouble?” He frantically read your face, urgently hoping you’d buy his not-so-discreet attempt at changing the topic.

“C’mon, Mike. Cut the shit. You’re suffocating in that office.” The only person whose bluntness Mikey could listen to happened to also be the only person he’d accept ‘Mike’ from. He took the cigarette that had been hanging from his lips in his office out of his shirt pocket and proceeded to light it. Taking the first drag of it, he flicked it, holding it out to you.

Pursing his lips to blow out his puff, he responded confidently. “I got it all figured out, sunshine. Plus, I got cousin helpin’ me with the books and shit. Just gotta pay back those muthafuckas who keep callin’ me. They’re all, ‘where’s my money!?’” he playfully rolled his eyes, making hand gestures and displaying a funny face as he imitated the callers. You both knew damn well they had every right to be calling him. 

“You telling me that Richie is on the books is supposed to bring me a sense of comfort?” Asking him that question with pure seriousness and handing him back the cigarette, Mikey stifled a laugh. “Hey, him and the IRS are like this” he crossed his middle finger over his index while winking and making a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Cousin, where the fuck are the receipt rolls, the office looks like an abandoned and pissed-in office depot” Richie’s exclaiming became increasingly louder the closer he got. “Feels like we change the damn paper in that thing ever- oh shit, pardon my interruption to your rendezvous. Were you guys about to fuck? I can leave” Richie pointed with his thumb towards the kitchen as he sported a fake-worried and devious expression, slowly inching backwards.

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “No one’s fucking anyone, Rich.” Mikey looked to the ground as he faked a chuckle, ignoring the slight pang of hurt in his chest.

“You want a mortadella sandwhich?” You held out the plate to Richie, knowing he couldn’t resist. “Uh, DUH,” Richie grabbed an additional crate to join the two of you, immediately beginning to eat.

“Oh fuck, are you fucking serious right now?! Mikey, if you don’t marry this girl I’ll do it for you. ‘S like a mouf orgathm” Richie had just begun eating yet he already had food on the corners of his mouth. You chuckled, choosing to ignore the marriage comment. “Here, you child. You’re such a slob” you threw him a napkin you had stored in your apron. 

“Hey, the real slob is right over there” he pointed directly at Mikey, not even bothering to wipe his mouth but proceeding to take a another massive bite. “Something’s gotta be done about that cesspool of an office,” Richie shook his head disapprovingly, despite also functioning well in chaotic enrivonments. Mikey took yet another drag, the stress of you and Richie’s indirect demand to get his shit together getting to him. “It’s organized chaos, I know where everything is, s’all that matters.” 

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

This was the third night in a row that you had difficulty falling asleep. You had tried everything in your arsenal of melatonin-producing activities, and yet, your brain was spiraling, most of your thoughts pertaining to Mikey.

You weren’t going to kid yourself. You needed something and you knew exactly who to get it from. Picking up your phone, you made the call.

“Rich?? You awake?” You rolled over to your side, holding yourself up by your elbow and propping your head up with the palm of your hand. “Yeah I’m awake, but why the fuck are you awake, missus?” “I need a favour…” 

Richie’s dirty mind figured any call from a woman at this hour was for sex, but he also knew about Mikey’s schoolboy yearn for you and wouldn’t dare make any advancements. The silence on his end was telling. “Not that type of favour, God, Rich! Stop being a man for a second. I need weed.” You huffed out, a whiny tone of desperation heavy in your voice. 

“Now that I can help you with” he chuckled.

“YES thank you, Rich, oh my god” You sprung up out of bad as if there were hot rocks in it. “I will meet you at The Beef, okay?!” And that was where he met you.

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

You and Richie sat at the back of The Beef, exactly where you had had lunch earlier that day. “You want to do the honours, stoner?” Richie held out the joint and lighter for you. You faked an annoying look and exaggerately took them from him. “I’m not a stoner, Rich. I just have an undiagnosed sleeping problem.” You put the joint between your lips and lit it, taking an ungodly large pull from it. 

“Woahhhhh cheech and chong, relax” Richie practically yanked the joint from you. You immediately began coughing as you hadn’t smoked in a while. “What or who the fuck are you trying to forget, Italiana?” Richie’s joking tone didn’t conceal his concern as he took a puff himself. You looked at him, tilting your head to the side to signify confusion.

Richie took another pull before returning the joint to you. “If you’re calling me at 12am to smoke because you couldn’t sleep, it tells me your big brain was overthinking.” You took a moderate inhale this time, the buzz beginning to radiate out to your extremities. “What were you thinking about, Richie? Something tells me you were awake for similar reasons.”

“I’m not sayin’ anything ‘til you do” he responded whilst shrugging. 

Making a sour face, you attempted to restore the saliva in your mouth. “I have cotton mouth like a bitch, I’m going to get something to drink. You want anything?” you asked, heading inside before he could interrogate you further. “Get me a brio!” You chuckled to yourself, shouting back “You know you’re not Italian, right?!”

You walked over to the walk-in fridge, grabbing Richie’s Brio and a Fresca for yourself. On the way back out, Mikey’s office door caught your attention, and you suddenly had an idea. “Rich. Oh my god. I know exactly what we can do.” 

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

“I… I think we just made things worse.” Looking up at Richie in horror, he mirrored your reaction. “Yeah, we fucked up cousin. We’re in some deep shit.” 

You and Richie were both sat on the office floor, waist deep in the paper equivalent of a small forest. You took a swig from your Fresca, attempting to decipher where to start. “We can do this. For Mikey. He deserves this, and fuck, let’s face it, he was never gonna do it himself!” You attempted to motivate Richie, knowing his child-like attention span and patience were on their last legs. 

Picking up various pieces of paper, you attempted to make sense of them. “Okay… I’ll make one pile for receipts, and I’ll sort them by date, and then-” You felt Richie’s eyes burning a hole into you, causing you to look at him and flail your hands around. “What?!” Impatiently waiting for his response, you began gnawing on the inside of your cheek, nervous that he was onto you. 

“You like him.” Richie slowly grinned from ear to ear as he stated it matter o’factly. “You like like him.” You flung your head back and groaned. “‘Like like?’ C’mon, Rich, what are you, 12? Shut the fuck up and help me.” The blood rushed into your cheeks almost immediately at his accusation, the THC physiologically betraying you and making it impossible to put on a front. “You like him. Oh my god. I fuckin’ knew it,” he giggled. 

“I don’t know whether it’s the weed or the fact that it’s 3am and I’m reaching the point of delirium, but since I’m not a pre-teen, I’ll admit that you’re not wrong. But it’s never going to happen. He’s mentally ill with a fucked up family and so am I- that doesn’t tend to be the ideal romantic combination. Now, lets finish this so we can still go home and get some rest before shift starts.” You looked at Richie with a stern look; he was shocked at your mini rampage, and internally, you were petrified about the fact that you had just spilt your guts to Mikey’s bestfriend.

“And don’t get any ideas, because this conversation does NOT repeat itself, you hear me, Jerimovich!” When you addressed someone in the kitchen by their last name, they knew you meant business. “Uh-huh, yup, yes ma’am.” Richie gulped, considering you just displayed more emotions in the last 5-minutes than you had for the entire length of time he has known you. It didn’t help that he was beyond stoned and couldn’t quite comprehend the nature of what you had told him. 

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

“Cousin! What the fuck is this? Why can I see the floor?” Mikey was standing at the doorway of his office in utter disbelief that morning. Richie jogged over peaking his head into the office. “It was Italiana’s doing, she just told me what to do. We were preeeetty fried” he chuckled to himself, recalling last night’s events. “Surprisingly, we didn’t throw anything out. She’s got a real knack for organizing, should’ve let her do this months ago. The IRS and I aren’t going to have anymore beef, see what I did.” 

Richie couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. His nervous rambling was an attempt to not tell Mikey about your confession. Knowing how much Mikey admired you, it was killing him to not be able to tell his own bestfriend that the girl of his dreams reciprocated his feelings. Mikey slowly turned to look at Richie, hands still on his hips. “What the fuck did you smoke, crack? Why are you acting all fucked?”

You had walked into the kitchen at perfect timing before Richie blabbed your secret. Going to hang your purse up, Mikey called you over; he didn’t even need to see you to feel your presence. “Italiana, come ‘ere!” You sped walk over and stood in the entrance, your hands folded in front of you with a nervousness. A part of you was worried that messing with Mikey’s ‘organized chaos’ was going to disorient him, but you wanted to lessen the stress he was experiencing. That was what you did for the people you loved; especially the man you loved. 

“You did this?” He looked directly at you; despite being an expert in Mikey’s nuances, you couldn’t tell whether he was pissed or overjoyed. “Uh, yeah! It’s all pretty self-explanatory but I can go through it with you if you want? I just thought it’d make your life a lil easier. And Richie’s! Of course.” You rubbed your arm with your hand as a means of self-soothing.

