#does it count as cheating if your wife is dead and in your pocket? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yutahoes · 3 years

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Roses and Blood

pairing: private detective! Yuta Nakamoto x journalist! Y/N

word count: 4.4k words

genre: angst, a bit of smut, NOIR

summary : A high-profile cheating case just become a murder case. And the center of it all is the detective himself.

warnings : death, murder, blood, cigarettes, alcohol, sexual themes (masturbation) but not detailed, abuse, mentions of cheating, mentions of torture

This is my attempt to write a Noir AU, I’m not a fan of detective movies or this genre so this is the best that I can make up. This is heavily inspired by Secret’s Poison MV. 😁

taglist: @dimplehyunn @nominsgirl @jaesqueso @ahsshilee-me @readers-posts @justpeachygirl

written for Neo-City Noir Collab Call by @suh-insane

An extra cube of sugar in my cup of coffee. The only thing that changed in my everyday routine. The everyday bustling and hustling of the street outside didn’t change a bit. A typical day.

The calmness of the office was disturbed when the door opened. A strong scent of woman’s perfume hitting my nose. Roses. She smelled like roses.

The woman removed her coat, revealing a red button-down blouse hugging her figure. Blood. She reminds me of blood. A woman who might bring trouble.

Her heels click-clacking against the hardwood of my office and she slumped on the chair before I could remove my eyes from her. “I need your help.” She started, crossing her legs. “Detective Nakamoto.”

I leaned in on the table to assess her. An unreadable expression. She might be used to this. She took an envelope from her white handbag, sliding it on the table in front of me. "This is the file for Senator Hall." I opened the envelope which revealed a detailed copy of the said senator's information. "There had been threats to his life and I wanted to ask your help in finding who the mystery sender is."

There are different sized papers inside the envelope, letters cut from magazines that contain messages of threats. “Are you and the senator…?” Her lips curled up even before I could finish my sentence.

She handed a card, slipping it on the table. “I’m Y/N, Senator Hall’s publicist.” True enough, the card says that she is a journalist. “There are talks about how good you are, considering you found the mistress of Otto Holding’s chairman.” My jaw clenched. It’s not my best work but why did I get famous because of that? “Can I assure your help, Detective?”

I nodded with a smirk. She knew the business. Interesting. The woman placed the briefcase on the table, “This is just the first payment.” A briefcase full of money? This is serious business. She placed a gold-colored card above the briefcase with the letters ‘Fantasia’ written on it. “The senator usually comes to this club. He often gets the letters in this place.”

Fantasia? It’s a new high-end club that just opened for VIPs. This just narrowed down the list of potential suspects. They can either be VIPs or someone working in that club.

“I trust that you do your job discreetly,” She leaned on the table and I found myself staring at the low cut of her red blouse. “Mr. Yuta Nakamoto.” The way my name rolled on her tongue sent shivers down my spine. And as she left the office, her heels clicking on the floor, I was left with the scent of roses and an unhealthy amount of attraction for the senator’s publicist.

My fingers fiddled with the business card she handed.

Miss Y/N.

Trouble.

Will I get to see her again?

Fantasia is so posh, so high class, that security is so tight. It runs in an invite-only policy, the golden card that Miss Y/N handed. But even if you had the said invite, you needed to give them your personal information. Nothing bad will surely happen here.

The inside was not anything I imagined. The smell of alcohol and the blinding lights are the first thing noticeable inside, followed by jazz music playing. Girls in promiscuous clothes were serving drinks as another girl with flashy red clothes was singing on the stage. The color of rose and blood. And I was reminded of Ms. Y/N once again.

Senator. I’m here for a task.

After getting my drink from the bartender, I searched for a place where I could sit and surveyed the place. Before I approached a corner seat, I spotted the man I should be eyeing, seated on a velvet couch and staring at the girl on the stage. Based on the files, he has a wife and she’s very wealthy. Is this another case of a cheating husband? Then this case will be solved immediately.

The girl in the red dress singing earlier made her way to the crowd, stopping in front of the senator before giving him a smile and a wink. A smirk escaped my lips, case closed. I've been in this work for so long to know that his wife is giving him threats for having a girlfriend. A cliché love story.

The task was done even before I could begin so I drank a little to celebrate my small victory. Although the drink is expensive, I deserved this.

