#I would like to apologize to myself for drawing Jimmy

[kidokear]

He would. He totally would.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Lover 💗 | Bradley Bradshaw Imagine

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x singer!reader (female/romance)

Content Warnings: fluff, mentions of sexism, references to pop culture, profanity | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 5.6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @auroradawnwrites 💗)

Premise : When it came to her love life, singer and songwriter Y/n L/n had a reputation where it felt like the world was against her to the point she doubted ever finding her perfect match. Being in the industry for so long made it difficult to envision what a life with her potential soulmate would be like. But sometimes great things come to people who are patient. And finding the person who made Y/n feel like the only girl in the world had that reputation flicker away like dust on a bookshelf.

Note: I know I keep apologizing for the long waits in my requests but I promise it’s because of having to balance school, random shit happening in my life, and wanting to put out a developed, well-thought out story that the requested person deserves 🥹 and I realized about week ago when I started writing this one after finally getting to it after it was sent in February. @auroradawnwrites I saw that you posted last month that you were leaving your blog but if you happen to see this on another account or still have the notifications on for that blog just know I’m so sorry for this taking so long and I hope it was everything you imagined 😭

Songs headcanonned for singer!reader: ‘Love Story,’ ‘Bad Blood,’ ‘Look What You Made Me Do,’ ‘Getaway Car’ ‘You Need To Calm Down’ by Taylor Swift. ‘Love’ by Lana Del Rey. Albums mentioned that are headcanonned for singer!reader: ‘Lover’, ‘1989’ (I just changed it to 1986 to suit the headcanonned year of birth for reader), ‘Reputation,’ ‘Fearless,’ ‘Red’

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“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back our next guest,” Jimmy Fallon grins to the audience, arm slightly raising towards the curtains. “She’s been a friend to The Tonight Show for a long time. Here to celebrate twenty years since her debut and to talk about her newest album ‘Lover,’ singer and songwriter—the one and only, Y/n L/n!!”

There’s no need to turn on the sign reading ‘Applause,’ because the audience are on their feet when the curtains draw open slightly to reveal the beaming popstar. People are waving frantically, whistling, some even on the verge of tears at the fact they were in the presence of their idol. It was even hard hearing the band play from the noise

Y/n smiled the entire walk to Jimmy, blowing kisses at the crowd before embracing the man in a hug and settling down on the arm chair. “Wow, wow, wow,” he shouted, watching her give one last wave as he sat in his own chair. “Hi, Y/n.”

“Hi, Jimmy! It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“It’s great to see you too, it’s been awhile since we’ve had you on, huh?” Both make faces indicating they were thinking about her last appearance on the show.

“I think it’s been almost…six years,” Y/n tapped her lips with a finger. “Pre-pandemic I believe—because I haven’t really done much since 2019.”

“Yeah, you took a bit of a break.”

“A much needed one,” she chuckled, “But it feels so great to be back. I’ve been taking this time to really put time into discovering who I am as a person and what is next for me. I’m so grateful for the fans who’ve supported me all this time—I know,” she looks to the camera, “I know I kept you waiting, but fear not, I am back and better than ever.” The statement ignites a holler and applause from the crowd.

Jimmy claps with the audience, “That’s what I’m talking about. What can you tell us about this new music you’ve been working on? I know I mentioned your upcoming one, but you actually announced you will be releasing another at the end of this year, correct?”

Instantly Y/n lights up, “That’s right, Jimmy. For starters Lover is probably my most personal album to date. During the pandemic I basically shut myself off from everyone—and the world because I deleted the social media apps off my phone,” there’s a light chuckle from the crowd, “which made everyone go crazy thinking I died. But I can assure you I was just trying to put all my time and energy into writing, producing, selecting which songs would go on the track list. Each song is there for a specific reason—telling a story per say, and I feel listeners will be able to relate in some way.”

“Why the name ‘Lover,’?” Jimmy asked with curiosity, “is it a metaphor for the story or does it have a deeper meaning?” Judging by the cheesy smile Y/n started to do, Jimmy straightened his posture. “Are you….?”

“It’s for the lovers, you know?” Y/n shrugged nonchalantly. Those around didn’t buy it, leaning forward in their seats with curious eyes. “Yeah it’s about love and those feelings where you think your heart is about to burst from your chest. Like I said, many will be able to relate to it.”

Jimmy gave a look, “So did someone in your life inspire it perhaps?”

Instead of answering right at that second, Y/n remained grinning as the face of inspiration and the owner of her heart appeared in her mind. His gorgeous hazel eyes glowing under the sunlight. The feeling of his warm body against hers each time he held her in his arms. Tickling sensations from his mustache when he rained kisses across her skin. The sound of his laugh whenever he made a joke or she did something silly just to see him smile. Fingers dancing across the piano while they sang their favorite songs in their own private concert.

Her lover. Her life. Her reason for waking up everyday in an endless state of bliss. The person who inspired nearly every song on the album, best describing it as a love letter to him.

Relationships and romance had been a complicated part of Y/n’s life and career. A reputation often frowned upon despite only seeing a small picture.

It all started one summer day in Nashville, Tennessee. 17-year-old Y/n had big dreams and aspirations of being a singer, spending her free time playing guitar and writing songs about teenage experiences. Growing up in Tennessee, the birthplace of country music, Y/n was surrounded by the legacy of icons like Dolly Parton, The Dixie Chicks, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Reba McEntire, and Kenny Rogers. It was all she listened to growing up, though she did dabble in pop and R&B—going on to cite Aaliyah, TLC, Whitney Houston, and David Bowie as influences in her music.

“I hear the high school is having a talent show Friday night,” her coworker hummed, handing over the now clean plate to be dried. “Did you sign up?”

“No,” Y/n tiredly exhaled. It was pushing 8 o’clock and she still had one more hour until closing. Working at a popular diner gave Y/n the ability to save for college and an apartment, but it meant working more hours than what she legally was supposed to—on top of balancing school and band. “I have a pre-cal test on monday so I planned to stay in and study.”

“Oh c’mon! You’ve been itching to sign up all year—why back out now? All for a test you know you’ll get an A on?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, taking another plate to dry, “That’s reaching and you know it.”

“Y/n, you’re one of the smartest people in our grade. Literally will be in the top five come graduation. It’s a Friday night and the whole school is gonna be there,” her friend pleads to her, “you’ve got a voice that’s meant to be heard and songs that should be on the radio.”

The teen gives a ‘I don’t think so,’ shrug, “Eh, I feel my style is not exactly what country music is looking for.”

“Maybe so…but maybe it’s what it needs.”

Guitar in hand and shaking like a leaf, Y/n pulled everything in her to drum her fingers on the strings. The spotlight shining down on her made her squint, unable to see into the crowd save for the silhouette of their heads.

“Just breathe, Y/n,” she mentally told herself. It was dead quiet in the auditorium after a light applause when the drama teacher called her name. And since she wasn’t using an electric guitar, there was no way to hook hers up to the speakers. “Breathe and let your voice do the work.”

Clearing her throat, her lips curled into a shy smile, “This is an original song I’ve been working on. Hope you like it.” Slowly the tune began to echo through the auditorium. Y/n’s voice was shaky at the beginning, but soon found confidence when she closed her eyes and pictured herself in the comfort of her own room.

“We were both young when I first saw you.”

“I close my eyes and the flashback starts, I’m standing’ there.”

“On a balcony in summer air.”

Those in the crowd perked up, schoolmates looking at each other with impressed gazes.

“See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns.”

“See you make your way through the crowd, and say, “Hello.”

“Little did I know.”

Finally finding her rhythm, a genuine grin broke out on her face.

“That you were Romeo, you were throwin’ pebbles.”

“And my daddy said, “Stay away from Juliet—and I was cryin’ on the staircase,”

“Beggin’ you, “Please don’t go,” she let her voice drag out the ‘go’, igniting jaws to be dropped. “And I said.”

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting, all there’s left to do is run.”

“You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess.”

“It’s a love story, baby, just say, ‘Yes.’”

Needless to say, Y/n went home with the winning trophy….and a meeting with Capitol Records Nashville.

Going to college was no longer the plan for Y/n once her signature hit the contract. 3 albums and a promise to take country music by storm was the new future. Staring as soon as her tassel turned from right to left with the class of 2004. Y/n packed up her tiny Honda Civic with everything she had, kissed her family goodbye with plans to see them for the holidays and settled into a cozy studio apartment smack in the middle of Nashville.

“You have a unique voice and lyrical direction, Y/n,” Randy Kingston, one of the execs at CRN said to her one day. “You’re not full country—by that I mean there’s a pop element you bring to the table. Country-Pop if you will.”

Y/n didn’t know how to respond except nod, “Uhhh yeah? I listen to a lot of different genres—-Pop being a big one. A-and I like to experiment by adding different….flavors to my music.” Her expression turns nervous, “is that gonna be a problem, sir?”

Randy rubbed the bottom of his chin with a hand, “No, I don’t think it will. It’s refreshing and something new. Frankly I think you’re gonna do well with the youngin’s. Your age range will likely be the best receivers.”

Turns out Randy was right. Releasing her first two singles were met with wide recognition from teenagers and young adults. Topping the country music charts for several weeks. During that time Y/n began working on her debut self-titled album on top of filming her first music video for ‘Love Story’. When it dropped, it didn’t just get noticed within the country scene. MTV released it during their early morning showings most people played when getting ready for school and work. Doing so allowed ‘Love Story’ to get more attention that people who were not even country fans were purchasing the single.

“Platinum?!” Y/n screamed at the sight of the framed record indicating ‘Love Story’ sold one million copies.

“Platinum,” Randy grinned, presenting it to her. “Well done, kiddo. You deserve it.” He also dropped the ball that Ellen Degeneres called to schedule an appearance—which nearly had Y/n drop the frame in her hands.

The Ellen Degeneres Show was the first public interview Y/n had ever done. And….it was the first time she was questioned about her love life. Something that would become her greatest nemesis throughout her entire career.

“So your song ‘Love Story’ is all about love, yes?” Ellen asked, igniting a laugh from the audience given the title of the song made it obvious what it was about.

“Yes.”

“So does that mean you got some love going on for yourself? Anyone who inspired this for you?”

“U-Uh, no?” It came out more like a question, causing the audience to laugh while she nervously smiled. “Not really—I-I’m not dating anyone currently, but the song sorta came from my love for romance novels and movies. Everyone desires love,” she nods to herself, “and I wanted to write something that people could relate to. Plus I love Romeo and Juliet—which is the big inspiration for the song.”

Following the appearance on Ellen, Y/n focused on writing music and releasing her albums. Her unique sound of combining country with elements of pop and R&B had listeners from all over the world drawn to her. It was a new era of country music.

But not everyone was very accepting of it.

Older generations and die hard lovers of traditional country were very unwelcoming to Y/n. They felt she didn’t belong in the genre and was better suited for pop. Though Y/n agreed to some extent, she feared making the transition from country to full pop wouldn’t be wise. She was still roughly new to the industry, trusting the judgment of her label who she was contracted to do 3 albums for. So she continued to fulfill her duty until the right moment came.

By the end of the first decade in the 21st century, Y/n had established herself one of the leading artists in country music with four Grammys, six MTV Moonmen, four AMA’s, five Billboard awards and 12 CMA’s. She appeared twice on SNL, performed at Dick Clark’s New Year Rockin’ Eve, and even collaborated with Miranda Lambert.

Yet the media liked to only talk about Y/n’s dating history.

In the first year of her career, Y/n briefly dated Jesse McCartney after first meeting at the 2005 Kids Choice Awards. Shortly after their breakup she was seen with Harry Potter actor Tom Felton, but nothing came out of it. The ‘date’ the media thought had actually been a handout between several of their mutual friends where they happened to be pictured smiling and laughing. After that incident Y/n did get into a five month long relationship with Leonardo DiCaprio, who was twelve years older than her and sparked endless conversation in the media.

Then in 2007-2009 Y/n became involved with Eddie Redmayne following their introduction to each other at Ellen Degeneres’ birthday party. They remained friends afterwards, but their relationship inspired a lot of Y/n’s work which resulted in people criticizing her for making too many break up songs.

“You’ve had quite the track record when it comes to the romance scene, Y/n,” David Letterman voiced during her appearance on his show. The singer was overcome with immediate dread. Again was she subjected to questions about her love life when it was no one’s business. But of course, if there’s one thing men like David have, it’s the audacity. “Which brings me to my next questions: are you dating anyone? And are they gonna have a song about them once you two break up?”

Now unfortunately it was common knowledge late night show hosts were disrespectful towards their guests and didn’t know what boundaries were. Though this was known, however, there was still the underlying pressure to keep silent by smiling and pushing through. Sometimes playing it off like it doesn’t affect you was better than having an outburst and being criticized more by the media. Displaying any offense would label them emotional and sensitive.

Though she wanted nothing more than to walk off the set and cry in her dressing room, Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat and answered as calmly as she could muster. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment. I just want to focus on my music and what comes from my heart is what I put out.”

When Y/n did get into a relationship or was seen on a friendly date—hell even being spotted when out with a male friend for lunch had paparazzi and tabloids bombarding her.

“Is love in the air….again? Country music’s it girl, 24-year-old Y/n L/n, was seen holding hands with Australian actor Xavier Samuel who’s playing Riley Biers in the upcoming third installment of The Twilight Saga. Just this past March Y/n was linked to the son of Tennessee’s Attorney General. Let’s not forget L/n was in a two year romance with Eddie Redmayne before calling it quits last fall. Fans are starting to notice a pattern when it comes to L/n’s relationships and album releases. Should we expect her new single to drop within the next year? And will this romance with Samuel blossom into something long term or end as a spur of the moment flame?”

Notice how all the attention is Y/n and her life? Never once were the men she dated ever asked questions like she was—even if they had a history rivaling hers. Take Leo for example. The women he dated only got younger than Y/n as the years went on and people barely bat an eye.

After the release of her third studio album with CRN, Y/n had a tough decision to make. By that point her last album had more pop than country. The reaction of the fans was pretty much, “You need to just label yourself a pop artist now.” “‘Red’ was literally 90% Pop with 10% Country.” “Stop saying you’re a country music star when the last album you put out was anything but country.”

So…it was safe to say it was time to make the move to a different genre. Thankfully Capitol Records in Los Angeles was ready with the pen in hand to sign Y/n on. There she had creative control on what she put out and Y/n was excited to get started on a new era in her life.

2012 would go down as the year where Y/n was on the edge of her seat with how her career would go. Fans were mixed about her going to pop despite her recent music having mostly pop elements. Then there was the fact she was dating Tyler Hoechlin from Teen Wolf which had fangirls hating her guts for dating their celebrity crush.

What’s sad is Y/n was used to that reception whenever she was in a relationship with a public figure. First Jesse then Tom, Leo, Eddie, and Xavier. Can’t forget the times she got caught on dates with Robert Pattinson, Micheal B. Jordan, and Chris Evans. Then there were the incidents where the paparazzi captured her making out with Sebastian Stan at an after party and leaving the 2011 Grammys with Nate Buzoliac before he made it big as Kol Mikaelson in The Vampire Diaries.

Getting a break was not in the cards for the singer.

When things ended with Tyler in 2015, Y/n told herself she would not date anyone for awhile. Her album ‘1986’ was met with critical acclaim and positive reception from fans, earning her more awards to her growing collection, including the Grammy for Album of the Year. The entire time on tour she focused on having fun and not worrying about what people thought of her. Yeah she still got questions from interviews and hosts about dating she’d simply reply with, “I’m single, and let’s not entertain that further. Next question.”

@ inmyreputationera: I guess @Y/nL/n86 decided romance isn’t exactly her thing. I wonder how that’ll change her music.

@ stanningselenerr: not me checking @ Y/ndatingupdates daily for any new info.

Those were just the handful of tweets Y/n saw everyday on her Twitter feed. It got to the point she’d have to mute notifications whenever she was tagged. While she hated doing so because she loved interacting with fans, the singer needed time away from the constant surveillance of her personal life.

So fast forward to mid-summer of 2018. Y/n hadn’t put out an album in nearly three years nor had she been dating anyone. Yeah people still asked her from time to time though she learned to not let it affect her. Honestly it was a breath of fresh air. She was happy, healthy, and living her best life. Putting her heart and soul into songwriting which was heavily inspired by the reputation she’d garnered since her debut. Not to mention developing closer bonds with her friends and family after making the impulse decision in 2017 to move back to Tennessee. It felt good to be back home. Returning to her roots and the place that started it all after being away for so many years. It was a great time.

Now she was due back to Los Angeles to meet with her manager and producers. Y/n was ready to get back into the studio as much as her fans were telling her they were waiting for new music. With a first-class ticket in hand, Y/n boarded her red-eye flight from Nashville International to LAX and settled in for the five hour flight. It would have them landing at just after 3am Pacific time and while Y/n wanted to rest, she could not for the life of her sleep on a plane.

Approaching her seat Y/n noticed a man in a military uniform seated in the seat beside hers. “Excuse me,” she caught his attention, his head raising where he put two and two together by her hand pointing to the window seat.

“Oh sorry, ma’am,” it took everything in Y/n not to stare at him when he got up. He was very handsome. In his uniform, hazel eyes and sun kissed skin. The most notable feature was his mustache that most men could not pull off yet he seemed to.

“Do you need help with that?” The question pulled her from her mini daydream. He was referring to the carryon bag in her hand.

“Oh I got it—.”

“It’s no problem,” he was already taking the bag from her, securing it in the overhead compartment.

“Thank you so much,” Y/n thanked him while moving into the row, placing her purse in her lap when she sat down. The man returned to his seat just as the next wave of passengers boarded.

Manny, her personal bodyguard who’d been with Y/n since her first tour, was seated in front of her. When they got the tickets he purposely told her to have them separated saying, “I need my beauty sleep and while I love you, you will talk the entire time.” Sure enough when Y/n leaned over to ask him a question Manny was already knocked out, buckled in with his eye mask over his eyes and earbuds in.