“This is great, Bella. Truly. I can’t believe you went through all this trouble, I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen it look like this ever” he motioned towards the filing cabinet and the paper baskets you had labelled appropriately, using his other hand to comb through his hair in shock. “I couldnt of done it without Richie. And Richie’s weed! It was nothing, Mike” you smiled at him and showed yourself out as nonchalantly as possible. 

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You were waiting the last tables of the day - mainly consisting of left behind beer bottles and plastic sandwich baskets - when Mikey came up behind you putting one hand on your waist. “Meet me in the office when you’re done here, yeah?” As he whispered into your ear, you had to keep your knees from buckling. “Yeah, Mike! Okay!” Fucking Richie.

You attempted to stall for the inevitably painful conversation that awaited you, slowly walking towards the kitchen. While washing your hands, your brain began to spiral. Wiping your hands on your apron, you attempted to bravely walk towards the office, standing in the doorway. 

“What’s up?” You halted in your tracks almost immediately as you noticed the charcuterie board Mikey was standing in front of and the bottle of red wine in his hands. “Fuck me. Okay, listen.” You walked closer to him. “Before you say anything, I don’t know what Richie said to you, but as someone who doesn’t know the difference between your and you’re, he has no idea what he’s talking about. You didn’t have to do any of this.” 

Mikey looked at you like a deer in headlights. “What the fuck are you talking about,” he chuckled. There was that dimpled smile. And now you were confused (and distracted) before you realized Richie didn’t say anything.

“I wanted to thank you for organizing the office…” Mikey explained, twisting the bottle of wine open and pouring you a glass. “I know how much you like your charcuterie. If Starbucks ever stops selling those little boards I’ll wonder what you’re gonna eat.” He earned a laugh from you for joking about your mild salami addiction.

You sported the fakest wide tooth grin you could muster. “Hey, I’m Italian. I can’t help it. I think I’m keeping them in business though” you joked in response. He held out the glass for you and winked. “Thanks, Mike” you smiled, hoping he couldn’t pick up on your nervousness. 

“Okay, let me show you what we’ve got here.” He clapped his hands together, excited to introduce you to his concoction of Italian meets and cheeses. Hunched over his desk with both of his hands planted on the surface to support him, he pointed at each meat and cheese as he went through the board’s contents. 

“We’ve got cacciatore, prosciutto, mortadella, then I added parmesan - I know how much you like it - along with romano and gorgonzola. I was thinking we can add it to the menu. We’re no hipster yuppies but throw some olives and overpriced crackers on here and I mean, we’re talkin’ business, baby.” Looking up at you, he attempted to read your face for your thoughts.

Mikey was passionate. That was his entire nature. And when he presented you with ideas, he seemed to put your approval and opinion on a pedestal. You had helped significantly with business at The Beef, assisting in bringing Mikey’s visions to fruition while also providing your input where necessary; he valued your insight more than you realized. 

Taking a baguette slice, you added cacciatore and parmesan onto it and bit in. “Fuck, Mike.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you let out a near moan. “We gotta add this. It could even be part of a date night special. The charcuterie as an antipasto, a soup or salad, a main, and then dessert” you presented.

Mike glanced up at you with a smirk, content with your proposal. “Have I ever told you that I love your brain, Italiana?” You giggled as you continued to devour the board, attempting to ignore his blatantly obvious attempt at flirting as you couldn’t believe he could possibly be interested in you. 

The rest of the evening was spent brainstorming business ideas, reminiscing on memories shared between you, Mikey, and Richie, and consuming copious amounts of wine. 

“Oh my god, Mike. You remember when Richie tried picking up that blonde girl at the bar with a magic trick, and you- y- oh my god.” You flung your head back as you cackled; you were wine drunk and snortling to the point of incoherence. You were sat across from Mikey who was planted behind his desk, his ankle resting on top of his other knee. His forearms rested on the arms of his chair, and he loosely held a glass of whiskey as he watched you with amusement and a sly grin of admiration. 

“You had to go over there and save him from the embarrassment. Poor thing.” You chuckled. “I’m pretty sure the chick he was tryna bag had started flirting with me,” Mikey said, taking a sip of his whiskey and raising his eyebrows as he attempted to recall the events of that evening. 

You looked intently at him, not breaking eye contact. “Can you blame her?” The wine encouraged a new-found confidence to emerge from within you. There was no way you would’ve been this direct with Mikey while sober. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mikey leaned forward to put his glass on his desk then returned to his laid back position. With a dumbfounded look on your faced, you laughed then displayed a look of annoyance. “Don’t play stupid. Look at yourself, Mike.” You stood up, put the wine glass down, and rested both of your hands on his desk, leaning forward until you were mere inches away from his face.

Looking into his right eye, glancing down at his lips, and looking back up to his left eye, he began to shift in his seat. It was evident that you were both under a hazy and horny alcohol-induced influence, the sexual tension very obviously suffocating the room. “Now take me home before I say or do something I’ll regret.”

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As Mikey walked you back to your apartment, you held onto the side of his frame with all your might. He guided you through the streets of Chicago with ease; he was nowhere near the level of drunk that you had achieved. “You okay, darlin’?” He looked down, a slight smile on his face as he recognized your drunken effort to walk in a straight line. “Yeah, Mike. Thanks for tonight. No one’s ever gone through such an effort to appreciate me.”

You peered up at him with a smile; you wanted to put into perspective how much his actions meant to you, however, Mikey felt an even stronger urge to spoil you moving forward. Quite frankly, he was bewildered that his small gesture that evening exceeded all that you’ve known. 

Arriving to the door of your apartment, you began rummaging through your purse for your keys. Finding them, you held your arm out straight and dangled them in front of Mikey. “You’re gonna need to unlock the door, mister. I do not currently possess the fine motor skills” you joked, earning a laugh from him.

You caught the glimmer in his eyes. Mikey felt like your fierce protector. You both knew you didn’t need protecting- while this was a part of you he admired, his masculinity often fought for dominance; for the chance to show you how well he could look after you and how much you deserved it. 

He opened the door, propping it open for you as you stumbled through, immediately attempting to take off your shoes. You hadn’t thought this out thoroughly as you ended up toppling over, Mikey catching you in the process. “Easy, doll. Here, sit down,” he motioned toward the ottoman in the foyer of your apartment, guiding you as you lowered yourself. 

He crouched down at your feet and placed the heel of your foot on his thigh, proceeding to untie your shoes. Grasping your ankle one at a time, he wiggled your feet out. You looked down at him, admiring his gentle touch, the concentration present in his furrowed brow; you loved to watch him, whatever he was doing, and you’ve known for a long time that you’ve loved him.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Holding out both of his hands for you, you stood up, letting him walk you through to your bedroom. You had a case of the over-tired drunken giggles, prompting you to laugh as you slurred your intentions to take off your make-up.

Mikey picked out some pjs for you, then proceeded to pour you a cold glass of water while you got changed. Opening the door to your bedroom, you motioned for him to come inside. “Sleep next to me?” You proposed with a curious tone despite knowing he’d decline as he (annoyingly) insisted on being a respectful gentleman at all times. “S’all good doll, I’ll be good on the couch” he motioned to the living room with his head. “Lemme tuck you in.” 

As you got under the covers, Mikey offered you the glass of water to which you happily obliged. Handing it back to him, he placed it on your bedside table as you snuggled yourself into the sheets. He turned off the lamp, the room engulfing with darkness save for the midnight blue hue that the window cast in. 

Mikey began to walk out of your room when you called out to him. “Hey Mike, c’mere” you turned over, watching him as he slowly approached. Motioning for him to come closer, you whispered into his ear. “I like like you.” 

Knocking out after the words escaped your lips, as if they were made of melatonin, Mikey smiled to himself as he looked down at you. “And I love you, sunshine.”

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EEEEEEEEK my very first Mikey imagine! Which means I am still learning to integrate his personality into my writing- it’s hard when he has extremely minimal screentime. ALSO I am writing this in whatever year Mikey was operating The Beef, so Carmy, Syd, and the others aren’t there, and Richie and Tiff are still together. I am completely open to feedback and would also love to get more requests for Mikey. Let me know what y’all think!!! :)

[hellish-sunsets]

You're an Asshole - Pt 1 - How it Started

AN: should I focus on my requests or ongoing pics? Yes. Am a writing an Adam x fem!angel!reader where he becomes better out of pure spite? Obviously. Anyways enjoy!

Warnings: lots of swearing

Wordcount: 1,089

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

“You're an asshole.”

It was a phrase Adam had heard uttered time and time again with anger imbued in every syllable. Over the thousands of years that passed, not once did that phrase ever bother him. Because he was right, wasn't he? He was Adam, the first man, made to be perfect by the angel's hands themselves. Everyone else could think what they want, it changed nothing about who he was. Even if that knowledge led to the same pride that felled Lucifer, even if this line of thought brought him to the very same sins he condoned the sinners in hell for.