I'm busy minding my drink when the seat beside me gets occupied. "Hi." The same girl in the red dress singing on stage earlier. The senator's lover. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Does she keep track of the people here? "Want me to show you a good time?" What? But before I could say anything, she lightly pushed up her skirt to show me her thigh. What the hell is this club?

I turned around from her, facing the female bartender who was wiping the counter, and drank the contents of my glass in one gulp. I have to get out of here. The girl held my chest and I hastily stood up, feeling my head throbbed. What is happening to me? I felt my legs lose their strength as my stomach grumbled, sour liquid creeping up in my throat.

Immediately, I ran to the men's toilet to vomit everything in my stomach. The sour and bitter taste coming out of my mouth. Where did this come from? Is it the expensive drink? Am I not allowed to drink expensive scotch? Luxury life isn't really for me.

The moment I went out, wiping my mouth with my handkerchief, a surprise overtook me. A body was lying on the floor, a pool of blood by my feet. Turning it, I stumbled on my feet to see the senator as pale as a ghost. What the hell? I kneeled on the bloody floor, pumping his chest to at least save him but it's too late. He already lost a lot of blood. Shit, this is bad.

A stray bullet can be seen on the side of his body next to something glistening. An earring. Gold flower earring. The lingering smell of cigarettes, mint cigarettes. Before I could stand, the door opened followed by a scream of terror. This is really bad.

The door closed. I had to save myself. Even if it is the most questionable thing, I jumped out of the window and ran for my life. My hands were still bloody as well as my coat, the earring in my coat pocket. This is a first. What will happen to me now? There's only one person who saw me. They can't actually remember me, right?

It must be the distress, the lightheaded feeling of panic. A blinding car light made me stop in my tracks. This might be my death. I should have bought the fanciest drink there is.

"Detective Nakamoto?" Then the voice of an angel. I might be dead. "Are you alright?" The angel appears to wear a red shirt. The color of blood. Death. "What happened to you?" Her flesh feels warm, she's alive.

It is the distress, the panic, that I cling to her arm. The police sirens could be heard and I begged for her to take me out of the place.

The evening lights were blinding as she drove. Destination, unknown. Her phone rang and she accepted the call, Mrs. Hall. "My husband is dead." She stepped on the brakes immediately, putting her phone on handset before glancing at me.

I didn't hear what they were talking about but her stare at me got me ideas. She might have found out that I'm in the same club as him. When she put down the call, she only stared at me. "You killed him?"

"What? Of course not."

She raised an eyebrow, eyeing my bloody coat. "I swear I didn't. I saw him lying in his own blood when I left the restroom stall."

"Someone saw you." She opened the radio of her car, "And now, they're looking for you." The voice from the radio was talking about how the senator was found dead in the jazz club and that they're looking for a man in a coat. I hastily removed my coat, throwing it on the backseat of the car.

She laughed at that. "You think that's all, detective?" She showed her phone, a picture of me taken earlier in the club with a wanted sign on top. Shit! "I asked you to find who tried to kill him, not kill him."

"I swear I didn't," I shouted, putting my hands up. "I don't even own a gun and he was shot." I tried to think of other things I noticed at the scene of the crime. Come on Yuta, think. "It smells like cigarettes and I don't smoke."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "But why are you there?"

"You asked me to come there."

"I mean the restroom." She rolled her eyes. "If he was shot, why didn't you hear the gunfire? Why didn't you ask for help?"

I closed my eyes in frustration. Journalists really are inquisitive. "I was vomiting my drink and I don't know, I panicked. I thought I could save him." She started the car without a word and I just sat there, looking outside to see where we were going.

What will happen to me now? A wanted man. I can't return to my original life. Why am I in this mess? "I'm sorry. I believe you. I asked you for help and you were just trying to do your job." I nodded. At least she understands. "But for now, everyone knows you so I'll help you hide then maybe we can clear your name."

I have nothing to do but trust her. I need to clear my name. Why is my brain so blank now?

We stopped at a gas station to get some food. I’m pretty famished after vomiting everything but the moment I stepped inside the store, the news of the senator can be heard followed by a description of the person who killed him. The attendant stared at me before Y/N took his attention. This is bad.

Hastily, I made a beeline outside after cleaning my hands off the blood. Y/N is already outside with a lollipop in her mouth, leaning by her car. “I borrowed some clothes.” She should have said that when I was inside but where did she get those clothes? “You can change inside the car.”