Well that left Y/n with little to do. And when she went to retrieve her Kindle she groaned at the realization she forgot to turn back her reading light.

“Everything okay?” She saw the man in her peripheral vision slightly turn his head.

“Yeah just…annoyed with myself. I thought I packed my reading light but I must’ve misplaced it.” God that made her sound like a grandma.

His response was an ‘ah’ sound. “Wish I could help ya there, but I’m not usually equipped with something like that.”

“It’s fine,” she chuckled, buckling in her seatbelt. “It was to pass the time—I can’t sleep on flights. Even though it's midnight and I should feel tired.”

“I’m the same,” he suddenly extended a hand, “I’m Bradley by the way.”

Hesitant to reply in case he were to react to her name, Y/n pushed back any concern and gave a warm smile as she took his hand, “I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you, Bradley.”

“Y/n…” her name was repeated slowly, Bradley’s eyes consorting as though they were deep in thought. A wave of dread and nerves coursed through her. Then Bradley grinned, “Oh! I thought you looked familiar. You sing that song—what was it, ‘Love Story?’ Sorry I don’t mean to sound weird,” he let go of her hand when he realized he was still shaking it. “And I don’t want to bother you. I just can’t help but go, ‘wow!’”

“No-no-no, it’s okay! You’re totally fine.” Before long the two fell into conversation following the typical pre-flight announcements. Y/n was amazed by how natural it felt talking to Bradley. She discovered he was a Naval aviator, coming home from an assignment overseas and was flying to L.A to visit some friends. Bradley had been a graduate of UVA and attended the elite Fighter Weapons School, marking ten years with the navy that year.

“Forgive me for admitting this,” he said after the first hour into the flight, lowering his voice when a passenger trying to sleep glared at them. “But while I know who you are…I’m not really familiar with your work. Y-yeah I mentioned your one song but that’s literally all I know,” he laughed nervously. “My taste in music, I’m embarrassed to say aloud, is very limited.”

Y/n tilts her head, “how limited?”

“Uh, I pretty much only listen to the 1950s all the way to the 80s. Dabbling in what’s popular nowadays once in a blue moon. My karaoke songs are all Jerry Lewis” Bradley gives a gentle smile, “And while I can easily do a Google search, I’d much rather hear it from you if you don’t mind telling me.”

What’s that saying again? Oh that’s right, ‘And the rest was history.’

No but literally Y/n could barely contain her attraction to Bradley after he said that to her. She hoped to God she didn’t look like a fool as she spoke of her career and cool places she’s been. Time flew as they talked. In fact the two were so caught up in their conversation they talked the remainder of the journey to L.A, ending with the exchange of phone numbers and the promise to meet up.

It was decided right from the get go that Bradley and Y/n wanted to keep their relationship hidden. Regardless if the one date went somewhere, the last thing Y/n wanted was to have Bradley in the public eye and cause complications with his job. And let’s not forget her album was releasing within the next year. So, there was going to be a lot of attention on her wherever she went.

“The fact we’ve managed to keep this quiet for a year is outstanding,” Y/n said through a mouthful of cake. Bradley had surprised her with her favorite kind, the icing on the top reading, ‘Happy Anniversary, baby—we’ve got them fooled.’

She couldn’t believe they were already marking one year. Time didn’t seem to exist when she was with Bradley. He was everything she envisioned in a partner. Caring, compassionate, funny, intuitive. Listened to her concerns and communicated. Never made her doubt herself or paid attention to the media.

When she brought up her reputation, or better yet the one the press painted her out to have, Bradley stopped her and said, “who you have history with is not my business—unless they did something to hurt you because then I’ll have a problem with them. And those people talking nonsense about you have nothing else better to do with themselves. I care about you, Y/n. The only one who has influence on how I see you, is you. And I see you as the most beautiful, hardworking, intelligent person who knows her worth. Fuck what they say.”

Yeah that night ended with her jumping his bones.

Bradley took a fork full of his own into his mouth, “I for sure thought they were gonna catch us the night I snuck you on base.” After their first meeting in L.A, Bradley had returned to Virginia while Y/n remained to work on her album. It was a couple months before she went home to Tennessee, then for the holidays they planned to meet up when Y/n was on her way to New York. Sneaking her on base involved the two going undercover where they met at a discreet location and having Y/n shove herself under blankets in his backseat.

The singer laughed at the memory, “Thank Goodness for Shania. Had she not posted that photo to ‘tip off’ the paps then we’d have a whole different outcome.” Bradley laughed with her, placing his fork down on the napkin.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there for your release day,” Bradley had been called back to Top Gun for a special detachment by the Navy. Unfortunately the timing was right when her sixth studio album would drop. The details were still unclear, but that it was a team mission where he would compete against his colleagues. Y/n had yet to meet any of Bradley’s friends and vice versa. The only people in her circle who knew of their relationship were her manager, Manny, and family. But when you signed up to keep your love life private, it meant friends were lost in the dark.

“It’s okay, Roo,” she told him. “We’ll have our own celebration.” Another cake, this time with the design being the album’s cover art on it, was brought over the day before Bradley was set to fly to San Diego and the two had their private release party with just the two of them. The music was blasting through the speakers, Y/n jumping up and down with Bradley who was singing at the top of his lungs.

“Band-aids don’t fix bullet holes! You say sorry just for show! If you live like that, you live with ghosts!”

“I’m in a getaway car. I left you in a motel bar. Put the money in a bag and I stole the key—that was the last time you ever saw me—Oh!”

“Ooh, look what you made me do! Look what you made me do! Look what you just made me do!”

Champagne was popped, kisses were shared, and they danced the entire night until it came time to sleep.

They FaceTimed whenever Bradley had free time, even if it was in the later hours of the night. Those three weeks Y/n felt her heart long for Bradley in a way it had never done with her previous partners. She felt his excitement, his distress. The day he left for the mission Y/n paced around her home for hours—unable to focus on anything and overcome with nausea. It was as though her mind was trying to tell her something was wrong.

Relief came at around nightfall, the singer tripping as she raced to grab her phone when it rang. Seeing Bradley’s picture pop up had the breath she was holding in release. “Oh thanks God,” was the first thing she said.

“I’m coming back to you,” was his response. Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes, hand going to her chest to calm the rapid beat of her heart.

“I would expect nothing less, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

Several celebrations were in store for the couple when Bradley returned to the east coast. Not only did he receive a medal from the Navy for his brave actions but got a promotion. Y/n’s album hit #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the first hour of its release, prompting a record number of sales in a single night for the singer.

“I’m so proud of you, Bradley,” she praised, patting the new patch on his uniform indicating he was now a Lieutenant Commander. She was met with a sweet kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, baby. I’m proud of you too—you’re gonna win everything come awards season.”

During the 2020 Grammy’s, Bradley leaped from the couch in absolute joy when Y/n’s name was called for the winner of Pop Album of the Year and Record of The Year. She missed out on Album of the Year, but that was okay. She was now the owner of 12 Grammys in total. Coming home the following night Y/n’s home was decorated with balloons, a banner reading, ‘Congratulations!!’ and of course, a cake with an edible Grammy topper.

And so it came time for a break. Six albums in a fifteen-year long career, Y/n kept it under the wraps that she wouldn’t be putting out another album for some time. Fans had started to notice she was more uplifted and vibrant in interviews, posting things on social media that were suspicious. For example she uploaded a photo of red roses, captioning it “the symbol of love.” Then there was the screenshotting of well known love songs and posting them on her story.

@ Y/nstansince04: is it me or does @Y/nL/n86 appear happier than usual? Is she hiding something?

@ getawaycarlover_: @Y/nL/n86 totally has a man or someone in her life. That recent Instagram post had all the hints.

@ fearlessdefender: I bet it’s a normal guy she’s with and not a celebrity. If it was we’d probably would’ve known by now who it was.

@ Y/ns_red_lipstick: honestly if Y/n does have a boyfriend then I’m happy for her and wish them the best. She deserves to be happy and we should respect their privacy. She doesn’t have to share with the world if it’s their desire to keep it secret.

Right when the world went to chaos at the brink of a global pandemic, Y/n thought, “you know what, I’m gonna just delete my social media—not my accounts but the apps on my phone. I want to go off the grid for a bit and just enjoy my family and boyfriend.” Not having the constant shadow of social media on her back made it easier for the singer on the break she desired.

Everyday she fell more in love with Bradley. She had been visiting him when quarantine happened so they basically went to the next step in their relationship by living together. Again, it all felt natural. They settled into a domestic life with each other early on with homemade dinners, movie nights, nerf gun wars, and karaoke contests. Bradley on the piano and Y/n with her guitar, being each other’s act and audience in their private concert.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill. Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

“Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone. I’ll be waiting, all there’s left to do is run. You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess. It’s a love story, baby just say, ‘Yes!’”

Late nights were reserved for drives with the speakers blasting. Y/n camera roll would be filled with endless videos of the two, but mostly of Bradley jamming to his favorite songs. More often than usual the thought of, “I’m gonna marry this man,” would cross her mind.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog. Cryin’ all the time. You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog. Cryin’ all the time. Well, you ain’t never caught a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine!”

Y/n would lean her body out the window when it was a clear road where they were the only ones, hair blowing and the light from the moon shining down on her. Her beautiful voice carried in the night sky, Bradley in absolute awe of her and wanting to capture the moment forever.

“I came home in the mornin’ light—my mother says, ‘when you gonna live your life right?’ Oh momma dear, we’re not the fortunate ones. And girls, they wanna have fun. Oh girls just wanna have fun!”

But was supposed to be maybe two years at most…..ended up being close to five.

Honestly Y/n was surprised to still have fans. To say they were shitting bricks when she out of the blue dropped a cover art for her upcoming single, ‘Love’ would be an understatement. They were losing their fucking minds.

@ Y/nwhereforartthou: IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING OH MY FUCKING SHIT! PLEASE TELL ME THIS AINT A JOKE Y/N IS COMING BACK AFTER FIVE FUCKING YEARS

@ stilladirectionerbby: *insert Micheal Scott gif* OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING—Y/N’S RELEASING NEW MUSIC

@ MTV: when all hope was lost, our prayers were answered….by @Y/nL/n86

Then she announced in the same week they were getting not one but two albums that year.

@ themadalorianswife: TWO ALBUMS?!?! WE GETTING TWO?!?! GOD FUCKING BLESS

@ daddyisastateofmind: oh mother is spoiling us after making us wait so long and I absolutely am here for it.

@ neveroutofstyle_: love how @Y/nL/n86 basically said “this is my sorry for falling off the face of the earth, please forgive me.” On behalf of the fandom, we forgive you queen.

And wanna know something else?

What was even more impressive than becoming a ghost for five years with little to no sightings by the paparazzi, was that she and Bradley had yet to be discovered. Her lover was just as good of a ghost as she was. Their secret was like trying to find the Holy Grail.

Hidden like a treasure the world desired to unearth.

And on their six year anniversary, Bradley got them the same cake as the first time he did. The icing reading, "Happy 7 years, baby—we’ve totally got them fooled.”

…………….

TGM Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry , @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black , @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris

[hopepetal]

Some ranchers. Because I said I'd write them <3

––

First out.

Again.

And by his own stupid hand, his own stupid actions, because he never learned. He never learned.

No matter what he tried, no matter what he did, Jimmy would always be the canary.

“I hate myself,” he cried into the empty afterlife, drawing his knees up to his chest and rocking back and forth, wrapping his golden wings around himself as if they could shield him from the harsh reality. As if they could protect him from the truth.

“I hate myself,” he wept, and nothing changed for it. Time still ticked, tocked, sand trickling through the hourglass of life. His own hourglass was cracked open, sand spilling to the ground.

“I hate myself,” he whispered, and it echoed throughout the empty white space that stretched out infinitely.

And then he wasn't alone.

And then Skizz was there, with a gasp and tears streaking down his face but a smile on his lips. And then Joel was there, with a frustrated scream of rage. And then Bdubs.

They all exchanged brief words. Joel hugged Jimmy tightly for a moment, mournful whispers of a planned sacrifice in his ear. It wouldn't have worked. It never did. But Jimmy thanked Joel for trying.

And then someone was sitting next to him, cross legged and hands in their lap, tail swishing back and forth slightly. Jimmy didn't even need to look over to see who it was. He knew the presence of his rancher, knew the beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breathing.

“I'm sorry you got out first again,” Tango said, just as Jimmy muttered, “out first again, huh?”

They both looked at each other, meeting eyes that were finally their natural hue, and for a moment just stared. Then, Tango giggled nervously, and Jimmy couldn't help but smile as well.

“I'm still sorry about hitting you,” Jimmy apologized, wrapping a wing around Tango. “I was just bein' bad, you know how it is.”

Tango laughed, leaning against Jimmy. “I think it suits you. Black leather brings out your eyes. When you're not wearing sunglasses. I mean. Obviously. Because when you're wearing sunglasses your eyes are covered and–”

“Tango, Tango, buddy, I get it,” Jimmy interrupted, his mind far away from the self-loathing of earlier. “Here. Hold on.” He took off his sunglasses and fluttered his eyelashes at Tango. “Better?”

Tango's face went red, and he nodded. “Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Cool! Those are your eyes! Wow!”

“You two really are soulmates,” Cleo commented from where they stood with Bdubs and Scar, an arm around the former. “Get a room, jeez.”

Jimmy shot her a glare, though there was nothing behind it. “Oh, buzz off!”

Tango burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking and tail tip flicking back and forth. “Ohhhh, oh man. I'm glad I got to see you again, Jimmy.”

“You need to visit more often,” Jimmy muttered, “I missed you.”

Tango pouted slightly. “I know... I'll try. I promise. But you know me, I start working on some project and then forget about time...” Noticing how Jimmy's shoulders slumped, he hurried to add on, “but I'll try! I will! I promise!”

“Good.”

“Good!”

As the last of the sand spilled from Martyn's hourglass, Jimmy and Tango watched. And as with every game, they slowly began to fade away from the afterlife, sent back to their home servers.

“Remember,” Jimmy told a translucent Tango, his voice resonating strangely, “you promised you'd visit.”

Tango grinned, nodding. “Rancher's honor! See you soon!”

And with that, they faded away.

Somewhere, a tiny toy sheriff awoke with a gasp, and felt like something was missing.

Somewhere, a hermit awoke with a soft yelp, and felt as if he'd broken a promise.

[theunchainedmelody]

Subjugator of Worlds- A "My Adventures with Superman" one shot about Kara & Jimmy

Rating: T for Teen Pairing: Kara/Jimmy I conquered planets, me and my father. Razed worlds that opposed us all for the glory of the Kryptonian empire. Even as my heart ached for my victims, as I grinned as I tore apart planetary champions, even as my father was forced to subdue the emotions within me that occasionally flared up… Even then I did not stop.

But then I came to this world. This backwater planet should not fascinate me as it does. And I find myself staring at towering skyscrapers unmarred by our weaponry, upon a civilization living a peaceful existence… It all captivates me so… None moreso than one of the first humans I came across on a city street. A man named Jimmy Flamebird. Seeing him, I wondered if all Earthling males were so enamoring to the eyes, but perhaps it no longer matters. He rescued me, not knowing I was the enemy, the conqueror. That his planet was doomed for I was the arbiter of its very subjugation.

Even so, I find myself wishing to hold back around him, to let him do with me as he pleases. He takes me to such amazing places to taste food I had not imagined, flavors far surpassing the bland military rations my father offers to sustain me. I’m falling in love with this planet, and that scares me in a way that taking on a battleship with naught but my battle armor ever could. I’ve felled such warships singlehandedly without a scratch but if Jimmy were to be hurt, I think I would crumble. I fear nothing on this planet more than him, my greatest temptation luring me into complacency. And worst of all, I don’t resist a single request of his nor do I wish to.

I came here to find someone, to find the one man in the universe who can understand me, and yet, I’m so easily being led astray. Curse these emotions, these wants, unbefitting of a warrior of Krypton.

Sexless.

Genderless.

Bred for war.

That’s what I am.

But around Jimmy I’ve never felt like more of a woman. He’s so handsome and so sweet. I feel bodily desires emerging I could never bring up in Father’s presence. I suspect Jimmy is not truly the planetary leader he claimed to be nor that we are drawing any closer to seeing my cousin. And yet I do not want the sun to set on this perfect day.

I’ve never had a perfect day.

All days in space bleed together.

I find myself silently apologizing to my father for my betrayal, for my hesitation, promising myself I’ll bring this planet to its knees to rectify this wrong. And yet, for that same reason, I hope Father stays away a little longer.

I need to find the person that will comprehend my loneliness, my might, my heritage…

But when I find him, Kal-el is not the warrior I had hope he’d be. At the time, I found myself overstimulated by noises and violence around me from some public mockery. Why would one as great as he subject themselves to this? I’d take the familiar ringing of ballistic missiles in my ears over this chaos. I do not wish to hurt these people, but my mind is telling me to silence the threat. Agitation creeps up my spine. That’s when I see my cousin clearly, and I feel so odd. Am I nervous?  Nervous like when Jimmy had so chivalrously cleaned that delicious ice cream from my cheek? I need Kal-El to give me something Father won’t, some wisdom… some guidance… an answer to the cold loneliness of conquest and deep space. Only to him, I’m part of the mockery of this world and he brushes past me without a second thought. No, to him, I’m somehow of less importance than the earthling woman I’d seen kissing his cheek. How disgusting, such fraternization with a lowly being.

And so, in my rage, I chastise him. And Father sends me upon him like a mad dog. I’ve always been his dignified lieutenant on the verge of conquest, but in truth, a mad dog off her leash is what I become in battle. It always feels good, and afterwards, leaves me shivering in fear of my own reflection. I see the people of this world trembling at my tyranny, and I know that as always, this is my fault. Father calms my emotions, and the next minute becomes a blur, but afterwards, it’s still me doing these things. Hurting Kal-El. Needing to hurt him. Needing to rescue him so that he can be where he belongs. With his own kind. With me. For a moment, my thoughts turn to Jimmy Flamebird, who I abandoned back in a burning city. I steel away the weakness that wishes to seek him out. And yet I wonder if the man has come to resent me for what I am and what I will do to his world.