But she called him an asshole, and despite all his ego, or maybe because of it, it hurt. There was no anger behind the words, no hurt. Perhaps there was the faintest trace of sadness, but more than that it was a cold fact. The clouds were white, the sky sat above and the ground below, and Adam the first man was an asshole. 

And for some reason he couldn't comprehend, it ate at him. At first he was angry. He cursed her out, spouted whatever vile and venomous words he could think of. How dare she think so little of him? HIM? He was ADAM, dammit! How dare she? Even after the two separated, he ranted and raved for days until even Lute was getting tired of his bitching, not to mention the others who had the displeasure of being around him at this time.

But then he got quiet, and that was even more terrifying. Adam and quiet did not mean anything good. 

He stayed in his office longer and longer, thinking. Why did it bother him so much? Why was he still thinking about it? That woman, why did her opinion matter so much to him?

He went over the facts to himself, trying to break down what bothered him so much. She was an angel, made in heaven for heaven, part of the heavenly choir. He had never met her before that day, had only heard her voice occasionally. He… supposed he liked her singing, even if the songs were a bit more pansy than his usual rock and roll. Some were pretty hard core, he guessed, just in a different, less angry way. He heard in some passing whispers that she went to various concerts often, but he had never seen her at one of his. 

When he had seen her at his concert that day, he had been… excited? Like her presence was some sort of validation. Not that he needed any fucking shitty validation, especially some pompous stuck up bitch of an angel. Still, he thought it would be fun to talk to her. He can’t even remember what they had talked about, he probably flirted cause hey, a bitch is a bitch. He could hit that. 

But then she called him an asshole, those big eyes staring into his like she was reaching into his very soul, seeing every part of his being and evaluating him as less than good. 

Then he called a meeting with hell, giving a rather… mediocre reason, something he clearly made up and no one remembered. Only two attended the meeting and neither was about to discuss what transpired there. Well, Adam wasn’t about to tell anyone in heaven. Even Lute wasn’t permitted to come with. And Lucifer was too much of a recluse to tell much of anybody.

For his part, Lucifer played along the best he could. He despised when heaven called him to meetings, the feeling paired with anxiety when Adam was there. He went because he had to, but the anxiety was eating him up inside. 

His footsteps on the tile floor echoed through the embassy like gunshots, making him cringe. 

At first, he thought the meeting room would be empty. It was too quiet, and Adam was always too loud, his voice carrying throughout the building, but when he got there he didn’t hear Adam at all. And yet, when he opened the meeting room door, Adam was in fact there. He furrowed his brow at the sight of the man sitting quietly, reading a paper he had in front of him, pen idly tapping against the table. Lucifer frowned and took his seat, the scrape of the chair legs against the tile reverberating through the room. 

A few moments passed before Adam put his paper down, pen clasped between two fingers, and leaned back in his chair. 

“So… this should be a fun meeting for you.” He said, tone… very, very carefully even. It sent an eerie chill down his spine, his scowl deep. This was very unlike Adam, and it concerned him. It felt like something terrible was about to happen and he just didn’t know it yet.

“Right, and that would be because…”

“I am sitting my ass here in front of you, asking you to shit talk me.” Adam said, and Lucifer's mind stuttered for a moment, staring blankly at the first man as he scribbled something else on his paper and looked back up with that stupid mask of his. “Just, like, be fucking honest about it. I asked Lute first, she was a real bitch about it. Figured you’d also be a little bitch about it.”

There was a heavy pause. Lucifer stared at him, just as confused as before. Adam's mask glitches slightly before settling on irritation.

“...but why?”

Adam gave an exaggerated sigh, voice condescending like it had to be obvious and Lucifer was the stupid one for not getting it.

“Because! That fucking bitch! She called me an asshole. Me! And I was told she was chill to hang with. Fucking bullshit! Now I've got a point to prove! I can be fucking nice. I can be downright delightful! I'll fucking show her! So, dipshit, tell me what makes me an asshole.”

“There it is.” Lucifer said with an exhausted sigh, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He though a moment, a twisted sort of smile slowly spreading over his face. “How much time do we have?”

When Adam returned from his meeting, he was in an absolutely foul mood. His anger radiated off of him and affected everyone he passed like a fog of irritation. But he had his stupid fucking list, crumbled in his fist, ink smudged but still readable.

He would show that fucking stuck up bitch! He would be the most fucking delightful bastard in all of fucking creation, or fucking die trying!

[marleyybluu]

Oh sista you ate baaaaad with Don Julio even tho we all know none of us needed liquor help when it comes to that man, I am wide open sober papacito ya tú sabes 🥵🤤

Don Julio 2

Best friends brother!Rio x f!black!OC (Honey)

Word count: 3.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut under your fingernails, p in v, creampie (bcus I have a serious problem atp), two dummies who think no one notices they’re into each other, a bit of flirting, oral (f receiving), we are in missionary today, Rio wears rings 🙃 :)

Lmk if I’m missing any idk I probably am

A/N: surprise, the Rio girlies get fed even though I don’t like this, some parts suck in my opinion but I hate everything I write so what’s new. Not proofread sorry

Suddenly she was so... aware of him, of every molecule and particle that created his form.  Now, she notices his hands and the copious amount of rings he wore, how large and wide his palms were and how slender and long his fingers suddenly seemed. She took a swig from her can of Twisted Tea as she sat around one of the tables in their family's backyard. She didn't want to be here, it was too weird for her, but it was his birthday party. She'd been to all of his parties since they were kids and she figured the lack of her presence would be obvious.

She kept her distance though, only saying 'Happy birthday' and 'Here's your gift' when she arrived about two hours ago and hadn't said anything else to him since. But she couldn't keep her eyes off of him, the fantasies of what could've possibly happened that night haunt he in a pleasant way, but she just adored him from afar. Paying extra attention to whom he was talking to.

Vera.

She's a beautiful woman, Honey could give her that, she is probably the same age as him too. She'd been around the neighbourhood long ago but moved and would once in a while return home to visit. She raised her eyebrows, her eyes narrow as she attempted to read Vera's lips to know what they were discussing but she couldn't make out anything, this weird pang in her chest— possibly a smidge of jealousy, was an unnecessary and stupid feeling. She sighs and shifts her eyes to Cherry who had seemingly been watching her the whole time. Honey smiles innocently as if she hadn't just been ogling her brother for ten minutes. Cherry nods to the house, letting Honey know to meet her inside.

Honey excused herself from the table and waltzed her way in through the back door that led straight into their big kitchen, a few family members-- mostly men, were inside the living room watching football. Cherry cleared her throat, her way of announcing she was in the room. Honey spun on her heels and beamed. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just need help bringing some more drinks out."

She shrugs and they both head down to the basement and to the wall where various boxes of liquor, both strong and light, were propped up. She reaches for the Corona's and the Smirnoff's able to hold one of each. "Can you believe Vera's here? I swear that woman gets prettier with age." Cherry states and there's that kink in her chest again. Honey nods, afraid that if she mutters anything she'll give away the jealousy but her friend continues with; "I wonder if they've been hooking up." She reaches for more Twisted Teas and two boxes of White Claw's mostly for her consumption. Honey swallows and looks at her shoes. "What makes you think that?"

She smirks. "I went into his room, just to steal one of his sweaters, and I saw something pink under his bed,"

Oh god.

"I didn't touch it but I'm assuming they were some panties."

One of the boxes slipped from Honey's hands and crashed to the floor, it popped open and all the cans of Twisted Tea rolled in their own directions. Cherry chuckled. "Are you good?"

"Yeah... yeah, I just— sorry." She stammered, she squats down to pick up those that fell in front of her while her friend grabbed the scattered ones. "Here, take this box and I'll hold some of the cans." She says and they switch. Honey feels like she can't even look her friend in the eye, her cheeks feeling warm and if she was any lighter she'd be as red as a stoplight. They head back upstairs where they meet the birthday boy in the kitchen with his head in the fridge. "What do you want now?" Cherry asks with fake annoyance. He pops up and straightens his posture just like he did when he was younger getting caught doing something bad. "Came lookin' for some more drinks." He says pointing to the boxes, his eyes locked with Honey's and she swore she lost her balance for a split second.

Her face only getting hotter, he was a continuous reminder of that Sunday morning. Cherry raised her eyebrows as her eyes played ping-pong between the two, the silence was awkward and making her uncomfortable. She'd never seen the two be this strange. She dropped the cans and the box of drinks onto the counter, hard enough that the sound would snap the two out of whatever unearthly trance this was. Honey and Rio broke their staring contest, eyes bouncing off in different directions. He helped the two put the drinks in the cooler, he had a spliff tucked behind his ear, and he took it down offering it to his sister. She dismisses him and says she has to find their father, so she leaves the two alone, Rio puts the spliff between his lips and cups the free end with his hand, with his other hand he flicks the lighter and the small flame transfers over to the paper, burning it along with the kush.

