#I'm still actively hoping you fuck up enough to leave town so I don't have to see your ass around events I don't want to be friends

[1mfuns1zed]

So i've been in nyc the past week for a festival and ive been on flights and in airports for the past 24 hpurs, and somehow accidentally followed my ex on here??? And she noticed??? Nooooo big yiiiikes >_<

[redsrooftopprincess]

Pumpkin Sugar (Part 1)

Raphael x GN!Reader - Established Relationship

Part 1 . Part 2 . Part 3 . Part 4 . Epilogue (🌶️ Fem!Reader)

Based on this ask by @gornackeaterofworlds

More of a question to expand on than a detailed request, but would raph help a teacher reader grade papers?? Would he get invested in gossip on the kids??

I was zoning out and somehow thought about elementary school teacher readers, coming back to the lair with papers to grade, Donnie getting angry over the lesson plans you have to use, etc. And then, like always, raph thoughts(I am unbelievably gushy to raph x lil sweet cheery readers) Being oh so sleepy tired but still having work to do. Grading papers, getting activities printed and cut, weekly plans. I'd like to imagine he helps to get you to sleep faster, all the while listening to the venty yapping about which kids are troublemakers

Hi gornack! I hope you are feeling well. ♥️

Sorry this took so long. I want you to know that this started out as a simple fluffy fic, but Red disagreed. He wanted to make you smile.

I'm going to be splitting this into 4 parts (+ an epilogue) to make it easier to read because I accidentally went over the character limit in my notes app *twice*. I wasn't aware you could accidentally write a whole ass fic, but here we are. 😅

Special thanks to @the-cauldron-witch . The best brainstorming buddy I could honestly ask for. Could not have written this without you. 😁

"Come on, babe, please?"

You sigh, whining, "Raph..."

"I gotta head out early, you'll be asleep by the time I get back," he pleaded. He was only working a half night, but he had to leave right at sunset and head across town, so he wouldn't be home until well after 1:00 am, and you had school in the morning.

It had been a long day, and it still wasn't over yet.

You really did like your job. The kids were great, even when they misbehaved it wasn't their fault. There were just too many of them and not enough of you. You couldn't watch everybody all the time, but you still had to try. Third grade was a lot. Especially when you were managing 27 kids (you're grateful, you have colleagues managing 40+, and it's a fucking zoo).

Still, you tried to make things fun for them. Halloween is tomorrow, and you don't want to do the traditional boring "spooky" theme. So, you've decided to teach an entire class of 8-9 year olds a little bit about applied chemistry.

You were actually really excited! You'd picked up a bunch of foam pumpkins at the dollar store, which were currently being dragged in a cart behind you. You were planning on carving them into jack o'lanterns and teaching the kids how to make elephant toothpaste to ooze out of the holes. It's was going to be the most beautiful chaos, and with any luck, a memorable experience.

There was only one problem, you'd been dealing with meetings and trainings all week and unable to actually carve the damn pumpkins. Today there was an outage in part of the building, so you had to wait two hours to use the one copier available, and by the time you walked out you had zero gas left in the tank. You wanted to go home and finish your work so you could go to bed.

You reach the top of the stairs, exiting the subway at street level. The lair is literally in the opposite direction. You look south, towards your apartment.

"Please?" He asks again, his voice softening. You haven't seen him in days and you can hear in his voice that it's taking as much of a toll on him as it is you. "I'll help you with your school shit, whatever, I just... I gotta see you. Please?"

You sigh and turn around, heading north. You miss him, too.

...

He meets you at the door to the elevator, and despite your exhaustion, you can't help but smile. He had that effect. Comfort, safety, peace, love... Raphael is Home. And the moment you step inside his arms all of your tension melts away. Almost.

He picks you up in his arms and squeezes you tightly, swinging you gently back and forth as he buries his nose in your hair. He breathes you in and grins, chuckling quietly as you squeeze him back and press your face against his neck.

"What're you laughing at?" you ask, suspicious. He was way more... something... than normal... you're not entirely sure what. You raise your head with your eyes narrowed.

"Nothin'," he says, kissing you sweetly, "just happy to see you." Your eyes narrow further, but this seems to satisfy you. You kick your legs and whine and he sets you down.

Picking up the crate and carrying it casually under one arm (though, to be fair, the pumpkins are made of foam), he gestures you first into the elevator and follows behind. He takes your hand pretty much immediately, "So what're we working on?"

"Pumpkins," you sigh.

He waits a beat. Then another. "Okay... You gonna give me more than that, or..." He smirks down at you, laughing. He can't help it.

"Yeah, sorry," you laugh, "rough week." You shake your head, before looking up at him, "carving, specifically."

"Shit, why didn't you say so? I could've done the whole thing for you!" He laughs as you exit the elevator into the lower garage.

Donnie's working on the truck and you wave at him as you pass by. He gives you a bright smile and your suspicion grows. He's a bit too cheery for being elbow deep in his latest mechanical mess.

You make it to the living room and start unpacking everything. Foam pumpkins, sharpies, exacto knives, "that should be everything," you say, grabbing a gourd and sitting down on the couch. You tuck your legs up under you as Raph walks by behind, leaning down to kiss you on his way to the other side.

He only has about an hour before he needs to leave, but he spends it cuddled up next to you quietly carving pumpkins, an activity which he actually enjoys. All too soon, he's called away to his duties.

With a lingering kiss that leaves you missing him already, he's gone, and you're left with... so much work.

...

The pumpkins are taking longer than expected, and by midnight you're still not done. Mostly because, for a teacher, you really suck at learning your lesson, and you waited until the last minute. Again. And you didn't ask your boyfriend for help once you realized it was too much. Again.

Honestly, one word and he could have had this solved for you. You look over at your annual Family Pumpkin Carving Competition entries. Raph was no longer allowed to enter the contest because it wasn't fair. But he still did one because he enjoyed it. This year, it seems, he was feeling romantic.

It was a MASSIVE pumpkin almost to your shoulder. You have no idea how he even got it down here. Inside was a small table with several electric candles, illuminating the ballroom scene from Beauty and the Beast.

You set down the half-carved jack o' lantern, and sigh heavily, rubbing your eyes. You lean back on the couch, tucking your feet under you. You're just going to shut your eyes for a few seconds. You know that people always say that and they end up just falling asleep, but you really actually mean it, you'll close your eyes for a few minutes and then get back to work.

....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @footninja @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo

...

Part 1 . Part 2 . Part 3 . Part 4 . Epilogue (🌶️ Fem!Reader)

[codecicle]

Ok so. Chip star wars au backstory. Basically, what I'm thinking is that the story is pretty much the same, with some obvious adjustments.

Chip grows up on board the Midnight Rose (a space ship this time, not an ocean one lol). It's the early years of the Empire, and the Black Rose pirates are both pirates and kind of an early rebel cell? sorta? They're still pretty powerful, like in the riptide canon, as the Empire is still kind of getting its shit together. And when I say they're *sort of* rebels what i mean is that, while they do actively dislike the Empire, they're not fighting them directly so much as they're being a general nuisance for them and stealing their shit and disrupting their plans.

As for the hole in the sea...well, I have two ideas for that would be.

Number one is that it's, like, a weird Force thing, which there are A Lot of in Star Wars. It's sort of like that weird fucking cube-planet-thing they get stranded on in The Clone Wars for that one arc with the Father the Daughter the Son--it's that sort of batshit fucking star wars thing, and it basically, like...sucks them in and the events of the Hole in the Sea oneshot play out pretty much the same way. This one I like because it has the wackass magical element to it and could thus account for the wackass Chip Lore that we're currently being insane about in the hiatus.

(The aforementioned Wackass Chip Lore does throw a bit of a wrench into the AU, since we don't know anything for certain about it, so when Riptide starts back again and we find out more this part of the au could be pretty much derailed, but adjustments can always be made and the sw lore is crazy enough that I'll probably be able to figure something out).

Second option is that the "Hole in the Sea" is a weapon of sorts--something the Empire is maybe working on in secret, something that they maybe found that was like, the ruins of an ancient space-civilization with super weird, cool technology yknow? And the black rose pirates end up there somehow (one idea is that it's like a gravity well, like they had in Rebels I think??? It might have been tcw i can't remember. Something that can pluck ships out of hyperspace like it's nothing). It could also be a combination of these two options--maybe it's some weird space magic thing the Empire was studying but then some Weird Magical Bullshit happened and drove them all out, but the Magic was like, awake, or something, idk I'm tired and that's all I have for now. This ask was not originally this long LMAO

Oh my fucking god I understand I get it. What if the hole in the sea was the Empire experimenting with the dark side of the force to build the superweapon that can just. Yoink a fuckin ship out of hyperspace and send them to some form of a rebel prison, but it ended up malfunctioning because the original designs were ones they stole from that ancient space-civilization you mentioned were made with the light side of the force/jedi use in mind. it ends up creating a sort of whackass void/black hole of the force in this pit deeeep deep into outer space and just like the Allport blockade, the Empire ends up telling any ships that try to leave the docks not to go there. the only people that can go anywhere near it are the ones that live on the nearby planets (like the underground towns and crew the albatrio found while in the black sea when chip got his heart ripped out), the Empire visiting bases (like the navy base from 114), or any rebel trader that's either stupid enough or skilled enough to disobey the Empire and make it all the way there and back alive. Since Captain Rose was one of the pirate lords, maybe it was an intentional and direct attack that just ended up backfiring and left them with no other option than to quarantine that set of planets and hope nothing else happened and no-one survived (they literally all did LMAOO)

[localrye]

LADS I'M BACK AGAIN! Kind of! My nerves are fucked again! c': (personal ramblings ahead)

I had a big three weeks since like mid-June till early July So first I went to this hardcore fest I mentioned last month, and it was fine, but I found that fests aren't really for me. I'm glad I went because now I know. I guess I may attend again but buy only one-day ticket in the future but idk if I'll want to honestly, maybe only if some band I really like would play. Guess the only fest I'm still interested in is K-Town but that'd be different coz I would be sleeping at my friend's house in a town nearby, so at least I'd get some *peace and quiet* far away from people and only come to the fest for the bands. But yea, it was kind of overwhelming and uncomfortable. Completely unlike venue gigs, which feel intimate and comfortable and make me feel very present and like I'm a part of this scene. Fest was just chaotic, and since there was no breaks in-between sets I feel like all bands blent into one, I literally don't feel like I made any memories beside discomfort. And also almost everyone was drunk, which of course was to be expected and I know that getting wasted is the point of fests for many people and it's fine, but just not a space for me and it definitely contributed to the discomfort; I'm really glad my friend who was there with me also doesn't drink alcohol. But I got cassettes and a vinyl from bands and distros so that's nice!!

Then after I came back, I only had 3 days before leaving again to visit my best friend to go to some Pride events, a Xiao & Speedway gig and a bonfire on which I was supposed to play mandolin. Pride was nice as usual, I think I looked pretty faggy at the main parade but I'm def getting some chained harness for the next year, I'm brave enough for that by now lmao But neither the gig or the bonfire happened!!! :/ The gig was cancelled like 3 hours before it was supposed to happen coz bands' plane was delayed. And bonfire didn't happen coz one person couldn't attend and I couldn't play mando coz my fucking...... nerve issues in the right arm came back...... But it was still great, I love my best friend, we had such a lovely time, love just spending time with them!! Heals my accumulated mental damage lmao

And since I came back I've been waiting for my nerves to heal, not doing much, which is very annoying coz I got only like, 3 months since the last time I couldn't use my hand. It's really difficult to accept new disabilities, especially when they're still pretty new and you don't know what you can and can't do yet. But I guess I know a bit better now. Definitely can't spend a few days in a row writing down the chords and playing an instrument, definitely can't do any strength-based activities like lifting heavy objects multiple times a day or doing push-ups and I definitely need a longer stick for my aro flag so I don't have to raise my hands at all!

Honestly I'm still pretty upset about the gig not happening coz like I said, the fest just blurred into one, so I feel like I haven't been at any actual show this summer! (and also I REALLY wanted to see Xiao) Thank fuck Frail Body plays here at the beginning of August coz I wouldn't go at any gig before October otherwise!! But it sucks to live in the middle of nowhere, having to travel 2 to 4 hours to see a gig, pay a lot of fucking money for the train tickets and having to always figure out the place to sleep coz no trains go back to my county from the cities past like, 19:30 lmao

But anyway, guess I can try to come back on tumblr again, I miss my blog!! My hand is still doing bad, it'll probably take at least one month till it's fine again. I hope only a month!

[kaebedom-me]

Im not sure if you're open for requests rn but i am so inlove with your stories with the poly bois haha, (youre actually the only one ive seen really write for it and youre also the one who dragged me into liking it so thank you hahaha)

BUT anyways would it be alright if you could write something with childe and kaeya in a modern!college! au where perhaps the gn!reader has been secretly bullied for yknow, taking the two, most sought after, bois in the uni? But the readers stubborn and keeps it to themselves till maybe the bois notice a bruise of sorts or smth? 👁👁

sorry if this was long but have a good day!!

i lOVE this overused trope and aaa I'm so glad you enjoy they!! i think they're the best to this day they're my strongest main :')

if i were reader i'd honestly be thriving and be rubbing it in people's faces like hah sucks to be you bitch

maybe reader is like that uwu i also get that sometimes it's hard to deal with constant mean things being said about you uwu

i kinda see you not wanting to tell childe and kaeya about it because they won't let it slide so easily, they are protective over you after all

also you wouldn't put it past them to not do anything stupid drastic about it so you kinda just keep it on the down low hoping it'd pass you know

but boooy were you wrong, for the sake of plot I'm saying these people are relentless and lifeless and have nothing else better to worry about in their busy college life and the bullying just kept coming LMAO

it started out small, people not wanting to be in groups with you then maybe acquaintances started exclude you from activities the verbal bulling didn't come til after a while

the boys arent stupid they aren't blind and oblivious about it but you never made it out to be a problem so they don't want to risk making you upset by interfering

childe would call out someone for being mean to you though and that usually steers people away for a while

kaeya doesn't try to bully people back but he can't help the things his silver tongue spits out sometimes, ain't no one is gonna disrespect his s/o in front of him

hates that you're bummed about it for a while so will try to make it up to you by bringing you out of dates outside of the town do other uni goers don't see

til one day these high school bullies started to grow some balls, saw that the boys were protecting you a lot and just had to jab at you when they weren't around, some were brave enough to make a passive aggressive comment around them too v rude

i feel? they'd try to interfere like subtly? like want to deter the attention from you but somehow made it worse for awhile HAHHAHAHA

like leaving hickeys on you was not a good idea because you were tripped over by some fucking bitch when they saw it. they even made a comment about how humongous your insect bite was

you'll prolly try to stop them from doing anything weird to you for a while

it really started something when the tripping happened. maybe you still try to be meek about it and hope it'll go away but people are just that free you know? power trip or whatever

they just took it as encouragement and started to corner you while you were going around uni

that's when things became physical enough for childe and kaeya to notice

they'd hate themselves for letting it come to this because you are miserable and they could've done something much sooner and maybe they should've umu

will make you cough up names of the people who have been physically abusive and if you don't they'd be a lil frustrated and disappointed

i see it mostly being like them interpreting it as you don't trust the two of them enough to share your troubles with

they'll think they haven't been attentive enough or maybe they haven't been doing anything to let you know that you can lean on them for support

(but it's actually your brain that's stupid and stubborn umu)

but it's ok because it's time to fix everything so you can be happy again

childe and kaeya have enough friends and intel to know snuff out the morons that's been bothering you

and if it happened to be someone they used to associate with they'll prolly going to be chewed out by kaeya and beat up by childe

i wanna say they gather evidence and send it to the bullies' respective profs but i think they're more the type to settle this on the down low and make people really regret what they've done to you

they do gather evidence and send it school and put the info public to ruin people's lives but that's not until they got their revenge uwu

they type to go and confront the bullies uwu what you can't take what you dish out? childe and kaeya can be even meaner bullies too if they chose to but instead they use their charm for good smh

will scare bitches into never wanting to set foot outside of their room again

but won't do anything drastic enough to draw attention to them, they're better than these people ofc

childe and kaeya can be a very scary combo and you wouldn't want to piss them off. they're both schemers and nasty

one will break your bones while the other would break you emotionally uwu all for shits and giggles because that was what seemed to get them off when it was you

when all is said and done and they've completely ruined your bully's life they'll come back to you for a long talk

wants to know whats up and wants to make sure you don't feel like you have to carry something like this alone again

pampers you a ton

if you're like sdfalfgh about them handling it their way you're gonna have to deal with it because it was the only way

(it wasn't they were just in a bad mood because you were sad)

they'll!! reassure you a ton too!! and talk enough to uncover why you handled it the way you did

they want to be there for you and want you to rely on them for things like these!

also you made them worry a whole fuck ton so you better apologise!!!!!

soft make up and reassurance sex tho :bottom emoji: because you three were really hurt during this time

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 5 of ?)

gif by my literal angel @michaelgreys who keeps blessing us like holy fuck

a/n: all i can say is that this is the hottest one yet. as always, my girl @stxdyblr-2k did an amazing job so i hope you all enjoy :) and i'm still working on requests, tysm for all of them!!

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland

prompt: john just can't help himself when he sees you with someone else.

warnings: nsfw!!! smut, fluff, angst, light praise kink, john fucking adores you and spends a good amount of time with his head between your legs (yes i know!!!!!)

John had spotted you from across the London nightclub, his table tucked into the balcony area, perfectly positioned to survey the entire club. It'd been over a month since he laid eyes on you last. Sometimes, he wondered if it was possible for you to only get more beautiful every time he saw you. He wasn't surprised, as he'd been warned of your presence by Tommy, but he was unable to stop himself from staring at you, hair neatly styled, scarlet velvet dress clinging to every curve, red lipstick emphasizing your lips, a light haze of pink pressed into your cheekbones, lash-line expertly darkened with kohl. You were dancing with one of Isaiah's friends; the young man was tall and muscular -- a blinder foot soldier, John concluded, draining his glass of whiskey, flagging the waiter down for another.

The young lad was smiling down at you. John took a swig from his drink bitterly, the man obviously head over heels, his eyes bright, excitedly glancing from your lips to your figure. John could feel himself cringe; the younger man had all the subtlety and strategy of a malnourished dog. Then again, who could blame the lad? You were an absolute vision, twirling and giggling, off your face on something Michael had brought. John couldn't help but watch, wishing it was him who had caught your attention tonight, wanting to feel your breath fan across his neck, pulling away while you giggled at his blushing arousal; him whisking you to dark corners to steal a moment of quiet.

He'd tried to get over you but he couldn't. He'd been travelling a lot lately, business in Liverpool, Edinburgh and Belfast; yet in every woman who smiled at him, he found himself searching for you in their eyes, their smiles, their laugh. They were all gorgeous, but his heart simply wasn't in it.