I am Kara Zor-El of Krypton. And this is what I am and always will be. A monster. And I will never be free of me.

Notes: Please note this was written after episode 5 aired so episode 6 and beyond might contradict a lot of details I've assumed about Kara's lore and personality.

[wrestlezaynia]

"Forgiveness."

So close, yet so far. Inches away but world's apart. "Kev, you awake?" Sami asks in a hushed whisper, breaking the silence between them.

Kevin lay with his back facing Sami, peering out the window. The "no vacancy" sign a grim reminder of how he got stuck in this predicament, replying to Sami's inquiry with a grunt, feigning sleep.

Sami rolls on his side, boring a hole through the back of Kevin's skull. "I know you're hurting, Kev." His voice soft as he scoots closer. "I can't take back what I've done, but I might have a solution to our problem."

Kevin could feel the mattress shift as Sami draws near, his heartbeat starting to quicken. He squeezes his eyes shut, regretting ever agreeing to share a room after everything they've been through.

Sami proceeds with caution, his budding erection poking Kevin's backside. "You have a lot of pent-up frustration begging to be released." He leans in to whisper, his breath hot against Kevin's ear.

Kevin bites his lower lip to prevent a moan from escaping, his own arousal beginning to stir as a result. "Sami, I can barely bring myself to look at you let alone fuck you." He remarks snidely.

Growing impatient with Kevin's stubbornness, Sami backs away. "I'm trying to make things right between us, Kev." The redhead replies somberly, his heart heavy at the thought of losing him again.

Contrary to popular belief, Kevin did have a heart and right now it's twinging at the defeat in Sami's tone. The typically verbose redhead remains silent, staring down at his hands. "I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive you." Kevin answers truthfully, his voice wavering.

Sami's lip quivers as tears threaten to spill from his eyes. "How many times have you betrayed me and I always remained by your side?" He asks, reminiscing back on their turbulent past.

Kevin pinches the bridge of his nose and, moving to a seated position, turns in Sami's direction. The devastation etched across his face making Kevin's stomach churn. "I betrayed you for a title, not a person." He explains, averting Sami's gaze.

Sami could detect the envy in Kevin's tone, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Oh my God." He gasps, glancing at Kevin who is now avoiding eye contact. "I can't believe I never noticed...you're jealous."

A warm blush rises to Kevin's cheeks. He never lied to Sami and even if he did, it would be in vain. He can read Kevin like a book.

"Kev, look at me." Sami coaxes, tilting his chin to meet his gaze. "You have nothing to be jealous about." He assures him, moving his hand to cup his cheek. "I don't love Roman, or Jimmy, or Jey...I love you, Kevin." His name escaping as a whisper. "I've always loved you."

Consumed by emotion, Kevin leans forward, brushing his lips tenderly against Sami's. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he cradles Sami's face in his hands to deepen the kiss, murmuring sweet nothings in his native tongue.

Sami emits a soft whimper as soon as their lips connect, it felt like an eternity since their last kiss. Eager to taste more, Sami traces Kevin's bottom lip with the tip of his tongue in hopes of gaining entry.

A guttural moan emerges from Kevin's throat as he willingly parts his lips, granting Sami further access. Their tongues swirling sensually around each other's mouths. The kiss becoming even more heated when Kevin climbs on top of Sami, straddling his lap.

Their lips eventually part, leaving both men gasping for air. Kevin rests his forehead against Sami's and their eyes lock, hunger burning in his piercing gray orbs. "Sami, make love to me." He murmurs breathlessly, the desperation in his tone palpable.

Sami swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He gives a slight nod to indicate his approval, the thin material of their boxers the only thing separating them as shaky hands reach down to peel off the garment. Intentionally skimming his fingertips over Kevin's thighs, watching his reaction intently as he fulfills his desire.

A/N: I apologize for this ending so abruptly, but I have something better in the works...stay tuned! 😏😉

Tagging: @normallyweirdfreak, @himbos-hotline, @coloursflyaway, @low-x-battery, @riveliciousx, @racerchix21, @kevinsteen, @naturalxselection, @pikapuff-316, @stardust181, @elsteenerico, @kristalovesjian1-blog and @anothersabah. The list is growing! 🙌

[mackeydoodledoo]

A Captivating Voice

Pairing: Cassandra Dimitrescu x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: Working as a servant in Castle Dimitrescu is already a workload for you. However, one job has finished early and you take the opportunity to get time to yourself and sing out some vocals, with caution. However, a Dimitrescu daughter has been captivated by your angelic voice.

Warnings: Some Angst(??), blood, Fluff/slight nsfw at the end

A/N: Finally have a story for all three Dimitrescu daughters! Still thinking of some ideas for the Lady Dimitrescu herself so hopefully I’ll have one out soon!

Line Without a Hook | If I Could Tell Her

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

6 months.... 

That's how long it has been since you've been working in Catsle Dimitrescu. It's been a living hell, hearing the faint screams of fellow maidens from down in the dungeons had freaked you out enough. 

"Will that be all milady?" You ask 

Bela, being at least more sensible than the other two, had asked for your help with whatever it was. You didn't really question her about it, so you just went with it. 

"Nope," she says, "is that all you have to do today?" 

You nod, "I managed to finish cleaning the east wing early today. Not until dinner, I have nothing else to do Lady Bela." 

"Then that is all y/n," she says 

You bow your head and begin heading back to your quarters. If anything, with the much time you had before your next task, you immediately grab your acoustic guitar and begin heading to a secret spot. Secret, because no one else knows about it. Although you could have trusted Bela, you also didn't want to risk getting into unnecessary trouble with Lady Dimitrescu. As you climb the walls of the castle, you close the window so they won't know someone went out. You seat yourself along the rooftop, you tune your guitar. It was a warm afternoon. Perfect for a small one-person jam session. 

I don't really give a damn About the way you touch me  When we're alone  You can hold my hand If no one's home Do you like it When I'm away? 

From where you just exited, Cassandra walks past the window and hears a faint singing voice. She stops in her tracks and backtrack to the window. 

Oh baby I am a wreck When I'm without you I need you here to stay I broke all my bones that day  I found you Crying at the lake Was it something I said  To make you feel like You're a burden? Oh, and if I could take it all back  I swear that I Would pull you  From the tide 

Cassandra continues listening to your captivating voice. She wanted to open the window to see your face. However, would lead to certain doom if she had done so. 

Singing, she's a she's a lady And I am not a boy  Singing, she's a she's a lady And I am just a line without a- Oh baby I am a wreck when I'm without you I need you here to stay I broke all my bones that day I found you Crying at the lake Was it something I said To make you feel like You're a burden? Oh and if I could take it all back I swear that I  Will pull you from... The tide.... 

As you finish the last note, you look out to the village you had come from. To be honest, you were a tourist.... Then someway somehow you unknowingly became a servant to Castle Dimitrescu. Well, it was better than death really. However, you made one request; you'd keep one of your possessions, your acoustic guitar. Somehow Lady Dimitrescu was lenient enough for that request to be approved. However, with the rough tasks, you barely touched it since starting your time there. However, it was rare. You'd find some time to yourself before the next task so you found that specific spot outside along the castle where you could feel free enough to play your guitar. As she heard the window beginning to jimmy, she turns into her usual swarm of bugs and hide in the shadows. You open. The window and quickly hop inside and shut the window before you could be noticed. However, just before you could get back to your quarters, you could feel a bug on the back of your hand. 

"Oh...... No...." you sigh 

You jerk your hand back into you as the bug leaves a scar along it. 

"So it was you huh?" Cassandra appears out of the shadows 

"L-lady Cassandra," you say, nervously, "I'm-Im sorry if I made any unessecary noises. I'll-I'll promise I won't do it again." 

You try to brush past her however, she catches your bleeding hand and brings you in close to her. You could feel your heart beating harder. She raises your hand and she licks off the seeping blood. 

"You should play for me some more," she suggests 

"Milady?" You ask 

"Don't make me repeat myself," She leans in close to your face, menacingly 

You nod your head as she lets go of your hand. 

"My quarters after dinner," she says, "Not early, not late. Bring that with you. Got it?" 

You nod, not willing to argue with her further. She licks your bleeding hand one last time before letting it go and turning into a swarm of bugs. Your heart was beating at an uncomfortable rate. You couldn't find the courage to sneak back out again, so you decided to sit in your quarters until it was dinner.

You followed every single request as best as it can get. You were considered one of the best servants in the castle, according the Lady Dimitrescu. However, as you were pouring Daniela another glass of wine, your fingers had suddenly turned into butter and the bottle slid out of your hands, crashing onto the floor. In a fit of rage Daniela uses her sickle and your reflexes kicked in, you hold your arms up to your face however, she slashes the palm of your hand. 

"Keep your dirty mits off her you idiot!" Cassandra yells, grabbing Daniela by the wrists 

Another servant comes over to help you clean up as much as possible. You were dismissed by Lady Dimitrescu, but she didn't seem angered. More like, sorrowful. 

As you kept your promise to Lady Cassandra, you took your guitar and walked up to the door to her quarters. 

"Lady Cassandra?" You call, knocking on the door 

"Come in," she calls, monotonus 

You open and close the door and notice that she's already in bed, she was on her side, facing you, awaiting for you to seat yourself. 

"My apologies for Daniela," she says 

"No no my apologies milady, me and my butter fingers," you try to chuckle it off 

"Your palm?" She asks 

You raid it for the both of you to see. Unfortunately the palm Daniela had sliced was your left palm, in order for you to play to Cassandra was to use your left hand for the notes. 

"Oh don't worry milady, I'll be able to manage," you lie 

You didn't not want to play because of some stupid injury you brought on yourself. When you tried to play one note, you draw your hand back. 

"Let me see your palm y/n," she says calmly 

You unwrap your palm and hand it to her. 

"How do you know my name?" You ask her 

You've barely interacted with her. You've mostly interacted with Bela as she needs your help with whatever it was she needed. 

"Bela tells us about the help you bring her when we talk at dinner," Cassandra says, slightly in a jealous tone 

Oh, that's fun, Bela likes to run her mouth. You were worried she would have bitten off one of your fingers but, her touch was gentle and soft. You'd think she'd make a fuss about your injured hand. She takes your palm and her tongue gently running itself along the cut. You felt weird about it.... a sadistic woman gently tending your wound. You didn't realize this but when she moves her tongue, the scar was gone, only a silver lining remained. 

"How-how did you do that?" You ask her, surprised 

"Guess I'm just full of surprises," she flirts 

"Well, that makes two of us," you smile, "Any requests?" 

"Sing the one you sang when I heard you earlier today," she says 

Oh.... That one.... Alright. 

"As you wish milady," you sigh, tuning each string 

You wanted to leave Cassandra's room with no scars so you take in a deep breath and begin strumming calmly, you wanted it to be gentle and smooth. 

I don't really give a damn About the way you touch me  When we're alone  You can hold my hand If no one's home Do you like it When I'm away? 

As you continued singing, you looked behind you and noticed how Cassandra was still facing you, but she looked peaceful. Her eyes were closed as if she was watching you through your voice. Feeling bold, you turned your body so that you're fully sitting on her bed, singing to her. 

Oh baby I am a wreck When I'm without you I need you here to stay I broke all my bones that day  I found you Crying at the lake Was it something I said  To make you feel like You're a burden? Oh, and if I could take it all back  I swear that I Would pull you  From the tide 

Cassandra sits up and reveals that she wasn't wearing any form of clothes other than her under garments. You blush at her fine figure but snap your eyesight back up to her facial features. 

Singing, she's a she's a lady And I am not a boy  Singing, she's a she's a lady And I am just a line without a- Oh baby I am a wreck when I'm without you I need you here to stay I broke all my bones that day I found you Crying at the lake Was it something I said To make you feel like You're a burden? Oh and if I could take it all back I swear that I  Will pull you from... The tide.... 

You strum out the last chord and look up, Cassandra is captivated. You slightly smile, hoping that eased her senses. 

"Why haven't you sang to me sooner?" She smiles 

"Oh- I'm not sure," you sigh, "I wasn't sure if you would be the kind to like a servant's vocals." 

"Same time tomorrow evening," Cassandra demanded, but in a calm voice 

"Yes milady," you blush 

You swing the guitar against your back however, before you made your leave, Cassandra pulls you back toward her by your wrist, startling you. 

"Maybe, I should keep you too," she whispers seductively 

Your heart was racing, you couldn't find the right words to say. Even if you did, they wouldn't come out of your mouth correctly, fearing your demise, should you say something. 

"Little Angel has her tongue tied," she lowly giggles, "Same time tomorrow angel." 

She finally lets you go. With haste, you make your way out of her quarters and back to your quarters until the next morning. 

As Cassandra steps into the dining room for breakfast, her sisters and her mother look up at her. 

"Somebody sure slept in," Daniela teases 

"Good morning to you too dummy," Cassandra groans 

"Did you hear that person singing last night?" Bela asks Cassandra 

"She has such a beautiful voice how haven't we had her perform for us before?" Daniela asks 

"Because it's such a silly task," Lady Dimitrescu says, "However, you are right about her having a lovely voice." 

"Do you know who it is Cass?" Daniela asks 

"Hmmmm, perhaps," she smiles 

"Who is it????" Daniela pleads 

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," Cassandra snarls

As you were cleaning Lady Cassandra's room, a song came into your head. You couldn't help but hum along to the chorus that was playing in your head. Any kind of music helps you get the job done easier. You were just about to organize Cassandra's vanity before you hear the sound of buzzing. Here we go again.... As you looked up from the mirror, there she was. You weren't sure if she was checking something on her dress or if she was admiring you. 

"Hi little angel," she smiles, coming closer to you, "Did you miss me?" 

"More than you could imagine," you flirt back, feeling bold all of a sudden 

She turns you around and snakes her arms on both sides of your waist. Your heart began racing once more and you were sure that Cassandra could feel it too. 

"Little angel's heart is racing, is it because of me?" She smiles menacingly, leaning close to your face 

You put your hands on her shoulders, and lean in. But, before the both of you could do anything, you hear the voice of Lady Dimitrescu calling for her brunette daughter. 

"Do you remember what's tonight?" Cassandra asks 

"Here, after dinner. Not early, not late," you remember her words from the evening before 

"Good girl," she smiles menacingly once more 

She turns into her usual swarm of flies and disappears into the castle halls. Good girl.... She just called me a good girl.. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle before facing her vanity once more to organize it. 

When you had finished cleaning Cassandra's room, it was cleaning the dining hall before dinner. Fortunately Lady Dimitrescu didn't assign you to be a servant for dinner tonight however, you wouldn't be able to see Cassandra until her requested time to see you. You end up changing into your sleep wear just in case Cassandra decides to keep you in her chambers for the night. 

"Milady Cassandra?" You call from the other side of the door, knocking 

"Come in love," she says, calmly 

You open the door and close like like you did last night and seat yourself at the edge of her bed. 

"Any specific songs you would like to hear milady?" You ask, turning your head to her 

"Lets make it your pick tonight," she smiles 

You blush, as if you were hoping for her to say that. You tune your guitar like clockwork, and begin plucking your strings. 

I said There's nothing like your smile Sort of subtle and perfect and real I said You never knew how wonderful That smile could make someone feel 

Those weren't the exact lyrics, you changed them to expressing how you felt about Cassandra. Even though you knew she was the sadistic daughter of Castle Dimitrescu, she's shown you otherwise. 

But I kept it all inside my head What I saw, I left unsaid And though I wanted to I couldn't talk to you I couldn't find the way But I would always say: If I could tell her Tell her everything I see If I could tell her How she's everything to me But we're a million worlds apart And I don't know how I would even start If I could tell her If I could tell her 

You turn your body so that you're facing Cassandra. You again begin strumming like it was your last. 

I thought You looked really pretty, er— It looked pretty cool when you put indigo streaks in your hair And I wondered how you learned to dance Like all the rest of the world isn't there But I kept it all inside my head What I saw, I left unsaid If I could tell her Tell her everything I see If I could tell her How she's everything to me But we're a million worlds apart And I don't know how I would even start If I could tell her If I could tell her But what do you do when there's this great divide? She just seemed so far away And what do you do when the distance is too wide? It's like I don't know anything And how do you say I love you? I love you I love you I love you But we're a million worlds apart And I don't know how I would even start If I could tell her If I could 

As you strum the final chord, you look up at Cassandra, who was just in a daze as much as you were. You place your guitar against the wall and climb into her lap. 

"Y/n?" She asks 

Before you or her could question further, your lips crashed against hers and the both of you began fighting for dominance. You didn't want to be bested in a simple kiss. However, it seemed that Cassandra was still caught off guard by your action. Feeling bold,, you stick your tongue into her mouth, hearing a deep moan coming out of her mouth. Oh, but she did you one better, she puts one palm under your arse and the other beginning to run under your bra. You gasp, making you pull away to breathe, you see Cassandra smiling. 

"Stay with me draga mea," she pleas 

You nod happily as you let yourself fall onto the soft mattress and follow Cassandra under the crimson sheets. 

The word got out fairly quickly that you were now Cassandra's lover. However, everyone was supportive about it, especially her sisters and Lady Dimitrescu. Cassandra persuaded her mother to have you play for the entire family when they would come over. However, when the night comes, when its only the two of you would be alone, you'd sing her a song only she would want to hear for herself. 

"You captivated me with your voice draga mea," Cassandra whispers as she cuddles her head into the crook of your neck

“Were you now?” You ask

“What was your life like before you came here?” Cassandra asks

“Well, I used to be a musician,” You say, “I traveled the world, street performing and such. But, I’m here and I’m saying it’s not a bad thing though. I’ve come to love being here. Thanks to you.”

Cassandra lifts her head and the both of you give each other a good night kiss.

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

So Wrong

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one

Word Count: 8000

Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really

Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.

A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen. 

There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error. 

Hope you enjoy!

Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully. 

You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.

Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.

It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.

“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”

You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.

You nod and smile, and accept the offering. 