Honey just watches him from the corner of her eye when he looks up she darts her eyes forward and begins to sway from side to side. He looks over at her. "Still don't smoke?"

"I do," She lied. "Occasionally." She didn't know why she fibbed, she just did. He chuckles calling her bluff and in some strange urge to prove to her friends older that she is mature enough to smoke, she takes it from him and inhales, she holds it and chokes once before coughing embarrassingly loud. He chuckles and takes the spliff from her, he pats her back but it is no help as she continuously coughs. Now it's becoming concerning. He puts the (still) lit spliff behind his ear and ushers her back inside in hopes of getting her some water.

"I-I'm fine, I sw- cough- I swear."

"Yeah fucking right, mama." He coos grabbing her a bottle from the fridge making sure he opens it for her before handing it to her. Honey tips her head back as she downs the bottle in desperate relief. She comes up for air and sighs with contentment. "Better?" He asks.

"Mhm." She nods and suddenly realizes they're both alone. In the house. In the kitchen. Honey clears her throat and opens her palm, a silent way of asking for the cap. He hands it to her and their fingers brush for a moment, she savours it, a shot of electricity running through her veins. He finds himself blushing and quickly retracts his hand, though he'd give anything to touch her soft skin again. "Thanks." She mutters. "Yeah."

There's that awkward silence and neither of them knows what to do. "Your fault anyway." She says under her breath with quick wit. "You're the one who knows you don't smoke. Why take it?"

"Why offer it to me?" She giggles, he takes it from behind his ear again and inhales as he lets her question sit in the air. He shrugs and blows the thin smoke away from her face. "Didn't think you'd take it."

Honey rolls her eyes. "You've always been like that." He responds. "Like what?" She asks. He shrugs and takes another drag. "What?" She repeats and he continues to serve her with silence. "Well, you've always been an asshole." Honey spits back, now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "Always been like that." She says mocking his words from earlier. They look at each other as the awkward silence becomes less so, it bleeds into a comfortable feeling with each other. Rio's eye quickly falls to her lips and back up to her and she catches it. She witnesses his want for her, dare she say it's a need. And between the head buzz of both kush and liquor his mask was faltering, the longer she stared the softer his features became for her.

"I need you to kiss me..." She whispers and trails off, the statement taking the both of them by surprise, he'd ask for reassurance but the slight desperation in her voice and the positiveness in her face were more than enough. Rio doesn't hesitate. He kisses her like his life depends on it and maybe it did. His hands cup her cheeks drawing her closer to him. Their bodies pressed against each other and the kiss quickly rose from slow and sweet to hot and steamy. She slides her hands under his shirt, her fingers dance along the warm skin of his smooth back. He licks her bottom lip as a response and she gladly invites him in. Honey feels herself stumbling back as their tongues fight in the name of lust, she finally hits the counter and is hoisted on top of it.

"Wait..." She mumbled but it fell on deaf ears as his lips met hers again, she moaned into the kiss and gently pushed him back. "Someone's gonna see us." She laughs breathlessly. It was a miracle no one did already. He wraps her legs around him and lifts her off the counter. "You sure about this?"

She nods and he carries her up the stairs while making sure the coast is clear. He takes her to his bedroom, the place where it all started, and closes the door and locks it. "How long do you think it'll be before anyone notices you gone?"

"Who would notice?"

She playfully flicks him against his temple. "You are the birthday boy remember?"

"Worry about it later." He huffed and before she could get another word out he shut her up with another kiss. His hands shift her dress up around her hips, the cold air of his room creates prickles against her mahogany skin. He rests her down on the bed, her back contacting the very soft comforter and the memorable mattress. The best damn sleep she ever had was on that thing. His lips travel to her jawline and along the side of her neck. She turns her head giving him more access to her sweet spot he so seemingly remembers.

Her toes curl at the teasing, the anticipation, for once she wanted to skip foreplay and just go straight to it. Her eyes flutter as he sucks on her supple skin in hopes he'd leave a mark, another thing to spark her memory of him. Honey softly moans when his fingertips play with the strings of her thong, pulling them down and exposing her wet and needy pussy. She gasps at the friction from the band of his boxers rubbing against her swelling clit. Her eyes wander the room and land on his doorknob, she squints and giggles. "What?"

"Are... are those my panties hanging from your door?" She snorts. He quickly turns his head and blushes. "Maybe."

"You want these too?"

"Don't tempt me." He says before attaching his lips to her neck once again. She lightly scratches at his back. and whines as her aching hole clenches around nothing. He finally undoes his jeans, and the sound of his belt hitting the floor only adds to the tension, she almost whimpers when his shirt is next to go and his body is on display for her and her only. Rio's hands waste no time caressing the back of her legs as he pushes them back, his eyes so fixated on her swollen sex, he places his thumb on top of her clit and rubs slow circles on her sensitive nub. She sighs with pleasure as her eyes close, his thumb soon trails down her slit collecting her slick.

His middle and ring fingers follow the same path before they find their way inside her. "Oh." Honey mewled as they planted themselves deeper, her eyes slowly rolled to the back of her skull when he started playing with her pussy. He pushed his fingers in and took them out at a languid pace. The sounds of her wet pussy squelching with every pump of his fingers erupted through the room, bouncing into his ears and running straight to his dick as if it couldn't get any harder. He had to make this quick before anyone got suspicious.

"I promise mama, next time I'll take real good care of you." Rio coos in her ear before pulling away and ridding himself of his pants and boxers.

Honey softly whines and clenches at the promise of a next time. She watched his painfully hard dick spring out and hit his lower abdomen with a hard this. Her eyes slightly widened as if was her first time seeing him. Wondering how she took all that. "You scared now?"

Honey sat up on her elbows and shook her head, she looked up at him through her fresh set of lashes. She slowly spreads her legs wider. His eyes fall between them and his tongue swipes his bottom lip. "Next time..." He softly repeats to himself as a reminder. "Next time..." He pulls her to the end of the bed and drops to his knees in front of her, he can't wait until next time. He just needed a little taste.

His head disappears between her thighs and she's greeted with the warmth of his tongue between her swollen lips she glitches at the contact but soon relaxes when a kiss is pressed against her clit before it was followed up with his tongue once more. Her eyelids fluttered. He was practically making out with her pussy, wet and sloppy sounds made themselves known-- thank goodness the music could drown them out. Gasps and whines leave her lips, her toes curl, her body rendering her powerless against his regime, especially when his thumb starts to tease her hole with small circles.

His hands ran over the back of her thighs and hooked in the space provided behind her knees. She's writhing under his touch, her hands gripping onto his sheets for dear life. "Oooooh, yeeeesss." She slurs lost in her pleasure.

Rio smiles at her continuous babbling, half the words he could barely make out himself. Honey's moans were going straight to his dick making him harder than ever it was almost painful. He, unwillingly, pulls away and she lets out a frustrated sigh. He smacks her thigh and shakes his head. "You're getting what you want, mama, relax. Yeah?"

He gives her no time to respond before he guides himself inside her heat, she's beyond wet and sticky, he knew he wouldn't last. Her back arches with every inch he puts inside her, she cries out as her hand quickly flies to his lower abdomen. "Fuck, wait..." She protests, swearing she can't take anymore.

"Honey, if you don't move that hand." His tone let her know it was a warning, she whines as she takes her hand back. Her jaw slacks so much it touches her chest, he's in and he's in deep. He retracts only a little bit before going in for more. He drives his hips into hers at a tantalizing rhythm. Honey's head falls onto the soft mattress, she lays there and all she can do is take what he's giving to her like a good girl.

A string of poetic and vulgar moans leave her system, telling him how big he is, how deep he is and how good he's making her feel. He can only respond with his grunts and praises, leaning over to bury his head in the crook of her neck, whispering some of the filthiest things she'd ever heard. "That pussy is soaking for me, huh? Guess it wasn't the Don Julio, after all, you fucking like this?"

All she can do is nod, the air from her lungs has been knocked out. The bed is rocking, creaking to the beat of his strokes, the small fear of being caught or heard had dissipated and her sole focus was on the man on top of her. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Her nails dig into his flesh while his teeth graze over her neck, his tongue gracing the same area. Rio pounded into her until he felt her tighten around him, he looked at her to catch her love faces. The way her jaw drops and her eyes roll to the back of her head, her eyelids fluttering from the intense pleasure and the euphoric feeling. And he just keeps going. Dragging it out, making sure she lets out everything. All of it. But she can't take it anymore, it feels good but she's so sensitive from the explosive orgasm, that her hand goes back to his lower abdomen.

And Honey gasps out of shock when her hands are suddenly pinned to the bed and above her head. "I told you to move your fucking hand didn't I?"