Here? In the open? But she was already opening the door for me. The clothes were on the backseat of her car, a black shirt and jogger pants. And it’s better than having my bloody clothes so even if the shirt is a little tight, pants shorter, I have to wear this.

She eyed me from head to toe and for the first time, I felt exposed. A raise of an eyebrow followed by the lollipop removed from her mouth with a popping sound. "Do you have any place you can go?" Is there? They're probably at my apartment address by now. The police might be in my office. I shook my head and she smirked, gesturing to the car.

The city buildings are now gone, replaced by endless empty landscapes. It was a long drive. The news from the radio was replaced by jazz music, her phone kept ringing but she didn't mind it all. A blinding light changed the overall aura of the surroundings as she made a sharp turn heading to what seems like a motel. Why here of all places? It looks like a rundown. Is someone still living here?

I followed her to what seems like an endless hallway, the smell of cigarettes and weed in the air as the sounds of grunting and bed squeaking can be heard. She inserted a key on the last door to the right, opening it and switching the lights on. “Stay here for a while.” She whispered before casually entering the room. It smelled like roses. Her scent.

“Do you live here?” She shook her head, handing me a bottle of beer. Then why does she look so comfortable here? She removed her coat and casually throwing it to the couch in the middle of the room. Her arms filled with bruises and scars. “What happened?”

She shrugged, disappearing to another door and I took time to look around. A large window covered with dark curtains, bottles of beer on the floor under the table. I even saw underwear which made me immediately turn around. There was a sound of murmuring from inside the room, she might be on a call with someone.

I took my phone out of my coat pocket which revealed countless calls and even messages asking where I was. In annoyance, I just closed my phone and return it to the pocket where my fingers grazed at something sharp. The earring. The gold flower earring. It’s a woman.

“A woman killed him.” I immediately told Y/N when she went out of the room. “I’m certain of that.” She glanced at me in question. “Maybe his wife.”

“Mrs. Hall? She’s so kind.” She claimed. “Why would she do that?”

“Because he’s seeing someone else.” The statement obviously came as a surprise to her. Doesn’t she know? “Senator Hall is seeing another girl in that jazz club.” Her eyebrows were scrunched to focus on my words. Then it came. That girl. She was beside me before I took a shot of my drink. She might have put something in my drink. She listened as I narrate everything to her, no one can help me with this shithole but her. I need to clear my name and find who really killed the senator.

She bit her lip. “Do you really think she did it? The jazz singer?” I nodded. It’s only her or his wife. “I’m meeting Mrs. Hall tomorrow. I’ll try and look at this.” She rolled her eyes. “This is supposed to be your job.” I apologized. It really is. But my hands are tied now. I can’t do anything.

The death was all over the news. My face plastered on every newspaper and wanted poster. How quick are they to assume that I killed the senator? Should I just come clean and tell them that I don’t have a gun? That I don’t smoke?

With nothing to do, I laundry my bloody clothes and some of Y/N’s things. Lightly tidying up her motel room. Why would a girl like her live in a place like this?

And as I reached out from under the couch, I found out exactly why.

It’s almost midnight yet she isn’t back. Maybe she isn’t coming here tonight. So I settled to bed, removing the dirty shirt I have been wearing the whole day. The incessant pounding of the bed on the wall from the other room only made me annoyed and, well, disturbed. I can’t fucking sleep. The moans got louder, mattress squeaking that made it unable for me to focus on just sleeping. Fuck! I’m very well disturbed.

My hand slipped inside my pants, finger tracing the outline of my member while thinking of a certain girl in red lace underwear. Hand wrapped around the hard rod, I started stroking while creating soft moans along with the sound of sex next door. “Y/N,” I whispered and a gasp can be heard that made me open my eyes. She’s in the doorway, looking at me in surprise. Fuck! Immediately, I removed my hand from my pants then stood up from the bed that made me light-headed. “It’s not what it looked like. I…”

“Yuta,” she called. A sound that rang like a melody in my ears. There were tears in her eyes, a bruised lip, and a cut on her cheek. The reason why she’s staying in this motel room. Why that ring is under the couch. “I don’t want to come back to him anymore.” She choked on her tears.

Y/N’s cries got louder as I wrap my arms around her. “Then don’t come back to him,” I whispered. How long was this? Why isn’t she speaking up about this? Why is she hiding here? “I’ll protect you, Y/N.”