Tonight had started off alright, normal Peaky activity. They'd seized the club only a few hours ago, gaining vital territory in London, bagging their place in the opiate trade and a successful business prospect in one fell swoop. By all accounts, John should’ve been happy, but he'd been too lost in his own mind lately to properly take in the consequences of those sleepless nights with the accounting books, all the hours practicing shooting and boxing, all the endless driving, the meetings, the lingering stench of death which clung to his family. Try as he might, he couldn't enjoy himself. His night got worse the second he spotted you; a yearning for you suddenly flooding his veins. It was easy to get on with life when you were hundreds of miles from him, but when you were a flight of stairs away? He knew the club had countless dark passages to hide away with you, multiple cloak rooms with thick brick walls to take you against: he had to stop his mind running wild. He couldn't. That had to be the last time. You were in his past, you had to stay there. But as he watched you dance with the blinder, he could feel the familiar burn of jealousy swell deep within him. The lad was far too close to you for his comfort, practically grazing his hips to yours. John roughly rubbed his jaw at the sight, silently seething to himself in the shadows.

Thomas studied his brother's body language, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, not understanding the fuss around you. Sure, you were pretty enough; you were bright, apparently funny, but you had never caught his attention really. He observed how John's eyes followed your every move, every sway of your hips closely watched as he held his breath, losing himself to you. He was glad he'd prompted Michael to invite you; this was the most attentive he'd seen John in a month. It was no coincidence that he'd dragged you away from Birmingham, from the watching eyes of the city locals, the wagging tongues in the assembly lines, far from Ada. Michael had admitted to Thomas that it was easy to persuade you, promising you a lift in his new car and a night out as Ada had plans with a gentleman. A night of dancing with your favourite lads and an all expenses paid trip to London? You couldn't resist.

John's jaw had tensed and squared, the man murmuring something against your neck causing you to giggle and grasp his collar. Thomas could tell his brother was practically bristling with jealousy. If looks could kill, the young man clinging to your hips would be long dead from the glare unleashed on him by the tallest Shelby brother.

"You gonna sit there useless or are you gonna fucking do something about it, eh?" Tommy inquired, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I can't."

"No one will know." Thomas pointed out, raising a brow, "The Blinders will say fuck all if they see owt. They keep quiet when it's about us Shelby brothers, yeah?"

John glanced at him, eyes slightly widened, confusion furrowing his brows. "You've changed your fuckin' tune."

"Sometimes, it's good to have secrets. What Ada doesn't know about the events of tonight won't hurt her."

"We don't do secrets. We're meant to trust each other." John objected. "We're a family."

"Nothing will change, John. I'll fix it for you, yeah? You've had a rough few weeks, you should reward yourself."

"She's not a fuckin’ prize, Tom."

"Keep talking that shit and people will get the wrong idea, think you love the woman or sommet." Thomas shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, while John's cheeks flared, his eyes flinching to the floor. He smirks to himself. "You going to go get your lass, then?"

John replied wordlessly, standing and downing the rest of his drink, pulling on his suit jacket, straightening his collar. "I'll catch you later, Tom."

********

The lad was nice, his name had long disappeared into the fog of liquor and Tokyo. He was someone's cousin, but he was polite; charming, almost. Most importantly, he wasn't related to your best friend. Not quite a Casanova type like John, but you two were a good match, everyone thought so. You'd seen him a few times now over the past week. He wasn't much of a talker, but he was a good dancer, and sweet after a few pints.

The band started playing a slower song, Isaiah dancing chest to chest with a beautiful girl across from you. You felt your partner place his fingers on the small of your back, his fingers inching lower, pulling you in closer before the two of you were interrupted by a dark figure looming over you.

"Can I cut in, mate?" A strong Birmingham accent sliced through the air, voice low and polite enough, but with a tone that was laced with venom. "Or are you gonna be a dick about it?"

The lad glanced nervously between you two, moving his hands away from you, embarrassed to be caught by his boss in this state, John staring him down. You slowly pulled away from him, turning to face John.

"Or you could ask me to dance yourself, John?"

John silently glared back at you, his mouth tensed into a thin line. He looked momentarily embarrassed, his attention switching back to your dance partner, the rest of lads silently watching, breaths baited, ready to jump in on the action if the moment required it.

"I'm heading off mate, reckon she's a cocktease." Your partner comments, attempting to diffuse the tension, stepping away, not wanting a fight or to piss off his boss. His path was quickly blocked by another blinder. You shot him an apologetic look and took the large hand John was offering you.

"Or, she's just not interested in you," John quipped, smirking, locking his fingers through yours. "You gonna go get your coat while I finish up with your best mate?"

"Thought we were dancing?"

"You can dance as much as you like in the suite, yeah? Proper gramophone. You coming?"

"You just want me on my own."

"Just tired of the distractions." He told you pointedly, skimming his glare over the group of men, standing with baited breath, preparing for it to kick off.

You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hands, slowly heading to the cloakroom, chatting with the attendant as you watched John confront the lad, keeping your distance. His arms were clutching the lad's lapels, snarling in his face before pushing him back. Michael watched from a few steps away, smoking absentmindedly, spine pressed to a pillar, leaving his cousin to sort out whatever offense he believed the man had caused.

You bundled yourself up in your thin coat, a gift from one of the girls you hung around with as she had recently married a blinder and was being spoiled rotten. The coat's flimsy material was going to be useless against the London night. At least you could count on John to keep you warm on the walk back to the hotel. You headed towards the side door, John's hand quickly finding your lower back protectively as he fell into step beside you. He opened the heavy wooden doors for you, the cold air an instant relief from the heat of the nightclub. You turned back as the door closed, catching a glimpse of the boys closing in on the lad, their eyes gleaming with a violent hunger for action.

"He'll be alright. Daft prick just getting put in his place." John said flatly. He seemed bored but watched you anxiously, begging you with his eyes to drop the subject.

"Is the hotel close by?" You asked casually, as the frigid air swirled around your calves, instantly causing you to shiver.

"I'll get us a cab, love, can't have you in those heels trekking halfway across London town." He stepped fearlessly into the road, unbothered about any potential danger or just forgetful from the whiskey. Quickly, a dark cab pulled up to the cobblestone pavement and John helped you in, taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders before climbing in after you.

As the engine started and the car made its way through London's dimly lit streets to Camden, John's hand found its way to your thigh. You glanced at him, his eyes looking away but his thumb angled against his teeth. He was nervous, having not touched you in a month. You crossed your legs, angling them towards him, his hand shifting higher up your thighs, taking a deep sigh of relief. Your hands found his chin in the gloom of the back of the car, only the occasional bright lights from a nightlife hub or the demure lights of a residential illuminating his face, the angles changing as the cab drove on. It was too much. You'd been needing this for the past month, needing him. Your hands laced around the back of his head and you pressed your lips to his for a brief moment, allowing John to pull you deeper into the kiss. It awoke something familiar inside you, something comforting. Kissing John erased all your homesickness. Christ, you had to stop thinking like this.

"You've not been about for a bit, sweetheart. I know we said never again, but I was hoping you'd come by," John muttered, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with yours as he spoke.

"I almost did. The amount of times I nearly visited your office.. I just couldn't do that to you or Ada. Besides, last I heard, you were on tour." You admitted, keeping your voice down to save the cab driver the embarrassment. John caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, tracing the corner of your mouth, prompting a grin from you.

"Last place on earth I'd expected to see you next, it's been hectic my end," He sighed. His eyes were outlined with deep purple smudges of exhaustion, yet he was still devastatingly beautiful even after all the sleepless nights. "It's been too long."

"Not my fault you've been hiding yourself away. You should've called."

"Blame Tommy for that. His solution seems to be sending me on business trips. Trying to make me too tired to handle you." A nervous lick of his lips revealed John’s response to the suggestion that he call you. He wanted to say he would ring next time, but there couldn't be a next time.

"You can barely handle me on a good day, Mr. Shelby."

"Can't blame me. You seen yourself? On the brink as soon as I see you, lass." He teased, earning a gentle shove to the shoulder as you quickly pressed a kiss underneath his chin. You wanted to bring up Thomas' threat, but you bit your tongue, nudging his shin with the toe of your heel in the back of the cab. He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrists lightly. "Behave yourself in front of the nice cabbie, sweetheart."

You soften at his touch, unable to resist reaching to interlock your fingers, squeezing his hands in yours affectionately. The spirits your table had been bringing you all night definitely boosted your confidence, any hesitancy due to potential rejection drowned out. John pressed his lips to your knuckles in response. He seemed different tonight, far more protective and serious than usual. He was so quiet it was strange, usually yapping your ear off, desperate for you to react, treating him to a giggle, a middle finger or a cutting response. You'd also never witnessed him spark off due to someone's interaction with you. Finn had mentioned a week or so back that John had a shouting match with Thomas and in the moment, your name got thrown up in the conversation, resulting in John taking a swing at his big brother out of frustration. It was confusing. He was willing to start fights over you, punch his brother, yet when you two were alone he was uncomfortably quiet, studying you, lost in his thoughts. His silence only made your body long for him, his fingers tracing patterns in your inner thigh. You let out a small whimper into the crook of his neck, as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

The car pulled up outside the hotel, your pulse racing, the anticipation already threatening to make you give in completely to his wishes tonight. You waited as he turned up his collar against the rain, clambering out of the car to open your door, creatively arranging the coat to hover just above both your heads protecting you from the miserable weather. Although John had referred to the building as a hotel, you could instantly tell the manor was some aristocrat's third or fourth home, obviously being rented out or gifted to business partners for trips. It was an imposing grey stone building, exquisitely carved, although not a country estate, the house was just as large. Was John used to this? It hit you all of a sudden that you'd never set foot inside John's home. You'd heard from Ada that it was overrun with hoards of screaming children. She often joked with the children at the Shelby Institute that if they hung around long enough at John's, he'd assume they were one of his offspring. You'd only ever fucked him in a guest bed. The shame made your stomach churn.

You needed to remind yourself of this when your late night thoughts ran rampant. John could say what he liked, but he'd never actually allow you to get overly personal with him. Whatever confusing mess was winding around your skull regarding him was useless; it was best not to think about it. You went to him every time, yet he would've picked another lass tonight, it was just that you were there. He probably had a string of gorgeous women, older, more accomplished, more experienced, more elegant. He could tell you he missed you, but you could never take for granted that he told you this for any other reason than as a prelude to get you in bed with him. You were his gorgeous mess, but only for the night. It was best to remind yourself to care less than he did. It was the easiest solution in the long term; this way, the downfall would be less brutal.

"You alright, love?" He asked suddenly, breaking your train of thought.

"Sorry, I was thinking about work."

He lived around his brothers for long enough, he could smell bullshit. He decided to let it go. It was best to not push it tonight. Just keep it light hearted, easy, like it was always meant to be.

"If your boss keeps being a prick, you tell Ada. She'll sort him out."

"Don't I know it? He can barely open the door before she starts on about workplace ethics." You joked, earning a small smile instead of his usual bright chuckle. "John, what are we doing here?"

"Well I'm about to take you upstairs and sort you out, yeah? You gonna let me look after you?" He asked, stopping you in your tracks by turning you into him, grabbing your wrist.

"You know that isn't what I meant."

"I know. But can we leave it tonight? Can we just have fun?" He questioned, lips ghosting over yours, fixing you with an intense stare.

"It's fun anymore." Your voice cracked, the liquor in your system making it impossible to control your tone or your facial expressions. "It's fucking with my head, John."

"It's just.. fucking difficult. It's fucking difficult because of who we are." He replied firmly but dropped his makeshift coat shelter around your shoulders, freeing his hands to grab your face pulling it to his, the alcohol making him far needier than he usually appeared. "You, my beautiful Y/N, are a fucking losing game. It's not as easy for me, I can't just dance with a woman and get a leg over-"

"I never said you couldn't."

"I know, I.." He gestured vaguely, lifting one of his hands off your cheeks, and you can feel your head nodding in understanding. "You know, I thought I was going to manage it this time. That I wouldn't be a total fuck up, but then you and that lad-"

"Catch you getting jealous over me."

"Fuck off." He let go of you for a split second but you reeled him back in, resting your palms on the chest of his shirt, the soaked material sticking to his skin. You'd struck a nerve. You decided to push him further.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, Mr. Shelby, disappearing across the country for weeks then coming back and telling me you want me all to yourself?" You played with his collar, tugging his face to yours before pulling back at the last possible second, causing him to let out a frustrated groan, hands itching to feel you underneath them.

"Don't fucking wind me up," He snapped, the intensity between you rekindled momentarily.

"It's worked wonders in the past," You replied, barely able to finish your sentence before his mouth was on yours, his fingers tangling into your hair, kissing you properly. Although you'd kissed so many times prior, this one felt so genuine, as though unleashed from its restraints deep within John. You'd never kissed anyone in the rain before in the middle of the night, and it felt magical. You were shivering but hot all over, burning for John to do something, anything. You could feel his cock through his dress pants, hard against you, prompting you to moan into his mouth.

"Fuck’s sake, Y/N," John grunted into your ear, his hands grabbing at your arse. "You're fuckin’ killing me here. I need you, yeah?"

"Tell me how badly." You responded coyly, linking your arms around his neck, ignoring the late night drizzle.

"I'd rather show you. M’gonna take care of you tonight, make up for the month I've been gone."

"Who's saying I've not been taking care of myself?'

He bit his lip in frustration, trying to stop his mind running wild with the image of you in bed, fingers between your thighs, breasts moving as you arched your back, hips lifting off the mattress, moaning as you called his name -- his jaw clenched. "I know what you're doing. You coming up before you catch a chill?"

You shifted your weight away from him, as if considering your options. He knew your answer; you both knew in a few minutes you'd be upstairs practically tearing his shirt off, needing his skin against yours, begging for him. John pulled away from you, dragging you up the winding path to the front door of the manor, opening the door for you, arm wrapping around your waist. His lips met yours, then your collarbones and neck, prompting a breathy giggle and whine as you wound yourself back around him, craving the contact. The manor was plunged in darkness, staff somewhere in the gloom. Your arrival had definitely been noted, but as with everyone who worked for the Shelbys, they just left you to it. It was easier to not get involved, to keep their heads down and not mention the midnight trysts the brothers got up to.

John knew his path, he'd stayed here before. Even in the dark you could tell the house was decorated to spare no expense, the gaudy paintings and sculptures casting strange shadows. He led you up the grand flight of stairs, then another.

"Worse than Thomas' estate, this place." You murmured quietly, unsure of other guests within earshot.

"I could never live like this. I'd never see my brood again. Getting them ready for bed would be one hell of a nightmare." He whispered back, halting your stride by pulling your hips to his, unable to wait any longer.

"John, what if we get caught?" You asked, pressing your hand against his chest with your palm flat.

"Never bothered you before. Thought you liked the fact that anyone could just walk in and see what a pretty little mess you’ve made for me."

You couldn’t help yourself from pressing an affectionate kiss to his mouth, letting him lay you down and pin you to the stairs, the luxuriously thick carpets scraping into your flesh. He cursed under his breath at the sight of you underneath him, pushing your dress up your thighs, lifting your legs to wrap around his neck, pressing a kiss to your flimsy underwear, glancing up to drink you in. The most beautiful woman in his city, begging for him, figure swamped by his coat, rain soaked and shivering, his mouth between her thighs. He ran his tongue slowly across your clothed core, your pleading moans music to his ears, loving how your thighs tightened around his neck. His tongue traced circles over your clit and labia, the friction generated by the lace of your panties pushing you further, your hands knotting into his hair, spine arching against his mouth.

"No one been looking after you while I was gone. eh?" He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh, tugging your panties to the side. "What about your dancing pal?"

"Fuck’s sake, I barely know him, John." You snapped back, teetering on the edge between lust and frustration from his relentless teasing.

"Keep it that way. You don't need ‘im, lass, not while I'm about." He replies before lapping at your slit, interpreting your moans as approval as your head slumped back and you released a low groan. "Y/N, watch me, yeah?"

You pull yourself weakly upwards, propping yourself up in your elbows to be able to look down the staircase at John between your legs in the dark. The view was thrilling, moonlight shining in through the rain on the window, illuminating his face, hair messy and tongue flickering across your clit while he stared up at you, his eyes darkened with lust. You couldn't help but pant, knowing you'd be returning to this moment alone at night, when it was your fingers instead of John's tongue pushing you towards the edge.

"So fuckin' wet and ready for me, aren’t you?" He crooned, sliding his fingers into you, sucking at your clit between flicks of his tongue.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, whimpers leaving your mouth instead, your hips lifting beneath his palms, chest heaving.

"Go on, use your words, clever lass."

"John, fuck.. don't stop," You manage to string together, thoughts too muddled by alcohol and arousal to play hard to get any longer.

"I won't ‘til you cum in my mouth. Need to taste you again, beautiful."

Your head jerked back suddenly as John curled his fingers inside you, pushing up against the spot that made you lose your mind, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, all he could hear except from his blood rushing in his head. Your desperate cries for relief caused his cock to strain against his dress pants, fighting the urge to sort himself out, needing to finish you off. John needed to prove that he could fuck you better than anyone else. He knew he was pushing you to the edge, but he wasn't going to deny you your orgasm. He wanted to make a point with this. His fingers worked faster, his mouth hungry for you, lips moving against your core at a harsh pace.

You groaned loudly, hips bucking involuntarily just to be forced back against the carpet of the staircase. Your breaths grew heavier, warning him how close you were to your peak. John refused to let up, pushing you closer every second, lips latched to your core firmly, lapping up the wetness he'd produced.

"I want to watch you finish." He commanded, you completely at his will now that you'd lost control, lifting your head upwards with the little strength you had left to be able to stare down at his dilated blue eyes. "Good girl. You gonna show me how good I make you feel? You gonna cum for me, doll?"

You couldn't respond, unable to keep your eyes from rolling backwards as you felt yourself suddenly release, John’s name escaping from between your lips, legs shuddering around his neck. He let you ride it out on his tongue, tasting you desperately, watching your expression slowly relax.

Finally, he pulled away from your cunt, unwrapping your legs from his neck. He grabbed your wrist, not letting you retrieve your panties, stuffing them into his trouser pocket. He returned his attention to tracing your slit with the index finger and thumb of his other hand, as he pressed a long kiss to your lips.

"I love how you taste," He murmured against your lips, causing you to flush slightly. John noticed, pressing kisses to your jawbone. "Don't get shy on me now. I've barely started with you. Not even got you to the suite and you've already cum."

He looked so proud of himself, it suddenly clicked for you. He was trying to prove himself to you, for some unknown reason. You know he was protective and quite obviously jealous tonight, but you couldn't believe that John Shelby felt the need to prove that he knew what he was doing, as though you weren't aware. You weren't trekking to his office for mediocre sex. Tonight he let you finish first, no teasing, no denial, no fucking about. Just putting his ability fully on show, so when your mind went drifting it'd go back to him, not some young lad who barely knew what he was doing. His cocky attitude and smug acceptance of his sexual prowess would've been off-putting if it was anyone else, but John, but with his bright smile and constant humour, pulled it off. It was enticing, making your core pool with wetness when he crossed your mind.

"A month is far too long, Mr. Shelby."