"Fuck! Baby, I can't take it." She pleads. "But you took it so well last time mama. I remember it."

Her eyes gloss over. "Telling me you don't remember? The way you kept asking me, begging me for more. For me to go deeper, for me to fill you up all the way."

She nods lazily, though she can barely tell what she's agreeing with. "Yeah? So, you can take it. Look how well you're doing right now."

Rio mumbles into her neck, he lets go of her hands and they immediately hug around his neck. "There she is." Her heels dig into his lower back, she wanted it deeper if it was possible. "Fuck me, please." She whines and it's barely a whisper. He pushes himself deep and stills his hips. "You asked so nicely darlin'." He rasps.

She's pinned between his body and the mattress, she could feel a devilish smirk against her skin before he isolates his hips— rotating them sloooowly. He's losing it too, just trying to keep his cool but he was at his tipping point. His tip nudging against her g-spot and her lush walls contracting around him. "You wanna cum baby?" She whispers and now it's his turn to nod as he loses his words. "You can cum inside me." She purrs feeling another orgasm pulling through. Rio plunged into her, she's coating him with her sticky pleasure. He stills once more and soon he's pouring everything into her, she giggles lazily. "Mmm, so warm."

He chuckled and shook his head planting a passionate kiss on her cheek. And they lay like that for a while, vibing in their post-coital glow— sweaty, hot and satisfied.

But as time passes they realize they have to go back before anyone truly notices anything. He cleans her up and himself and then begins to get dressed, in silence, which feels awkward. Neither of them knew what to say.

After they get dressed, Rio sneaks out first just in case anyone is inside the house— especially on the lookout for his sister but when he confirms the coast is clear he knocks on the door twice to let Honey know they are fine. The small action causes her to smile to herself. "I have to fix my hair." She softly says and hears a muffled, "Take your time, baby."

Her heart leaps and the little girl inside her begins to glow which causes her cheeks to heat up and if she were any lighter she'd look like a tomato.

After making sure she looked decent she creeps out of his room and closes the door quietly, but as she heads to the top of the steps she hears, "Honey?"

You've got to be kidding.

She quickly spins on her heels and smiles, seeing Cherry in the door frame of the bathroom, she reaches to turn off the light and crosses her arms right after.

"Hi, Cherry."

Her friend's eyes dart between her and the bedroom door. "What are you doing in Rio's room?"

Honey's throat had suddenly run dry and her brain had flushed all the excuses in the world. She had nothing to say. What could she say? It wouldn't be believable regardless. Her mouth opened with the incentive to speak but nothing but croaks of awkwardness.

"Are you-"

"Honey!" A sudden call comes from downstairs. It's Rio looking up at them from the first floor. "Have you seen- oh there she is. Honey and I were looking for you. Bring your big heads downstairs I'm cutting the cake."

She could feel a bead of sweat forming at her hairline. "I'm getting the second slice!" Honey childishly announces bolting down the stairs. "No! I am!" Cherry follows suit and they both bolt down the stairs. Honey slows down allowing her friend to pass her. She squeezes his arm as a silent thank you and he nods at her.

Everyone is outside and gathered around the table waiting for the three of them to arrive. Cherry and Honey stand with the birthday boy as their mom lights the candles.

"One... two... three."

They begin to sing, and while everyone is looking at him he can only pay attention to one person. Honey. She giggles and puts her head down trying to hide her ginormous smile. Everyone else was too busy singing to notice, but Cherry... oh Cherry noticed. Something was going on and she needed to find out.

Now.

🏷️: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover @librarian1002

Might be interested: @bigenergy777 @educatorsareslutstoo

If you would like to be on the tag list, or removed lmk. If I missed you, sorry, I don’t have these tag lists written down (I should )

[starlightkun]

⏯ teaser word count: 839 | full fic: 9.5k ⏯ genre: fluff, established relationship, band au, punk drummer!sungchan, sequel to filler episodes, reader isn’t completely boring anymore! yay!, she’s still figuring it out a little bit but it’s not a full-fledged quarter life crisis anymore, ft. shotaro/eunseok/wonbin as sungchan’s bandmates, and nct dream 00 line as reader’s normal friends™ ⏯ warnings: the usual cursing, and reader gets creeped on briefly in a scene but gets out of there very quickly, and that’s really it! if i missed any please let me know ⏯ extra info: this is the sequel to filler episodes, it cannot be read as a standalone! ⏯ estimated release: saturday, august 3, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

At the end of the show, you were sat at the band’s merch table. In addition to being the de facto tour manager and photographer/videographer, you also usually managed the merch table for Roses for Eyes. The headliner had plenty of crew to spare to work it, but you wanted to help however you could, and this was honestly one of your favorite parts. Various members usually came to hang out by the merch table and meet and talk with the concert goers, and you loved hearing all the praise that was showered on the guys. Almost nobody had heard of them before coming to the concerts, but it made your chest puff up with pride at how many people stayed just to tell the guys how much they loved their set.

Roses for Eyes didn’t have a lot of merch. In fact, they had exactly one kind of t-shirt, and CDs of their one and only semi-professionally recorded EP for sale. Which made your job easier, you just had to either hand them a CD, or ask their size in shirt.

“Oh my god, you’re here too!” Your next customers were the women who you had spent almost the whole concert with, their eyes sparkling with recognition and delight at you.

“Yes, I am!” You laughed as one reached out to fix your hair. “I’m everywhere, I swear. What can I get you guys?”

They each got a shirt, and a couple got CDs too. As you ran their cards and accepted their cash, they raved to you about the show.

“You know, I’d never heard of them before this, but they were so good!”

“That’s what everyone says,” you replied with a grin.

“I loved the first song they played, that was like—” She started mimicking the melody, and you recognized it immediately.

“Ah, ‘Lonely as Mars’!” You perked up. “That’s one of my favorites.”

“What’s your favorite song then?”

“Oh, I can’t say.” You grinned. “It’s not released yet…”

They all laughed and giggled at this. One peeked at the track list of the CD she had just bought from you again before looking up at you. “Guess we’ll have to wait until it’s released then, huh?”

“Yes, yes, please keep an eye out!” You couldn’t help it, you were proud of your boyfriend and the rest of your friends.

“Alright, beautiful, we’ll stop holding up your line.” One of them chuckled, giving your cheek a final tweak before the four of them moved over to the short line to chat with the band.

You couldn’t pause on that moment for too long, as more patrons came up to your table.

Once people had finally started trickling out of the venue, and you had no line left in front of either your merch table or to meet the band, you were unsurprised when Sungchan pulled up an extra folding chair next to you.

“You know,” he let out a sigh, scooting right up next to you until your legs were pressed together. “I think we need to completely deck you out in Roses for Eyes merch from head to toe.”

“One, you guys don’t even have that much merch. Two, I think all that would accomplish would be making me looking like a crazed fan.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I am your biggest fan,” you acquiesced with a giggle at how serious he looked, squeezing his leg. “But we need security to let me in, you know.”

“What about a shirt with my face on it?”

“I think that’d be even worse.”

“It can say ‘CREW’ on the back or something.”

You laughed again. “I did tell that guy I was working, you know. Which did nothing.”

“I know, baby, I’m not mad at you.” Sungchan put an arm around the back of your chair, leaning in closer to inform you, “I was up on stage wishing I could’ve been kicking his face instead of the bass drum.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t hop off stage just to beat up somebody in the crowd.” You whispered back. “Even if it would’ve been deserved.”

“God, I don’t know if I can take another month of hearing you get hit on from right next to me.” He was presumably referencing times like now, with you at the merch table and him nearby talking to patrons.

“You think I like hearing people compliment your tattoos as an excuse to feel up your arms?”

“I don’t let them!” He protested. “And sometimes they do actually like my tattoos!”

“I know, Sungchan,” you snickered. “It’s hard being the hottest couple ever, isn’t it?”

“God truly gives his toughest battles to his sexiest soldiers,” Sungchan joked back, letting his arm drop down to your waist.

“Hey, on the bright side, tomorrow is the Venue:Hell show,” you reminded him. “I’ll have Jeno and Jaemin and my other two much less sturdy friends there. Not to mention Anton, Sohee, and Seunghan.”

He didn’t seem much happier about this, letting out a little grumble, “Mmm, alright.”

⤷ masterlist

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Swing (Sid Wilson x Fem! Reader) FLUFF

Happy New Year's my loves! We're gunna start things off right with the funkiest of guys, Sid. I love him, he's so fun and crazy and ugh, he's just so adorable. So, have some rabid dog boyfriend Sid to kick off the new year!

WARNINGS: Swearing, overly aggressive dude in the pit, the sweetest fluff

My Masterlist! ~ Tip Jar! ~ AO3 Link!