“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”

Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.

You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.

“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.

Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.

You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”

Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”

“And the boy’s other kin?”

“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”

“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice. 

Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter. 

They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.

You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.

“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”

You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.

“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”

“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”

He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.

“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?” 

“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”

Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”

Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.

You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.

The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle. 

“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.

You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.

Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.

You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.

Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless. 

Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.

The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.

In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.

When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.

It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.

When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.

“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”

You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.

“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.” 

You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”

“Not to me.”

You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”

He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.

‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.

You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.

That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.

It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”

“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”

You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.

Wilford does indeed ask. 

You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper. 

He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.

He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”

He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.

“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly. 

Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space. 

“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.

“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.

Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”

You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.

“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.

“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”

“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.

“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.

“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”

“You don’t hav’ta do that-”

“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.

You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.

You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”

She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.

“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.

You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?” 

“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.

The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven. 

The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.

“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.” 

You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.

“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do. 

Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.

“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”

She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about. 

From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.

He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper. 

The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.

“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.

You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.

“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.” 

“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”

The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.

The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.

“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”

Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer. 

“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.

Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”

“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”

His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”

She nods and gets up.

“Wine?” you ask, surprised.

“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”

Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.

You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.

“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”

“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”

“Not right away, but yes.”

“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”

“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”

“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.

“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.

Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”

“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject. 

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”

Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”

She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.

You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine. 

You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.

“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.

“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”

“I can take a look for you,” he offers.

“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”

She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”

He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.

You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.

“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.

“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.

When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk. 

“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”

He nods and follows. 

When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.

“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.

“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”

You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.

You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.

“Coffee?”

He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.

You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.

Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.

The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.

His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.

“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.

Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”

“You’re beautiful, y’know.”

You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.

“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”

“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.

One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.

“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.

God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.

It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.

“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.

“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”

It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.

He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.

It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.

You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.

Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.

The boys start to whine over each other-

“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”

“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”

Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.

Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.

“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”

He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”

“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”

You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.

You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth. 

It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.

He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.

“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.

“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”

His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.

You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”

His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.

One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.

Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.

“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”

To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.

“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”

It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.

“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”

“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.

“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”

He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”

And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.

“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.

You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.

“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.

“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.

“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.

You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.

“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide. 

His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”

You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.

“Kiss me?” you whisper.

His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.

The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.

“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.

When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.

You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.

“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.

Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.

Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”

Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.

“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”

“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.

Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.

He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”

“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.

You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.

Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers. 

“We are. Go home, Lee.”

He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”

...

[vanillann]

ew, it’s the government (spencer reid x reader)

hi!! after thinking about this i’ll be taking out the acab from the masterlist (nothing changing in the plot line) just so it doesn’t feel like an aesthetic!!

warning: swearing, mentions of crime and sex, enemies to lovers

word count: 1.6k

ew, it’s the government masterlist

chapter 7: in the wise words of jane austen

“You know, I wish my tax dollars went to those stupid pot holes.”

I rubbed my head from where it slammed into the roof of Agent Reid's car.

“Sorry.”

HIs voice was sincere as he quickly jumped from the driver seat once we parked and ran to my side of the car. I nodded my head, stepping out and I followed him to the trunk to grab both our bags.

I kept quiet, still shocked he was being nice considering how rude and cold I’d been, but I suppose some people were just better than me in that department. I didn’t want to but it felt like the right thing in a sense.

I felt a light tap on my shoulder, drawing me from the twilight zone I had fallen into.

“Here my key, D6. I’ll be up in a second I need to help Ms. Anderson feed her animals”

He didn’t wait a second as he dropped the keys into my hand and began walking to an apartment here on the bottom floor. I quickly caught up, running through the glass door just as they were about to close.

When I had made it in he had disappeared, I simply shrugged and made my way over to the elevator. The light elevator music calmed my nerves and I found floor D and smashed the button.

The light music that rang throughout was oddly calming considering I was in an FBI Agents apartment. The guilt slowly was slowly reaching me, as I know I haven’t been exactly the most inviting and they might be trying to help, but I couldn’t but think back to my poor sister.

The ding broke me from my daydream, shaking my head and looking ahead to the short hall. I slowly stepped from the elevator and spotted the Agent in question leaning against his door, hand in pocket as he waited.

“How did you beat me?”

“I took the stairs, much faster and safer.”

I watched him eye the elevator, the way he looked at it like one of those evil guys they catch. I was going to make a joke, but I decided maybe I should get nice for a few moments, as he hadn’t done anything to me personally I suppose.

I handed him the eye, his hands pulled themself from his pocket and let himself unlock the door. He held it open for me, which I returned with another nod and walked into the apartment.

It smells exactly like the sweater I still wore, the green walls with many bookshelves were a nice touch if I would say. I slowly made my way over to the couch, not taking a sit but setting my bag on the leather vintage material.

The clean atmosphere of the apartment was nice, and reminded me of Jerick almost and how he would come into my apartment when I was showering. I wonder how Jerick was enjoying himself with Polly Pocket. I snapped, trying to refrain from nicknames.

That when I spotted a large zombie looking head hanging from his bookshelf, smiling to myself when I slowly walked to it and pointed to it.

“What’s this?”

I turned, finding that Agent Boy, Reid, was nowhere to be seen. I frowned, letting my bottom lip lock out as I made my way around the apartment, looking from a pillow and a blanket from a nice cozy spot on the couch for tonight.

As I was looking under the old TV stand, that didn’t have a TV, may I say, I heard my name being called in a panic. As I went to stand up I felt my head slam into the top, a headache already forming as I fell back on my butt.

I heard footstep hurry to where I now sat on the ground, the mauve color converse caught my eye.

“I- are you okay?”

I nodded my head, slowly nodding as I rubbed it a few more times before looking up to him. He bent down, grabbing my face in-between his fingers. I went to pull back but he kept a firm grip on my face.

“I’m checking to see if you have a concussion,” his voice was from, causing me to stop my struggle and look into my eyes. I felt suddenly unsure, wiggling slightly as he held his finger out and slightly asked from my eyes to follow it.

“I didn’t know you were that type of Doctor.”

Shut up (Y/N).

“Huh?”

He let his finger fall, waiting for me to explain myself.

“You said you were a doctor, it was supposed to be a joke,” I casually explained, trying not to embarrass myself more the longer I spoke.

“Oh,” he slowly nodded, pulling his bottom lip in-between his teeth, sitting on the floor across from me as awkward silence filled the room.

“It was a bad joke,” I slowly stood up, feeling the pain in my head but ignoring it as I stood up.

“Uhm, where are the blankets?”

He looked up at me, slowly pushing himself from the floor as he examined me.

“Why?”

“So I can sleep on the couch tonight?”

I pointed over my shoulder in the direction of said couch.

“Oh no, you can take my room and I can make a pallet on the floor.”

While the gesture was sweet I felt like it was unfair to push someone from their own bed, especially with the way I’ve been acting.

“No i-”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you out of my sight right now, with everything I mean and it’s fine really. I’ve slept in more uncomfortable hotels.”

His eyes scanned me as he rocked on his heels, slowly waiting for me to respond.

“Okay that’s fine.”

I turned around uncomfortable with the eye contact, the anger inside of me boiling. He was nice, but the system he worked from was corrupt so unless he realized that he was just as bad as the rest.

I noticed the grocery store bag on the counter, something I had completely forgotten about. I felt bad for the way I acted but I guess my attitude had become a part of me, which didn’t excuse it but it was the truth.

“Are we still making Shepherd's Pie?”

“Oh uhm- yeah sure.”

I didn’t wait for him to get up and I made my way to the kitchen. I heard his phone ding but I ignored it as I slowly took things from the bag and placed them on the counter.

“Garcia can’t find anything about Jerick from up til a few years ago,” Agent said, coming to the opposite side of the counter to me.

“Look under Jennifer, it’s his deadname.”

Spencer said nothing as he watched me, my anger boiling waiting from him to say something.

“I’m sorry we didn’t know he was trans,” he spoke sincerely, something I was grateful for.

“I’m not Jerick so I can’t accept this apology but you have been nothing but respectful to him so I doubt he would mind.”

Spencer nodding, texting the tech girl back quickly.

“Why didn’t she ask him herself?”

“Wanted to make sure it wasn’t something we should be worried about,” he answered quickly, shoving his phone back in his pocket while placing his hand on the counter.

“Okay where is the recipe book?”

“I don’t have one,” he brushed it off, reaching over and grabbing a few of the ingredients from in front of me and placing them in the bowl. I unwrapped the crust, looking at him with bewildered eyes.

“Why not?”

“I read the recipe in a bookstore years ago,” he brushed off like it was nothing, I had forgotten he was like Jimmy Neutron or something.

He suddenly laughed, something that shocked me.

“I had a friend that made me dress up as him from Halloween,” he spoke with nostalgia, something I hadn’t seen on him before. I mean I’d only known him from maybe a day but still, it was weird to say the least.

“My sister loved that show,” I spoke softly, almost sad to even bring her up.

“You have a sister?”

“Had,” I was quick to correct him, somewhat mad but more so sad.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t ask, which I was grateful for, just putting the ingredients in the crust and putting in the oven, which was apparently already hot.

“I’m sorry I was impossible to be around,” my words had no emotion but it was enough for him as he accepted the apology and said he understood.

*

I put the last dish into the sink and made my way to the bedroom, the sweater he had let him borrow discarded as I now wore my own. My footsteps were light, most of the apartment dark as we both decided to head to bed quickly with a “long day ahead of us” as he said.

Dinner was awkward to say the least, barely any talking just sitting across from each other and eating. Maybe it wasn’t that awkward but without my talking I couldn’t distract my brain from the seriousness of it all.

There was a murderer out there looking for me, and I couldn’t even tell anyone why because I didn’t even know. It was only a matter of time before the kills got more personally, as they were mostly people I’d only known somewhat.

I slipped myself into the bed, careful of Reid who slept peacefully on the floor beside the bed, a gun in his hand as he “protected” me.

As soon as my back hit the soft nature of the bed all the tiredness left me, which was more annoying than the fact it was an FBI Agent's bed.

I tossed and turned because I don’t know how long before Reid started talking in his sleep.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune-”

I registered that the words were from Pride and Prejudice so I ignored the fact that he most likely wasn’t asleep and let the words bring me from this cruel world into another, only in my dreams.

criminal minds tag list:

@itsarayofsunshine @m-n-m @aquarius-pisces-rose @victomizedbyreginageorge @avaxreid @erinxneil @cclovesanime

spencer reid tag list:

@writtenbywolfie​

ew, it’s the government tag list:

@thatsonezesty13 @spencerslatte @pianofirepirate @ellvswriting @peterspickledpepper @erinxneil @friendlyweirdobaby @thatsastro @acambridge @spideyparkerstark @ameliamonster @thecraziestcrayon @hurricane-abigail @linthebinbag @m-n-m @reid-lover @drreidshands @l0ve-0f-my-life @avaxreid @baby-iyania @victomizedbyreginageorge @gubler-io @duskangxl @bonitaangel @koc-help @liaabsurd @achieveonyourown @non-binary-nightmare @crimeshowtrash @libradolan @sataninsatin @martinafigoli @randogirlo-fando-main

[jjkpls]

crayons ‘dul’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 3.7k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

>Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> prior

> next

It doesn't take Mr Kim too long to find a way to meet you.

A week or so later, Adrianne is handing you a little post-it where her curvy cursive spells his name, with his phone number and a time. He says he'll bring Jimmy early to school in two days, to contact him if it doesn't work for you and that he cannot wait to talk to you again. This last part you wouldn't bet on the accuracy. Adrianne says he stuttered his way through a mumbo jumbo of English and another language she didn't recognize, apologizing because he didn't know how to express what he meant but from what she could gather, he was excited to have this meeting about Jimmy.

He arrives two days later, right on time. Not a minute early nor late, perfectly on time and if you don't point it out loud, you still notice it with a discreet smile.

They both look perfectly relaxed, smiling for the man and rather calm for the boy. It's funny to see him now. Mr Kim looks pretty much nothing like the first time you saw him, with the worry, the low-key panicked, agitated state he came bursting in your classroom. He looks a few years younger, with an easy grin stretching full rosy lips, dimples digging deep in his roundish honey cheeks -almost the same as his son's, you notice with delight- wearing a straight maroon coat, this time well adjusted, that's making him even taller and more elongated if possible and of which the shade compliments his complexion endearingly so.

"Hi. It's really nice to see you." You end up greeting him first, as warmly as you can.

You've been pondering over this meeting for so long, time feeling like it never ceased to stretch out and felt dreading, dreading, dreading. It was never coming soon enough and you were terrified, even if you had no reason to doubt Mr Kim's honesty, that he'd bail on you for whatever reason.

But here he is, seemingly so open to discuss and after installing Jimmy at his desk with the same tools as last time (a pile of white sheets waiting to be filled and your set of crayons) you join him a few tables away (far enough for Jimmy not to be exposed to the conversation but close enough to keep an eye on him, or more accurately, for him to keep an eye on his guardian), pressing your hands together and against your bosom to try to contain my excitement.

"As I told you last time, Jimmy is a very sweet boy. He's not doing bad with the exercises and activities, it's quite surprising -in a great way!- since from my understanding English is not his first language, right?"

"Yeah, no, it's uh- it's Korean. We just moved from Korea a few months ago, well, right before he started school. But we- my- her mother and I would try to talk to him a bit of English at home to have him pick up on the basis..."

"Oh, that's nice! Children that young do learn languages particularly easily, it's definitely beneficial for him. I can already tell."

Namjoon sends a glance his way, a fond, dad's proud one lingering on his tiny figure hunched over the desk. You can't quite tell from where you sit but it does look like he's started drawing.

"Had you planned moving here for a long time? I mean, was it the plan from the start, that's why you wanted to teach him English?"

"No, not really." The mood feels different. It switches from rather tranquil and cheerful into a very heavy, uneasy silence his deep voice hardly disturbs. There's a glint in his eyes. It's not an easy one to look at and your heart stings as the glint takes over his whole gaze hovering over his son. You understand it's something sad. Probably painful and hard to carry even for such a strong-looking, shoulder-broad grown man.

You don't want to push it. You're curious, as one gets, but too decent and you know yourself to be too soft-hearted and sensitive, for you to be snooping through sad people's luggage. But you think back about Jimmy, whose curious eyes, beautiful but wide with something reflecting like a perfect mirror what you can now find in his dad's, and you're certain that his odd behaviour must come from that.

"Mr Kim, the reason I wanted to see you," You start, voice quieter. He's startled for a second, redirecting his attention back on you, and he looks a bit guilty. As if he highly suspects, if not already know full well, where this is going. "I do meet all the parents of my students, as I told you. But in the case of Jimmy, if I was so insistent, it's that I'm really concerned about him."

His eyes draw downwards, staring at his hands. Long slender fingers fidgeting with one another, pinching and twisting a bit. I wonder if like his son, he might start crying.

"He's lovely but he cannot- he has had a really hard time uh- how could I put it?" You don't want to sound too alarmist. You know parents have the tendency to freak the fuck out for the misinterpretation of one single word. Sometimes an onomatopoeia, misplaced, send them into a raging spiral of anxiety over what terrible condition their kid might be dealing with. Not all parents are insane or simply too quick to jump to conclusions -or plain stupid. Some understand, whatever words you use. The father sitting in front of you seems worried and pained enough you wish you could protect him but you need him to understand that his situation is serious, and how important it is for Jimmy to have the tools to change now, while he still can, before he gets too old and start to take all those unfortunate coping mechanisms as lifelong terrible habits. "He's had a hard time simply being a kid." Namjoon sighs deeply. "He doesn't speak to anyone, not even me. Hardly looks at his classmates, never approaches them. I've noticed also that talking is not the only issue, any form of expression, if not made to do because it's in the course and all the other children are doing it too, he simply won't do." Mr Kim has raised his head enough for you to see him. He's troubled, upset, worried. But he seems to want to show himself more involved and you can tell he is, you can tell he cares as he listens so carefully as you explain in great details the odd incident with the papers and the crayons he refused to play with, even without a soul to watch over his shoulder.

"I feel it's a bit more than simple timidity. Or that at least, there's something significant behind this timidity. I can understand that it might be sensitive to you," You do, his eyes are screaming at you and you can't ignore them. Sort of begging for something, you're not quite sure what, you're not quite sure they, themselves, know either. It's a terrible case of a grown adult, an apparent composed grown man with a mighty balanced life, not a child anymore, actually, a dad, appearing so vulnerable and broken. It's a horrid vision. You've never been able to handle those.

"But it's in Jimmy's interest that I know a bit more. It's quite concerning. He's at an age where he's supposed to develop those skills. If we just let him be, leave him in this... unease, whatever it is, he might adopt it for a very long time until the time comes when it's become an exhausting challenge, almost impossible, to overcome.”

"I understand what you're saying." Mr Kim starts, voice low and tiny I can hardly pick up on the words. "I noticed- I mean, he's not changed that much with me. He's never been a very loud, boisterous boy, you know? But lately, he's been a bit quieter. I can see it at home, he's a bit stoic, less... expressive." You lose the man for a second. He's staring at his son longly and you don't want to abruptly bring him back to the conversation. Eventually, he does come back on his own, clearing his throat and scratching his neck. "That's- ridiculous but I even told myself the other day that I miss his tantrums. He didn't use to throw a lot of fits but sometimes he would, for more candies or something stupid like that. But he hasn't in a while."

You can't count how many times you heard overwhelmed parents jokingly wish that their kid would just turn off, stop causing scenes, stop demanding, screaming and crying out ridiculous tantrums. You remember Adrienne, saying more than once, to chastise the behaviour of one too agitated child to take a look at Jimmy, learn to be more like him, and why can't they be like him.

The thing is, a child is not supposed to be quiet.

A child should be problematic, testing, challenging. Loud and cheerful and agitated because children are like that. They are little humans just starting this whole insane experience that is Life, trying to figure themselves out, trying to figure out the people around them and the whole world along with it. They're meant to be a mess.