"I know, you're practically drooling over me." He teased. He seems a lot more himself than before. He’d been too caught up in his head, too focused on getting you off to enjoy the flirting and teasing. John loved how light-hearted he could be with you. Despite the mess you were both in, it was making you laugh or roll your eyes that soothed his mind. Honestly, if it was just sex he'd have cut you off instantly; he wouldn't have even gone there out of loyalty to Ada. Admittedly, it was your company and presence that had him absolutely on his knees for you, the way he felt understood, less alone in his brother's bullshit, less trapped by his criminal career because you understood. You always had a cutting line, a bright smile just for him, an eye roll at his brothers' daft plans, a choice curse word for Thomas. He didn't even want to consider what would happen after the night ended. He stood, pressing another kiss to your lips as he helped you to your feet, fixing his coat which hung off your shoulders.

"You ready for rounds two through to six?"

"John, you know you won't get through three with me."

"You’re right, you're just too pretty when you’re riding my cock." He teased, the vulgar material of his jibe earning him a joking shove before you curl into his side, letting him escort you up the stairs to the nearest bedroom. He quickly shut the door behind you, scooping you up in his arms, causing you to let out a laugh as he practically tossed you onto the king sized bed, eyes shining with adoration as he looked down at you grinning back up at him.

“You’re something else, John Shelby.”

[cyphersuna]

0. IT WAS JUST A SANDWICH!

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!reader!mikaelson (Slow burn), klaus mikaelson x sister!reader, elijah mikaelson x sister!reader, rebekah mikaelson x sister!reader, kol mikaelson x sister!reader.

sypnosis; Y/N Mikaelson arrives in a small town with the hope of becoming independent and having a new life but a near accident will turn her plans around and risk them knowing who he is.

Has the war of Original Vampires and Wolves started?

The smallest of the Mikealsons, will she be with a wolf?

Will Isaac accept Y/N?

warnings; some cursings, klaus being a drama queen.

author’s note: thank you so much for enter in this history!!

Word count; 1.68k

ﾟ･ 🌌ރ ੈ♡‧₊˚🎲 *ૢ✧ ۪ ♟️ ° ｡

THE SUN FALLS ON YOUR FACE AS the city of New Orleans is celebrating and the music is danced by people in costumes.

You walk aimlessly and asking for a break from so much drama in your house.

A brown-haired woman approaches you with a sympathetic smile and her eyes wide with a light. "Hello, I'm Venus, I'm selling a beautiful two-story and gigantic house with more than 7 rooms and with some friendly neighbors in Beacon Hills, are you interested?

The woman smiles as she hands me a brochure showing the house; a beautiful white house with two levels and dark gray door as well the same color in the rooftops.

"I'll take it," you say with a smile to continue your way towards the house.

Things were too calm to be true; Niklaus enjoys time with Hope, Elijah and Hayley were fucking "in secret", Davina and Kol they are more honey than people, Bekah and Marcel spend more time than normal and Freya is almost always out of the house without giving a clue but ensures that she does not do anything wrong.

Little by little you were moving away from the celebration while still receiving leaflets from people to read and not get too bored.

Four steps and a caramel aroma invaded your nose to see how caramelized apples come out; you were not very a sweet person but right now you want one.

You approached and asked for one to later pay.

Everything was so bored that now you pay for food.

You sigh and you bite the apple to accelerate your step and reach to your humble home.

You give a slight jump when you see how Kol falls from the stairs with force and behind him is Elijah full of fury and behind him is Niklaus pushing Elijah and while he is falling on Kol.

"What the fuck is going on here?" you ask while watching Kol ready to hit Elijah and quickly you placed yourself on both of them without leaving your apple aside. "What's wrong with you people?"

"Is it a caramel apple?" Kol asks to snatch it from your hand and try to leave but a scream stops him.

"NONE WILL LEAVE HERE UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHICH OF YOU EATEN MY SANDWICH FROM THE FRIDGE" Niklaus is furious and you realize something very serious.

"Are you fighting over a sandwich?" You ask.

Elijah rolls his eyes and tries to remove wrinkles from his suit from the fall. "I already told you, Niklaus. I didn't eat the stupid sandwich"

Kol calmly bites into your apple. "Me neither, your sandwiches are horrible"

"NIKLAUS, IT'S A SANDWICH, THERE WAS NO FUCKING REASON TO THROW KOL AND ELIJAH FROM THE SECOND LEVEL"

"This is stupid Niklaus," Elijah speaks.

You didn't know how calmly your brothers would fight over a damn sandwich.

"It's enough! Do you really fight over a piece of bread and ham?"

"It wasn't just Ham, Y/N" Klaus begins. "There were more than six cheeses that were only made once in the world, a bacon from the corner store that was the last in two months and that bread was made by Josh whom it was his turn to make it perfect without lumps and crust just for me-he pauses- "so calmly lately, I thought it was the right time to make my sandwich" he says going down the stairs until he is close to me and looking into my eyes. "What did you have for breakfast today?"

"I didn't have breakfast, Nik" you say smiling. "I went out to have breakfast" lie.

"Are you sure?" Is he serious?

"This is absurd! I'm leaving" Kol speaks leaving the room.

"Because your breath, that breath smells like bacon from the store," he says furiously.

You sighed trying not to fall for the game. "I don't know if you know, but I went to the one near the house who were able to buy a packet of Bacon in the store"

"I don't believe you, not a word. Blow"

You take a step back and look at the fury in his eyes."You're crazy! I won't blow for you!

"BLOW!" he shouts furiously.

"Niklaus, leave her alone," Elijah says with a hand in his head.

"You're ridiculous, it's just a stupid sandwich"

"IT WAS MY STUPID SANDWICH"

"IT WAS DELICIOUS" You say before leaving the room somewhat frustrated while the laugh of my older brother is heard and then you slammed the door to enter while enter your room.

You must admit that before you left you had a sandwich from the fridge but you didn't think it would cause so much trouble.

You lock your room door and you toss the brochures on your nightstand as you lie in bed.

You love New Orleans but you know this place so well that it bores you...

You take the brochures without interest and look at the houses and future bowling tournaments or dance competitions that you will have until you come across the last one you picked up.

The house is perfect and very simple and it is also in a town which you know well but for a long time and you were perfectly sure that many things have changed.

Without hesitation you see exactly what it takes to have it.

You take your phone and call for a girl to answer you and tell you that you can call until 15:00 pm for your application since the house is highly valued.

A smile escapes your mouth to go down to the kitchen room and see how Niklaus tries to prepare another sandwich. "What are you doing with that brochure?" He question you.

"I'll buy the house, Niklaus. I'll move alone" you speak smiling.

"You will not do it! You'll stay here, it's the least you can do for eating my sandwich" he says as he tries to arrange the leftover cheese he left behind.

"I will go! It is a fact! Accept it"

Niklaus stops and looks at me with angry eyes. "So you're moving in! I'll put you in a school" He smile deviously.

"You can not do it!"

"Yes! What do you think your neighbors would think when they saw a girl who looks 16 or 18 years old without going to university, school or doing an activity? I think they would investigate you and raise suspicions or not?" He say while you put the brochure on the table. "If you go, I will put you in a school and it is the least you can do after eating the sandwich that I had been waiting for more than six years"

"You're stupid," you spoke furiously, taking the bag of snacks, "but I'll accept if you help me compel the girl who sells the house to agree to sell it, apparently she has many people interested in the house."

"Are you aware that I will do whatever it takes to get you back here and it will be a waste of time to buy it?"

"I am, but I don't think I'll be back"

Silence fills the room for a few seconds until Niklaus finishes making his sandwich.

"I'll help you, little sister"

masterlist

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@blessednereid @itmejado @rottenstyx @chloe-skywalker

[dream-a-little-bigger-darling000]

Author's Note: Hi that isn't my GIF. But this is my fic and I would really appreciate it if you told me how you thought it was, and if you especially like it, my requests are open friends. :3 I have the spicy sad right now, and needed a little angst with a happy ending. Ok, be fed I guess.

This has 3,000+ words, are you proud of me or what!?

From the prompt: As teenagers, a boy and a girl agree to marry if neither have by their 35th birthday. Follow the boy as he attempts to sabotage every relationship the girl has until then.

"Hey Tommy? I was thinking."

"That's a shit idea, you should stop doing that"

You swiped at the back of his head.

"Shut up you ass, I'm serious."

"Hi serious I'm- OW fucking hurt is what I am it's a joke, learn to take a-AH." You hurdled a handful of playground pebbles at the 17 year old.

"Alright, alright gorgeous, hit me- No! I meant hit me with the question you little shit." It was getting hard to breathe when he got you to giggle so hard.

You're laughter died down. You looked down, unsure if you could look at his face when you said this.

"I don't have a boyfriend." He abruptly stopped laughing, hiding the obvious fact that he almost choked on his own spit. You breathed a laugh again.

"I don't have a boyfriend. And you don't have a girlfriend." Your smile slipped off.

Tell him. Tell him, you're almost there. I don't have anyone, and you don't either except we do we have each we have each other we have-

You looked to Tommy, his boyish presence fitting on the swing set made for much younger kids. You were much younger kids when you met for the first time, on this very swing set. You think about telling him you fell in love with him when he pushed Jackson Paloski down on the asphalt because Jackson said trailer-trash can't play on the nice swing set. You didn't know it was love though, you were in the fourth grade but your heart still beat a little faster and when you asked him if you could sit beside him during lunch he huffed and complained, showing off he was moody and tough and haughty, but he very obviously made Michael Welsh move from his spot beside Tommy so that the pretty new girl could take her place beside him. And you stayed there. For years. Right beside him.

You felt the breath leave your lungs as you thought about telling him you can't stop thinking about him lately.

Can't stop hoping your skin will touch when he asks you to pass him something.

Can't help feeling like punching every girl that makes a scene trying to gain his attention. You're usually so focused on glaring at the girl that you miss the way he shrinks in on himself, the way he actively turns his body to you.

You think about telling him. And how telling him could mean you could do more, be more.

You think about telling him. And you think about him pulling away from you, gently gathering his things as he stumbles over how to let you down easily, unaware that that's not an option any more. Tommy letting you down would mean shattering.

You clench your jaw. His eyes try to tell you something.

"So. So since. We don't have someone." You look toward the Shell gas station across the street. Tommy wets his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue.

Your throat twinges, the twinge you get when you're trying to hold back tears. You shrug to yourself and let out a breathy laugh.

Coward.

"So since we don't have hot dates, we should make a deal." You make your voice upbeat. You know Tommy can call your bullshit but he doesn't, sit's quietly.

"If by the time we're 35, and we don't have a, someone, to, ya' know. We should get married." Your heart clenches. "If we don't have. Like if I don't have a husband, and you don't. Have a girl, or-" Tommy is quiet. White hot panic races up your spine. You look over at him.

Tommy looks-

He looks like he's frozen, like he's still a few sentences behind, and you're about to throw in the towel and swallow a few of these pebbles so you'll choke and die and won't have to hear his laughter tear apart your heart.

Then Tommy blinks and kind of hunkers in on himself, looks anywhere but you, eyes shifting and darting. His smile isn't his when he manages it.

"Oh, you're so on, sweetheart."

It's not quite right. The atmosphere is still tense and you feel like there's a conversation you're meant to be having, like there were supposed to be different words spoken and heard during that time.

But having Tommy, even if it's like this, even if he doesn't want you like you ache for him, is better than not having him at all.

Beside you, while you hurt quietly beside him, watching the sun set, rocking back and forth on the too low swing, Tommy swallows down self-hatred and overwhelming feelings. Instead, he schemes.

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

It's been five years since you've made your little deal with Tommy. Five years, and every single time you've tried to move on from the man, it's ended in catastrophe.

The time you two had just graduated high school and drove to Tommy's house so his older brother could congratulate you two. Brendan had had a buddy over that night, not much older than you, and you would be lying if you said you didn't flush appreciatingly at his sly smile toward you and the way he actively tried to add you in on the conversation.

The night ended rather abruptly when Tommy had spilled hot tea all over the guys front. Tommy was always collected, and it was rare moment when he was clumsy. Never mind the fact that Tommy never drank tea, and actively made fun of you drinking the stuff.

Or the time you two reluctantly went to Brendan's wedding. You loved Tess, and thought they were a great couple, but stomaching an entire ceremony of the two being gross and affectionate, all while you and Tommy couldn't boo and throw miscellaneous items at them? The entire evening was spent with Tommy snuggly against your side snarking quietly in your ear, so close you could feel his warm breath on the entire side of your face.

Yes, your plan of moving on was going swimmingly.

Then Tommy went to the bathroom, and a handsome man smiled at you across the room. You tentatively smiled back, and he moved as if to cross the distance. Then immediately stopped, his face dropping and his eyes widening slightly as he spotted something a little over your shoulder. You saw him clear his throat and veer toward a large group laughing.

Your felt your face slightly warm and your heart drop a little, self consciously looking over your shoulder.

And let out a noise of surprise.

Tommy stood behind you, so close for a second you thought a very well dressed wall had somehow appeared while you weren't looking. You had just enough time to see 'The Expression'.

Tommy was an amazing fighter. And all throughout high school, he made sure while he minded his own, he could also hold his own, and everyone knew it. He had developed an expression, one that scared every single boy in this town shitless. It was a mix between unbridled rage and open invitation. The message was pretty clear and universal.

Come get some.

You usually laughed and teased him about it, because to you it just looked like he stubbed his toe and he was trying not to yell.

You weren't expecting to see it at his brother's wedding, and you certainly weren't laughing now.

In a blink it was gone from his face, and he turned to you with his beautiful sweet smile, the smile that showed just a little peak of his slightly messed up front teeth. He usually reserved that smile for you. You had never seen anyone else on the receiving end.

"Tommy, why were you just-"

"This blows, I just passed Tess and Brendan flirting. They're already married, why would they keep doing that." He rolled his eyes, moving to your side as his hand disappeared behind your back.

"Tommy did you just square up to the guy checking me ou-"

"Brendan's friend is here, the one who can can do a Kick Up."

You stared at each other for a long moment. You felt his hand barely ghosting over the small of your back. His eyes where sharp, a little desperate.

"Tommy."

"There's also a rumor he killed a guy with just a playing card."

You licked your lips. He raised his eyebrows, his lips getting distracting.

"Shit Conlon, why didn't you start with that, take me to him."

Or the time, more recently, when you went to a match to watch Tommy completely destroy his opponent. You loved going out to see him fight. Loved the adrenaline and the satisfaction when Tommy won, making him less timid, a little more rowdy and confident, a little more touchy and feely.

You've kind of given up on the whole moving on thing, even if it was driving you up a wall.

Tommy had just won, and you were eagerly waiting to congratulate him, excited to hug him freely, without him wondering why you were hugging him to begin with. And maybe to hold on a little tighter. Maybe to allow your hands to rove a little more freely.

Hey, was it not a night for celebration?

A man started to chat you up. You smiled patiently and gave some noncommittal grunts and affirmations as you continued to scan the crowd, looking for the familiar mass of Tommy, all hard edges and bulk. You were bouncing on the balls of your feet.

The guy moved closer, making a joke you didn't really hear. You laughed, your eyes darting and searching.

"You look beautiful by the way. I saw you watching the fight, crazy that you're into this stuff. Not a lot of women I know cheer like that."

You finally glance over to the man, but quickly get back to standing on your tip toes, looking above heads.

He doesn't even look that bad, and it's obvious he wants to get your number. He's just not the man you want chat with, and definitely not tonight. Not on a night that Tommy just won, and a night he'll want to come over to yours, joking and teasing, touching you much more confidently than he normally would. Falling asleep much more easier with his head on your lap.

You tamp down a smile. You wouldn't want this guy to get the wrong idea.

"You know, there's a really good Thai place down the road- Ah, fuck, watch it buddy. Can you not look where you're go-" You hear the man choke off the sentence, trying not to smile as you imagine the other guy. probably a lot bigger than he is. Wouldn't want to completely ruin his night by laughing at the guy.

"Fuuck me, buddy, sorry. I did not know who I was talking to." You could hear the man swallow. "Hey, I think you did great in the ring tonight, real good job of... Knocking that guy out. With one punch."

You whirled around, smiling so wide you felt the strain on your cheeks. There was only one guy who did that tonight.

Sure enough, Tommy was standing there. He had put on a shirt and took his gloves off, but he was still sweaty and breathing hard. He completely stanced up, like he is in the ring, and his expression was-

Well, you chalked it up to the testosterone flowing freely through the place. Probably just mad that he ran into another dude.

It still didn't stop you from running and jumping directly on him, arms coming up to wrap around his neck, legs completely circling his torso. You giggled into his neck, exclaiming how proud you were of him, how good he looked out there, completely stroking his ego, but not caring at the moment.

You felt his arms immediately span your back, feeling like his hands where trying to be everywhere at once. That was new. That was new and you couldn't say you hated it.

What you didn't see was the look on Tommy's face. The cold calm of someone who just threw a punch so hard at a man who was bigger and faster than him and shut his shit down. Directed at another man, much slower and smaller in comparison.

You didn't see the stranger's face pale, but you distantly heard the sound of chairs clatter to the ground as he turned tail.

Five years of pining (not so) quietly for Tommy, the man you had fallen in love with, but without a doubt did not love you back.

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

Tommy knew without a doubt that he loved you.

All those years back in fourth grade, when he let it slip that his favorite snack was those crackers with the cheese filling, and you showed up with a whole pack of them to share, smiling this big goofy grin with your beautiful eyes and warm presence.

God how could he not.

The problem was how he was supposed to convince you to like him back. Him, Tommy, who fought most of his way through high school, who didn't like to get too close to people, who didn't like eye contact or conversation that ran too long or too forced. Who loved you though.

And who was very annoyed at the boy flirting with his girl.

It never failed to make Tommy's blood boil. He knew he had no right, because for one, he spent five years doing his damned best to break up every chance at you leaving him.

Just until you guys turn 35, right Tommy boy? You can probably keep that up.

Tommy breathed in a shuttering breath.

He just wanted to buy you your favorite drink at your favorite café. That's all he wanted to do. And maybe find and excuse to hold your hand without burning up from the embarrassment of actually having feelings (can you imagine?).

But of course, some dick-head always noticed how beautiful or kind or warm you were, and had to take their shot.

Well, Tommy was fucking sick of it.

Tommy thought of all the times, and there were a lot of times, when he had to step in and derail the situation. He knew this would be the last time. He had to do this, get rid of the unrelenting ache he felt while going to sleep, looking at you, thinking about you.

Tommy moved toward the you and the man you were talking to like he was entering the ring. With the mindset that he could get totally and irreversibly hurt, but he was gonna fight to the bloody end beforehand.

"Do you need directions?" Tommy asked as he slid up behind you, closer than he would have ever before. He felt your confusion even if he couldn't see your face.

"What?" The man was just as quizzical.

"Oh, I was just asking if you needed directions or if you could get lost on your own." Tommy raised his eyebrows, setting his hand on your hip, trying not to think about the many, many questions you'd have about that.