Divider credit: @adornedwithlight

Today was going better than you could have ever hoped for. You had managed to make it to the barrier of the stage to watch your favorite band, even securing a spot in front of your favorite members' mixing table. Everyone you had met today had been nice so far, you had made a few friends in que, though you had managed to lose them in the chaos of securing your spot. You went rigid as someone tried to shove you from the railing. “Come on, sweetheart, this is a real metal show, you shouldn't be down here.” A guy behind you chuckles. You decided to just ignore him, looking straight forward and holding firmly onto your place. He began to shout various questions and rude statements at you every so often.

“She's probably one of those tik tok e girls who only listens to Custer and Duality to be edgy.” He was finally shut up by the band blasting into their first song.

“I fucking love my job.” Sid laughs giddily as he begins climbing the staging at the side of the stage. Was this a dumb idea? Probably. But, it more than likely wouldn't kill him, and it was going to look really fucking cool, those were the only 2 reasons he needed. He looked out over the massive crowd as he hung high off the metal staging. He screamed as he let himself free fall into the waiting pool of people below. The breath is knocked from Sid’s lungs as he's immediately snatched into the crowd, getting pulled and tossed around until eventually he falls through a hole in the sea of hands, landing right in front of you. His eyes meet yours and for a second you wondered if you were dreaming. There was no way that the Sid Wilson was taking your hand and helping you up from where you had gotten knocked over. “I didn't kick you, did I?” He screams over the music, fighting against the pulls from fans and the security guard that was trying to drag him out of the pit alike. You shake your head, staring back at him in pure shock. He chuckles, “I only bite if you ask nicely, don't worry.” He winks at you.

“Of course, the poser gets all the attention.” The guy from earlier scoffs. Sid’s smile falters, his gaze turning dangerously to the man behind you.

“You better watch your fucking mouth.” He snaps, his features softening once again as his attention turns back to you. “Enjoy the rest of the show, baby, I'll be watching you from right up there.” He quickly takes your hand, leaning down to kiss it, but laughing when his mask gets in the way. He winks at you before bounding back up to the stage.

The guy behind you scoffs, “typical, special treatment just for a pair of tits.” It was impossible not to have a good time, especially now that you had the band's cute DJ waving and blowing kisses at you every chance he got. Every so often you would get a harsh shove or a punch to the back, every time you shot him an annoyed look he would just spit something out about how “this is a mosh pit, you should expect to get hit.”

Later into their set, you were laughing, dancing along with Sid who had, once again, run up to the edge of the stage in order to give you some attention. You lurch forward, your hand coming to the sharp pain in the back of your head, where you had just been struck hard with an elbow. Sid vaulted over the equipment that sat between the stage and the pit, rushing to the barrier. He grabs the guy by the shirt, pulling him away from you in order to keep you out of harm's way. He clearly saw the deliberate strike to your head, and he had watched your annoyed expression too many times tonight as he roughly knocked into you. Sid swings without thinking, letting his fist land wherever it wants to strike. “You wanna fucking swing mother fucker? I'll give you someone to fucking swing on!” Security rushed over to him, pulling him off the guy in the crowd. “Quit beating up on girls, you're a fucking loser!” He screams, jabbing the guy in the chest with his finger. “You, you're coming with me.” Your arms latch around his neck as Sid reaches over the barrier, scooping you into his arm. The guy started screaming some insult at Sid who immediately turned around and barked in the guy's face.

“Thank you.” All you could do was stare at him dumbfounded as he jogged over to the stairs at the side of the stage.

“There's no need to thank me, baby. That guy was a fucking douchebag.” Once he gets you backstage he sets you down. “Are you okay? He hit you pretty hard.”

“Yeah, I'll be alright, nothing some Tylenol can't fix.” You laugh.

“Well, I can't send you back out there with that asshole,” your heart races as a smile spreads across his lips. He steps closer to you, his hand coming to rest on your waist. “Why don't you come dance for me on stage, beautiful?” He takes you by the hand, leading you out in front of the crowd of hundreds of people. Sid singles out the guy from earlier in the crowd, flipping him off before returning to your side. He wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close as you head up to his mixing table. His smile was intoxicating, your cheeks growing warm as his eyes flicker over your features. “You're going to make it very hard to not get distracted.” He chuckles. Sid’s eyes never left you for the rest of the show. The two of you laughing, dancing, and screaming together. It felt like you had known him your entire life.

You scream as Sid playfully grabs you, pulling your smaller form into him. You giggle as he rocks you side to side, crushing you in a hug. “Come on, you're gonna play the last song with me.”

“I don't know how to DJ.” You try to argue with a DJ.

“That's what I'm there for, beautiful.” You found yourself relaxing into him, his chest firmly against your back, one arm firmly wrapped around your waist unless it was needed for him to perform. He wraps you in a tight hug as you finish the song together, showering you with praise as he nuzzles his face against yours. You waited off to the side of the stage while the band gave their final bows, clapping and cheering with the rest of the crowd. Sid bounds up to you the moment he's finished, arms flinging around you in order to pull you as tightly to him as possible. You smile as you look up at him, bright blue eyes holding you firmly in place.

“You're absolutely incredible.” You admit in absolute awe. He laughs bashfully, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor. “And thank you for stepping in with that guy earlier, I don't think I ever got to thank you properly.” Sid’s breath catches in his throat as you lean in, carefully pressing your lips to his masked cheek.

“I don't deal well with guys like that. I'm happy I could've helped.” He stops one of the crew members as they walk by, pulling a marker out of their pocket. He takes a hold of your arm, quickly scribbling down his phone number. “We're in town for a few more days, I was hoping that, maybe I could take you on a date?” You could hear the nervousness in his tone, you thought it was cute.

“I'd like that.” You respond with a shy smile of your own.

“Sid, are you gonna kiss her or what, dude?” He laughs as he hears one of the guys yell. “The two of you have been drooling over each other all night!”

Sid looks at you nervously, his eyes quickly starting to your lips and then back up to yours. “I'm sorry,” you start playfully, “am I witnessing the one and only Sid Wilson being afraid of something.

He rolls his eyes, “please, I'm not afraid of anything. Fear only holds you back in life.”

“Then kiss me.” His eyes widened, slightly shocked by your bold statement. He hurriedly discards his mask, lips crashing into yours as his hands come up to cup cheeks. Sid hums as he melts into the kiss, his hands wandering wherever they can find a good hold. Kissing him left you feeling a little dizzy, your eyes fluttering open to meet his stunning gaze as he breaks the kiss. “Wow.” You mumble against his lips.

“Wow is an understatement.” He laughs. “Can I take you out tomorrow? Please?” You nod, placing another chaste kiss to his lips.

“I'd like that.”

[willsimpforanyone]

Do you think you could do a leo valdez smut? Where the reader is more introverted and quiet outside in day to day stuff but gets really flirty in bed or and alone with Leo

i can absolutely do that for u <3

obv everyone is an adult! they get given wine! they have an apartment! u think anyone under the age of 25 can afford their own flat rn?

I smile softly as Leo's friends laugh loudly. His hand rests on my thigh and I lean my head on his shoulder, content to just listen to the conversation for now.

It was nice having people round now that we'd officially moved into our apartment, various friends bringing wine and sweet treats that Leo and I got to indulge in once everyone had gone.

Leo turns his head, lips just touching my ear. "You alright, baby?"

I nod, hand reaching for his on my thigh and squeezing it. "Yeah, I'm good." Satisfied, Leo presses a quick kiss to my cheek and returned to the conversation at hand.

After another hour or so, it was decided that people should leave- it was late, the sun just setting and goodbyes were said. I stay back, waving and accepting hugs as they were given to me, but otherwise letting Leo deal with corralling people out our door.

The lock clicks shut, and he breathes a sigh of relief, resting his forehead against the door. "I love mis amigos, I do but holy shit." He turns, tired eyes and tired smile meeting mine. "They sure are loud, huh?"

I laugh, wandering over to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. "You're loud too, y'know."

He slips his hands behind my back, pulling me closer and pressing a kiss to my nose. "Well, yeah, but I'm cute, so."

"Very much so." I wink at him, enjoying the light dust of red that settled on his nose at the gesture. "Kinda hot too, I guess."

Leo gasps, offended. "'Kinda hot'? Excuse you, I'm gorgeous!" He wriggles out of my grip, stalking across the room in a dramatic fashion to the bedroom door. Eyes flashing, he whips his head back to look at me. "You should think yourself lucky!" And he waltzs into the bedroom, leaving the door open.

I laugh, walking to where he'd disappeared. He's sat on the bed, arms folded, muttering something about 'kinda hot' and 'outrageous'. Rolling my eyes fondly, I pad over to him, pulling at his crossed arms until he gave in, failing to hide a grin.

"Fine, okay? You're gorgeous." I lean down to press a kiss to his cheek. "And handsome." Kiss to his other cheek. "And hot." Kiss to his nose. "And so, incredibly, unbelievably sexy." I catch his lips in a kiss, my hands coming up to cradle his head. His eyes slip shut and he hums against my lips.