They're not meant to be quiet and tranquil, and bathing in a sort of slow, stoic haze. They're certainly not meant to have this expression on their face. The one Jimmy is wearing. Of deep, deep sadness. Like he's been somewhere, he's felt something, he's lost something that has left him misplaced forever. As if he's not really part of this world, this Life, or doesn't care or know why he's in it. Just letting himself float about. Embarrassed and denying all impulse that could potentially shape him and his existence.

He's only five.

"Do you have any inclination as to why his behaviour has turned into this?"

You see the gears going into labour in his head. He looks pensive, lost in a pit of thoughts he doesn't know if he can nor should share. There's a tremble to his lips, to his fingers, a telling frown to his eyebrows as his eyes very obviously decide to avoid you. The question seems to seize him like an earthquake but somehow, it's a good one. A disturbing but potentially lucky one. One that would invite him to experience something hard but liberating, something that he really needs.

Not long after you've asked the question to which you already know half of the answer, he pauses to think it over and then decides to talk. You notice the way his body slump over himself instantly, along with an abyssal years-old sigh and he starts to talk.

"5 months ago, my- his mom passed away." You hate yourself for the way you gasp, eyes wide and already blurry as if it's appropriate, as if you're allowed when you can't even imagine the beginning of their pain. It all starts making sense and you're heartbroken. You wish you didn't show yourself so reckless, sensitive but somehow naive and unhelpful.

You mouth a silent apology and condolence you notice he accepts from the way he nods, not wanting to cut him off. He's already breathless and you wonder how many more words he has in stock before the resources shut down, right before he loses it and breaks the strong persona he has to keep straight and steady for his son. How exhausting it must be. "It was hard already in Korea but I thought -naively- that if we moved here, close to her family, maybe, being around them would ease- everything out a bit. I don't know. It was stupid." He shakes his head from left to right, scoffing to himself, a hand raised to his forehead, hiding his eyes.

"It wasn't, Mr Kim. It's very honorable of you to quit everything for your son." Your words have no effect whatsoever. Unfortunately, it's blatantly obvious, he's made up his mind already. He's guilty, he messed up, and he holds a grudge against himself for this decision and nothing a dumb teacher, sensitive and half-weeping, would say could change that opinion, as destructive and inaccurate as it may be.

"It really was. It's so different here, I thought after some time it would be worth it but I think he hates it. I think he's very confused and I don't know if he's too young to feel like that, I'm not sure, but he looks like he's embarrassed about being a foreigner. Like not speaking properly. I can't even tell if he understands well or if he doesn't get it at all when people speak to him in English since he just- he can't really communicate. Even with his cousins, it's-"

Oh.

"Oh." Now that you hear him say that, it lights a small bulb hidden at the back of your head. It shines upon a whole roof-tall shelf holding all of those awkward, disagreeable memories you tend to forget actively because even reflecting on them decades later still sends a thrill of disgust the length of your spin.

It's those moments of pure embarrassment, of horrid dreading feelings that you used to be overwhelmed with as a child and this until you were not much more of a child anymore, and those memories paired with their emotions simply faded into shadows of scenes that you can only wonder if they ever were real.

You used to be filled with stupid insecurities based on very confused, distant, impossible to decipher pretend truths, sometimes, you would just feel stupid. Completely idiotic, ignorant, and unlovable. In those moments, you just couldn't dare open your mouth to pronounce a word that would give you away. Because if you did, somehow, you would end up messing up and people would laugh and make fun of you and hate you because there are so many reasons to and of course you deserved it.

Images of the little boy, hiding obviously in a corner but longingly observing his peers. Obviously terrified but curious, and most definitely desiring.

Because of course, he'd want to. Talk to them, be with them but how could he when he's not even sure he could speak the way they do.

"Mr Kim, I can tell he wants to. Even if he can't let anyone approach him, I can tell he'd like to be part of the group. That being said his fears or as you said, maybe his insecurities, don't allow him to."

"Should I- Should I seek for a therapist? He had one in Korea but I don't think he was ready for it. He just reacts very badly to strangers, especially when they try to, you know, sink into your brain and- now that we're here, I can hardly picture how that would go."

"Well, therapy is never a bad idea. It can only be beneficial for him... for anyone." You're not sure how appropriate it is for you to add this but you owe to say it. Sometimes, parents don't realize, but a child's deepest wounds are born from seeing and feeling their guardians'.

"I'd seen someone already." He explains without needing you to insist further. Seems like you're not as subtle as you thought yourself to be. "I did because- I had to. His mom and I had been separated for a while before her passing, it'd always been complicated between us and I can't lie, I did feel terribly guilty... I thought it might hurt him somehow. Maybe he could feel it and experience it too. I had to for the both of us. It fixed me but not him, so I suppose, it didn't come from that."

"Grief is... It's very complex. It comes along with a plethora of confusing, untamed emotions as an adult but for a child... It must manifest in a way we can't even imagine. I'm sorry, you don't need me to tell you that." You're a mess of stutters. Words are running away from you, the smart ones are even flying, making sure there's no way you'd catch them by the tip of the tail. You just want to ease this father's struggles, somehow. You don't know him much but you know his son, a little, and you, for reasons you don't care much to look into, deeper than simply you having a saviour complex, need to help it all resolve. They don't deserve any of it all. No one does.

It might be silly. But the thought of Jimmy, that sweet, lovely child, sensitive and precious as he is, must have a father quite special himself to have been brought up this way.

"No, it's fine. You're right." A heavy silence settles in between you. In the background, faintly, you can hear the soft rustling of the tip of a crayon against paper. You open your mouth, the fantastic memory of the other day, when he arrived late to pick Jimmy up and something you still, a week later, recalling itself back to you. He opens his at the exact same time and before you're able to utter any word, he's the one starting, "Actually, I really appreciate it. Being able to talk about it like that with someone. Since my therapist, I don't think I was able to. People only have enough tolerance for other's pain. Which I understand, it's just- hard and well, I'm thankful for you."

He stammers saying that, seemingly scrambling with his own words. The compliment is so heartfelt, like a shot from his heart directly into yours. Most of the emotions it rises probably coming from his choice of wording, maybe an error of translation, a lack of exactitude that doesn’t come smoothly. You've never heard anyone said those words to you and somehow, so unprepared for it, you can hardly handle the overwhelming burst of gratitude.

With the greatest pleasure, you jump on the occasion to bring something good to him, what you meant to say when he started first, the story about last time and how confident you are that better days are yet to come.

It brings an evident brush of light to his expression. The youthful sense he gave off when he just walked in, made of warm colours and smiles, is back. As if a weight has been lifted. As if he trusts you with his son, now wearing his hopefulness and trust and appreciation on this soft face of his, and you feel yourself blush in delight.

It’s precisely why you do what you do. Most of the times, those moments come in more subtle, almost dubious manifestations. It’s a drawing made ‘only for you, Miss’ or a kid you haven’t seen in a few years recognising you from across a hallway and beaming all his teeth your way; or maybe a present too nicely picked out and wrapped up too well to be the product of a kid’s, handed to you at the end of the year.

It's a wonderful feeling you're experiencing.

Until it turns sort of awkward. You mean, from a third party, maybe from Jimmy's eyes, it’s definitely awkward. It doesn’t exactly feel this way for you though. You're just kind of staring at each other, grinning obnoxiously. Delighted by the turns of events -even more so with the start of the conversation, which brought difficult painful shocks to an already sensitive soul, the benevolence and mutual understanding feel all the more pleasant.

Conquered by each other in a way you probably won’t be able to express very well with words if any of you tried. You see in him an ally -which is always such a wonderful feeling because as curious as it is, all parents are not always reliable allies to you, teachers- and you think he does too.

It’s just that it lasts for quite a bit. Probably too long. Until finally, the rummage going on outside brings you back to earth and school that is about to start in a few reminds itself to you.

Quickly he thanks me again, in between the bursting in of a loud, chatty-feeling Riley Donovan, and a Charlotte dragging her feet in discontent. He says something about meeting again before he’s rushing to Jimmy, whose calm demeanour has wavered when his classmates starting walking in.

It’s as heartwarming as last time. The way Mr Kim just has to lean forward to wrap his arms around Jimmy to have him melt onto his chest, face burying in his neck and tiny hands squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until the chubby fingers turn white against his dad’s neck. There’s an exchange of secret words and of gazes, special ones that wouldn��t mean much to anyone else, you believe on the moment, until Mr Kim needs to depart and does so.

The gaze Jimmy had for his dad doesn’t disappear right as the later leaves. It remains and is directed solely on you in a very peculiar way, so notable that your heart starts racing when you notice.

Jimmy who usually avoids eye contact, sometimes would look at you, if you're addressing directly to him for example and those looks are systematically made of bewilderment, maybe fear, definite insecurity. Like a prey caught in a predator's radar.

But now those eyes, the round, dark wonders are lingering with something utterly different. A stillness that hits so differently. You're not sure if you are seeing things, if it’s wishful thinking. If it’s you now watching through the lens of someone beyond enchanted, purely content from the newfound trust and confidence and inspiration.

When you free your class for recess, you have confirmation that something has changed. You have no idea how he did it without you noticing but as you turn your back to the door to face your desk -and your chair, which your legs are dreading to have you throw yourself on- you see the perfect tidy pile of your crayons laid carefully on top of it. A few papers are sitting next to it, less than you gave him.

It’s ridiculous, embarrassing to an extent you would never tell that moment out loud but you end up jumping on the balls of your feet, clapping your hands together like a stupid seal, squealing before grabbing the stack of crayons and pressing it to your heart.

A/N : thanks so much for having waited for me so patiently; as always, lots of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

[mickmarstookmyheart]

"Would you be my date?"

Pairing: Mick Mars X Reader

Summary: You are working for the Crüe as a make up artist. There is an upcoming wedding...

"Hold still, damnit!" You murmured trying to finish Vince's makeup just before the concert.

"Oh, come on, (Y/N)! Hurry up!" He pouted closing his eyes to let you do your job.

"If I hurry you won't be pretty."

"There is no such thing as me not being pretty."

"Sure." You said drawing back and looking at him, admiring the make-up you did. Though you didn't understand why you had to make Vinnie look like a girl and put on him pink colors. He stood up and looked in the mirror to see himself.

"Cool. Thanks (Y/N)!" He yelled while leaving the area. Working with them consumed most of your time, but it didn't bother. Even if they were sometimes pain in the ass they were all kind and funny. They treated you well, they never hurt you. You have been working for them since the 'Bark at the moon' tour with Ozzy.

"Break legs!" You yelled back looking at the mess on the table. Makeup everywhere including on your hand and shirt. Since you were ready with all of them you decided to change clothes. You quickly took off your shirt to change it to a cleaner one.

Mick was walking in the hallway already in his costume. He wanted to ask you to adjust his makeup due to the clothing had ruined it a bit. He opened the door and gasped seeing you there without a shirt. When you heard the door cracking you gasped. You looked at him with a red face covering yourself with your tee.

"Omg, I'm so sorry." He blushed and quickly closed the door back, standing in the corridor with his back facing the door. He covered his mouth with a hand. You were embarrassed, standing in the room now with your shirt on. You and Mick were kinda okay, you hardly had any fights. The others were always flirting with you even though you had a crush on Mick. And he, seeing you like this just made your heart pound fast. Mick was about to leave when you opened the door for him.

"Look, (Y/N), I didn't know. I'm sorry. I didn't see a lot, I promise." Mick said wishing he could see more.

"No problem, I should've locked the door. What's up? Is there a problem?" You asked putting your hands in your pocket to hide your still shaking hands.

"Umm, I think my costume ruined my face a bit. Can you fix it, please?" You nodded and invited him in. He sat down so you could see the damage.

"A minute and you will be ready to kick some ass." You said while taking the brush in your hand. You managed to relax but being this close to him. You could feel his breath and smell his scent. Mick also had some problems...Your light touch on his face and everything about you. "Done." You announced and put the brush back to its place. Mick leaned closer to the mirror to see your perfect work.

"Now it's perfect. Thanks. And sorry about earlier." He rubbed the back of his head.

"Chill. Nothing happened." You said it rather to yourself. "Anyway, here is your shirt." He picked it up from the floor you dropped it earlier. He tossed it to you and you caught it easily.

Nikki, Vince, and Tommy were standing in the corner and were leaning on the door to hear what you were doing in there.

"Shirt, huh?" Vince grinned. "I told you something was up between them."

"Are you sure, Vinnie? We just only heard the word shirt. It could mean anything."

"I hope they are together. They would look cute." Tommy said smiling. Vince turned to him raising one of his eyebrows.

"They don't look cute. And I can't believe she chose Mick over me. She can be with me or anyone else, but not that old man." Vince put his head closer to the door when Mick opened the door and they all fell on Mick and you.

"What the fuck, man?" You cursed rubbing your head. Mick was laying on the top of you and the boys on your leg.

"Nice sock!" Vince said earning a kick in his arm from you.

"Get off me! And what were you all doing?" You asked still under the weight of the guitarist. He supported himself on his elbows not to press you any more. He was facing you. You cleared your throat and he rolled over. You stood up and crossed your arms.

"We were...we were just..." Nikki said looking at Tommy to help him out.

"We made sure that all the doors were soundproof so we can also fuck groupies back here after the concert," Vince said being proud of himself.

"Yeah, of course. Sounds believable." You hummed.

"There you are. Guys, it's time to go!" Doc yelled pointing at his watch. After the band and Doc left the room except for Mick, you sighed and sat down in the chair.

"(Y/N), I would like to apologize.." Mick started.

"Hey, it's not your fault." You said rubbing your wrist. It hurt a little bit is was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Did you hit your arm?" Mick noticed. He knew how it was being in pain.

"A bit. But I'm okay. Don't worry." You winked.

"Are you free tomorrow?" Mick asked finally gathering the courage after months. You blinked from the sudden question.

"What?" You asked maybe you didn't hear it properly.

"Do you want to have coffee tomorrow? I would like to make up the things that happened today."

"Yeah, sure. I mean, why not?" You mumbled still not believing Mick just asked a date from you. Well, it was a date, no?

"Great. See you tomorrow then." He headed towards the door before giving you a half-smile.

"I think I will stay until the concert goes down. So go and have fun." You smirked and followed him.

Next day

"Can I have a week off, Boss?" You asked Doc sitting in his temporary office. You showed him your wrist which was swollen and was covered with a bandage.

"That looks bad. But don't worry, Anna can do it for you."

"Thanks."

"And what happened?" He asked reading his papers.

"Well, it would be complicated to explain but in a nutshell, I fell on my wrist."

"Complicated to explain?" He glanced at you with a confused look.

"Mick fell on me." Doc's eyes widened. "No, it's not that. The boys fell on Mick and then on me."

"What?" He was in complete shock.

"Don't think any wrong. The boys were eavesdropping us but then Mick opened the door."

"Whatever." You could see that he didn't believe you. "Anything else?"

"I think I should go. And thanks, Doc!" You said before exiting the room. You felt embarrassed, but nothing wrong happened. The whole situation was odd.

∆

"Nice job, idiots. You managed to ruin (Y/N)'s job." Mick snapped after seeing your hand.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). It wasn't our intention." Tommy apologized.

"It's okay. Doc said that Anna will hop in until I recover so I didn't lose my job, I just got a week off." You said.

"Well, I'm glad you can rest a bit." Mick stated. Vince was narrowing his eye and was looking at you and Mick.

"Is everything alright, Vinnie?" You asked.

"No."

"Care to explain?"

"Nope." Your brows drew together. Then he left huffing. What the fuck was with him?

"Anyway, guys I have good news." Tommy cheered. "I proposed to Heather."

"Tommy, that's great. Congrats" You said hugging him.

"She is a great girl, T-Bone! Congratulations!" Nikki said patting the drummer's back.

"Thanks, guys. I still couldn't believe she said yes. Anyway, Sixx, you are my best man and you are all invited!" He yelled.

"What do you mean by all?" You asked.

"Why?" He asked confused.

"You mean that I'm invited, too?"

"Of course, you will do Heather's make up." You pouted. "Just kidding. It's not even a question, (Y/N)! Don't be stupid." He said giving you a big hug.

"Thanks, Tommy." You smiled. You didn't think he would invite you as well. You were just a makeup artist working for the band, after all. Not some musician or family.

∆

You and Mick were sitting in a lovely café near the hotel. There was hardly anyone there so it was pretty quiet.

"Jimmy Hendrix or Angus Young?"

"Jimmy Hendrix. Not even a question." Mick said taking a sip from his coffee.

"But you have to admit Angus's riffs are pretty good, too."

"I didn't say that he isn't good."

"So how this guitar thing come to your life?" You asked wrapping your healthy hand around the hot cup.

"Well, when I was a child I got a guitar from Christmas with Mickey Mouse on it. Since then I couldn't separate myself from it. The guitar became an important part of me and vice versa."

"So that's were 'Mick' comes from?" You asked chuckling. He rolled his eyes but then his lips curved into a smile.

"Partly, yes. But don't tell those assholes. They would call me that from now on."

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." You were looking at each other's eyes for a moment. Mick cleared his throat and you could see he was about to say something.

"Nice weather, right?" He asked. That's not the question you were thinking of.

"I like the rain." You said looking out of the window and watching all the drops running down the window. It was calming to be there, to drink coffee and have a nice talk with him. When you put down the cup you put your hand on your bandaged wrist.

"Does your wrist hurt?"

"No. And I have already told you not to worry about it." You sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be harsh like that.

"Can I ask something?" Mick felt his heart racing, he tried his best to calm down. You nodded and glanced at him waiting for the question. "Would you be my date? For Tommy's wedding." He bit his lip down.

"What? I mean, don't you have a girlfriend to bring?" Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't know much about his personal life but you were sure he had someone. After all, it was just an apologizing talk, not a real date.

"Not really." He smirked and looked out of the window. You gulped, you were in shock, not believing he didn't have a girlfriend.

"Why me?" You whispered.

"Cause you are great. You are super talented, kind, and funny. You are always so insecure about yourself but you are amazing." Mick said holding your hand in his.