The man thought about arguing, but then he really looked at Tommy. Looked at you, then back to Tommy. Decided he didn't want to bleed tonight, and huffed out an angry sound.

You at least waited until he was out of ear shot before whirling on him.

"What. What was that?"

"Ok, I know what your probably thinking-"

"That you're out of your mind Tommy?! Are you kidding me right now? 'Get lost?' Get outta here with that shit, what was that?"

The two of you were pretty far back in the shop, but he still lowered his voice to make sure no one was bothered.

"Ok, yes, you're mad, I can see that-"

"Oooooh well I'm glad you can see that Tommy." You felt your face start to turn red, feeling exhausted and confused. "Explain. Explain to me Tommy, that every time a guy wants to have a nice, civil, God forbid, flirtatious conversation with me, he high tails it out of there just as fast, Tommy, explain."

Tommy felt an expanding ache somewhere behind his left eye.

"Ok. Ok I'm gonna say something stupid-"

"You always say something stupid, stupid-"

"Can you just. Can you let me finish." Tommy felt exasperated and a little insane. He was about to confess in a coffee shop to the girl he loved and things would never be the same again because she was about to leave, but fuck it if he wasn't at a boiling point.

"Ok. You know how we made a deal?" You looked at him, raising your eyebrows.

"About who could spray the most whipped cream in their mouth? Yeah it's me, it'll always be me. So you got so mad you're trying to, what, make sure I die alone, I don't..."

"What? No can you not, can you focus right now?" Tommy's palms were starting to sweat and he clenched his eyes shut tight. He breathed in and let it back out in one harsh huff. "When we were seventeen-"

"Seventeen?"

"When we were seventeen you said that if we weren't married by the time we were 35, that we should marry each other." He watched as your eyes widened and your face warmed a little. "Well, the deals off. I'm not doing it any more."

Tommy wasn't sure what to expect, but the flash of utter pain that tore across your face was not it. You stepped back, looked like you were about to bolt, your eyes wild. You tried to pull yourself together but it was really hard to breathe. No matter how many times you tried to prepare yourself for this day, you could have never imagined how it actually almost brought you know to your knees.

"So. Here's the new deal. If in like, five minutes, you're still single, and I'm still single..." Tommy swallowed hard, licking his lips. "We should just." His eyes darted to your lips.

You froze. Tommy caught his lush lower lip in between his teeth. He'd never been more nervous his entire life. So nervous for the inevitable laugh, the pity laced rejection, because really, it was one thing to be friends with a shy awkward boxer, but another to look at him and think, 'yeah, that'll do.'

Tommy had approximately five seconds to wallow in self deprecation and pure terror before he had a handful of you, and something that suspiciously felt like lips on his lips. But that's funny, because he's almost positive that that's not the case.

Then he felt your tongue swipe his lip and decided he cared fuck all and proceeded to get lost in you, your breaths, God he could feel, taste, your breath as you both got consumed by each other.

Someone coughed disapprovingly your way. The two of you broke apart, panting slightly.

"Ok, ok please don't. I really don't want you to hit me but I'm really fucking dense, right, and I just have to ask, you did that because you. You like like me- OW I said I didn't want you to hit me!"

You felt yourself laughing, felt your never ending ache subside and your love sky rocket.

"Oh, you're an idiot," You pecked his lips, he tried to catch your mouth fully but failed. "You are such and idiot- Oh my God we're both idiots holy- Hey. Hey, you, you've been. Have you been sabotaging-"

"Did you hear that?" Tommy tilted his head and looked toward the ceiling. "Ope- oh yeah. No. yeah, that's for sure the sound of-" He cut off, dropping his serious expression, grinning as he leaned down and kissed your mouth again, this time taking your words and any objections, affectively cutting off any questions that would leave him looking stupid.

You two would need to sit down, to talk about how you've felt all these years, how you were both so stupid that you both refused to confess to each other.

But for now, you lost yourself in the taste of Tommy, and the heady feeling of someone you've loved for seemingly forever, loving you back.

Real Quick: Would you be mad if in the next fics I write I called this man Tomithy? Asking for a friend.

[tragertrap]

Intimidating || Juice Ortiz x Reader

Summary: (Y/N), although Jax's best friend, wants nothing to do with the motorcycle club that's fucking up her town. Well, at least that's the case until she meets a certain member of SAMCRO with a stupid haircut. Even though he seems too intimidating at first, (Y/N) learns to never judge a book by its cover when she gets a chance to see his softer side.

Having a best friend that works at an automotive repair shop definitely comes in handy for (Y/N), especially since her 'old ass disaster of a car' constantly breaks down.

"Wow, that's the 3rd time in a month (Y/N)!", Jax said before he let out a chuckle.

"You know I'm saving for a new one asshole." She hit his bicep playfully.

"I hope the best friend discount is still on", she mumbled.

"It expired after the forth time you used it darling."

"I'm sorry. It's just that... money's kinda tight right now."

"I can imagine..."

"Can I pay you back in pancakes?... or waffles? I know you won't deny waffles." She asked with an awkward smile on her face, hoping her best friend would accept.

"Have you not pay for the car AND poison me with your cooking? I think I'll pass", he teased her.

"I meant going to the diner outside of town but since you're being an asshole I guess the offer is off the table."

"Okay okay if you're not the one cooking, I'm down", he said, his smirk never leaving his face.

She couldn't help but laugh, thankful for her best friend being there to cheer her up.

"Thank you Jackie."

"My shift ends in half an hour. If you wanna wait we can go for pancakes after I'm done here", he said, putting an arm around her.

She had just left work, so the timing was perfect for a warm meal at a cozy diner with her best friend.

"Yeah, sure! I can wait."

They started walking towards the garage and the blond man started talking again: "You know I'd fix your car for free anyway but then you mentioned pancakes so I couldn't say no."

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him.

"You're lucky I love you Teller."

He laughed and gave her a kiss on the cheek, his arm still around her shoulder.

"Me and Chibs are just finishing off with an old bike and then we're good to go."

"Chibs?" she asked with a raised eyebrow as they were approaching the bike Jax was talking about.

"One of the guys... the Scottish one. Do you ever listen to me when I talk?"

"I was mostly asking because of the weird name but sure... Scottish one. Got it! One of your scary biker friends, right?"

He couldn't help but laugh yet again.

"Scary biker friends?"

(Y/N) loved Jax. The two immediately became best friends at a pretty young age when (Y/N)'s family had moved to Charming next to Gemma and John Teller's house. She loved him the way you'd love a brother, she was always there for him whenever he needed her but one thing she decided to stay completely away from was the club. She wouldn't approve of the outlaw lifestyle in the first place but also witnessing the mess it caused to her town, and most importantly her best friend, was only making it worse. She wouldn't ask any questions in case she'd get answers she wouldn't like. He was ok with it. More than ok with it actually. She was an escape for him to a carefree past and a light of positivity in his chaotic present.

She met the 'Scottish one' that was helping Jax fix the old bike and it went better than she expected. Once she got over his pretty intimidating look, scarred face, leather jacket and all, he actually seemed pretty nice and interesting.

She was sitting on a bench next to the two bikers working when she noticed another guy trying to fix a car nearby. Well, it was pretty hard for him to go unnoticed. He had a short dark mohawk and a tattoo on each side of it on his head, wounds on his face from god knows what and tattoos all over his arms and torso, that was now visible since his shirt was long gone. His muscular body was glistening from his sweat in the Californian heat and the muscles on his arms and upper back were moving in sync as he was working on the damaged car.

He had been over that car's engine for what seemed like forever and as much as she hated to admit it, (Y/N) wished she wasn't jealous of an old car. She had noticed the guy before, one of the many times she had to visit TM due to her shitty car, but that day she had the chance to take a 'closer look'.

His left hand was resting on the car's open hood now, giving her a better view of his muscular arm and flexing abs. The focused look on his face, lowered eyebrows and clenched jaw, made him appear even more intimidating and yet attractive, especially when he unconsciously licked his lips in deep thought.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)?" her friend interrupted her watching of the 'show'. "Can you pass me that cloth over there?", he asked as he pointed to a gray piece of cloth on the bench she was sitting.

After that small interruption she was back at unapologetically starting at the tan guy nearby. She guessed that she had missed a lot since a small part of his abs was covered in grease now and his face seemed even angrier after the amount of failed attempts to start the car.

After some more conversation with Jax and Chibs, once she looked over at the mohawk guy again, he had already put his black shirt on, meaning that his job fixing the car was done. Later as he was putting a no-sleeve leather jacket on, which (Y/N) unfortunately recognised, he was aimlessly looking around when he caught the almost-drooling girl looking at him. She immediately dragged her gaze to Jax and Chibs, mostly out of embarrassment as well as some fear of his intimidating look. Next thing she knew, the mohawk guy was strutting confidently towards her and the two bikers, shoulders and arms swaying back and forth. He was wearing a pair of black sunglasses, no one knowing where his brown eyes were focused on.

"Hey brother", Chibs said with a smirk.

He answered with a simple 'hey' and a light hit on Chib's back and then did the same to Jax, after he took off his sunglasses and put them hanging outside his leather jacket's pocket.

(Y/N) didn't know if she should have been mad or relieved that the hot outlaw completely ignored her existence, exactly because he was a hot outlaw. Nevertheless, she was satisfied she could study the biker up close. He was wearing buggy cargo pants with chains hanging from one side near his waist and the black shirt she had noticed earlier was visibly a little too tight on his muscular chest. He put his hands in his pockets, as (Y/N) was staring at the veins and black tattoos on his arms that had started to fade.

"Jax, I wanted to tell you that I can't come with you guys tonight. I have something personal to take care of." He didn't give any further details since his brothers were not the only ones present. He was waiting for an answer from Jax with a frown on his face since the sun was getting into his eyes. (Y/N) noticed how his chocolate brown pupils appeared almost red against the sunlight.

"Yeah, that's okay. We're more than enough for tonight anyway. You can take the evening off."

"Awesome, thank you man", he said with a smirk as he lightly hit Jax's back.

He then shook his head up as an indication of saying goodbye, while maintaining eye contact with (Y/N), before he walked away.

Was that saying goodbye to me as well?

It was a goodbye to everyone.

He was looking at my direction though.

(Y/N) wasn't exactly loving the fact that she was enjoying this.

______

The hot pancakes Jax and (Y/N) were eagerly anticipating finally arrived at the table.

"Thank you darling", the blond biker said to the waitress while intensionally making his voice sound a little deeper. He was smirking the entire time while sitting all laid back, exuding confidence. The young girl gave him a cheeky smile and went her own way.

"Do you ever take a break?" (Y/N) questioned him sarcastically.

"A break of what?" Jax asked, a playful look on his face since he obviously knew what she was talking about.

"Hitting on innocent women."

"She was eyeing me since the minute we walked in."

The only way she could respond was with an unamused look.

"Also don't act all innocent to me. You're worse than I am", he said before letting out a chuckle and taking a big bite of his pancakes.

"What are you talking about? I don't hit on any person on a 18 feet radius, at any given time and place."

"Well yeah, that's because you're too scared to actually hit on them so you just stare from afar."

(Y/N) kicked his leg under the table.

"Ouch", he screamed in a playful manner while rubbing his leg. "You bitch", he whispered.

"That's not true."

"You were staring at Juice the entire time we were at TM. Didn't even say hello to him."

"Staring at what?" She asked while laughing, not even understanding that with the word Juice, Jax was refering to a person.

"The guy back at the garage. Mohawk and tribal tattoos. You were practically drooling over him."

"No I wasn't", she sounded offended.

"You can't hide from me girl. You know that. I know you better than I know myself."

"Ok he's hot... I was looking, yeah... but 'drooling over him' is an overstatement."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say", he raised his eyebrows while taking a sip of water.

"Jax!"

"You weren't even listening to what me and Chibs were saying."

"Actually I was actively trying not to listen to your club... business... stuff."

Jax rolled his eyes at her desperate attempt to change the subject.

"You could've at least say hello, you know. Dude doesn't bite."

"Are you sure about that? He looked like he could bite to me. If I'm being honest I was kinda scared of him."

Jax started laughing. "Scared? Of Juice? I can guarantee you he was more scared of you than you were of him."

"What do you mean?" she asked amused.

"Let's just say that not everyone has their way with women like I do."

"You're an idiot."

"No seriously, he'd get nervous even if he was around a female dog."

"What? He looked pretty confident to me. Intimidating. And scary as I said before."

Jax couldn't help but roll his eyes and sigh. "You know, underneath all the leather and the tattoos, we're still human. Didn't you like Chibs?"

"He was pretty nice I guess. Well, when I could make out what he was saying", she said referring to his thick accent.

"See? And Juice is even... milder...", he was trying to find the right word, "than Chibs. Dude's into technology and computers, coding and shit. He's a total nerd."

"He's still an outlaw biker. Seriously, could you ever imagine me being with someone like that Juice guy?"

"With the stupid haircut of his? Hell no, you deserve way better."

"Jax, I'm serious."

"Well... no, it's not the easiest thing to imagine, but you're full of surprises baby, I know that", he chuckled.

"A mohawk, head tattoos and chains hanging from his pants is a pretty big surprise though, don't you think? And these fucking leather jackets."

"I've told you a million times, they're called kuttes."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"(Y/N), if you can be best friends with me, you can date a guy like Juice, trust me. Also I have chains on my pants too, should I be offended?" he was once again teasing her.

"Yes."

"You should meet him. And by meet him I mean like actually have a conversation." He was trying to find a reason for her to meet the Sons after all those years, meet the other part of him she had been avoiding for so long.

"I'm not getting into your club business shit for some boy, Jackie. Especially a boy with a fucking mohawk."

"I'm not asking you to get into the club shit. Trust me, I wouldn't want that", he was all serious now, "I'm just saying that you can meet the guys. They are my family. They... they're a part of me. You met Chibs, he was ok. You know we don't only talk about dead bodies and guns. We have other interests as well."

She was quiet, not knowing how to respond, so he continued:

"We are family (Y/N). They've been there for me through my hardest times, just like you have. Maybe you have more things in common than you think. Besides, I think you and Juice would make a great duo", he told his best friend, smirking after the last sentence.

_____

A few days later (Y/N) was heading to TM once again. She had agreed with Jax that when she'd come to pick up her car, she'd come in the clubhouse to meet the guys for the first time.

So there she was, nervous, walking slowly towards the clubhouse entrance. Second thoughts were taking over her mind.

I don't know if I'm ready for this. I'm not meant to be involved in this kind of stuff... with these kind of people. What am I supposed to have in common with a bunch of criminal bikers? If only it wasn't for this dumb, scary, hot ass Juice dude.

To her surprise the dumb, scary, hot ass Juice dude was sitting by himself on a bench outside the clubhouse.

Shit, shit, shit. Ok. Go talk to him. No I can't go talk to him. I have to walk right by him anyway, I should talk to him. What am I supposed to say? I can just say hello. Or hey. God just look away.

Juice was looking down at something so she hoped he wouldn't look up at her. She was getting closer, still overthinking.

I should ask him about my car. Or Jax... yeah, I should ask him where Jax is.

Juice looked up giving her a small smile that made her knees weak.

"Hey... you're Jax's friend right? If you're looking for him he's probably in the clubhouse", the tan biker spoke first, making everything way easier for her. The truth is he did know who she was, that's for sure. 'Jax's cute bubbly friend whose car was breaking down constantly.'

"Awesome, thank y-" she didn't finish her sentence. She had felt something against her ankles, so she looked down. To her surprise there was a small gray kitten slithering between her legs and rubbing its small head against her ankles.

"I think she likes you", Juice said with a wide smile, the kind where his eyes smile as well. Apparently that's why he was looking down earlier.

"It took her weeks to trust me and stop running away from me and now she's all up on you the minute she meets you. I'm kind of offended actually", he said before letting out an adorable laugh, while spreading his right arm close to (Y/N)'s shoes, making the kitten rub its face on his big palm. He eventually grabbed it and put it gently on his lap where he was sitting.

A 'badass' biker dressed in black leather, full of tattoos and with a fucking knife hanging off his belt, petting a small kitten that was purring loudly on his lap. The contrast in this image was pretty apparent, to say the least. (Y/N) was sitting there taking in this unusual sight before he spoke again:

"She's a stray. Found her by some trash cans a few weeks ago and fed her. Now she won't leave." He was busy petting the cat, only looking up to face (Y/N) by his last sentence.

What he said, along with his big smile at the end, warmed her heart. Maybe bikers do have feelings after all. He suddenly didn't appear all scary to her. She sat on the bench next to him and although confident, it took all the courage she had.

"Why don't you take her to the animal shelter?" she asked while petting the cute kitten that was still on his lap.

"I wanted to... but I couldn't", a loud laugh escaping his lips. "I tried, I promise", he added while raising his hands in the air in an 'I'm innocent' motion. "I mean look at that face."

The cat was looking up at them, its green eyes shining. She was still petting it, when her hand accidentally brushed against Juice's.

"She's so cute", (Y/N) said after a few moments of silence while looking at the kitten, in order to change the sudden awkward atmosphere.

"She is", he said softly while looking at the cat and then up to the girl next him, not knowing who he was referring to either.

"I wanted to take her home but I'm too busy for a pet, you know, with the club an' all. I'm not even home that much. I wouldn't want to neglect her."

"I've always wanted a cat, but never really made the decision. I... I would love to get her... Well, if you're okay with that of course."

"Yeah, of course", he exclaimed all excited, "it breaks my heart knowing she's out here day and night. Getting her a home is everything I could ask for... you're gonna have to let me visit her though."

A sexy smirk appeared on his face and (Y/N) responded with a lovely smile. Maybe meeting the club wasn't such a bad idea after all.

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 9

The Slaying of the Bobbledragon

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Since slaying a serial-killer dragon is a little outside the party's expertise, they're off to Cauterdale to enlist the aid of the Deathseekers' Guild! Having gotten a good night's sleep at a druid village, and not eaten, they're ready to take on, uh...

Well, some sort of very large monster that Zero kindly drew for me.

In the morning, they rather uneventfully get up and get back on the road, thanking the villagers for their hospitality. And the remainder of the trip to Cauterdale is likewise brief and uneventful, right up until the fire.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: the what Benedict I. (GM): The fire.

Yeah, the forest and the road up ahead are ablaze, sort of blocking passage. The dirt road isn't actively on fire, but the trees on both sides are, making it pretty risky to proceed. The team opts to send Oyobi up ahead to scout the situation- and pretty soon she comes back with a report. Apparently, just past the visible fireline, the forest is totally burned down- just charred stumps as far as she could see, right up to the city walls. The fire itself is just, like, 10 meters wide or so, so it's totally something they could just dash through.

It takes some Animal Handling checks to coax the giraffes through, and the ones that balk get them and their riders a little bit of chip damage from heat and smoke inhalation, but the party is pretty much able to push through to the blasted wasteland of charred tree stumps surrounding Cauterdale.

They notice a few people in strange armor in the distance, doing something near the fire- from the seemingly controlled nature of this burn and the name of the town, they conclude that those are fire squads doing this deliberately, and don't get involved. It's a fine conclusion, and the party begins walking the remaining mile to the city.