I pull back to see him properly, a slightly glazed look coming over his face and a dopey smile contrasting my sharper smirk. "Aww, aren't you pretty? I get all you attention now, don't I, baby?"

Leo nods before he even registers the question and I squeeze his cheeks together. It barely takes a hand against his chest to get him to lay down on the bed, the air punched out of his lungs at the force. I climb on top of him, eyes narrow and predatory.

Before he can say anything, I dive down into the junction between his neck and shoulder, licking a stripe up his skin. His breath catches in his throat and I bite down very lightly. His hands fly to my hips, fingers tangling in the fabric of my tshirt.

"I swear," he whispers. "No one would ever believe me if I told them what you were really like."

I give him a curious hum, hands slowly holding his and guiding them above his head.

Leo groans as he pinned, my lips still attached to his neck. "You're so... quiet, inside yourself when we're around people." I feel him clear his throat. "W-why is that?"

I pull back, looking a little thoughtful. Leo's hands, now free as I rest mine on my thighs, return to holding my hips. "I mean, I'm introverted, I guess. Not good with large groups of people, no matter how nice they might be." I smirk down at him, settling into his lap a little further and drawing a whine from my boyfriend. "And anyway, right now I'd rather have something else inside me."

Leo actively chokes on air, eyes wide. "H-holy shit, see? This is what I mean!" He sits up, fingers pulling at the jeans I'm wearing. "You're a deceptive thing, intent on making me die."

"Lies." I lean back over him, grinding my hips down as Leo swears in Spanish. "Lies and slander, I tell you."

I don't even give him enough time to reply, undoing his jeans and slipping my hand over his cock. His eyes widened and his grip on my hips tightened. "O-okay, fuck..."

I hop off of him, beginning to strip. "Everything off, Valdez, now."

He nearly fell off the bed with how quickly he pulled his jeans off, head briefly getting stuck in his tshirt. I laugh and help him out of it, then made quick work of my underwear.

Leo's eyes were darting over me, absorbing my body. His hands reached out, smoothing over my stomach and round my back to pull me to him again. "How... how are you so gorgeous? I don't understand..." His voice is breathy and I shrug, electing not to answer but instead reach down and slide my fingers through my folds.

My hand comes back shiny and wet, and I tap two fingers against Leo's mouth. He obediently taked them into his mouth, cleaning them. He looks so fucking pretty, dark curly hair dusting over tanned skin and slender arms wrapping around me.

"Ready?"

He nods frantically, shifting back as I straddle his legs. "Nope, words, baby."

Leo swallows, blinking and trying to focus. "Y-yes, green, verde, very much yes!"

I don't bother supressing a laugh, grasping his cock and jerking it quickly, pulling him to full hardness as he gasps and his hips twitch under my touch. I waste no more time, hissing through my teeth as I push down, the slight sting of being filled making me dig my nails into Leo's chest.

He almost stops breathing as soon as I'm sat in his lap, his dick fully inside me and I can feel his stomach muscles tensing with restraint under me. I breathe out, adjusting to the feeling, rocking very slightly back and forth. Leo swallows, eyelashes fluttering as he looks up at me.

"Y-you're gonna kill me, but at this point? I really don't care."

I merely grin, settling my hands on his chest before I began to ride him in earnest. I wrench moans and whimpers from his lips, my nails carving crescent moons into his flesh and his fingers bruising my hips from how tightly he was holding them.

Leo's hips push up into me as best he can, rhythm steady at first, then becoming more sporadic as he chases his end, eyes squeezed shut.

"Forget what they'd think of me, what would your friends think of you, baby?" I tease, a wicked smirk settling on my lips as Leo throws his head back and slurs something in Spanish.

"C-close, so close, fu-uck...!" He groans out, snapping his hips into me. I nearly fall, catching myself with my arms either side of his head. My lips caress his cheek, leading to his ear.

"You don't get to come before I do, understand?"

He nods, whining out a 'yes' and one of his hands leaves my hips, instead locating my clit and applying circular pressure that knocks the wind out of me. I clutch at the bedsheets, the combination of his cock hitting deep inside me and his thumb sending me spiralling into pleasure, my orgasm slamming into me like a wave.

By this point, Leo knows my body so well he can tell the exact moment I come, taking that as permission so he can follow suit. It only takes a few more seconds before he's gasping, crying out my name and holding me flush against him.

We breathe in time, and I feel his heartrate slowly regulate. I press kisses onto any piece of skin I can reach without moving, silently loving him. He strokes my back, seemingly content for me to just lie on him until we can both be bothered to move.

"So. Did I kill you?"

Leo laughs breathlessly. "Yes, you did, you're awful, now don't ever move away, ever."

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

this legit took me hours bc my brain did NOT want to play nicely but i hope you enjoyed it! thank you for requesting!

[bloatedandalone04]

➪the one where you’re the other ghostface and ethan accidentally hurts you. (requested)

Warnings: established relationship, death, mentions of death, blood, mentions of blood, descriptions of injuries, near death experience, knives, guns, swearing, all that fun stuff

Word Count: 2.9k | Ethan Masterlist

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“It’s getting late and I have that test tomorrow morning, so I’m going to go get some sleep,” Ethan announced to Chad and Tara, his form rising from the couch and his eyes meeting yours. “Are you staying here tonight?” He asked you, the two of you sharing a knowing look before you nodded.

“As long as you don’t hog the sheets like you always do,” you tease, grabbing his hand as he holds it out to you. 

“In my own bed?” He laughs, lacing your fingers together as he tugs you up from the couch as well. “I would never.”

Tara, who had been watching with a small smile, just shook her head. “Goodnight, guys,” she said as she nuzzled closer to Chad, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as they continued to watch the movie.

“Night,” you call back as Ethan pulls you over to his room. Once you were behind the closed door, he gave you a boyish grin as he tugged on your other hand and pulled you over to his bed. He falls back on top of the covers, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you on top of him. “I kinda feel bad. Tara and Chad have become so close, it’s sad to think about how things will end between them.”

Ethan shrugged, his fingers tracing various shapes on the skin of your hips. “Yeah, but think about how good it’ll feel when we can finally move on and start over once they’re gone,”

You give him a look, pressing your palms flat against his chest as you lean down just slightly. “You mean once we kill them,” 

He smirks at your correction. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts,” his hands gently caress your sides as his brown eyes stare into yours. “Not that you aren’t allowed to, but I think we have a pretty good plan here. My family won’t be happy with us bailing.”

Your heart swelled at that; if you were to bail on the plan, he would as well. He didn’t have to, he could stay and finish what his brother started beside his family, but he made it known that if you were to back out, then he’d be backing out right with you. 

Shaking your head, you move off of him and sit back on the end of the bed. “I’m not having second thoughts, don’t worry,” at the quiet tone you were using, Ethan sat up with his back against the headboard and gave you his full attention. “I’m just a bit worried about what might happen if things were to go wrong.”

He reached over and took your hand in his, his eyes never leaving yours. “We have a good plan, one that will work,” he assured you, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. “We’re going to lock them in the theater and take them out one by one. With Quinn still in hiding, there’s only going to be three of us, so we’ll have to take out the strongest first.”

“Chad,” you nod in understanding before adding, “Then Kirby. She’s got the skills and experience for this kind of thing, so she needs to be taken care of next.”

“Right,” he confirmed. “Once they’re out of the picture, only Tara and Sam will be left. This will work, we just have to look out for each other.”

You smile at him, leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before lacing your fingers together. “Everything will work out,”

-

Everything, in fact, did not work out.

Here you stood with Ethan, the two of you hiding out behind the curtain as his dad prepares for the big reveal. Quinn was already back at her apartment, most likely packing for when her family returned and they would have to flee the city once news got out of the killings. 

She got her last stab in with Mindy on the subway and took the next one all the way back, knowing that the attention would be on her at the hospital and the events that will take place at the theater, so she’d be able to slip in and out of her former apartment with no one around to see her. Since she had ‘died’, it was too risky for her to take part in the final act. 

It had been decided that as soon as the deed was done, the four of you would relocate and start over. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t beyond ready for this chapter of your life to be over with. 

“Are you ready for this?” Ethan asks as he holds Mrs Loomis’ mask in his hand. 

Gripping Stu’s mask, you nod up at him and try to ignore the unsettled nerves that lingered in your bones. “I’m ready for this to be over,” you answer and feel a bit better after he gives you a reassuring smile. 

Ethan’s free hand reaches for yours and you wish you could feel his skin on yours rather than the fabric of the gloves you both were wearing. “This is it,” he says quietly. “After this, it’s you and me.”

You nod and give him a tight smile. “You and me,” 

Stepping towards him, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him against you. His arms wrap around your middle and his chin rests on the top of your head.