"Really?" You sniffed. In your whole life, in school and even at home you were told that you are nothing and you are worthless. You knew it wasn't completely true, but it still affected your life. 

"See? That's what I'm talking about. Be confident because you have every right." He smiled squeezing your hand.

"Then, I would be glad to go with you." You said shyly.

Tag: @leatherandheels

This wasn't what I originally planned and I think it sucks but here it is. Also, sorry guys for not doing anything lately, I just had an almost week-long headache and I stayed away from my phone for a bit.

By the way, I'm gonna take request from next week so hit me with your requests, desires!

Be safe, be happy!

[eiressofinspirationwrites]

Snowed In

Pairing: Malcolm Bright x Female Reader

Word Count: 2650

Description: Shameless use of the only one-bed trope starring Malcolm Bright. Gil sends you to pick up some old cold case files from a detective in a town a few hours away and Malcolm accompanies you. What was supposed to be a quick day trip turns into an overnight trip when a blizzard leaves you stranded in the small town.

********************

“Doesn’t look like the two of you are going anywhere anytime soon, Detective,” Detective Kinzinger said as he caught a glimpse of the snowstorm that had started to rage outside the station walls, “Just received word that the main road out of town was just shut down due to severe conditions.”

“There’s got to be another way out,” you insisted, “We have got to get these files back to our team. We’ve got a serial killer on our hands and we needed to close this case yesterday!”

“Sorry,” Kinzinger apologized, “but any backroads out of town are going to be in even worse condition than the main road. Your best bet is to check into Mrs. Marshall’s bed and breakfast. It’s only a few doors down from here.”

“Malcolm are you okay?” you asked when you noticed him staring out the window, his hand shaking slightly. When he didn’t respond you walked over to stand beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Malcolm?”

Malcolm jumped when he was pulled out of whatever trance he’d been in, “Yeah, sorry,” he gave you an unconvincing smile, “I’m fine.”

“You look exhausted,” you frowned, “What do you say we go and find that bed and breakfast so you can get some rest?”

Malcolm shot a sideways glance at Detective Kinzinger, you could tell he wanted to say that he wasn’t going to risk sleeping without restraints but didn’t want to draw attention from the older man, “Yeah, that sounds great,” he lied.

“Care to point us in the right direction, Detective?” you asked shouldering your messenger bag filled with the copies of the case files you’d been sent for after you’d pulled on your coat.

“Give me a second to put on my coat and I’ll walk you there,” Kinzinger offered, “I wouldn’t want you two to get lost in the blizzard.”

“Thank you,” you smiled politely, “Do you have everything you need Malcolm?”

“Yes,” Malcolm replied as he pulled on his own coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

********************

“Hello, dears,” a kind-looking woman you assumed to be Mrs. Marshall greeted the two of you when you entered the bed and breakfast, stomping the snow from your shoes before entering any further, “Need a room for the night?”

“That would be great,” you replied with a smile, you couldn’t help but feel at ease around the woman. She gave off very heavy grandmotherly vibes, “My partner and I didn’t quite make it out of town before the storm rolled in.”

“You’re not from around here are you?” Mrs. Marshall asked as she pulled out her registration book.

“No, we’re both from New York City,” you replied, “We both work for the NYPD. Our Lieutenant sent us out here to get somethings from Detective Kinzinger for a case.”

“Oh, Jimmy is such a lovely man,” Mrs. Marshall cooed, before she asked, “What name should I put down?”

“Malcolm Bright,” Malcolm spoke for the first time since entering the bed and breakfast.

“And your name dear?” Mrs. Marshall asked after jotting down Malcolm’s name, “I don’t need if for the register, but I don’t want to just call you Mrs. Bright.”

You nearly choked at the assumption that you and Malcolm were married, and you caught a glimpse of his ears reddening but he didn’t say anything, “Uh, it’s Y/n.”

“Well, Y/n,” Mrs. Marshall grinned, “It’s a pleasure to meet you and you too Malcolm. Here’s your room key. You’re in 204. Up the stairs, second door on the right. Let me know if any of your neighbors get a little too noisy. We’re full up now. Lots of people got stranded here by the blizzard just like you.”

“We will,” you replied taking the key from her, “Thank you so much Mrs. Marshall.”

You and Malcolm trudged off in search of your room. Your mind raced as you trailed behind him. Mrs. Marshall had said the two of you had gotten the very last room and you prayed that it had two beds in it, but you had a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t going to be the case.

“Well, that answers that question,” Malcolm sighed when he pushed open the door to reveal one full-size bed, “I’ll make up a spot on the floor with the extra blankets and pillow. I’m not going to be sleeping much anyway.”

“We can share the bed,” you said as you brushed past him to deposit your bags on the floor by the bed, “We are both adults, Malcolm.”

“Night terrors remember?” Malcolm reminded you, “I would never forgive myself if I accidentally hurt you.”

“We can debate the bed situation after I take a shower,” you sighed, pulling a t-shirt and shorts from your bag.

“How are you so prepared?” Malcolm asked as he watched you remove a small bag filled with travel-sized toiletries from your bag, “We weren’t planning to stay the night anywhere. I didn’t even know you had that other bag until you grabbed it on the way over here.”

“I always have an emergency bag in my car with a change of work clothes, gym clothes, and shower stuff along with a few other odds and ends,” you replied as you wandered towards the bathroom, “If you look in there, you’ll find a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that should fit you. I planned ahead for you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Malcolm said as he turned to dig through the bag, when he looked back you already had closed the door and he heard the shower turn on a second later.

He went ahead and dressed in the clothes you’d packed for him, surprised to find they fit him perfectly. Once he finished neatly folding his suit, he started making himself a place to sleep on the floor. While he worked, he thought about how much he wished he could share the bed with you.

Which was a foreign feeling to him, he’d never found himself wishing that before. Intimate relationships had never been his forte and it would be unprofessional for him to engage in such a relationship with you. You worked for Gil and Malcolm couldn’t risk compromising your position or his own on the team. Your work was everything to you, just like work was his everything.

“I told you that you didn’t have to sleep on the floor,” Malcolm jumped when he heard your voice. He hadn’t even heard the shower shut off let alone the opening of the bathroom door, “Sorry,” you apologized, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Malcolm reassured you, “I was just lost in my own thoughts.”

“Thinking about the case?” you asked running a towel through your hair to wring out as much of the water as you could.

“Yeah,” Malcolm said, you could tell he was lying but decided not to push the issue.

“I’m glad those fit,” you gestured to the sweats, “I was guessing when I packed them.”

“Where did you even get them?” Malcolm asked tugging at the hem of the shirt.

“Pulled them out of the lost and found at the station,” you shrugged, “They’re clean. I washed them when I went home to take care of my cat before we left.”

“Thank you,” Malcolm said.

“You’re welcome,” you gave him a small smile, “I-,”

You froze when the lights in the room went out.

“Well that can’t be good,” Malcolm said as he reached around for his phone to use the flashlight feature.

“Blizzard probably knocked the power out,” you said turning on the light on your phone, beating him by a second, “I’ll go check in with Mrs. Marshall. She might have some candles or something we can use so we don’t drain our phones before bed.”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm said as he sank into the armchair that was in the corner to wait for your return.

“She could only spare a couple of candles,” you announced when you returned, “Seemed like everyone else in this place had the same idea. Thankfully she thought we were so nice and cute together that she offered us a few extra blankets.”

You held up the pile of blankets, “She said when the power goes out like this it’s usually for several hours so it’s likely gonna get cold in here given how old the building is.”

“Well, I guess we’re in for a long night,” Malcolm sighed, looking forlornly at the sad arrangement he’d made on the floor.

“If you think you’re going to be laying on the floor all night with the heat out you’re crazy,” you informed him, “I don’t care if you actually sleep or not. You’re going to lay in the real bed.”

“I can’t… I mean we shouldn’t…” Malcolm stammered nervously.

“Malcolm, we’re adults and the heat is out,” you said, “It would be absolutely ridiculous for you to sleep on the floor at this point. Besides, I trust you. You’ve saved my life a few times now.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer,” Malcolm chuckled, “Are you?”

“Absolutely not,” you said stubbornly, “Now get your butt in bed. There’s not much we can do at this point so we might as well try and stay warm while we can and if you’re that worried about impropriety you can sleep on top of one of the blankets so that there’s a layer between us.”

“Alright,” Malcolm conceded, “you get in first.”

“Fine,” you said. Once you layered the extra blankets on top of the bed, you climbed into the bed and snuggled into the soft mattress, your head sinking comfortably into the down pillow.

Malcolm stood hesitantly on his side of the bed.

“Good lord, Malcolm,” you rolled your eyes, “You’ve faced down cold-blooded killers and your own father, and you’re scared to share a bed with a girl?”

Malcolm wanted to say that he wasn’t scared to share a bed with a girl, he’d done it before. He’d simply never felt the way about the girl in the bed the way he feels about you, “What if Gil or the rest of the team finds out?”

“If it makes you feel better, I won’t tell if you don’t,” you promised, “We can tell them we had separate rooms.”

“Okay,” Malcolm sighed and finally slid into the bed, making sure to leave a blanket between you and him.

“Is it safe to assume you’re going to lie awake all night?” you asked as you rolled onto your side to face him.

“Oh yes,” Malcolm nodded, not that you could really see it since it was so dark in the room.

“Well, I’m going to get some sleep,” you said, “It’s been a long day.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Malcolm said.

“Goodnight, Malcolm,” you yawned and rolled back to your other side so that you were facing away. It didn’t take long before you drifted off.

********************

Several hours later you woke up, but you weren’t sure why. It was still pitch-black outside, and you could hear the wind howling violently. Then, you heard the muttering.

You shot up in the bed quickly grabbing your phone off the nightstand to light up the room. When you looked back towards Malcolm, you saw that he’d fallen asleep, but his face was contorted with fear. He was trapped in one of his night terrors.

“Malcolm!” you shook his shoulder, you briefly considered that it might not be a good idea to wake him up too roughly, but you couldn’t leave him trapped in his own mind like that. You’d seen how quickly they could escalate when he’d tackled Dani in the station during his first case.

“No, stop,” Malcolm whimpered, “Don’t… Don’t hurt her.”

“Malcolm!” you said louder this time, still shaking his shoulder, “Come on, Malcolm, wake up!”

“Stop, don’t… don’t do it!” Malcolm's pleas grew louder and more urgent and he started to toss and jerk.

“Dammit, Malcolm,” you cursed, “This is probably going to hurt.”

You pulled your arm back and proceeded to give him a solid punch to the gut.

“NO!” Malcolm howled as he bolted upright in the bed, but his eyes flew open finally free from the nightmare, but they were still wild as he struggled to regain his bearings.

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re safe,” you said gently grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to you, wrapping him in a reassuring embrace, “It was just a nightmare.”

“Y/n?” Malcolm whimpered into your shoulder slowly coming back to his senses.

“Yeah, I’m here, Malcolm,” you rubbed his back, “You’re okay. We’re in Mrs. Marshall’s bed and breakfast. Remember? We got stuck here because of the blizzard.”

“I-I remember,” Malcolm stammered, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?” you asked as he pulled away. Thanks to the dim light your phone provided, you could see the fear still etched across his face, whatever he’d been seeing wasn’t good.

“I woke you up,” Malcolm cleared his throat, “and I could have hurt you.”

“But you didn’t,” you pointed out, “I woke up in time. I was awake before you even started to thrash around.”

“You should try to get some more sleep,” Malcolm said as he tossed the blankets aside and started to get out of the bed.

“Wait,” you grabbed his wrist as he stood up, “Where do you think you’re going?” “I can’t stay in the bed,” he said, “It’s pretty clear I can’t be trusted to stay awake and I’m not going to risk hurting you.”

“It’s freezing in here, Malcolm,” you argued, “Just lie back down. We’ll both stay awake this time. We can talk.”

“No, you should get more sleep,” Malcolm repeated his earlier sentiment.

“I got plenty of sleep,” you lied, “Besides, my adrenaline is rushing now. I wouldn’t be able to at this point. Now get back under the covers.”

“Fine,” Malcolm sighed and slid back under the blankets. In his exhaustion, he didn’t notice that he’d failed to keep one blanket between the two of you. You noticed but decided not to say anything. You really didn’t mind in the first place, “So what should we talk about?”

“What was it like working for the FBI?” you asked as you reached over to shut off the phone light.

“Well, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds,” he said as you turned back around and slid back down into the blankets next to him.

“Tell me anyway,” you said.

The two of you spent a couple of hours swapping stories back and forth before you both succumbed to sleep once again. Neither of you meant to but it just happened.

The next time you woke up you found yourself wrapped in Malcolm’s arms tucked securely against his chest. Your first thought was to pull away, but then you noticed how he was holding you. It was almost as if he was clinging to you for comfort like a child would their teddy bear.

You smiled when you realized that he was sleeping rather soundly and couldn’t bring yourself to risk waking him up. So, you closed your eyes again, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep.

After all, you were snowed in. The two of you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon and you had to admit, being wrapped in Malcolm’s arms was rather nice.

********************

A/N: Hello, loves! Hope you enjoyed this little fic. I promise that I’m still working on my last three Good Omens requests. Unfortunately, I got way off track in the one I was working on so I had to start over so it probably won’t be ready tomorrow. Thank you all so much for your patience.

[bramblepeltao3]

Woooaaaahhhhh Part 4!

After a very long hot shower (And the water here smelled different. Not bad just...different) Del was slightly less full of jumpy angry anxiety. She did as she was asked. She kept quiet about what happened, went with Aranea’s story, and kept herself from screaming at every person who she saw between the crownsguard station and the shower.

At least she had her own room. Right next to Prompto of course, in case he needed her. It was large, and had a lovely bed with soft blankets, and everything smelled like lavender. So at least she had this, she thought, as she wrapped herself in the very plush fancy towel and opened the door, walking into her room through a cloud of steam.

“P...Princess…”

“LOQI!” Del screamed, noticing the man standing right in the middle of her room. “What the FUCK are y- I AM NOT A PRINCESS!”

“This came for you, I only wanted to make sure it was delivered dire-”

“I’m naked, get out!”

“And I wanted to apologize for the trouble you experienced this afternoon. If I were there-”

“We’d be dead if you were there, now please, GET OUT!” She took the package from him and retreated back into the bathroom.

She waited for the sound of the door to open and close again, but it never came. She was going to amass a body count before this trip was over, she could just feel it.

“Lady Delphia. I wanted you to know...His Highness showed me the photos he took on the train. And, well, with both of you so close together...I don’t know why no one else seems to notice.”

And then there was that blessed door clicking sound.

Just breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale! It’s easy. Just. Breathe.

She didn’t know which was worse: that Tumult was observant enough to see the obvious or that he was taking the completely wrong point from it.

She walked back into the sleeping area and, satisfied no perverted shitheads were hanging out, opened the package. It was exactly what she expected: the dress promised by Marigold. There was a small handwritten note on top of the blue, floral print dress.

‘You seem like the practical type. This one has pockets!’ She pulled out the dress which had a bit more flair to it than she would’ve liked. But the blue was pretty, and the floral print was subtle, and fuck if it didn’t indeed have pockets.

Del carefully got dressed, but found herself unable to really get that zipper up, and resigned herself to asking someone for their assistance. This was a palace. There were people here to do that. That was fine, right? Like, it was their job to pull the zippers up on idiot doctor’s dresses for them.

“Knock knock!” She heard a voice call from the door accompanied by an actual door knock.

“What is it, Aranea?” Del asked as the woman helped herself into the room anyway.

It appeared she also received her new dress. A very lovely, very glittery black gown that hugged all of her curves. Paired with matching opera length gloves, her hair tied back in a very elegant bun, and incredible chandelier earrings, Aranea looked like she belonged in this world. She looked beautiful.

She whistled. “Now that is more your style, Doc. Here, turn around.”

Del pulled her hair over her shoulder while Aranea zipped and clasped the dress. “A-line definitely works for you, especially with this sweetheart neckline. You look like an adorable college co-ed looking for the perfect Jimmy or Henry to dance three feet apart from and have you home by eight.”

“I really don't get you.” Del sighed. “Like, was that a compliment? Was it an insult? What-” She turned around, arms dropping heavily at her side. “Can you just say you think I look stupid?”

Aranea blinked, placing her hands on her hips. “Why would I say that? I think you look cute.”

Del immediately shot her eyes to the floor, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Hey. We went through some rough shit back there. And I know the last thing a grumpy introvert like you wants to do is get back out there and put herself on display. But I need every pair of eyes I can get tonight.” Aranea said before taking a lock of Del’s hair in her hand. “You weren’t seriously planning to go with wet hair, were you?”

“I-” Del grabbed her hair, hands clamping it all against her neck. “It’ll air dry. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen how your hair looks normally. Come on, Lemon Tart, let’s have a few minutes of girl time.” Aranea took her by the hand and led her out of her room, down the hall, and into her own. Del let her, reluctantly.

And that’s how she found herself sitting in the other woman’s bathroom, letting her meaneuver her hair into a braid and put some weird smelling lotion on her face.

“Alright, what color do you usually wear?” She asked, opening a small bag packed full of cosmetics.

“I...I don’t kno-...I don’t wear makeup and frankly I think it looks...really stupid. On me. It looks bad-”

“You’ve never had someone who knows what she’s doing before. Here.” She fished out a few small bottles and brushes and placed her ungloved hand gently under Del’s chin. “This will make those green eyes pop.”

Del closed her eyes and hoped this would be over quickly. She hated makeup. She hated jewelry. She hated putting things in her hair. She hated anything that caused the act of getting ready to take longer than absolutely necessary.

But there was something so...gentle about the way Aranea ran that brush over her eyelids. The absolute trust she had to put in her when she applied that liquid eyeliner, and the blush. She rubbed it in with her thumb and it felt...intimate. Weirdly, comfortably intimate.

“Alright, now the final touch. Too much red would flush your skin, so let’s do something a little more pink.”

She placed a small brush into a glass container and started to slowly, purposely paint Del’s lips. Finally, she placed everything back in the bag and grabbed a hand mirror. 