As they approach, they notice... a little ways off from the main gates, something is attacking the city walls. Guards atop the walls are manning some sort of huge harpoon guns, and they seem to have already slain several of the... whatever these things are. The remaining one, though, seems larger and more resilient than the others, continuing its assault despite the several harpoons already lodged in its flesh.

What they see is a huge reptilian monster. It's probably not a dragon- no wings, and it doesn't appear to be using a breath weapon- but it's the size of a dragon, with tiny arms, headbutting the metal walls of the town repeatedly.

Orluthe makes his Nature roll to recognize this thing- he's heard of them before. They're called "bobbledragons"- some sort of deformed mutant offshoot of true dragons, incapable of speech or flight or magic but still possessed of monstrous strength and durability.

Luckily, the bobbledragon doesn't seem to be in between them and the main gate- the fight is far enough away that they could potentially just walk up and head into town, assuming they'll open the gates during a situation like this. Hell, they don't even need to open the gates- if the guards just drop a rope, they should be able to just climb over. That seems like a decent plan, so Saelhen and Looseleaf begin working together to draft a use of the Message spell to ask the guards to help them inside.

Then they notice that I've been moving Oyobi's token on the map in the direction of the fight.

Oyobi, blinded by bloodlust and/or extra-credit-in-Severe-Zoology-lust, is determined to help fell the bobbledragon. Their attempts at persuasion fail, and Oyobi, undeterred, continues to charge the giant fucking T-rex that is making huge dents in the walls of a city.

As Oyobi runs for it, and as the party follows behind in hopes of stopping her from making a terrible mistake, the bobbledragon jumps and seizes one of the guards on the wall in its jaws, demonstrating its +10 4d12+7 bite attack by immediately oneshotting its victim.

Looseleaf: oh god we're all going to die. you're using the real t-rex statblock. that thing is challenge eight. it is made for a party of four level eight adventurers, so either we are all going to die here, or the guards are going to show us why they are professional fighters and we are students. Benedict I. (GM): "Shit! It can jump!" "No!" The guards seem upset.

Not promising.

Looseleaf: This thing does sufficient damage to oneshot any of us with a perfectly mediocre hit. Looseleaf right now is kind of thoroughly convinced that Oyobi is actually literally about to die. In that light, Looseleaf is going to message Oyobi again. And she is not going to get any closer. Actually, she's going to back off, put distance between herself and the monster. [Oyobi that thing is going to bite you in half get back here you are going to die.] Benedict I. (GM): Roll Persuasion! DC 20 again. -Looseleaf: 17 / PERSUASION (1)- Oyobi Yamatake: [I'M GONNA LIVE FOREVER!!!]

So... that's a bust, and Oyobi finally reaches the dragon and begins her assault. Miraculously, her flying leap hits, and she digs her sword in... for thirteen damage.

The guards return fire against the bobbledragon, and one of the harpoons catches it in the chest- but it doesn't go down, and the second harpoon- manned by just one guard, after his partner got crunched- misses. Another guard, without a cannon, throws a spear- and gets not only a critical hit, but a max damage critical hit, spearing the thing right in the eye.

...for eleven damage, because these are ordinary CR 1/8 Guards, but still!

Saelhen tries to distract the bobbledragon so Oyobi can run and hide, but... her arrow goes wide, and Oyobi isn't interested in running and hiding anyway. The bobbledragon, targeting whatever did the most damage to it recently with its bite attack, jumps and bites the whole damn harpoon gun out of the guard tower, leaving the guards without heavy weaponry.

And then with its tail, it tries to slap the insect that just stung it in the rear.

...and rolls a 3, meaning Oyobi gracefully backflips over the attack and strikes a dramatic pose.

Looseleaf: God, she did not deserve that dodge. She got so fucking lucky there. Saelhen du Fishercrown: she really didn't Oyobi Yamatake: "When you get to Dragon Hell, tell them Oyobi Yamatake sent you!!"

Looseleaf, in the interest of communicating to Oyobi how much danger she's in, makes use of an upgrade to her Rend Spirit attack she learned while studying Lumiere's notes on pain. With Painread, she can get some feedback back from something whose spirit she disrupts, and figure out exactly how bad a shape it's in. She does so (dealing a cool 16 damage as she does), and learns how huge this thing's remaining hit point pool is, so she can tell Oyobi how unlikely she is to survive long enough to take it down.

...It, uh, it was already pretty hurt when they arrived, and it, um, has nine hit points left. And it's Oyobi's turn.

Oyobi Yamatake: Oyobi dashes forwards, Naruto-runs up to the T-rex's throat, and does a spinning leap that slashes open its jugular. It roars, and the roar swiftly fades off as its breath escapes. Saelhen du Fishercrown: God dammit, Oyobi. Oyobi Yamatake: "YES! YES! B-S-U! B-S-U! B-S-U!" "THAT is how it's DONE!" She is jumping up and down, doing a celebratory dance, the works. "Flawlessed the boss! Hell yeah!"

Yeah, so... I had kind of been planning on her getting oneshot and laid up in the hospital, as a sort of character growth thing and also keeping her out of the way of certain events in town, but, uh... the dice... didn't exactly... share my priorities.

With the bobbledragon slain, and Oyobi doing an extremely obnoxious victory dance, the rest of the party springs into action to stabilize the guard who was used as a chew toy. Thanks to his plate armor, he hasn't lost much blood, but he's got more broken bones than not, and his prognosis wouldn't be good... if it weren't for the healer's kits Looseleaf had the foresight to buy for everyone. Saelhen stabilizes him, and Orluthe calls on his goddess to Lay On Hands to save the guard's life.

Then there's this guy- the captain of the guard, who fought in the battle with a fancy crossbow that shot flaming bolts. He demands to know who the party is, seeming kind of annoyed that they rewarded weakness by saving the guard's life.

Benedict I. (GM): He looks down at your medical kit. "Y'know, all of my men are prepared to fight and die for our home. You really want to take away this man's glory?" The injured guard looks up. "Uh, sir, I- it's fine, actually..." "Feh." Looseleaf: This guy immediately seems like a bad boss. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Oh, he's ridiculous. Okay, that changes the tenor of this conversation somewhat! "...I apologize, sir," says Saelhen, bowing to the guard on his stretcher, "if I have diminished your victory with my carelessness."

And rather than give this guy any more of the time of day, Saelhen asks the random guard his name. (And then I have to give him one and make him a character, whoops.)

Medd Cutter here is thankful for Saelhen's assistance saving his life, and Saelhen pledges to remember his heroism. The commander feels- by design- somewhat left out of the heroism-remembering, and declares that he is REX SCAR, and Saelhen kind of blows him off. He's not happy, but...

Captain Scar is still the sort of person who is very impressed with anyone who rolls up and kills a bobbledragon just because they felt like it, and despite Saelhen's calculated snub, tries to get buddy-buddy with the group of obviously very powerful people who just arrived. He decides to help them through customs without going through the usual processes, much to the chagrin of...

...Long-Tongue, Cauterdale Customs and Border Inspection Officer of Cauterdale, who's very loquacious and wordy and redundantly repeats what she says in different words to phrase things differently in a somewhat unnecessary fashion for no real reason. Rex bullies his way past her, but Saelhen- as another snub, and just to be... nice? (What's her game...?), hands her the 300-page history of the de la Surplus family as collateral for a deferred border inspection.

Inside the walls, Cauterdale is a very crowded place. It's like 80% slum, choked with buildings constructed of a patchwork of scrap metal and discarded siding, without much wood to speak of. The streets are narrow and bustling, and the general vibe around the place is impatient.

The remaining guards escorting them (Rex went off someplace) inform them, when questioned, that the town indeed burns down the forest around them- since they're near the jungle, horrible dangerous things tend to come out of the trees to attack them, and their harpoon defenses are most effective when they can see their attackers coming from a mile away, with no obstructions. Looseleaf asks if bobbledragon attacks are common.

Benedict I. (GM): Another guard shakes his head. "No, that one was pretty crazy. Usually it's just the giant spiders, or the giant mosquitoes, or the mushroom demons." "We've had a few bobbledragons before, but that was like, four at once." Looseleaf: "Oh gods there's already giant spiders?!" "We're not even at- I thought this was a pine forest still!" Benedict I. (GM): "No, that's usually after it rains," Medd says. Looseleaf: Looseleaf casts Druidcraft. Please tell me it's not going to rain. Benedict I. (GM): Nope! Clear skies for now. "Whoa, cool." Looseleaf:"Thank the gods of sea and sky and weather and everything even tangentially related to weather," she says. "No rain." "I hope it never rains, ever again." Benedict I. (GM): "Haha, better stay away from..." "Wait, where are you headed?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "The rainforest," adds Saelhen, mildly. Looseleaf: "Ttttthunderbrush, and yes I know that place is crawling with spiders NOERU SHUT UP,"

Then Looseleaf asks about what they're there for- the Deathseekers' Guild. Unfortunately, the guards tell them that the Deathseekers... probably still exist, but they're like, a weird secret club of old people who think they're too cool to join the guard. They give them a couple leads- apparently the Temple of Andra keeps tabs on them, and also a guard by the name of Mags was the last to see them as they were recently seen leaving the city.

The team splits up- Looseleaf and Orluthe head for the temple, and Oyobi and Saelhen head for the guardhouse to talk to Mags. (Vayen... is still gone, after vanishing as soon as the bobbledragon fight started.) The latter group does their thing next session, so...

After dropping off their rental giraffes, they head inside to meet...

This guy, working the reception desk. He seems to be made of rock, and when he talks he rumbles.

As Looseleaf explains their dilemma and their need for Deathseekers, this guy takes a keen interest in their plight. He's very "hmmmm, iiiiiinteresting, oh i see, you don't say?" about the whole thing, making a very normal interaction seem as ominous as possible.

He tells her that the Deathseekers, to his knowledge, should be back in the city from their unspecified errand inside two days, and offers to take a message.

Looseleaf: "I don't suppose they're looking for a green dragon, are they?" Benedict I. (GM): This guy's smile keeps getting wider. It's kind of creepy. "Hm? What makes you say that?"

As she explains about the dragon, he offers her and Orluthe a candy from a bowl on the desk. After some hemming and hawing out-of-character because the creepy rock man is offering you suspicious candy, they eventually opt to have some, because really, Looseleaf isn't suspicious of this guy. Hers is lemon-flavored. It's tasty.

Then, as she describes the empty tower with the corpse of the torture wizard in it, this guy's demeanor changes suddenly from "creepy wry amusement" to "genuine concern". He tries to put on a poker face, but him having a poker face when he's until now been all creepy-friendly chewing the scenery... stands out. He gives her a strong assurance that the Deathseekers will handle this problem for her.

Benedict I. (GM): "I... thank you, for this information." Looseleaf: "You're welcome. Please, uh, make sure that the Deathseekers get this information as quickly as possible. The dragon eats a corpse a week and there's only three corpses left in the tower, there's a very real deadline on this." Benedict I. (GM): [rolling 1d20+4] (Insight) 17+4 = 21 Looseleaf: Belatedly, Looseleaf realizes she's made a mistake. Benedict I. (GM): "You say... the dragon eats three corpses a week?" "Only three corpses left in the tower?" Looseleaf: Namely: Looseleaf has no good reason to know the fact that the dragon eats a corpse a week. Since she's never met the dragon. Benedict I. (GM): "Curious information." "How did you come across it?" Looseleaf: "Uh, erm, uh." Shit.

Looseleaf opts to tell the truth about Arnie, to avoid spinning a dangerous web of lies for herself- after all, Arnie's not worth lying for. She does describe him in as sympathetic terms as she can, though, and asks this guy not to harm him if possible- she doesn't want to break her word to Arnie if she can help it.

Benedict I. (GM): He takes a moment to process this. "...Very well." "My people will be the soul of discretion." "I thank you very much for your generous contribution to the Ecumene of Understanding."

Looseleaf notices that something is wrong.

This guy is the receptionist. He's not a bishop or anything. He's not even wearing priestly vestments- just a nice suit. And he's speaking as though he's in a position of power- "my people", he says.

And after considering various possibilities, she tries something. A shot in the dark, but...

And the way Looseleaf plays this, is... "quit acting like you don't know what I'm talking about, c'mon, the jig is up". She takes out the letter she found in Lumiere's tower and shows it off, as proof!

And this guy keeps denying it, and getting increasingly more panicked, and looking nervously over at Orluthe, and asking her to please stop, shh shh shh shh, and it's when he begs her to have a conversation with him in private please that she makes the connection. If this guy is affiliated with Lumiere, who's apparently affiliated with some sort of secret conspiracy that's affiliated with some sort of deific usurpation... he maybe doesn't want to have that conversation in front of a cleric.

Looseleaf:"Okay, Orluthe, uhm. Sorry, so," Looseleaf whispers into Orluthe's ear. "Long story short, turns out my sister, who left my village way before I did, ended up falling into some kind of magical secret society. The kind of secret society with Hal Lumiere, i.e. 'the torture wizard who came up with all those pain knives that we all got stabbed a lot with', was apparently a very active member of." Benedict I. (GM):Oh my god, um. Looseleaf: "So, uh, I'm kinda freaking out about that, right now, but if my hunches are right then I'm the sister of someone important in their organization?" Benedict I. (GM): As you start whispering, he tries to interrupt. "Please do not say things to him!" "Please let us speak in private!!" Looseleaf: Oh he's freaked out now huh. "Anyways that's why I am actually indeed going to speak, with this guy, in private," Looseleaf finishes. "And if I don't show up in a half-hour or so, then things have probably gone lopsided." "In which case you should find everyone else and tell them to, I dunno, come save me or whatever." "You got all that?" Benedict I. (GM): The rock man looks distraught. Orluthe Chokorov: "I, uh... think so? This is really... I'm not sure it's safe..."

With a good Persuasion roll, Orluthe agrees to stay behind, and the rock man leads Looseleaf into a backroom whose doors and walls seem warded heavily with some sort of abjuration magic. A secret saferoom.

The man describes the problem: the gods don't know that they exist, or didn't until Looseleaf went and told a cleric of Diamode that they existed. Clerics, in this setting, channel divinity literally- their gods come into their heads to do magic for them, meaning anything a cleric knows is something a god can know, if they care to check.

Benedict I. (GM): "Because if the next time Diamode is in that kid, if she goes looking for that memory..." "I mean, she might not. And you didn't mention anything about our aims, so she might consider it beneath her notice." "But that, right there? That was nearly game over." "And I can't just kill you, because if I did, Yomi would end me." Looseleaf: "Yeah, I'm not incredibly foolish, I haven't actually shown anybody else Yomi's letter." "Nobody knows that Lumiere was involved with... deicidal blasphemy." "That's what this is about, right? Thereabouts, in terms of sheer magnitude and hubris?" Benedict I. (GM): He sighs. "It's not like that." "At least, it's not all like that." "The Project is... fractious." "The less you know about the project, the less you're able to carelessly blurt out about the project your cleric friends, or to anyone who tries reading your mind or tricks you into a Zone of Truth..." "The safer we all are." "With as much as you know, you're already dangerous. It'd be best for us- and you- if you dropped this. Never spoke of it to anyone."

Looseleaf points out that it's good that she found the letter, because that tower was sitting abandoned for a year- anyone could've walked in and read it, since it was lying on a bookcase in the open.

This is somehow not taken as good news- when he finds out that the letter could've potentially been read by anyone, that there was a security breach for a year...

Looseleaf: "Look, my man, next time you want to send a letter, by the way, use... use some encoding." "Don't just write things in plaintext like a chump, by the gods." Benedict I. (GM): "He was supposed to burn after reading." Saelhen du Fishercrown: he's too dead for that! Benedict I. (GM): "Wait, you said it was... out in the open?" "But he's dead?" "Either he was an idiot, or... someone else opened his mail." "Except... Yomi should've hand-delivered it, so..." "...well. We'll definitely look into it."

He brings up sending for someone to do memory magic to handle the breach- but he realizes he can't have that done to Looseleaf, because Diamode would notice if someone tampered with her cleric's memories, and someone needs to still know what's up so they can keep Orluthe away from the truth. (Plus, she figures she'd notice the inconsistencies and end up sleuthing it out again.)

Looseleaf asks if Yomi is doing well, and gets... that she's intense, and powerful, and she probably thinks she's "doing well", but... he doesn't know about happy.

Lastly, he shows Looseleaf a symbol- a blank circle, with the elvish character 人 drawn underneath. The symbols of gods are typically circles with a design inside- so the meaning of this and its relationship to the nature of the Project is fairly easy to infer.

Benedict I. (GM): "If you need to prove to someone you're in the know, without blurting out a bunch of dangerous details, this is the mark." He then eats the paper and the graphite stick he used to draw it.

Next time: Saelhen and Oyobi grill the guard Mags for information on the Deathseekers, and connections are made with powerful individuals.

[clatterbane]

Some of the side missions I mentioned earlier, between leaving the vaccination center and heading home:

"Let's go to the station to change buses. It's nice weather this afternoon, and I am really enjoying getting out of the house like a normal human being. Good opportunity to use my muscles some, and take this new chair for a proper test drive! A chair that I don't constantly feel like I'm having to actively fight to get anywhere! 😮 ♿ "

"Sure, while we're down that way, let's stop by that Romanian grocery just past the station for some of those pickles you really liked. I should be able to eat some too, this time!"

"Ooh, I have an idea. Let's stop by that Costa, and pick up some coffee like normal people! Yep, looks like I can order in advance through their app on the way."

*stops to do this* *sees just how long it's been since I had a simple freaking latte* 🙃

(Which turned out to be not as simple a latte experience as expected, but later. 🙄)

*pick up coffee* *Mr. C opens his so it will cool faster*

*...and soon dumps it down a storm drain because they've fucked it up and added some kind of milk that his very lactose Intolerant ass made sure NOT to order* *he refuses to take it back or let me do it* ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

*pressing onward in our quest to obtain Yummy Romanian Pickles*

"OK, while I'm waiting outside the inaccessible shop, I should check my blood sugar! This is way more exercise than I've been getting lately, and it may be snacktime soon. Starting to feel a little low..."

"Oh shit. The meter is refusing to turn on--with this other test strip too, and now the power button. Battery, maybe? 🤔 Good thing it came with spares in the case. Certainly hoping it's the battery. "

"Oh shit. This new fucker takes two of them! And I already stole one of the totally coincidentally two spares to stick into that remote! 😬 Because of course I did."

*Mr. C comes out bearing his Yummy Romanian Pickles plus a few other items he couldn't resist grabbing* *our combined inventory is already starting to outstrip the existing bag capacity we expected to need on this journey*

"Maybe that shop over there with the GADGETS GADGETS GADGETS sign sells CR2032s to power some of the gadgets? 🤔 Probably worth a look. Somewhere in the town centre must sell the things."

*Mr. C leaves his YRP and other newly acquired items with me* *immediately trots off toward his new objective* *my wheelie ass with lap full of groceries follows the same route with less haste*

*end up having to text him after he comes out and tries to find me still outside the first shop* 🥴

"You mean to tell me that they have GADGETS GADGETS GADGETS, but no button cells at all?! And the shopkeeper suggested we look in the nearest Poundland, back in the direction we just came from?!"