She stared right into my eyes. And I knew that very moment I shouldn't have let myself be taken by her good looks and smell. I realized that she was the kind of trouble I was looking for. The kind that would give my life a sense of purpose.

My hunches might be right seeing how there are bruises and scars all over her skin. How can a confident girl be this fucked up? Now, I have more reasons to clear my name. "When everything clears up, stay with me." I whispered then kissed her bare shoulder. My lips went to hers, gently kissing the bruises and cuts in her skin as if I could erase them. My arms trying to give her the warmth she needed.

When I woke up, she was nowhere in sight. Her car wasn’t outside as well, she must be off to work. The news is different now, something about the stocks dropping and the murder of another man in town. Maybe I can come outside now. But where should I go? There isn’t any diner or restaurant near the motel, even a store where I can buy food. I’ll have to wait for her to come home and wish that she brought food.

Luckily, Y/N did. Sushi. Along with the take-out foods is an envelope that contains papers inside. A picture is inside the brown file, the girl from the jazz club. “Is she the one you’re talking about?” I nodded. Although her clothes are different and with a lesser make-up on, she’s obviously that girl. There were details about her, her name and her address. “Do you think she killed the senator?”

“Why would she drug me if not?”

“That’s not enough evidence, Yuta.” She’s right. It really isn’t enough evidence to name her the suspect. Shit! Is there anything I can do to clear my name? “I’ll try and watch her, maybe I can get some answers.”

I moved closer to her, holding her in my arms. If we’re going to clear my name, she wouldn’t be doing this alone. She’s been through a lot. “I’ll come with you.” When she kissed my lips, I already knew her answer.

She was exactly that girl in the bar. My eyes can’t fool me. It’s a high possibility that she is the killer now that we’re watching her smoke a cigarette. All we need to do is get her alibi and see if she has a gun. But I'm positive that she is the killer. Why would she put poison in my drink? Why me?

Is it to frame me? She doesn't know me. Is it obvious that I'm a detective at first glance? Which came to my first question, why me?

That question still lingered in my mind. It's been a week since we saw the girl. Y/N would always leave in the morning and come back each night with new information about the Senator's case. She had been working closely with the lawyers and the police about the case, updating me of recent findings. "Can I come out now? Tell the police everything I know about the case?" I asked while brushing her hair, her head laying on my arm. "I have enough evidence."

"Evidence?"

"An earring," I whispered and she jolted to sit, looking at me surprised. "I saw an earring at the scene of the crime."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" She picked up her discarded clothes in a hurry. Why? What’s wrong? But before I could ask anything, she had already left.

The news of the senator’s death was once again on the headlines but this time, my face isn’t the one flashing but the jazz singer’s as the suspect. She admitted to the crime, saying that she had been threatening the senator since he promised that he’ll buy her out of the club. Fantasia club is now under a lot of criticism for prostitution and the unethical labor of the workers. A gun with a silencer was found in her possession, the weapon used for the crime.

My picture flashed on the screen, not as a suspect, but as the detective who solved all of this.

There’s only one thing to do now. Go back to my normal life.

Journalists all came to the office and asked me a lot of questions. The newspaper was filled with pictures of me, claiming that I’m the best detective in town and the phone kept ringing endlessly in the office. I smiled, it hadn’t been a typical day even if I didn’t put an extra cube of sugar in my coffee.

I was on a call with a journalist from the local newspaper when two uniformed personnel came inside my office. “Detective Nakamoto, we need your help.” And I knew, this is something serious.

Maybe it already happened two times. I have been to this place before. Thrice. I have been here thrice. The mansion of the Chairman of Otto Holdings. It was his wife who asked me to come here before. Now, the reason was him.

The officials informed me about the corpse, stabbed in the stomach then shot in the head. The killer wants him dead, I’m sure of that. I saw him a couple of times before and he is a tall man. If someone were to kill him by stabbing his stomach, that person might be close to him. Who would do this? His wife? But she’s already living abroad. His lover perhaps? Someone working for him?

“Reports said that he’s here with his daughter. We’re trying to locate her.” He had a daughter? They showed a plastic bag with the pieces of evidence found at the crime scene: strands of long hair, cigarette butt, a bullet. Familiar shreds of evidence.