“Look at you, you’re going to have those Lucian boys flocking to your side.”

“I can’t think of a worse scenario.” Del sighed. But damn...she did look kinda hot. Aranea was right, she just needed someone who knew what the fuck they were doing.

“Let me put this into a better perspective. We both need to be attracting attention in there. The Marshal assured me they were taking the highest precautions at this thing, and I believe he believes that. But we need to have our own guards up. So while we’ve got all eyes on us, our eyes are on Shortcake.”

Del frowned. “So we’re...drawing the focus away from him?”

“Less people hanging around him and keeping attention on him, the easier it’ll be for me to spot if anyone is a little too interested in him. Make sense?” Aranea asked with a smirk.

Right. Draw the attention of people who otherwise wouldn’t care about Prompto save for social climbing or networking. Make it easier for the shield to keep tabs on who really wanted to be within his circle.

“Yeah. Alright I guess I can...be...this,” she gestured at herself, “for one night. For Prompto.”

“Knew you’d say that.” Aranea stood up straight, pulling Del to her feet as well. “I’ll be the sultry seductress dream girl, you play the girl next door fantasy, we’ll have plenty of tall dark and rich hanging around.” 

They made their way into the sleeping area, where Del caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror. Funny. She’d always hated the idea of herself looking like this. Painted up, dressed up, it felt too much like the life she was almost doomed to live a long time ago. But this...this felt kinda...nice?

“One more thing.” Aranea took her hand and slipped something onto her wrist. “Pretty, right? There’s a tracking device in it. Shortcake’s got one too. They let me keep track of you two wherever you are.”

Del frowned at it. “Ok, Prompto I get. But why me?”

“Those gunmen were after you. That was made very clear based on where they were aiming. That’s another reason I want you surrounded by hungry suitors all night. Less opportunity for someone to pull something. But don’t worry, between myself, the Marshal, and poor little love struck Loqi I think you’ll be safe.”

“Eugh.” Del shuddered. “Can we maybe not acknowledge that weirdness going on?”

Aranea let out a laugh as they crossed to leave the room. “Not exactly returning those affections, I guess?”

“I have known that dipshit for a very long time. His delusions of self grandeur are only surpassed by his creepy level of nationalism. I’m good, thanks.”

“Hm.” Aranea hummed as she began to open the door. “So what I’m hearing is I still have a shot?”

Del’s eyes went wide.

Aranea made a gun shape with her hand, finger barrel pointing at Del’s head, and made a mock motion of pulling the trigger. She smirked and walked out into the hallway.

Why. Don't. People. Just. Say. What. They. Mean?!

“Prompto! Time to head out, are you ready?” Aranea asked, standing in front of the door next to hers. She frowned when there was no response.

“Are you sure he didn’t already leave?” Del asked, a little hopefully.

“The tracker says he’s in there. Bet he’s having trouble getting all those buttons done right. Prompto! Doc and I are coming in.” She announced before opening the door.

Inside, there was no one.

“Shit.” Aranea whispered, walking to the nightstand where a matching bracelet to Del’s was sitting.

Del felt her throat begin to close up as she looked out towards the balcony door, wide open, and no one in sight.

---

Prompto was sure something was very, very wrong with him. Maybe he was having some kind of reaction to his medication or the water here had something weird in it. That had to be the explanation for why he agreed to just climb on to the back of the Prince of Lucis and fly.

Like, actually fly. The Prince of Lucis could fly, in a weird indirect way.

He’d just shown up on the balcony outside his room, seven stories up, like it wasn’t a big deal at all, sparkling with the remnants of magic.

“Wanted to say hi, you know, outside of the whole ceremony and everything.” He’d said. And Prompto, completely not used to being alone with people his own age, just kind of stumbled out to stand with him.

“How did you-”

“I warped.” He said with a smile, like it was obvious.

So they stood there, in the warm afternoon air, talking about magic and warping and -somehow- the conversation turned to his favorite topic.

“No way, you like Assassin’s Creed too?” Noctis asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah! It’s only like the best franchise in modern gaming!” Prompto couldn’t believe his luck. He’d never met anyone else who played video games. It was his favorite hobby, and not just because for a handful of years it was the only thing he could bring himself to do. “It would be so cool to be an assassin. Uh, not like, a really real one. Heh. Just like, getting to climb or jump or glide anywhere you want? So cool.” Prompto said wistfully. To sneak out of his room back home and see anything he wanted was an ongoing dream of his.

And this trip was the closest thing he had to fulfilling it so far.

“So why don’t you?” Noctis asked, leaning against the balcony railing.

“Well, for starters, I can’t exactly zip through the air like you can.” Prompto laughed. 

He straightened back up. “Do you want to?”

And that was how Prince Prompto, heir to the vast Empire of Niflheim, found himself losing his lunch in the bushes outside the Lucian Citadel.

“Shit, sorry Prompto. Guess I should’ve warned you it takes some getting used to.” Noctis said, stifling a laugh.

“No way! That was so much fun!” He smiled despite how green his face must have been. “Should probably just take the elevator on the way back, though.” As much as he wanted to do that again he wasn’t sure his stomach would approve. Or his doctor.

Noct pulled out his phone and made a distressed sound. “Well, we’re both about to be late. Ignis is going to kill me.” He held his hand out to Prompto to help him back up. “I’m sure if we stroll in together it’ll be no big deal.”

Prompto took it, and after making sure his evening attire did not betray their activity, agreed with Noct’s plan.

“So…” Prompto started as they began their walk through the courtyard. “Who’s Ignis?”

“My advisor. I’ve known him since I can remember. He means well, and I know he’s just looking out for me and my future but his nagging can get really annoying.” Noctis huffed, stretching his arms behind his head.

“Oh, I totally get that. My doctor is super overprotective. At first it was really nice having someone care that much, but sometimes it’s like I breathe a little wrong and she wants to run a whole diagnostic to make sure I’m not dying!”

Noctis laughed, and it sounded so nice to Prompto’s ears.

“What about your shield? She looks pretty tough. She come from a family line?” Noct asked.

“Nah. She’s been in the military since she was super young, and then one day she just told my father, ‘I’m Prompto’s shield.’ Like, no question! She just made that claim and that was it! I’m really glad though, she’s always been like a sister to me.”

“Sounds nice. Mine is a huge ass who can’t seem to keep a shirt on.”

Prompto snort laughed.

“His whole family has been my family’s shields going way back. So, not much of a choice for any of us. He’s cool, though.” Noct’s face fell into something more neutral as they approached the stairs leading back into the palace. “Man. This is going to be so boring. Wanna ditch and go play video games?”

He did, more than anything else ever in his life he wanted to hang out alone with Prince Noctis. But slightly more than that, he wanted to not be the cause of an issue that might lead to all out war between their dads.

“We should probably at least make an appearance.” Prompto said carefully.

“Yeah…” Noctis sighed. “Bet we can find a way to make it more interesting, at least.” He said with a wicked little gleam in his eyes.

Prompto was completely out of his element. And it felt so cool!

---

“What do you mean, Prince Noctis is missing?” Cor said, actually feeling a few more years being cut from his lifespan.

“As I said, he simply left his room without alerting or informing anyone of his intentions. This isn’t the first time he’s done this but it’s certainly the worst possible time that he could.” Ignis, poor long suffering Ignis, rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

“Has Gladiolus been informed?” Cor asked, hoping beyond hope that at least his very responsible student might have a handle on this.

“Indeed, and his response was, ‘I told you so’.” Ignis punctuated the statement with little quotation marks by his head. “I had hoped beyond all hope he would actually take these proceedings seriously.”

Amazing. After everything that already happened that day, now Noct decided whatever arcade cabinet or fishing pond he felt most like visiting was more important than ensuring a lifelong peace with their biggest enemy.

“He’s probably just asleep in a tree somewhere.” The Prince could seemingly sleep anywhere, at any time. It was a life skill that Cor envied. “Inform the Glaive we have a code Stray Cat. Level Calico for now, unless we have evidence it’s something more serious.” Calico stray cat: Noctis is missing but he’s probably just dicking around somewhere. Find him but don’t panic. Black stray cat: Noct is missing and assumed in danger. Orange stray cat: Noct is most definitely in danger.

Again. Regis’ idea.

“I will do so at once, Marshal.” Ignis gave a slight bow and ran off to deliver the message. He was a good kid, both him and Gladio. Wonderfully dedicated crownsguards and the exact sort of responsible needed to ensure Noctis made it to his reign alive. And still, still he managed to get himself into trouble.

“Gladio.” Cor said into his switched on ear piece. 

“I’ve got the crownsguard sweeping the perimeter. Glaive are searching outside the Citadel. We’ll catch that cat, Sir.”

“Nice choice of words. I’m going to check in with our guests.” No one else should have to deal with that headache. Cor made his way to the seventh floor, right where he left them. Prince Prompto’s door was ajar, with no one inside, but the balcony door was also wide open.

Not good.

“Gladio, bad news-”

“Good news Sir, the cat’s in the bag. And he brought a little yellow puppy with him.” 

Cor laughed, shaking his head with his hands on his hips.

Teenagers. Of course they’d sneak off to get into trouble together. At least it implied they were getting along, which really was the whole point of this thing. He could only be so mad about it all. He turned to head back to the ballroom, ready to take his post for the evening.

Until he was struck with the realization that Prompto’s attendants probably realized he had gone missing. And they didn’t have the benefit of knowing he was okay.

“...shit.”

---

“This place is a FUCKING maze!” Del screamed as the two made their way down yet another hallway. Everywhere they walked service staff seemed to flee from their presence. Of course they did. Everyone here hated their guts and everything about them so why would anyone try and help?

Fine! She had thought. We’ll just find Cor. Whatever. This is his problem now. Her ego meant nothing compared to Prompto’s safety. So off they went, ready to find the Marshal and make sure her brother was safe. There was only one problem.

Neither of them understood enough of the Lucian language.

They all spoke the same common language, sure, but each Kingdom still had their own stupid written language because neither wanted to go through the hassle of changing out hundreds of years’ worth of fixtures and Del hadn’t thought to stick that piece of academia into her mind because in what world would she have to know the difference between a bathroom and a library in the Lucian Ciatdel?

Well...apparently this one!

“You know what’s a universal language? Pictures. Just...put a little picture of a toilet on the sign. Then there’s no confusion! What’s in there? Oh! A bathroom! OBVIOUSLY!” Del was quickly losing her mind, and Aranea’s silence was just making it worse.

“Doc.” She finally said, grabbing her arm. She turned to Del, put a finger to her lips, and carefully walked them both through a door and into...the kitchen. After a quick scan of the perimeter she set her sights on a supply closet and somehow, maneuvered both of them into it, closing the door behind them.

“What-” Del tried to ask but Aranea put a hand over her mouth.

“Listen.” She whispered.

After a few very quiet minutes passed, Del was ready to tell the shield exactly what she thought about being shoved in a closet while Prompto was still missing, when they heard a door open., and several pairs of footsteps.

“I can’t hear shit in there, so what the fuck is with this?”

“You tell him what you told me.”

“I got strict orders, directly from the kid’s doctor. She said this needs to go in his meal. It’s medicine, you know their Prince is sickly and all. We’re doing it in here so as not to cause a scene. It is absolutely vital he gets it. Understood?”

Del’s eyes went wide. Aranea was narrowing hers in suspicion. Del shook her head. No, she hadn’t told anyone jack shit about medicine. And he certainly didn’t have any medication that needed to be dropped into his dinner.

This was poison. They were trying to poison Prompto.

“Alright. I’ll mark it special, make sure it gets to the right seat.”

After some shuffling and footsteps, the two carefully left the closet and quietly made their way out to the hallway.

“Listen, Doc-”

“I didn’t tell anyone shit about putting medicine in food.”

“I know. So either you’re being set up, or Insomnia is. Either way, the search for Shortcake just got a lot more urgent.”

A quiet ding grabbed their attention, and the two realized there was an elevator around the corner. Finally. They took off sprinting to catch it, barely managing to do so, and simply selecting the ground floor.

“How big of a scene do we need, here? Who are we going to tell?” Del asked. Aranea seemed to know exactly how to approach every scenario, and Del was about to mentally collapse so she was more than happy to let her take control.

“Tumult will see it as the Lucians attempting an assassination. If we call out the kitchen workers they’re going to set you up for the fall, and no one here has any reason to trust you wouldn’t.” Aranea said carefully.

“Cor knows, he’d vouch for me. He knows I’d never do anything to hurt Prompto.” Del said, trying to resist the urge to bite at her still nicely painted lip.

“Why?” Aranea snapped.

“Huh?” Del looked at her frustrated features.

“Why does the Marshal know that?” She asked.

Shit. SHIT. “Because...well like, I’m a doctor! Come on, I’m a doctor and a great one, I’d never hurt any of my patients!”

Aranea opened her mouth to respond but before she could make a sound, the elevator doors opened and there he was. Standing next to the Lucian Prince. 

“Oh thank the Gods.” Del sighed, abandoning any amount of professionalism and rushing over to hug the Prince. “Don’t scare us like that, dude, we thought something terrible happened!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean- Wow you guys look really pretty.” Prompto nervously said with a smile.

“I’m guessing you're the shield?” Aranea stated, looking up and down the teenager standing behind the princes.

“That would be me, yeah. And these two thought it’d be great fun to goof off and get every glaive and guard in the city looking for them.”

Prompto looked at the ground in embarrassment. Noctis seemed pleased. 

“Prom here wanted to have some fun. I thought I’d be a good host and show him some.”

Noctis laughed. Prompto’s face turned very red.

“So are we going to this borefest now, or what?” Prince Noctis asked his shield.

“I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.” Aranea nodded her head towards Gladiolus. He nodded back at her.

“That dress looks really good on you, Del!” Prompto said, trying to change the subject from his sudden irresponsible disappearance.

“Thanks,” Del smiled down at him as they began to follow the Lucians, “it has pockets.” She demonstrated by sticking her hands in them. She felt something in the left pocket. A piece of paper. She carefully retrieved it, no bigger than the palm of her hand, and quickly read the message scribbled on it.

‘Del-We need to talk. Meet me at the bar. C.L.’

C.L. Cor Leonis. We need to talk. Yes. Yes they did. And she already had a well practiced script of exactly what she planned to say to his stupid moron face.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Welcome to Oblivion--Ch. 11

Chapter 11

           I thought I’d never step foot in a gym like this again. The scent in the air was the same—PVC plastic stretched over tumbling mats, chalk dust and spring oil, sweat and hairspray—but the energy was different. The Cove wasn’t the weight room and practice gym at a tier one high school. It was a state-of-the-art performance center designed to efficiently churn out champions.

           The building was bigger than the actual gymnasium for the basketball team. The main entrance opened up into a foyer with offices along either side. Athletic directors, coaches, trainers… they all had glass fronted offices that looked out on their players and athletes coming and going. Directly in front of the entrance was a wall blocked off by a glass case filled with photos, banners, and trophies. There were double doors on either side of the case, leading into the lower floor.

           “Can I help you?” The voice came a from a woman with long dark hair pulled back into a messy bun. She looked to be in her late thirties or early forties, but she was in such good shape it was honestly hard to tell. “If you’re looking for the student health center, it’s on the other side of campus.”

           I fidgeted, tucking my hair behind my ears and plucking at the elastic around my wrist. “I’m here to see Coach Helmsley.”

           She smirked. “Which one?”

           “There’s more than one?” I replied, feeling like a fool. I flicked my elastic band hard enough that it stung. “I’m looking for the poms coach.”

           The smirk stayed put as a pair of watery eyes surveyed me quickly. She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you. We don’t typically get walk-ons, but let’s see what you’ve got.”

           I held up my hands, backing away a step. “No, I’m not here to try out. Peyton Royce sent me. She said she’d talked to you?”

           Recognition clicked behind the coach’s eyes. “Addison Holloway.”

           I nodded. God, this woman was intimidating.

           A smile replaced the smirk. “Peyton’s been going on about you. I’m surprised the recruiters didn’t tell me you’d been accepted.”

           She turned and walked toward a set of double doors leading into the lower gym. I rushed to follow. “GMU didn’t recruit me. I had a cheerleading scholarship to Georgia Tech, but got sidelined when I tore my ACL. I don’t compete anymore.”

           I watched the coach lift her brow in question. “Still, you’ve had what… six or eight months post op? No brace. Walking fine. You never thought about trying to get back in?”

           I shook my head. “Not really. No one wanted me once I got injured, Tech pulled my scholarship. By the time I was cleared to practice again, the season was over and nationals were down the toilet.”

           Coach Helmsley pushed the doors open, and I got hit anew with the scent of a cheer gym. I had a sudden flash of memory, but shook my head hard to clear it away.

           “That’s the high school game, Holloway. This is a whole new world.”

           “Addy!” The Australian drawl pulled the vowels of my name long. I looked up to see Peyton bouncing over, her face flushed and hair stuck to her neck. “Oh, I’m so glad you decided to show up. Some of the girls have been watching your tapes…”

           “Give me ten, Royce. For talking too much,” Coach Helmsley snapped. Peyton’s eyes went wide for a brief second, and then she turned and took off at a steady pace, taking the widest route around the room. “She wants you to be the new choreographer.”

           “I’m sorry. I tried to tell her—”

           “Don’t apologize. I’ve watched your tapes, too. And I put a call in to Lynwood yesterday.” Coach Helmsley led me toward a set of bleachers off to the side. She climbed a few steps and sat down, gesturing for me to join her. “Do you know what they said?”

           My fingers went back to the elastic on my wrist, twisting it until it was so tight, I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. “I don’t know.”

           “That you were the best athlete they’d had in years. And if you hadn’t gotten injured, you would have been NCA athlete of the year your senior season.” My gaze jumped up to hers. That was something I hadn’t expected. “There’s no doubt that you’re talented and you’ve earned your reputation. I want that reputation attached to my team, Holloway.”