*the party sets off together again toward a busy shopping center during a freaking pandemic*

[OK, this is already turning long enough that I had better make a Part 2. 😅)

[primatechnosynthpop]

I've changed my mind about a couple things from this post and also came up with a bunch of new trivial details, but I don't feel like extensively editing it so here's a new post instead. Godbless

First off, and I'm not saying this to be self-deprecating, it's simply true.... I did a bad job with Ryan's magical girl outfit. I guess I somehow forgot that those types of outfits don't have to have short sleeves! I didn't have to do the stupid detached sleeves thing that doesn't fit him at all; he can just have a nice fancy jacket with long sleeves and maybe some ruffles

On a related note, fucking WHOOPS I forgot to incorporate soul gems into the outfit designs. Other than that though I'm still fairly happy with the outfits I came up with and it wouldn't take much modification to fix the issue

I also changed my mind about the appearance of Ryan's witch form but I'll circle back to that later...

The biggest thing I've changed my mind about is Spencer. I was previously torn between two backstories for him, neither of which fully made sense because he doesn't strike me as naive and inexperienced, nor actively malicious/deceitful-- just misguided, pretentious, and deeply unlikable. But now I know how to reconcile the two seemingly clashing storylines I had in mind...

Spencer has actually been a magical girl for several years, since he was in his senior year of high school. His wish was for his classmates to think he was cool... but after graduation, those people were no longer *his classmates*, and so the wish wore off. He became bitter and resentful toward his peers and their common lifestyles, and quickly fell into despair, with his soul gem turning dark...

Only he lived in Kamihama City. So instead of becoming a witch, he has a doppel.

A few years down the line he moves to Massachusetts for whatever reason, and he doesn't realize that doppels are an occurrence unique to Kamihama. While befriending Ryan, he deliberately encourages him to use up all his magic-- "bro, just wait 'till you see what happens when your soul gem turns dark, you're totally gonna love it!" As Ryan runs progressively low on magic he's like "um I don't feel good", and Spencer realizes something is up and decides to just leave town instead of dealing with the problem he's created. Ryan realizes a bit too late that he's been led astray, and in the process has alienated himself from his real friends, which causes him to fall into despair and become a witch.

Other miscellaneous details I've thought about:

Daxter Flaxter had enough karmic potential to make a universe-rewriting wish if he wanted, but instead he basically just wished for unlimited power. He doesn't use his power to save people very often, though, preferring to just fuck around and only actively hunt witches when his soul gem is getting too clouded and he needs to replenish it

I don't think Mitch Dollarton's wish had anything to do with how he acquired his fortune; rather, I think he wished to be the best at video games... perhaps so he could impress someone he liked? ;3 But obviously without specifying those desires in his wish, it didn't turn out the way he hoped

The last Really Good(?) nkotr idea I had before this one was all about Mitch and Max having a convoluted secret tragic backstory, and I don't want to transfer ALL of that flavour into this au because it'd make things too complicated but there's definitely some of it in there. I think when Max gets fed up and smashes Mitch's soul gem he gets very freaked out when Mitch collapses and is more upset than he expected to be when Mitch continues to not wake up. I mean, they don't like each other per se, but as a magical girl duo they definitely depend on each other, which is why Max wouldn't last very long afterwards

That being said Mitch was definitely hoarding a bunch of grief seeds and Max definitely loots them off his body in between bouts of unexpected and confusing loneliness

In Wendy's backstory, after things went bad for the magical girl squad she'd been hanging out with, Kyubey gave her the spiel about how the way his species treats humans is no worse than how humans treat livestock and she responds "ok but the takeaway there is that we should treat animals better, not that humans should be treated worse". Obviously this line of reasoning isn't enough to get through to Kyubey and he keeps pestering her to make a contract, so Wendy adopts the alternate strategy of faking her own death and moving to a new city

In a way I guess that kind of makes Wendy a foil to Neil in this narrative? Because she also had the chance to make a wish to save her friends but didn't... although she probably doesn't have enough karmic potential to actually manifest a wish as big as resurrection, and her firmly deciding to stay out of the whole thing is definitely the smarter move in the long run

Obviously the new kids don't encounter the witches in the same order that they encounter their canon counterparts because the plot I have in mind simply doesn't work that way, but John Smith is the first witch they encounter. It's a very old witch, but not a powerful one; it hides underground and doesn't feed very often, so it's only gotten progressively weaker and more confused over the years

In fact, I think Daxter and Kyubey deliberately arrange it so that this is the new kids' first exposure to witches, in a classic case of Kyubey lying by omission-- it's an easy victory that makes it seem like being a magical girl will be easier than it is

From there I think it goes Misery Meister (Rocky wanders into its labyrinth and Ryan makes a wish to get her back safely, becoming a magical girl) -> Luck demon (Kevin becomes a magical girl to save Neil from its curse) -> Gunfoot (Mitch and Max show up to steal the victory and cause problems) -> the Ghoul (Kevin's soul gem gets shattered) and then of course Daxter's witch form (Neil makes his wish, becoming a magical girl in order to bring his friends, and accidentally also his rivals, back to life)

When the Misery Meister was a magical girl, he actually couldn't wait to become a witch because he wanted to spread despair instead of hope. Ironically, this eagerness actually prevented him from falling into despair, until eventually he began to despair about not falling into despair. Self-fulfilling prophecy

When the Ghoul was a magical girl, she was old man Cooper's daughter, and he still views it as such even now that it's a witch. He stands guard over it and tries to stave off magical girls from entering its labyrinth and fighting it

You know the scene in PMMM where Madoka is about to become a magical girl but Homura shows up and just fucking riddles Kyubey with bullets? I think something similar definitely happens in this au with Neil, perhaps even multiple times... both Mitch and Spencer resent Kyubey for not granting their wishes the way they wanted, and Max just loves inflicting violence upon small animals, so I think in this au it's just a running joke that every time Neil is about to make his wish and become a magical girl, someone appears out of the blue and decimates Kyubey before he can make the contract

(And then Mitch has the nerve to heckle Neil for tagging along on witch hunting missions as an ordinary human, even though he's part of the reason why Neil isn't a magical girl yet)

This doesn't really matter but I think maybe in this au the new kids are classmates at a film school or something. Daxter is their upperclassman who they know of but don't really know personally before the start of the narrative

Basically the plot of The Money Tree but slightly toned down plays out after Kevin makes his contract, mainly because of the amount of karmic potential he has-- not enough to change his and his friends' fate in a permanent way, but enough to create a cool magic object that lasts them a couple weeks before they get in trouble for it. After the tree is destroyed, he begins to feel like he wasted his wish... but to be fair, wishing to get rich was just the first thing that popped into his head in a tense situation

The magical girl that destroys Ryan's witch form isn't one of the new kids' pre-established rivals, but rather a mysterious newcomer wielding a katana, whose outfit resembles a lion's mane. Yeah it's the lion from No Place Like Home, crossover event of the century (the scarecrow and robot aren't there though, that would be getting too meta)

After killing the witch he sees Neil and Kevin's extremely distraught reactions and instead of thinking "oh this witch must have been their friend" he comes to the (much more reasonable, without knowing all the fucked up and evil magical girl rules) conclusion of "oh, these guys must need this grief seed way more than I do" and like he's not wrong because Kevin is definitely on the brink of falling into despair at that point (so is Neil, but he's not a magical girl yet so he doesn't have to worry about witching out). So the lion lets them have it and then he leaves and they never see him again I guess

After Ryan is gone, Kevin starts fighting more recklessly. I think in the battle against the Ghoul he gives Neil his magic weapon to use as a shield, which isn't a great use for it seeing as his soul gem is embedded in it

Neil wears the grief seed he got from Ryan's witch form and later Kevin's shattered soul gem as a necklace... so when he makes his wish, they respawn right next to him. And you know they do an epic reunion hug :3

During the climactic final battle once everyone's been reassembled, the fact that both Neil's and Mitch's magical girl weapons are staffs definitely means they get to have a wizard duel kinda thing. Shooting beams at each other and whatnot. Well that's all

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Eight

A/N: Okay, firstly I cannot apologize enough for the delay. I'm sorry for not posting when I planned on, I have no idea how I feel about this chapter, it's all over the place and I've honestly thought of erasing it and starting back over but that'd take even longer and I don't want to make you guys wait any more. I'm sorry for falling through on my assurance I'd post by Friday.

Timeline in case anyone is wondering, this chapter starts around the 18th of September (flashback is last couple days in July) and ends at the end of September.

I hope you guys like it, perfectly understandable if y'all don't and I will be trying harder next time. Thank you🖤

P.S.--I haven't forgotten about the "D" Viv gets tattooed on her, it's being mentioned in the next chapter.

Words: 4.4K

Warning(s): Explicit language, violence, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, insensitive implication of suicide.

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LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

I'm taking another bite of eggs, before an issue of Playboy is plopped down in front of me, into my food. 

I was expecting the cover to hit stands sooner, rather than later. We went back on tour the first of September, and the issue wasn't out until September 16, a couple days after getting back on tour from a separate break that took place a week and a half after our first break at the end of July did.

I'm on the cover, naked, and I hesitantly run my eyes up Doc's body to his eyes, giving an uneasy smile, knowing I'm in trouble. 

I swallow my food and he glares at me. 

Within ten minutes, he's got all of us back into another meeting. 

"Playboy?!" He's pacing the floor, throwing his hands up. "Y-You…" he trails off, the vein popping out on his forehead. 

I look around and notice everybody--Ross, Fred, Tommy, Vince, Mick, Rich--has got a copy of it, flipping through, including Nikki, and I feel my face heat up, slowly sliding down in my seat. 

"...Playboy!" Doc gets out again, before he starts laughing. 

"Was a staff meeting really necessary for this?" I ask him. 

"I mean, it could be worse." Fred tries to take up for me as my question is ignored. 

"Yeah, she could've went behind our backs and shot a porno." Vince adds, glancing at me. "...or did you do that, too?" 

Apparently I don't deny that quick enough because Doc is looking at me with an even more severe look. 

"Did you?!" He asks. 

"No?!" I argue, starting to get pissed. "I posed for Playboy, what's the big deal?" 

Doc starts laughing again. 

"What's the big deal? What's the big deal? What's the bi--what's the big deal?!" He pulls at his hair. "I am about to have a heart attack. I am about to have a heart attack. You--" he lets out a loud yell of frustration and we all look at each other. "--Are you trying to kill me, Viv?! 'Cause I feel like you are!"

"From a photography perspective, they're quite beautiful photos." Ross says positively.

"Yes, I for one want to express my gratitude and admiration for Saint Viv's--well, Dirty Stripper Viv's--contribution to the livelihood of many a jerking offs." Vince states. "Also would like to note," he looks at a particular picture of me before adding, "I've only imagined her doing this position but now that it's here on paper, I'd like her to demonstrate--slowly, in detail--exactly how she twisted hersel--"

"--Dude, shut up!" Tommy snaps, his hands over his eyes, his head back, and Vince grins at me, making me roll my eyes. 

It kind of scares me how quiet Nikki is as he calmly thumbs through his. 

"Okay." Doc takes a deep breath. "When did this happen?" He asks me.

"I got an offer in the mail, and took them up on it, and when we were in Chicago I went by their studio." I explain. "I still don't know what the big deal is. I thought it was the idea for rockstars and Playboy models to be together." 

Doc looks at me with flared nostrils before flipping through his magazine.

"Whose is this?" He asks, turning the magazine around to show me, his finger on Duff's bass. 

I just look at him, not knowing what to say. 

"I know what every bass of Nikki's looks like and it's got too many personalized ticks on it for it to be a random prop they tossed at you." He adds. 

The room is quiet for a moment.

"It's Duff's." Nikki says and Doc raises his brows. 

"The fuck is that?" He questions me. 

"Guns N' Roses bassist." Nikki informs him, his tone neutral.

I'm afraid to look at him, knowing it's gonna break my heart. 

"The band that you've been in my ear about bringing on the tour?"

Nikki let's out a confirming sigh and Doc looks at me. 

"So this kid's gonna bring this bass to play on tour, and everybody's gonna recognize it when they flip through your little stunt here," he waves the magazine, "and it's all gonna come together and they're gonna realize a few days after Vanity allegedly dropped a bombshell about her and Nikki supposedly having an affair--which is said to be bullshit--his wife comes out humping another man's fuckin' bass." He tells me and I roll my eyes. "You roll your eyes all you want. Vanity fucking fried all of us, and then you decided to toss us into the fucking fire. Not that I expect anything different from a goddamn Sixx at this point. You both know how to make shit worse than it already is." 

"I highly doubt they'll notice, Doc." Tommy cuts in again. 

"You stay out of this." Doc snaps at him. 

Another beat of silence goes by.

"Nikki? Your thoughts? You're her fucking husband. You helped kickstart this snowball of shit that just keeps getting bigger and bigger. What's your fucking opinion on her doing this? Am I gonna have to worry about you bending another girl over on stage and going to town in retaliation or what?" Doc sarcastically throws out there. "I mean nothing will fucking surprise my anymore. I just need to know what I need to prepare to clean up next." 

My heart pounds as I look at Nikki, liner smudged, tired eyes, glancing at me as he lets out a defeated sigh. 

"She's a grown woman, Doc." He surprisingly says and I widen my eyes in shock, as everyone else looks worried that Nikki's not screaming at me for it right now. 

Not yet, at least.

"That's it?" Doc asks him, raising his brows. "She didn't say a word about it, didn't give a warning, a heads up, nothing, and she comes out like this and you have absolutely nothing to fucking say?" 

Nikki just shrugs. 

"She just does whatever the hell she wants to do. Doesn't matter how I'd feel before, why does it matter what I feel like, now? Like I said, she's grown. Whatever she wants to do, she can do." He finishes, standing up to leave. 

"Nikki, are you fucking me right now?!" Doc complains as Nikki heads to the door. "You flip your shit over tiny stuff but your own wife does this without even telling you about it and you just brush it off?!"

"Just because she calls me 'daddy' doesn't mean I can act like her fucking father, Doc." Nikki sternly says and my face heats up. "We're not even together so why the fuck would I care what she does or who she does it with?" 

His bark was "I don't give a fuck" and "she can do whatever she wants", but a couple months later his bite was "you aren't worth a fucking thing which is why you had to get naked in a magazine to get validation in the first place" then proceeded to bare his teeth down further into my heart by adding, "just another pussy to unload in and get on to the next attention-humping slut." 

The next thing I knew, Duff was knocking him to the ground and the two of them started ripping into each other like dogs.

Once the meeting is over, after another hour of going back and forth, feeling like I was going to vomit from impending guilt, I'm getting back to my room and making a beeline for the toilet. 

I take a deep breath once I'm done, wiping the few tears from my cheeks. 

I don't feel bad for posing…the entire meeting it took everything not to confess that me posing naked with Duff's bass should be the least of their worries, compared to what other activities  I've gotten up to with him the last time the band had a couple days off and we went back to L.A. 

The sound of my room phone ringing pulls me out of my head

“Hello?” I answer.

“H-Hey.” I hear Tansy’s voice on the other end and I perk up.

“Hey, Tans, how’re you feeling?” I ask her, nervously.

“Good, um…” She lets out a soft sigh. “...I relapsed.”

I close my eyes for a moment, exactly like I did last week, and the week before, and the week before, and so on.

After Sparkie did his damage, Tansy promised to swear the bastard off. But within two weeks of her incident, she was back with him, only because her babysitters--Slash and Steven--left her unattended and she ran off to find him.

They’d find her, threaten Sparkler, bring her back home and the second they turned around long enough, she was gone again. 

Nikki had ordered them that she wasn't supposed to be around Sparkie because he had "accidentally" taken it too far while they were messing around…

Skylar squeals as tickle at her stomach, shampoo sticking her blonde hair straight up while Sharise runs a wash cloth over Sky's back.

When she's done, she's wringing the water out of it. 

"Sky, we gotta wash the shampoo out of your hair." I tell her.

"Nuh." She protests, shaking her head. 

"Skylar, we gotta get the shampoo out so we can get conditioner in your hair and get the tangles out."

"Nuh." She states, looking at us like we're crazy. 

"Don't be a diva like daddy." Sharise tell her, raising her brows. 

"Da-da?" 

"Da-da's golfing." She replies.

Skylar looks between us. 

"Nuh." She argues. "Beebee." She points at me. 

Sharise looks at me and hands me the little plastic cup she uses to rinse Sky's hair. 

"I'm gonna grab a towel from the couch." Sharise tells me. "Let Veevee rinse your hair." 

Skylar's cooperative, letting me get the shampoo from her hair and letting me put conditioner in and rinsing it out. 

When we're done, Sharise is picking Skylar up from the bath and wrapping her in her towel. 

The phone starts ringing and I dry hands off and stand up. 

"I'll get it." I assure Sharise.

"Alright, it could be Vince. He said he'd call before he headed home."

"Okay."

I go to the living room and pick the phone up.

"Hello?"

"I'm coming by to pick you up." It's Nikki, and I furrow my brows and look at the time. 

"What're you doing up before two o'clock?" 

"I got a call from a hospital in Malibu. Tansy's in surgery right now."

My blood runs cold and I can't get my thoughts together. 

"Just be ready when I get there." He adds. "I'm leaving the house, now."

"O-Okay." 

He hangs up and I head to Skylar's room where Sharise is helping her pick out some clothes. 

"That was Nikki." I inform her and she looks at me. "Tansy's at the hospital in the middle of a surgery."

"Oh my God, is she okay?" 

"I don't know."

"Is she having more heart problems or--"

"--I have no idea, Sharise. Nikki didn't explain."

Despite her body being pumped full of varying drugs, none of them caused her to be sent to the ER. Something else entirely, did though.

"She's more susceptible to complications during surgery due to her previous heart problems and her drug use. She did decide to sign a DNR--"

"--I'm sorry, what's been signed?" Nikki raises his brows at the nurse. 

"A do-not resuscitate order. Meaning if she were to code, we can not perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation." 

"So you just fucking let her die?!" 

"Nikki, they had to explain to her what it meant, and she still agreed--" I'm cut short.

“--You know how much fucking heroin she fucking shoots on a daily basis?! I'm not even sure she could fucking see to sign her God damn in the first place, let alone comprehend you motherfuckers selling her death!" Nikki barks and the nurse sighs.

“Nikki, she’ll be fine.” I try to tell him.

"Fuck that!" He screams, fear in his eyes.

"Nikki, that's only if something goes wrong, alright? So far everything is going okay." I try to reassure him, my eyes drifting to her nurse. "Right?"

The surgery itself was going smoothly. One thing Tansy didn't tell us, however, was one of her kidneys was shot from her drug and alcohol abuse, and she asked her doctor to go ahead and take the thing out.

"She's in good hands." Is all the nurse says, before adding, "she should be out in a couple more hours." 

She walks away and Nikki shakes his head and lets out a heavy breath. 