They let me look around his office, the place polished in cleanliness except for little splotches of blood on the carpet. Old marks of blood. On one side of the wall were torture devices: floggers, leather whips, handcuffs, and wooden cane. Either he’s into serious sexual acts or he’s just a demon who loves torture.

A picture hanging on the wall took my attention. A happy family. The young-looking chairman was standing behind his estranged wife who looked really happy and youthful. On her lap is a young girl with such angelic features. Bright shining eyes. Then a familiar thing caught my attention.

The gold flower earring was shining on my hand. The same earring the little girl is wearing in the picture. Why do I feel like I’ve been chasing the wrong suspect all along? I drank some beer, seated by the edge of my desk when the door opened. Before I could tell that the office was closed for the day, a strong scent of a woman’s perfume hit my nose. Roses. The familiar smell of roses. Y/N.

She removed the black coat she had on, revealing a red wrap-around dress that shows some skin below her neckline and stops midthigh. Her hair has gotten shorter since the last time I saw her. Lips deep red. Her heels click-clacking against the hardwood of my office. A sheer lace thigh-high stocking completed her look.

Her hand slipped on my neck, leaning close to whisper in my ear “Long time no see, hotshot.” My heart beating wildly against my chest. Her smell. That addicting smell. Her lips went to mine. Her taste. A deadly combination of alcohol, cigarette, and mint. “I missed you, Yuta.” She whispered in that erotic voice, fingers heading south my shirt.

I took the glass of alcohol to relieve the parching of my throat, finishing the contents before holding her by the waist. “It’s you, isn’t it?” A smirk escaped her lips. “You killed the chairman.” I should have been aware the moment it smelled like roses in the chairman’s house. “You’re his daughter.” The same eyes as the girl in the picture. “Why…?”

My chest suddenly felt tight. Like someone just punched my heart. I gasped for air. Mouth burning as if on fire. She just sat on the chair, crossing her legs while watching me. “Because he promised mom that he’ll take care of me.” She flexed her fingers, checking her nails. “I hate people who don’t fulfill their promises.”

Promises. The same thing the jazz singer said about the senator. “You…” I coughed blood. “You also killed the senator.” It makes sense now. She came to me. She wanted me there. She pretended to help me. The earring. Her reaction. The taste of mint and cigarettes. “Why? Why me?” My legs feel numb that I fell on the floor.

“Isn’t it your fault why mom left my dad? Why I’m in hell because of him?” It wasn’t a husband. It was her dad. He really is a monster. “Think of this as a little gift. You’ve became famous. Everyone will know that you died.” Her fingers glide on the edge of the desk, placing a small white pill beside the glass. “They just wouldn’t know how.”

I called for her name but she just stared at me with an evil look in her eyes. “I sincerely liked you, Yuta. I even believed that we could be together.”

“We can.” But every word felt like a thorn in my chest. “I love you.”

The corner of her lips curled up, kneeling beside me. “But you’re also like them. Promising things and not actually doing it.” I grasp her arm, words not coming out of my mouth. She took her phone. “Mrs. Hall, the work is done.” She stared right into me with cold eyes. “Detective Nakamoto is gone.”

Her lips were as red as rose as she smirked at me. Her dress, red. The color of blood.

The memory of when I first saw her came to me. The same smell of roses. The gold flower earrings on her ears. The same color as blood telling me that she’s bad news.

I should have listened.

But it’s too late.

She is indeed trouble.

The kind of trouble that will be the death of me.

Like a sweet poison. She’s a poison. Addicting. Deadly.

And then everything went black.

#neo city noir collab #yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta angst #yuta nakamoto angst #nakamoto yuta angst #detective yuta #yuta au #nakamoto yuta au #yuta nakamoto au

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ezrasarm · 4 years

Text

Only You

Pairing: Frankie Morales x demi fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Frankie stands up for you when Tom acts out of line.

Warnings: Conflict, Tom being a dick, swearing, ✨protective✨ Frankie, fluff

A/N: There seemed to be some interest in a continuation of More Than Friends and a thought popped into my head so here it is! This is set an undefined period of time after More Than Friends. If you would like to learn more about demisexuality there are some wonderful resources here at demisexuality.org and my inbox is always open if you’re curious …or you have HC ideas ...or just want to scream. AH! I almost forgot to thank @dishonouringmycow for beta reading, helping me with ideas and the ‘plot a murder’ line!