           It took a moment for those words to sink in. Coach Helmsley leaned forward, her gaze locked onto mine. “I’ll work with the AD to get you in and see if financial aid can float you a work study or something to compensate you. Practice is three days a week, workouts at six every weekday morning, games, and competitions. Let’s start with you taking a look at practice today. Then we’ll talk.”

           She patted my knee and got up. She jumped from the bleachers and went out onto the floor where girls were spreading out the tumbling mats. Peyton jogged by on her eighth circuit and smiled. I looked up, expecting to see nothing but the ceiling. Instead, I found myself staring up at a glass-walled balcony that opened out into one of the second-floor weight rooms.

           But more surprising than that was seeing the two men standing at the glass, looking down with grins on their faces. I rolled my eyes and waved up at Roman and Drew. The first crossed his arms over his chest, giving me an I told you so grin. The second wiggled his fingers playfully.

***

           “So… when do we get to see you in the outfit?” Drew asked from across the library table. I had a pile of books open in front of me as I worked on a history paper. He might have been working on something important, but you’d never have known by the way he kept talking.

           “You don’t,” I snapped for the fifth time. “I’m doing work study with Coach Helmsley. That’s all.”

           Drew stretched out—I could feel his long legs pushing their way into my space under the table—and sighed. “That’s just a shame. You’d look good in it.”

           The grin on his face and the playful tone in his Scottish baroque made it less of a creepy statement than it would have been coming from someone else. I stuck out my tongue. “I’m going to tell Roman you said that.”

           My companion let out a laugh that echoed through the stacks. I kicked him under the table, not wanting to get kicked out of the building. He covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the chuckles. “Oh, love. Roman’s the one who wants to see it.”

           I blushed, ducking my head behind a heavy volume on political interactions between ancient Greece, Rome, and Egypt to hide from Drew’s gaze. It was just like him to remind me that he was one of my boyfriend’s best friends and that, at least a couple times, they’d talked about me when I wasn’t around.

           “Roman needs to keep his mouth shut,” I hissed, mostly to myself. But I couldn’t help feeling a little exhilarated at the knowledge that he thought about me. Maybe as much as I thought of him.

***

           The sun wasn’t even up over the tops of the trees when I walked into The Cove. It had been almost a year since I’d done any kind of activity more than walking or some yoga here and there. While Coach Helmsley hadn’t made any specific requests for my workout attendance, I was pretty sure she wanted to see how I compared to the other Pirate poms.

           My heart turned upside down as I tied my hair up into a ponytail. The offices were empty and dark. Every step and sound echoed louder in the emptiness. I pushed through the double doors and took the stairs up to the second floor. It was a few minutes before six, but there was already a dozen or more athletes spread out in the weight room.

           I found an open space out of the way and began stretching. The ache that went through my muscles and limbs felt good. There were a few spots that hurt more than they had before, but I was out of shape, so it wasn’t surprising. My knee was tight. It scared me to see the scar from my surgery stretch, the skin shiny and silver.

           For a moment, I was back on that gym floor feeling my knee give out as the ligament ruptured. I felt it. I heard it. I’d never felt pain like that in my life. And I hadn’t felt it again since.

           I sighed, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs. It was true that it was the first time since I’d been cleared from physical therapy that I’d put my surgically repaired knee through its paces. I wasn’t quite sure where to start.

           The door swished open and closed several times. I glanced up to see Roman walk in alongside his cousins, Jimmy and Jey, and Baron. He wore a pair of basketball pants and a tank top that showed off the inked patterns that snaked up his bicep and onto his chest and shoulder. I’d never had the chance to see the crisscrossing mat pattern over his deltoid and the swooping swirls and triangles that made up the hidden pieces. I wanted to follow the lines and shadows with my fingertips.

           I stood, trying not to draw attention. I didn’t know what the workout was for the poms, and I didn’t want to draw Roman’s attention.

           “Addy!” Peyton’s voice echoed through the weight room. I ducked my head and pulled in my shoulders. I needed to teach her how to be quiet.

           She bounced toward me, the movement and the call of my name drawing Roman’s attention. I watched his face change and knew the moment he saw me. His lips tipped up into a grin. His eyes lit up. And I felt like the whole world drifted away.

           He crossed the room in a few strides. In a moment, he was there, his strong, warm arms wrapped around me. He tugged me tightly against his chest and kissed me without abandon. Like he didn’t care that there were dozens of people around. And it made my head spin in the best way.

           “Morning, baby girl,” he said softly, nuzzling his nose against my cheeks and leaving soft kisses on my jaw. He made a deep rumble in his chest that vibrated through me until my fingertips and toes tingled.

           “Morning, Ro.”

           He grinned, his hands skimming down to settle on the curve of my lower back. “I like the shorts.” He leaned around, making a show of taking peek. “A lot.”

[robotnikfucker]

10 Questions Tag Game

I’ve been tagged by @jimbotniks​

Rules: Answer the 10 questions, ask a different 10 questions, and tag 10 people

(Small warning, I have ADHD and just took my meds so this is a little ramble-y and disjointed. I apologize, there is no way to fix this, my brain is just like that oops. For courtesy, I’ve put all the long stuff under the cut so you only have to read my monologue if you want to.)

1. What is your favorite genre of music? Why?

Probably indie-rock and indie punk. I like indie-rock largely because my favorite shows in my formative years were Chuck, Bones and a couple other “golden era” crime dramas that all featured a lot of indie-rock music in the background. Indie punk appeals to me because it’s just a good catharsis while also being pretty damn dance-able. Kiwi Jr and AJJ are both really good bands if you need to just let it all out while jamming to some bops.

2. What’s an art project you’ve made that you’re proud of?

I draw angels frequently, often depicting them as humanoid but still terrifying. This was an art theme that I’ve had going since before I was religious and I find that “angelic” imagery can sometimes leak into my other art so a lot of my favorite art is drawings of wings, gore, monsters and all kinds of Gothic themes. Right now, I have a watercolor of Virginia Madsen that I’m just in love with. I was always enchanted by her hypnotized stare in Candyman and I did my best to capture that. I even went out with my girlfriend to buy a gold gel pen so her tears would glitter. From theme to technical prowess, it’s my favorite painting right now and possibly my magnum opus. My previous best was a gore heavy, similarly angel themed, digital painting of Roger Wilco from the Space Quest games (weird special interests, I know.) I could go on about drawings I love for hours, so I’ll cut myself off here with the small post script that this is just my visual art and I also have poetry and prose that I feel similarly about.

3. Do you have a favorite album/podcast to put on in the background while you work or study?

It all really depends on my mood. My girlfriend shared a really relaxing Sovietwave playlist with me recently that I’ve been enjoying. I also listen to a lot of AJJ and Saint Motel, I don’t really think I could really pin down a specific album for either of them. The Candyman soundtrack works really well for study especially for my Gothic and Mystery class. I have a playlist titled Fuck Funk that’s specifically for writing fanfiction since I could never find a good playlist for writing smut when I needed it but I also use that playlist to work out since it’s mostly just a healthy mix of songs that I can jam to. I’ve never liked podcasts for study/work since I can’t really write and listen at the same time but I did make a podcast once for a professor that was a radio-play style parody of Scooby-Doo. I did all of the editing and I still listen back over it and pat myself on the back for turning 2 hours of raw improv into something that got us like a 98. A lot of my own music taste peaks through.

4. If you could become the protagonist/antagonist of any media franchise, which one would you pick and why?

Realistically, Animal Crossing because that’s the safest bet least likely to lead to my death. If we’re gonna get wild... probably BJ Blazkowicz from Wolfenstein so I could kick some N*zi ass or Conan Edogawa/Jimmy Kudo from Case Closed/Detective Conan so I could enjoy that sweet mid 90′s aesthetic.

5. Can you play any instruments? which ones?

I can, actually, I’ve played cello since I was 8 (I’m 18 now) although I’m a little rusty. I played piano and drums for a while and while I’m pretty useless when it comes to piano these days, I still maintain a pretty firm grip on my sense of time and rhythm thanks to the years I spent playing percussion. I played bari sax in middle and high school. I marched it for 3 years until I had a back injury but I was in jazz band all 4 years of high school so I was still playing. I was also in choir for a very long time and even spent my junior and senior years in an acapella Madrigal choir (I still have my costumes from both years) and even though it hasn’t been a whole year since I graduated, I still miss singing. I certainly don’t miss high school but I do miss that choir.

6. Do you collect anything? If so, what?

Not sure if this counts but I’ve been an achievement hunter/completionist since I played Ocarina of Time so I guess I “collect” video game achievements. I also collect lost things when I find them. I have an abandoned library card, two different gym membership cards, and a whole bunch of business cards. I have a small collection of lighters but that’s less about the joy of collecting and more about how often I burn incense. Aside from the usual stuffed animal collection that most people have from childhood, I don’t collect anything else.

7. How many songs are there in your music library?

This is kinda difficult for me to answer. I use Spotify and I don’t always download my music since I have unlimited data, but it currently says that I have 1070 “liked” songs which is likely a little conservative since I had to switch accounts last year and lost some of my music in the process. (This just got me thinkin, back in the iTunes era when songs were 99cents a pop I would have had to pay more than a thousand dollars for that kind of collection.)

8. If you could live anywhere in the world, and at any time in history, where and when would you choose?

So, by any time in history do you mean only the past or the future too? If future is an acceptable answer, I’m gonna say Star Trek. Like if Star Trek ever becomes vaguely reality, I’m going there. Even if the details are wrong, a career as a science officer on a space ship in a universe that isn’t constantly at war and is instead working towards peace and the pursuit of higher knowledge is perfect. If we’re only talking about the past, with no allowances for possible futures, then I think I’d want to live in the 80s in a metropolitan city like New York, Chicago, or Tokyo. Perhaps its misplaced nostalgia, but working as a secretary sounds nice. In the 80s you could still outright buy an apartment instead of renting it and it was actually semi-affordable (at least for the privileged) which as someone facing adulthood in the current economy, sounds like a dream come true. I guess I just want the simplicity and security of economy back then. Lookin for that yuppie life!

9. Have you ever performed live in front of an audience?

I have, several times. Although I’ve never been a headliner or anything I’ve played and sang at school concerts (even had a few solos) and my jazz band once performed for a dance hall full of people. I’ve never been paid unless you count getting a free CD but I’ve performed in front of quite a few live audiences.

Anyway, Jimbotnik didn’t write a tenth question so I guess I get an out. I’m sorry for my rambling answers, that’s just life. I’m gonna tag @jasminerobotnik @zoekrystall @rohotnik since y’all are my Sonic blog mutuals (like my header implies, I keep my main and this side blog separate for privacy’s sake) I’m also tagging @actsoflove @manicrobotnik @dusicielkusiciel @hamil-trash24 @lee-bunny @legally-immortal and @wutevrz

If you’re confused as to why I tagged you, I don’t have many mutuals so I picked followers who I’d seen some interaction from. You don’t have to play if you don’t want to and I’ll delete your tag if you’d prefer. As usual with these games, it’s also open to anyone who wants to get one of these started among their group so if you’re reading this post and wish you’d been tagged, that’s you.

My questions:

Do you wear glasses/contacts? If you wear glasses do you like how they look on you?

Do you have a playlist of music that’s just for when you’re sad? What are your favorite songs from it?

Is there a skill you consider yourself particularly good at?

If you’re the kind of person who uses a reusable water bottle, do you decorate it? If not, what is your favorite drink day to day?

Do you drink diet soda or can you not tolerate the taste?

Do you write fanfiction? What fandoms and genres? Do you share your fic with people you know in real life?

What’s your favorite scent? Do you often buy scented products like incense or candles?

Do you like scary movies? If so, what’s your favorite? If you don’t, what is your favorite genre of films?

What’s your go to movie snack when you’re watching in a theater? What about when you’re watching a movie at home?

What’s your favorite “medium” for art (sculpture, dance, music, painting, drawing, poetry etc.) and which one do you feel most adept at?

[fagforfrank]

Heres another useless caption with no relevance to the picture. apologies :)

Every month I have at least 2 depressive episodes that can last from 2 days to a week or so. And I try to deal with it through "emotional support band members" ,as bizzar as it sounds.

Every month or two,I chose spontaneously a perosn from one of my favourite bands which i find great comfort in for some reason,and then just keep thinking about them and revolve most of my time on that perosn.

I learn things about them that I might've not known about them before,I watch their videos or listen to their songs. Draw them and look at pictures of them and talk about them any chance I get.

I guess its a form of suppression of my feeling and thoughts,I dont like thinking about myself much and talking about why i feel shit,so I distract myself with one of my favourite people. I dont know if you would called this also a coping mechanism,to me it sorta is.

If anyone is interested in who those people are,I have a couple. Some of them I passively have a interest in and some of them are more regular. And some aren't musicians, in anyway.

Main and the most regular:

Maxmoefoe,Ryan Ross,Frank and Gerard.

Fairly regular:

Andrew vanwyngarden,George Harrison and Pete from clockwork orange.

More passive:

Dazai from bungo stray dogs(a anime),Johnny Bond or better known ass Bondy from catfish and the bottlemen. And two OC's, Evan who is mine and Jimmy who is my friends. But they are both in a band together called clown crew.

REGARDLESS

My current 'emotional support band members' is ryan! So that's cool.

(Sorry if this makes no fucking sense what's so ever,I'm kinda tired. Its 3 am,and I'm sad)

[beamereye]

Brainstorm

Working for Jimmy Fallon’s The tonight show was the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean. I got to meet a lot of famous people, and I’ve been lucky enough to become close friends with some of them. Today my life would be really empty without the job or the people I met there. 

This day was no more special than any other day. Woke up early, took a shower, made breakfast and then left for work. 

My job was to get in touch with the managers of whoever was supposed to appear on the show, get all the details and arrange the appearances. Sometimes I’d hang around while filming. Usually that’s how I meet famous people and become friends with them.

Today we had a guest on our set, Jake Gyllenhaal, the one with the Swedish last name. Never could pronounce it right, always a struggle. We met before, but never talked much, just the basic small talk anyone has with colleagues, guests and etc. I was busy talking on the phone, arranging things with some celebrity guests, my back to the door of my office. Somewhere in between the phone call I heard a knock on my glass door. Turned around to see, to my surprise, Jake. 

-Hey, I am going to have to call you back later, something just came up. - I said as I hung up the phone. - Hi - I greeted him, by standing up. 

-Hey, Jimmy said you had something for me? - Jake said, with a cute little smile. 

-Uhh, not really sure what you are talking about. Let me get to the bottom of things and find out. Is your changing room ready? Are you okay with it? - I asked, as it was my job to do so. 

-Oh, yeah, it’s good. Nothing’s missing. Hope he doesn’t scare me like Ellen does - He laughed. I giggled, and shook my head. 

-Noo, Jimmy’ s not like that. He would just look at you and maybe hug. Not scare. - I said as I held back a giggle. My phone rang. - I’m sorry, Jake, but I have to get this. - I said while picking up. 

-Yeah, I’ll just head to my dressing room. - He said, waved and walked out. Soon I finished the phone call and texted Jimmy:

“Hey, just wondering am I missing something? Do I need to give something to Jake Gyllenhaal? “

“Uhh, not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“He literally just walked in my office and said: “hey, Jimmy said you have something for me.” ????” 

“OH! Yeah. Just some papers to sign. They’re supposed to be on your desk, if not, ask Alice.” 

Of course, there were no fucking papers on my desk, nor in my office. I had to track down Alice, the administrator, and ask for the papers. How am I the only one who cares about the work I do. “Smh working with stoopids” I thought. 

Alice kindly gave me the papers and apologized. I took a quick look over them, and proceeded to Jake’s changing room. Knocked on the door. He opened quickly and smiled seeing me. 

-Hey. - he said.

-Hi, again. I tracked down the stuff I was supposed to have before you arrived - I said with a smile on my face. God, he had beautiful eyes. 

-Great! Do I need to read or can I just sign without looking? - He asked with a smile.

- I think you’re good to go without reading - I said confident. 

-Are you sure? Not gonna end up married with someone by accident? - he laughed, I let out a giggle and shook my head handing him the papers. He signed and gave them back to me. I got a text from Jimmy: 

“Can you bring Jake to set in 5?” 

“ok”

-Well, looks like you’re going with me. - I said looking through the papers, making sure he signed every single one, because if not, I’m in trouble. The papers were just full disclosure, documentation. Boring stuff. 

-Is it time? - he asked, scratching the back of his neck.

-Yep - I said looking up from the papers to him. Let me tell you that man has a set of some gorgeous eyes. We went straight to stage. The show started. Live audience applaud. I decided to stay and watch, there were no seats left, so I just stood there in the corner, smiling, watching the action unfold. They did the brainstorm thing with Jimmy and Jake, and that was so funny, I made myself cry while laughing. After that was the break. Went to grab some water to give Jake and Jimmy. After handing them the bottles I went on with my work. Me and the whole crew were planning on going out tonight. To a club, to have fun. So I just decided to finish my work, make a few more calls and wait for the rest of the gang. An hour passed and everyone was cleaning up. I sat in front of my computer, scheduling, moving things around. I saw people walking by my office, but did not bother looking up. Heard a knock. Then I looked up to see Jake again, leaning on the frame of the door. 

-Hey, is everything alright? - I asked him, not knowing why he was here. 

-Yeah. Just wanted to chit chat, am I bothering? - he asked smiling.

-No, just finished working, actually. - I smiled. - Sit down, - I pointed to the couch that was just to the right of him. He listened, sat down. - So what do you want to chit chat about? - I wondered.

-Did you like the show? 

-wasn’t there to see all of it, but yes, it was funny. 

-I know, I saw you for the first part of it, and then you were suddenly gone. 

-Just needed to finish the work I had left. 

“Jake, your car is here” a man said popping his head into my office, Jake let out a sigh and nodded. 

-well. I guess I should make it quick and simple. Can I have your number? - he said letting out a breath. I was taken aback with the question, but smiled and scribbled it on a piece of paper, drawing a smiley face near it and writing my number and name. “1800318-7163 :) THEA. “

PART 2

Masterlist