"It'll be okay." I say to him.

“You gonna fucking pray about it or something?” He sneers at me.

“Yes.”

“Right, imaginary friends solve all of the world’s problems.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me doing something that brings me some peace.” I argue.

“You’ve been praying for me for the past six years. Feel any fucking peace, yet?” He snaps.

Believe it or not, no. I hadn’t felt any fucking peace.

It doesn’t take Tansy much longer to get out of surgery, and Nikki and I are horrified when her doctor explains what exactly he was repairing, being that the nurse wouldn’t tell us.

“Like...a shooter sized bottle--”

“--Pint.” He says to us and Nikki and I look at eachother.

“They tried to fit a pint sized bottle of Jack into her…?” I trail off.

“Well, they made it fit, it just didn’t stay intact.” He replies.

“The bottle of her vagina?” I question.

“I had to stitch up her vaginal wall extensively, and made sure to remove every piece of glass, including micrograins. Her left fallopian tube would have been compromised if the piece of glass that completely punctured through her vaginal wall, would have moved 0.004mm, which is about the thickness of a single strand of hair.” He states. “She’s very lucky her uterus or ovaries weren’t compromised. That wouldn’t have been as easy of a fix.”

“A--A bottle?” I’m stll stuck on them fitting a fucking bottle into her, my face twisted in horror as my stomach drops and my skin crawls.

He holds up a small container and rattles it around, the sound of glass swishing around making me cringe.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Nikki lets out.

“I’m going to tell her when she wakes, but please reiterate after me, that the next time she and her partner wish to add some heat to their sex life, maybe try not to be so blatantly reckless.” He suggests and Nikki and I nod, still speechless.

In a couple more hours, Nikki and I’s ears perk when she groans a little, our eyes shifting to look at her in her hospital bed.

Her bright blue eyes blink open, her brows furrowed in confusion, and it seems everything slowly falls into place for her.

“Tans?” Nikki says and she looks straight at him, just blinking.

“Where’s Sparkie?” She asks and we look at each other.

“We haven’t seen him.” I explain.

“Oh.” She quietly mumbles, closing her eyes again for a moment.

“Tansy, what the hell happened?” Nikki starts, a sharp tone in his voice.

She looks at me, carefully, before speaking.

“We were just trying to spice things up.” She says softly.

“With a fucking Jack Daniel’s bottle that clearly wouldn’t naturally fit inside of you?” He lets out.

She doesn’t say a word back, I almost think she doesn’t hear him, until she says:

“I’m not fighting right now.”

“Let’s just let her rest, okay?” I suggest. “She’s exhausted and she doesn’t need to be stressed out right now.”

Nikki sighs, but keeps his mouth shut.

After a few more minutes, I’m wanting a snack.

“You have any cash?”

He looks at me and I give him my best smile, making him exhale softly, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

“How much?” He asks, clearing his throat.

“Like, a couple bucks.” I shrug and he hands it to me. “Thank you.”

I go to the vending machines past the waiting area, to see Sparkie sitting by the window, eating his food, and I glare at him as I walk by.

He doesn’t see me, unfortunately, and I just keep going to the Pepsi Cola machine calling my name.

I want to go curse him out, but Tansy doesn’t need the stress, and being they were both high as a kite, I can’t solely put the blame on him and only him.

She should have just left him years ago. All he’s been is trouble that she doesn’t need.

I get my Pepsi and a pack of M&Ms, walking around a little to stretch my legs since I’ve been sitting for hours.

I let out a heavy breath when I remember I’m nearly out of Nardil, being I flushed a majority of my bottle down the toilet in an angry effort.

I’ll make sure to call in some more before we leave for the next leg of the tour.

As I start on my way back to the room, I’m interrupted by the sight of Nikki and Sparkie standing face to face in the waiting room, and I drop my Pepsi and food when Nikki slams Sparkie’s head into the wall without a single word beforehand.

“Sir!” The receptionist yells, standing up as I go to them as fast as I can to get Nikki off of him as he grabs his shirt and punches the shitfire out of Sparkie, one of his teeth crumbling to the floor.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” He promises as he punches him two more times, not taking a breath in between with no signs of stopping his assault until Sparkie’s brain is bursting from his skull, but I’m managing to get Nikki off of him, making him drop Sparkie to the floor, his nose and mouth busted up as security comes in.

We were escorted out, and when we got home I called Steven and informed him what happened to Tansy, leaving out what actually happened because I didn’t need anyone else possibly being sued for trying to kill Sparkie, and he went to keep an eye on her.

“Anyone else you want to beat the shit out of while we’re home?” I snap as we get to the car.   “First Vanity, now Sparkie--”

"--What, you wanna go back in there and coddle him the way you did Vanity?" He hisses and I roll my jaw. 

"You know exactly why I 'coddled' her."

"Oh, right, because men aren't suppose to hit women so I'm an evil bastard for knocking the shit out of her even though she was punching and hitting at me."

"I've punched and hit at you and you've never--"

"--She came into our house, attacked me, and punched you, too, Vivian! I had a reason to bust her face up a little bit!"

"I can handle shit myself, Nikki, there was no need for you to hit her like that!" 

"It's called 'equal rights'! All you women want is to be seen equally and shit! You fucking punch me like you're a man, I'm gonna fucking punch you back, like you're a fucking man! Don't hit me like you've got bigger balls than I do and then scream and cry and whine and plead 'frail, innocent, victimized, dainty, woman' when you get treated equally!" 

"I don't do that!" 

"No, but you sure as hell were all about feeding the cracked out beast when she fucking did!" 

"That's it. I'm walking home." 

"Walking home? We're forty minutes away from L.A., Viv." 

"I'll hitch a ride! I'd rather be in a car with a sketchy stranger than be trapped with you for the next hour!"

"You've been trapped with me the past four years!" He barks. 

"Not for much longer, thank God!" I bite out and his face slowly falls. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Pretty sure going our separate ways is just inevitable for us at this point, Viv, so it's fine." He brushes it off and my heart hurts at the thought. "And I'm sorry for going after Sparkie in public. But I'm not apologizing for defending Tansy. I'm not ever gonna be sorry for defending any of my friends."

“What happened, Nikki?” I ask him. “What the hell made you go after him like that? You were fine when I left.”

He lets out a breath, his nostrils flaring, his knuckles gripping tightly to the wheel as he closes his eyes and forces himself to calm down, before saying:

“Nothing. I just really thought about it and it got to me.”

I didn’t find out what happened until Tansy told me months down the road, and nobody else knows that’s actually what happened.

If Stevie and Slash knew what really occurred to put Tansy in that shape to begin with, they would’ve killed Sparkie the second Tansy first went back and "relapsed" on him.

"Tansy, he hurt you." I remind her. "And I know it was an accident but it doesn't matter. He could've seriously messed you up more than he did."

"I know, but I love him, Viv." She argues. 

"Tansy--"

"--Nikki shot you. And you're still with him." 

"Because Nikki was high out of his mind and didn't realize he actually was shooting at me. He thought I was someone after him." 

"Sparkie was fucked up and didn't know he was hurting me."

"Who the hell shoves a pint-sized glass bottle up their cunt to begin with, Tansy?" I raise my voice, getting aggravated with her.

"I'm gonna go." She tells me, calmly, after a moment of being quiet. "And I saw your Playboy issue--Steven got it. You look very beautiful." She genuinely says and I let out a defeated breath.

"Thanks."

"I'll talk to you later, Viv, okay?"

"Got it."

"I love you, bye."

"I love you, too, bye-bye." 

I hang up and fall back on the bed, groaning loudly in frustration. 

"How the hell can someone be as passively suicidal as she is?" I let out.

I'd find out soon enough.

In the last ten days of September, "Girls, Girls, Girls" is certified double-platinum, a $5000 lawsuit is filed against the band after a mother had apparently suffered "severe hearing dysfunction and mental anguish" at a recent concert. 

I wish I could sew these bastards for hearing dysfunction and mental anguish because God himself sure as shit knows I've had my fair share of it due to them, too.

By the end of the month, Nikki has Doc convinced to bring Guns N Roses on tour for the south leg, starting at the end of October…and I don't know how to feel about it. 

"Are you not excited about it?" Fred asks me after Doc leaves his hotel room after coming in to tell me the news. "Thought they were your buddies." He adds and I look at him from where I'm eating a fry from the fast food bag that he'd gone and got for us.

"They are." I confirm, nodding. "I'm excited." 

"...You just acted like Doc told you we were going to a funeral." He chuckles, sipping his drink and I lick my lips a little. 

"No, it's great, I'm just a little stressed out." I shrug. "But I'm fine." 

"Viv, what's going on?" He's not buying it and Iet out a soft breath, nervously picking the skin from the instead of my cheek with my teeth. 

"There's just a slight complication." I tell him and he raises his brows. 

"I'm all ears." He offers and I exhale, shaking my head a little, before opting for a way to confess my sins to him without him knowing I'm the one that needs forgiveness. 

"Well, you know how Sparkie and Tansy have been together for a long time?"

"Yeah." He nods. 

"She's really good friends with Axl, too, and her and Sparkie have been having some problems and might even break up so Tansy's been anxious and panicking a little, and, well…" I think for a moment. "...over this past break, Tansy slept with Axl." I say and his brows raise. "Who's the singer for Guns, and they've kinda been having a weird relationship situation thing happening ever since, but she's still with Sparkie, and being that she and Sparkie are along for the tour, Axl's gonna be around and she doesn't want Sparkie to find out what's been happening." 

"Why won't Tansy just break things off with Sparkie?"

"She doesn't want to hurt him."

"He's a piece of shit to her, are you kidding me? I'd tell that motherfucker he could go blow his fucking brains out over it." He scoffs, chewing his burger and I feel my heart sink, apparently he reads the look on my face. "Sorry, I forget women are wired a different way than guys are." He apologizes, swallowing his food before saying:

"Does Axl make her happier, you think?" 

"Sparkie's just exhausting her at this point. I think she really loves him, she's just tired of fighting and she hasn't had any peace in years, you know? She's just really tired. But when she's with Axl, she feels like everything isn't falling apart. She's at peace." 

"I think she's gotta tell Sparkie they just aren't working anymore. And be honest about how she feels instead of trying to brush over it and find ways to escape from it. I've seen her do some questionable shit, and I know it's because she's in pain and just doesn't want to deal with what's hurting her. I think this fling she's got with this dude is another way of crying for a way out, but she feels like she's too trapped to actually leave Sparkie." He explains. 

I nod slowly, tearing up a little. 

"I'm just worried about it, is all."

"Don't be." He shakes his head. "Just tell her what I just told you, and maybe she'll be done with Sparkie before Guns comes on a month from now." 

I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment.

"I doubt it." I say so quietly he doesn't even hear it.

I felt like I'd gotten a little bit of my guilt off my chest--aside from the fact that I was leaving out a minor detail:

"Sparkie" = Nikki, "Tansy" = Vivian, and, "Axl" = Duff.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Smut?? *sigh* Oh how i've missed it. Also, how do I choose just one? Okay, how about no. 33 “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.” (Don't mind me, I'm just too fond of jealousy fics)

Your time is now, friend! You picked a good one. It went… places I didn’t expect. I hope you enjoy it!

Best Man (and a Friend of the Bride)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: E/NSFWWord count: 5717

33. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

Peter escaped the banquet hall at a near-run while the guests were still applauding Betty and Ned’s first dance. After the newlyweds had burst into the room not long before, Ned had broken away to give Peter an important heads-up: that Ned’s mom had informed all of his cousins that the Best Man was single and they were just waiting until the dancing to pounce. It freaked Peter out to know that a bunch of strangers had been checking him out while he stood at the head of the aisle, clapping his best friend supportively on the shoulder as the music cued Betty’s entrance.

Even in the face of matrimony (and it had been right in Peter’s face for the better part of two years as he fulfilled his role as Best Man), it wasn’t that Peter was a commitment-phobe, some sort of serial one-night-stand-er. He simply wasn’t in a rush to marry young. Plus, he was trying to keep his wits about him today of all days; May had warned that people could get a little nuts at weddings, what with the atmosphere of romantic gravitas thicker than the icing on the big white cake. She was probably back there right now, trying to intercept Ned’s eager cousins to give Peter a head start.

As he moved away down the corridor towards the front of the hotel, the thud of pop-y bass transitioned into the tones of two people attempting to keep an argument quiet. Up ahead, a dark-haired man crossed out of a room and pushed angrily through the front doors. They didn’t slam, which took some of the effect out of it.

Peter wondered if he should turn back, but if the other arguer came this way, it would look like he was trying to slink away after eavesdropping. He would just… be casual and slip right past.

Except, when he was passing the room the fight had occurred in, the other person, a woman his age, walked out. He grabbed her shoulders instinctively before she could run into him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Peter told her surprised expression, belatedly releasing her.

“Oh, this?” she asked, circling her face with a finger. “It’s not fear, it’s relief. I thought you were Brad storming back in for round two.”

He could guess, but it would be better to ask.

“Brad?”

“My…” The woman paused. “…ex-boyfriend.”

Peter noticed a few tears overflowing her brimming eyes and patted his pants for a Kleenex, coming up empty. Damn, he remembered feeling one when he stuffed his tie into the same pocket after the ceremony.

“Sorry,” he said, meaning it, “I think I had a tissue in my jacket, but I left it in the… in the room.”

‘Banquet hall’ was not coming to him as she gave an unconcerned shrug and tossed her loosely braided hair over her shoulder before catching him head-on with brown eyes that were even more brilliant for their shininess. She made do by swiping away the fullest tears and patting beneath her eyes with her thumbs.

“I’m fine,” she said and he felt bad for not asking.

While she sniffled and angled her head back to keep any remaining tears at bay, Peter glanced down, taking in the length of her dark copper dress. It would probably photograph stunningly outside, against all those red and gold leaves on the trees lining the hotel’s drive. Damn Ned for dragging him into the wedding photographer conversation. Everywhere Peter looked at this place, he saw lighting opportunities and reflections of the couple’s autumnal colour scheme. Stupid scenic, postcard-town venue. He looked quickly back up to the woman’s face, which was now more composed.

“I’m Peter.” He cleared his throat. “By the way.”

She nodded and said, “MJ. Betty’s mentioned you.”

“So you’re… bride’s side?” That term came to him.

“Oh yeah, she and I go way back, or as far as you can go back when people get married in their early twenties.”

“Right.” Peter laughed. “Me and Ned too.” But the small talk was bothering him. He met MJ’s eyes seriously. “I’m sorry, but I really need to know what the fuck that guy’s problem was.”

She laughed in what looked like surprise.

“How do you know I didn’t cause the problem?”

“Did you?” he asked to humour her.

MJ shrugged, appearing genuinely thoughtful.

“Sort of. You want details?”

“Nah, it’s none of my business.” He was just quietly pissed off that some dick could breeze out and leave this woman crying. At a wedding. This was, like, the exact opposite of what May had warned him about. No romance in sight.

She leaned sideways into the wall, crossed her arms, and sighed. He copied her, minus the sigh.

“First, I want to note that someone’s ability to cite George Orwell is not a strong enough reason to stay in a relationship with them. You got that, Peter?”

“Noted.”

She sighed again and rubbed more aggressively at the tear tracks drying on her cheeks.

“Would you believe the fight started with a proposal?”

Peter was usually more of a listener, but he could tell MJ needed him to contribute. Maybe she wasn’t a natural conversation-hog either.

“Isn’t proposing at somebody else’s wedding, like, bad manners?”

“Really bad,” she agreed with such vehemence that he understood why she and Betty were good friends. “It’s rude as fuck to take attention away from the bride and groom, but Brad’s a self-centered shithead like that, so I probably should have seen this coming.”

“That’s the problem with the Brads of the world,” Peter observed with sarcastic faux-wisdom. “You’re so focused on how self-centered they are and how much of a shithead they’re being that you forget the unpredictability factor. That’s the killer.”

MJ snorted.

“Right? Anyway, so I pulled him out here, because he started fucking whipping out that ring box while Betty and Ned were still dancing―” Peter shook his head in disgust. “―and while we were getting into it, I had this moment where I just stared at him and felt zero desire to keep talking, or hearing him talk. And, I guess, if I felt like that right after he tried to propose… I mean, that should be one of the emotional highlights of my life. Like, forget that his timing was shitty and selfish, I still should’ve been thrilled, on some level, that this guy I’d been with for the past two and a half years wanted to marry me. And I wasn’t. I think that’s why I started crying.”

She breathed deeply and Peter was staggered that he’d heard someone exorcise their feelings so well and so wastelessly. He admired her. Abruptly, MJ laughed.

“So that was a lot to unload on a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger, I’m your friend’s husband’s best friend!” he joked. “And I’m glad you explained. Otherwise, my plan was to assume that you were crying for Brad, because he doesn’t get to spend any more time with you.”

“You know, I’m impressed that you picked that up so quickly.”

“Well,” Peter shrugged, referencing Ned’s recent vows, “I’ve heard that sometimes you just know.”

They laughed until the front doors opening (not Brad―they both turned to look) shoved a wave of chilly air into the hotel. Peter wished he had his jacket to give her. He felt a little unbalanced, accidentally pairing up with this stranger after actively running away from the potential for that same thing down the hall. Instead of wading in, testing the waters, he’d shot down into a sinkhole. That wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping to find either. Because he hadn’t been hoping to find anything. Yet he really wanted to be around her; attraction wasn’t something he’d closed himself off to.

“We should get out of this hallway,” MJ suggested.

“Do you want to…” Peter jerked his thumb back towards the banquet hall. “…dance?” He winced. “Or is that a terrible thing to ask because, shithead or not, you were just almost engaged?”

She tilted her head side to side, considering.

“Pretty terrible. On a related note, do you want to come hang out in my room?”

His mouth fell open slowly and he straightened up. Saying ‘yes’ too fast… that would be another example of bad manners, wouldn’t it? If she asked though, he’d be lying to say that wondering how the fabric of her dress would feel sliding through his hands as he removed it hadn’t been taking up half his brain power since the second he saw her.

“We’ll go back to the reception in a bit,” MJ assured him. “I just need to take my shoes off and be blissfully alone for a few minutes.”

“I’m flattered that you can already feel alone when I’m in a room with you,” he said sarcastically, smiling to take the edge off. “This conversation is way better for my ego than dancing with one of Ned’s cousins.”

She laughed, easy, and reached out to grab Peter’s forearm. It shot a tingle through him probably even less appropriate than contemplating going back to MJ’s room with her. Unconsciously, he pushed his tongue against the inside of his lip as he watched her mouth.

“Dude, they were talking about your thighs through the whole ceremony. I was sitting in front of them.”

“You probably started it,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from her face like he was also a casual toucher. It was tough to tell whether she was blushing or just flushed from her argument.

“Nah, I was too busy looking at your arms. That jacket could only hide so much.” Her gaze dropped pointedly to one of his biceps. With his arms crossed, his dress shirt strained.

They were joking around, right? People flirted at weddings. All people. Including determined bachelors and brand-new singletons.