After a few seconds of embracing each other you step back and the two of you put your masks on. As soon as your face is covered you become nervous again and feel a heavy weight sitting down on your shoulders.

You couldn’t help but fear that something was going to go wrong.

Ethan gives your hand a squeeze before creeping out from behind the curtain. You wait until he’s made his way behind the benches and cuts off the sister’s escape route before jumping down from the stage.

You successfully block the other exit and shake your knife in a mocking manner. Bailey shoots Kirby just as she was about to shoot you and that’s how you found yourself standing to his right while Ethan stood to his left. 

The bad feeling from before came back full swing as you waited for the reveal. You weren’t exactly comfortable revealing yourself to the sisters, but in the end it wouldn’t matter. They would be dead within the hour and wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about your identity, anyway. 

Still, your heart beat loudly in your ears as you couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling that something wasn’t right. 

After watching Ethan pull the mask off and berate Sam on her family, you knew that you were next. 

Just as Tara questioned if you were Mindy, you pull the mask off and smile at the shocked look that the youngest sister wore. “Y/n?” She asked in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” you shrug and toss the mask somewhere beside you. “It turns out that you’d do a lot for the person you love. Even kill.”

Ethan looked over at you and proudly smirked at your words, his eyes full of love, lust and admiration. He held off on professing his love for you as it wasn’t the time nor place for it, but he sent you a cheeky look in response to your words. 

“Are you serious?” Sam scoffed. “You became a killer for him?”

You narrow your eyes at her words, not liking what she was insinuating about your boyfriend. “What can I say? I’m in love,” you simply answer before adding, “You should know all about that, you dated his brother.”

Chaos broke out after that.

Tara began swinging bricks at you while Sam went for Ethan. You both dodged their attacks easily, but neither one of you saw Kirby stagger her way over to you. Ethan raised his hand to stab Sam when the agent threw herself at him. He stumbled forward and unknowingly gave the eldest Carpenter the chance to slip away. 

At the same time, Tara pushed you towards him and you didn’t have enough time to react before the knife he was holding pierced through the skin of your abdomen. You let out a surprised cry of pain and tightly grip his forearm, your wide eyes meeting his panicked ones. 

You stumble backwards and release your grip on him. As you fall to your knees, Ethan’s hands chase after you and he kneels down in front of you. “Fuck,” he cursed as he looked at the knife sticking out of your stomach. “Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry.”

Shaking your head, you press your hand to the area below the knife, feeling your glove dampen with blood. “Ethan, behind you,” Bailey called out just as Kirby stood back up. Running on pure adrenaline, Ethan pulled the knife from you and turned around, his heart breaking at the loud cry you let out. He buried it in the agent’s side and didn’t bother to watch her drop before he was looking back at you. 

You share a look before he grabs your arm and wraps it around his shoulder as his other hand grips the back of your thigh. He picks you up bridal style and carries you behind the stage, deciding that his dad was more than capable of finishing the job that you and him had started. 

Once you are out of immediate danger, Ethan gently sets you on the ground before sinking to his knees next to you. Now that the wound was open and no longer had the knife to stop the flow of blood, he quickly pressed his hand to your stomach, wincing at the sharp inhale from you. “Fuck, Ethan,”

“I know, I know,” he says as he tries not to panic at the feeling of your blood seeping into his glove. “I’m so sorry, I- fuck, I didn’t mean to. You know I didn’t mean to, right? I’d never hurt you, I- fuck.”

You don’t answer him as you grip his hand tightly, a searing jolt of pain ripping through your whole body when you shift slightly.

“Are you okay?” He asked desperately and you stopped moving to raise your brow at him.

“Am I okay? Are you seriously asking me that right now?” 

“That’s not what I meant, obviously you’re not okay, I just fucking stabbed you,” he says more to himself, but you heard him as clear as day. 

“Yeah, I’m aware,” you say, sucking a breath in through your teeth. 

“I mean, are you feeling dizzy or tired or anything that could lead to you passing out?” He asked as he used his free hand to pull your body onto his lap with no effort at all. His strength still surprised you sometimes. “Fuck, please don’t pass out on me.”

In all honesty, he’d be happy if you were to pass out, at least then you’d be out of pain for the time being. In reality, he didn’t want to think of you dying on him. 

He realized just how real of a possibility that was when he looked back at your face, his expression dropping when he saw how pale you had gotten. “Hey,” he said sternly and pressed harder against your wound, feeling like his heart was about to beat right out of his chest at how loud it was in his ears. “Stay with me, okay? I need you to keep your eyes open and, fuck….just stay with me. We have plans, remember? We’re supposed to get out of this city and never look back. It’s supposed to be you and me.”

“You and me,” you mumbled in response, leaning your head against his chest as you grinned up at him. He was beyond horrified when he caught sight of the blood that stained your teeth. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Then I need you to keep your eyes open, okay?” He looked around for something to cover your wound but ultimately ended up ripping the fabric of your robe and using it as a makeshift cloth. He pressed it to your stomach before covering it with his hand again. “I need you to stick to your promise.”

Even though he didn’t stick to his - the one where he promised he would never hurt you.

“I’m trying,” you murmur. “I’m tired.”

Ethan felt his heart deflate at your words. “I know you are,” he said just as quietly, brushing your hair from your face so he could see you clearly. “I know you are, baby, but I need you to stay awake.”

You felt your eyes beginning to close and quickly shift again so you could jolt yourself back into consciousness. Pulling your gloves off, you toss them aside and reach up to caress the side of his face, needing to feel his skin on yours more than anything at the moment. “I love you,” you whisper, grimacing at the bloodied handprint you left on his face. “You know that?”

He caught your hand as it fell, his fingers quickly lacing with yours. “I know,” he nodded once, his grip on you tightening when he felt your body begin to relax against him. “I love you, too. More than anything else in the whole world. That’s why I need you to stay with me. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, angel. We’re going to live together one day, get married, and grow old together. We promised each other that.”

You smile weakly at him, the taste of metal taking over your taste buds. “Some promises aren’t made to be kept,” you mumble and press your cheek to his shoulder as you feel your body begin to betray itself. The corners of your eyes darken before fading to black completely, your tense muscles relaxing as your head tilted forward. 

“Y/n,” he calls out quietly, his face heating up when you don’t answer him. “Y/n, please, talk to me. Keep talking to me, please. I-I can’t…I can’t do this without you.”

Your body went limp in his arms in response to his desperate pleads and heartbroken sobs that left his lips.

-

Six months.

That’s how long it’s been since every single news site in New York got word of the death of The Carpenter sisters as well as the remaining Woodsboro survivors, Mindy, Chad and Kirby. 

The Bailey family stuck to their plan and fled shortly after the plan was executed and carried out, settling in a small town in San Diego and returning to their normal lives. 

Wayne transferred to the local police station and became consumed by his job, desperately trying to fill in the hole in his heart that hadn’t been fully filled because of the death of his first born. Slaughtering his son’s killer only got him so far. 

Quinn enrolled in a university across town and continued her ‘sex positive’ ways, still unable to commit herself to just one guy. 

Ethan rented out the apartment above the restaurant he had gotten a part time job at. The manager was nice enough and gave him a discount on the rent, as well as free rein of whatever he wanted in the pantry.  

That’s where he is now. He tossed the notepad onto the kitchen counter and made his way through the decent sized apartment, fully intent on staying in for the rest of the night. 

He kicked his shoes off before falling onto the bed, not bothering to change into more comfortable clothes as he moved to lay on his back. The room was mostly silent, the only sound coming from the hum of the AC unit by the window.

Looking over at his nightstand, his eyes land on the framed picture of the two of you, the large grin on your face making one form on his as he observes the photo. 

You are so beautiful. 

That was his first thought when he met you, his first thought when he saw you all dressed up for your first date, and his first thought when he heard the bathroom door open and watched as you stepped through the doorway. “Hi,” you say softly as if to not disturb the peaceful quietness. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Ethan grins as you make your way over to him and climb onto the bed. “I thought you might be in bed,” he replied as you moved to straddle him, his hands instinctively moving to hold your waist. “You’re usually asleep by ten.”

You glance at the clock that hung on the wall, the time reading 10:45 PM. You shrug and place your hands on his chest. “You know I can’t fall asleep without you,” you murmur and lean down to brush your lips against his. “I need to feel your arms around me to be able to have sweet dreams.”

Ethan only shook his head in response, a lazy smile on his lips as he moved to place a proper kiss to your mouth. You kiss back before brushing your nose against his and moving to lay down next to him. 

“How was your day?” You ask as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his chest. 

“It was fine, another slow shift,” he answers and places a kiss to the top of your head. “How was yours?”

“Boring,” you say quietly. “I missed you.”

Ethan smiled to himself at your words, holding you a bit closer to him as he mumbled, “I missed you, too,”

-

heh, fakeout