“Look who’s talking,” Peter countered, sweeping his eyes down her silky dress. The hug and drape of it.

Harmless flirting. Totally harmless. MJ gave him a thorough once-over.

“So… yes or no?”

Her hotel room had only her things in it and he wondered how he would’ve felt to encounter the heavily ridiculed Brad’s luggage.

“He left his bag in the car,” MJ explained, tossing the key card onto a table with an elegant flick. She flung her small purse to land at the head of the bed on a pillow. “He didn’t want us to stay overnight. Figured we could make the drive back into the city when things were winding down.”

“At what time? Three in the morning? Not a great plan.” Peter was puffing himself up every time he cut a slice off the absent Brad. He was aware of it, but he also couldn’t stop himself.

She sat on the edge of the queen-size bed, then changed her mind, crouching down at the mini-fridge and extracting a teeny bottle. Peter stood by as she unscrewed and sniffed it.

“No,” she gasped, quickly returning it to the fridge.

“You’re ok, right?” he asked tentatively.

MJ sat back and turned her head to look at him.

“I wasn’t going to drink myself into a stupor, I’m just curious. I like to explore my surroundings.”

Not quite an answer, but whatever.

She stood and glanced at the blank screen of the TV.

“You want to watch something?”

“Uh, no, that’s ok. We can just talk,” Peter said. Talk about how people hooked up at weddings. Right.

“Talk.” MJ nodded and sat beside him. “Sure. That’s a good idea. I think we skipped some of the general stuff when I dove straight into my drama. We could cover something a little less personal.”

“For sure.”

He caught her looking at him from the corner of her eye, just like he was doing to her. In a second, they were kissing fiercely, his hands on her shoulder and the back of her neck, hers clutching the front of his shirt. They twisted towards each other and her far knee nudged his thigh.

“Are impulsive decisions ever right?” MJ wondered, eyes closed, as he nipped her lip and kissed messily over to her ear.

“Don’t ask me that,” Peter mumbled into her ear. His hand played with the strap of her dress, dragging it over her shoulder and back up. Suspending himself in that place of temptation.

“What would Brad think―”

“Don’t ask me that either,” he requested before she could finish the question.

He felt for her knee and tucked his fingers behind it, wrinkling the fabric of her dress between his warm hand and the hot place at the back of her knee. Such a little tug, he thought as they kissed again, to bring her right into his lap. Peter gripped the back of her neck and stroked his tongue into her mouth. MJ’s head was practically lolling, she was so turned on. Ok, he could concede that this was something he missed during his careful state of singlehood. But it wouldn’t have been like this with a Leeds cousin, hadn’t been like this in Peter’s last actual relationship (sorry, Liz) or his handful of Tinder nights.

This wasn’t supposed to happen―his cock thickening in his black suit trousers, MJ’s long fingers undoing the tiny buttons of his shirt―but it could. They’d collided while fleeing in two different directions and now, maybe, they could run parallel for a while. If…

“Actually,” Peter continued, their noses bumping as he shook his head, “could you not say that name again?”

“I could do that.”

His fingers flexed and she swung onto his lap, dress slipping and sliding under his hand. He pressed a palm to the small of her back until she lowered her hips to his, then, as soon as they touched, Peter grew restless and flipped them, hauling MJ up the bed on her back. Her heart was racing, he could see. Her hands were hungry as they roamed his chest where his shirt hung open. She shuffled her dress until she was able to bend her knees on either side of his hips, kicking her high heels to the floor. They (Peter and MJ) had probably damaged her braid.

Propped over her, Peter pushed the delicate straps from her shoulders, one at a time, while she watched him. He peeled the front of her loose dress down with the slight dampness of his palm, caressing along her sternum. No bra underneath. There was a zipper at the side that he hadn’t noticed; she undid it for him.

He dipped his face to kiss the center of her chest, then lifted his head again, looking seriously into MJ’s receptive, unswerving stare.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole. You realize that, right?”

Slowly, he felt her hook her feet securely behind his calves, neck lifting gracefully from the bed as she did so. Always watching his eyes.

“Works for me,” MJ said. “Though that is going to make it a lot more difficult to feel like I’m alone in this hotel room.”

She grinned and he dove into it, kissing her enthusiastically and rocking his hips into hers. Peter shoved his shiny black shoes off with the toes of his opposite feet while using his hands to wriggle the top of her dress down to her waist. With a tremulous breath he hoped wasn’t the beginnings of regret, MJ helped him out of his dress shirt and tossed it unceremoniously aside. He didn’t look away to see if the article even made it over the edge of the bed.

And that was as far as they got, the both of them topless, when MJ felt around for her clutch and extracted a condom that had been intended for another guy’s erection. His excitement was momentarily quelled. As she passed it to him, chucking her purse away, Peter glanced at the wrapper before tearing it open. Good news: it wasn’t some inferiority-complex-inducing jumbo size. He exhaled slowly through his nose in relief and gazed at the peaked nipples of her bare breasts as he unzipped himself, pushed his boxers out of the way, and rolled the condom on. MJ hiked the hem of her dress up her thighs, the entire swishy length now just a fold of fabric around her hips, shimmering softly in the yellow light of the hotel room.

Peter dug his nose beneath her jaw and felt between her thighs with an eager hand. The room was snugly still around them, the sound of his own breathing in his ears. MJ gave a little gasp and dropped her legs wider at his touch. Her underwear felt lacy and―more germane―wet. He groaned and hauled the lingerie down her legs, stretching and wrenching instead of patiently asking for her to lift her hips, unbend her knees.

His fingers returned to her, dipping into her wetness and rubbing it up over her clit until her thighs gave a tremble. He kissed gradually down her throat. Laying her hands on his shoulders, MJ ran them across to the back of his neck. Peter traced a teasing circle around her entrance with the tip of his middle finger and, abruptly, her hand was gripping his hair.

“This isn’t a slow dance, Peter,” she told him, chin tipped up to unconsciously mirror how she’d pulled his head back. Her other hand wove down and found Peter’s wrist, forcing his finger inside her. “We aren’t making memories.”

He laughed, appreciating her bluntness, and raked a hand through his dishevelled hair the second she released it.

“I guess I just normally―”

“I don’t care.” MJ smiled. “Just be the hot Best Man and I’ll be a friend of the bride, ‘cause that’s what it seems like we both need. If you can’t do that, then get on your back and I’ll do it for you.”

Peter laughed again and bit at her neck―lightly, then harder as he felt her sink into the plush comforter they hadn’t bothered to turn down. When she moaned and bucked slightly to get his finger (positioned by her) moving, Peter curled it inside her and kissed her mouth to swallow some of the sound that was making his blood so hot.

“No, you’re definitely staying on your back,” he muttered against her lips.

MJ just nodded lazily, eyes shut, when he added another finger and pumped them faster. Her grip twisted gently around his wrist and Peter’s eyes nearly rolled back imagining the same motion on his dick. He didn’t know her―not ‘that well,’ but know her, period―but he was sure it was exactly what she wanted him to imagine.

He watched her stretch a hand over her head and grasp the edge of the mattress, fingers sneaking between it and the headboard. Kissing her hard, Peter hooked his fingers into her twice more, then withdrew his hand (she moved hers to the back of his neck). Arousal smeared her thigh as he clutched it and nudged his cock against her entrance, pressing inside when the angle felt right.

A little while for him and, for her, the first time in years with a new partner. They both had something to get used to and they both started off gasping, quickly rearranging their limbs to hold each other closer as Peter sunk deeper. A quick squeeze from MJ’s legs tangling around the back of his jerked him all the way inside her and she immediately bore down with her hips like she could pin him there from underneath. The forcefulness of it was hot. Liz had never been very… but no, they weren’t bringing their exes into this. Not into this hotel room, not into this bed.

Peter wrapped his arm all the way around MJ, stretching beneath her back to grasp her ribcage with firm fingers. He resisted slipping his other hand into her hair because it would demolish whatever remained of the braid that suited her so well; instead, he braced his forearm on the bed and cupped her bare shoulder in his palm. The heat and friction of the two of them moving against each other was raising the scent of whatever MJ had massaged into her skin to make it so soft. He inhaled deeply, tracing his lips down to her collarbone to leave a lingering kiss. With his arms bound up by her body and his legs increasingly swayed by the guiding action of hers, Peter went to rapid work with his hips.

Panting and groaning, MJ was as collaborative as she was combative―dragging him in with her legs and rocking her hips fiercely in pursuit of pleasure―and he wasn’t sure at all that she’d really surrendered, despite remaining on her back. But that wasn’t really what he wanted, was it? Wedding hookups, by whatever definition of them existed, were supposed to be easy, and yet Peter wanted a second go-round. Wanted to see her lotion lined up with her hair products and her makeup by the sink in the en suite when he brushed his teeth.

He inhaled and gave his head a small shake. This wasn’t his hotel room and MJ wasn’t his girlfriend. She wasn’t looking for that. He wasn’t looking for that. Ugh, he couldn’t think about this anymore.

Peter struggled to find a good moment to change positions and ended up just flipping them while she continued to writhe. He thought it was reluctance to put too much space between their groins, but, on his back and tossing a curl of hair off his forehead, he was staggered when MJ progressed to torturously drawn-out rises and falls of her hips. Obviously unembarrassed to be suddenly astride a near-stranger, she’d pressed her palms to his chest for leverage as she eased herself up and down.

“Not a slow dance,” he groaned, hips bucking pleadingly each time she withdrew. But it felt deliriously good and Peter smoothed his hands somewhat possessively up her thighs.

“What,” she panted, tugging the pooling skirt of her dress out of the way as she rode him, “do you have to give a speech or something?”

Peter laughed, just once―it was all he could spare the oxygen for, huffing to thrust up into her.

“I do, actually. But Betty scheduled everything to the minute. The speeches don’t start until nine.”

“Lots of time,” MJ decided, jerking forward and back on his lap, so incredibly tight around him after months of his fingers and palm.

“Mmm,” Peter agreed. He slid his hands a little higher and started trying to intertwine their fingers.

She shook him off, returning her hands to his chest, and glanced briefly down and away.

“Not that we’re going to take long.”

“No.”

What could he do but agree? He exhaled, chest falling beneath her hands, wanting to tumble MJ down on top of him. She gave him a look and he thought it might’ve been because he wasn’t totally convincing (spending the night with her would be nice!) and he held her gaze until her eyes appeared panicked. Too intense, he told himself. Then Peter elbowed her wrists aside to collapse her onto his body, rolling them to land on top of her again.

“You’ve got good form,” he joked, slamming his hips forward so he struck deep, making her mouth open in a silent scream, “but you just take too goddamn long.”

“Show me how it’s done then, Best Man,” MJ shot back when she could get the words out.

With an eager grin, Peter pounded into her like he’d warned her he would. She didn’t try to trade places, or even voice a request to do so, too busy sucking in air each time he drove forward. Keeping himself on his elbows, he groped her breasts. Pinching her nipples made MJ speak his name in a high whine―“Peter”― that exhilarated him into a faster pace with his hips. He slid easily in and out of her slick channel, beginning to tremble with the feeling.

Meeting his wild thrusts, MJ reached up again, planting her palm against the headboard. Peter had to move one hand off her chest just to stroke down the underside of her arm. Her mouth quirked up in an unfamiliar expression; he realized what he’d done tickled her. To distract himself from wanting things he couldn’t, shouldn’t, have, Peter dropped his mouth to the center of her chest. He kissed her sternum before tracing his tongue over to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth. She let out a small scream and clenched fleetingly around his dick.

“Can you get off like this?” he mumbled, barely lifting his mouth from her, hips hastening.

MJ just nodded rapidly and closed her eyes. Maybe Peter watched her expression a second too long, because the question of whether she was imagining that he was Brad right now entered his mind. He still moved his hips, but he was numb until her free hand suddenly gripped his hair (fair, for her to wreck his carefully gelled down hair after his actions had made a mess of her braid). He almost laughed in relief and lowered his head to bite her nipple. He’d only seen the jerk for a few seconds, but Peter remembered Brad’s straight hair, shorter than his own. MJ could only be thinking of him, Peter, as her fingers loosened the curls he’d flattened with product to look more… what? Sophisticated or something, for the bridal party.

For these seconds, as her back arched, trapping his hand between them (not that he minded in the slightest), and MJ called out Peter’s name, she’d forgotten. Like he’d promised her. Fulfilling that promise was so monumental in his mind as his thrusts turned sloppy and he lost himself in her, that he nearly repeated the thought aloud. Luckily, he managed to turn it into a gravelly grunt, delivering forceful final thrusts that shook her beneath him; MJ’s arm had gone limp in her bliss, no longer bracing her against the headboard. Those arms folded around the back of his neck as he slowed to a stop and let himself―just for a minute―rest on top of her.

“My hair is totally fucked,” she murmured against his forehead.

Peter laughed weakly and kissed MJ’s neck, then, with a crease between his eyebrows, drew himself out of her.

“Not to mention my dress,” she sighed as he stumbled a bit on jellified legs into the bathroom to toss the condom.

He fumbled with hitching his boxers and dress pants up and swung the door partly shut for a minute to splash cool water on his face before confronting his expression. Dazed. But would the guests―would Ned and Betty―suspect sex dazed? His gaze shifted up to his hair. Oh right. Yeah, that was probably a giveaway. Peter gave fixing his hair a half-hearted attempt, then left the bathroom, stretching his arms back and his chest forward.

MJ’s gaze was waiting for him. Probably not waiting for the proudly (if accidentally) displayed flex of his stomach and arms, but it seemed like it went over well; her mouth fell open. It had to be retaliation when she raised her hips from the mattress and pushed her bunched up dress down her legs to lie there totally nude. Then, she sat up, stood, and strode past him into the bathroom, wearing nothing more than a I know exactly what I’m doing to you smirk. She shut the door and Peter had to mentally get a hold of himself so he wouldn’t walk straight into it like a lovesick idiot and break his nose.

He found his shirt on the floor, looking like a used tissue―it was riddled with an impossible number of creases. Peter sighed and went to the hall closet where hotels always tucked the iron and ironing board. The wrinkles came out easily and he hung it on the back of the chair at the neat, untouched desk, pacing unhurriedly as he waited for MJ to emerge from the bathroom. She was probably trying to salvage her braid. No point in throwing his shirt on until they were ready to go. Assuming she’d want to head back at the same time. Shit, he was overthinking this again.

Peter caught sight of MJ’s crumpled ball of an outfit as he turned and figured he might as well iron her dress while he had the stuff out. His gaze also fell on her lacy black underwear, which he did not approach, for fear of sneaking them into his pants pocket (she’d know―one look and she’d know). He assessed the fabric, letting it slip sweetly between his fingers, then laid it across the ironing board and draped a clean towel (also in the hall closet) on top to protect it from the iron.

Exiting the bathroom as casually as she’d entered it, MJ went first to the bed; she collected and stepped into her underwear. Which was not really dressed enough for Peter’s dick not to care. His jaw tensed. The moment she spun towards him, the situation (his situation) was diffused. She laughed.

“You’re ironing?”

Peter shrugged, continuing to smooth the iron across the towel.

“You were right about your dress. It was pretty fucked and I wanted you to feel good walking back in there.”

She appeared taken aback, but maybe in a good way, a surprised way, dropping her eyes to the floor and smiling to herself. When she glanced up again, she was trying to conceal the softened expression, rubbing a thumb over her eyebrow. Her hair looked good, he noticed. Not as tidy as it had been, but the escaped strands that waved around her face… they looked… well, then looked… Peter swallowed and quit staring.

“I steamed the dress at home and changed into it here,” she offered, crossing her arms over her naked chest. With her wide stance, she looked way more at ease than he felt. “The material’s kind of delicate, so you have to be caref―”

“I’m being careful,” Peter assured her. “My aunt taught me to iron, like, a decade ago.”

“Oh.”

“You’re surprised,” he noted with a grin.

He watched her back up and sit on the end of the bed.

“I’ve never had a man iron my clothes.” She snorted. “I would’ve been so shocked if Brad had ever…” MJ’s expression fell and her eyes flicked to his. “Is it ok if I say his name?”

Peter gave an awkward shrug and shifted the dress to iron the last foot or so. Too awkward. She sighed heavily.

“Peter, we should talk.”

“Hey,” he interrupted in a cheerful tone, “I’m just the Best Man and you’re a friend of the bride.”

“It’s too soon.” MJ laughed humourlessly. “It’s way too soon. Neither of us needs… this.”

Which instantly made him feel like he needed this. Because he’d forgotten everything with one glimpse of the woman in the dress like melted copper.

“I think this is just about done,” Peter said, shamelessly trying to divert her from speaking any harsher truths by drawing attention back to the dress. He set the iron aside, unplugged it, whisked away the towel. Everything was fine.

“I don’t mean this to be condescending,” she said, gently and absolutely not distracted, “but you might not know what it’s like to end a serious relationship. I don’t regret what you and I just did, but I know that, after ending things with Brad, having time to be by myself is vital, Peter. I don’t want you to feel―”

“I was engaged.”

The room was quiet, apart from the faint hiss of the cooling iron.

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed, though she hadn’t said anything. “I was engaged to my last serious girlfriend. Maybe you know Liz Allan?” He met her eye and MJ didn’t say anything. “She’s friends with Betty too. Obviously RSVPed ‘no’ to this particular occasion. It’s been more than a year since we were together, but… There were a lot of reasons.”

“For me and Brad too.” She sighed and he felt like it had come from his own lungs, releasing some tension. “Though it always feels like just one in the moment you break up.”

He nodded and glanced at the dress, then at her. MJ stood and walked over to him. Peter held her dress out to her, zipping it up along her side with intimate care as she got the straps to lie where she wanted them.

“You did an incredible job,” she said, inspecting the length of fabric once again draping her body. “Thank you.” The strength of his desire to tell her she deserved to be taken care of ached in his chest. “Come here,” MJ insisted. Peter was powerless.

With a wry smile, she lifted her hands to his hair, combing the sides between her fingers and pushing the front off his forehead.

“That’s better.”

He chuckled.

“Well, it couldn’t get any worse.”

They went back to the reception together, MJ holding the door open for him with an, “After you, Best Man.” She looked absolutely stunning and, if there were any Leeds cousins around, Peter didn’t notice them.

The two of them danced once or twice, then more when the less committed wedding guests headed to bed. Somehow, Peter and MJ weren’t among them and, with fewer partners in the room and on the floor, it was easy to drift together over and over. Eventually, they just stayed that way, exchanging calm smiles with Betty and Ned until the happy couple left too.

“I didn’t mean never,” MJ whispered when it was just them in the empty banquet hall.

The DJ was off the clock and they’d switched over to music from their combined playlists. Heart thudding, Peter held her closer.

“I know. I can wait.” After a minute, he added, “I’m pretty sure you’re what I was waiting for anyway.”

MJ leaned her head into his as he swayed them.

“You wanna go back to my room? We might as well sleep together in the less exciting sense and I’ll count today as one big exception.”

Peter grinned, leaning into her in turn and settling in for a little while longer.

“Come on, MJ. Give me one more slow dance.”