[Masterlist]

“You’re a woman, right?” Tom says abruptly from across the table a few moments after the conversation seemed to have lulled itself to a pause. Taking a few moments to notice you were in fact the only apparent woman at the table for him to be addressing, you nodded.

“Last I checked, yeah.” You laugh, as Tom hunches over a little more to look down at his drink.

“Can I get an opinion on something?” He asks, glancing up at you as he resettled his grip on the bottle between his hands. You give Frankie, who was sat next to you in the booth with an arm looped around your shoulders a subtly confused glance to see if he knew what this was about only to get a shrug in return.

“I’ll try my best,” you say as he reaches for his phone and places it in front of you to swipe between two photos. You didn’t exactly know who they were of, but you recognized what was happening immediately. Tom had talked your ears off about his wife’s affair at this point. He was obsessed and while you, Frankie and the rest of the guys had tried to be supportive at first, it was becoming more and more of a concern to you all. You had thought you would bring it up with him tonight when you saw him but when you got to the bar and he seemed fine- cheerful even, you thought maybe he had made some progress. Maybe you didn’t need to intervene. That was until you looked down at the phone.

“Tom,” You sigh, looking between the pictures of two men you had never seen before. The ones you assumed he suspected his wife was cheating on him with. “I’m not Molly.” You say with a sympathetic look in your eye when you look up at him again.

“Yeah, yeah, but if you had to choose.“ He said, waving away your comment to swipe between the two photos for you again. To choose? Choose what? Which one seemed most likely to wear flip flops instead of sneakers? Which one you would lend a quarter for a shopping cart at the grocery store? Which one you’d choose to help you plot a murder? You knew what he meant but you didn’t see how your answer would help, or if you even had an answer to give.

“I don’t know, they’re both good-looking I guess.” You shrug.

“Just pick one.” He insists a little more forcefully than before. You knew he wasn’t always the happiest drunk but you had never seen him this way before and you weren’t a fan.

“I think there’s a lot more that goes into your wife’s decision to sleep with another man than appearances.” You interjected. You didn’t know Molly particularly well and you weren’t defending her but you knew Tom hadn’t been acting like much of a husband in recent years and who were you to blame if she went looking for affection elsewhere.

“You’re overcomplicating the question.” He groans in frustration. “Don’t worry about Frankie, he’s got thick skin. He knows you’re looking.” Looking? Looking at what exactly? The ceiling? The ground? The bottom of your glass in hopes that if you couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see you and you might be able to drop the subject? You’d hardly noticed the way your hand squeezed Frankie’s a little tighter under the table much less if it was reassurance for him or yourself but you could feel your patience running thinner as what had started out as mild irritation morphed into sheer discomfort with the situation.

“Tom, I know nothing about these people!” You scoff far more defensive than you had been before. You didn’t want to have to make up an answer but you were getting pretty darn close. You could understand aesthetically. Guy number one’s hair was nice to look at, guy number two had kind eyes, guy number one had a little bit of scruff that reminded you of Frankie, guy number two wore a Black Keys shirt that you liked. None of these things made you feel anything though. Not like Frankie did. But Frankie wasn’t the answer to the question Tom was pressing you with.

“No- Just at a glance, gut reaction, which one would you rather fuck?” He says and you’re not sure if your mouth drops from the shock of him asking you that point-blank or at the gall he would need to have had to ask you such a thing in front of your boyfriend but before you can even think to come up with an answer, Frankie steps in.

“Tom!” He snaps. “She doesn’t want to answer the question! Now back off.” He says quite firmly. Something you knew wasn’t easy for him given that he was a close friend and someone he looked up to. He thinks that should be the end of it but Tom is quick to try and wave it off as though Frankie was the one acting out of line.

“C’mon man! Let her speak for herself!“ He says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat a little more.

“Tom, you’re drunk, you’re pissed off and you’re hurting but that does not give you the right to harass my girlfriend!”

“Harass your girlfriend? All I did was ask her a question-”

“Her answer is not going to change what happened!” Frankie just shy of shouts, managing to turn a couple of heads from nearby tables. You realize now that the frustration that had been building up over Tom’s pity party for the past three months had been affecting Frankie as bad if not worse than it had you. “It’s not!” He reiterates a little quieter now as though trying to recover from his sudden outburst. “Your wife screwed another man. That fucking sucks but it’s not going to undo itself anytime soon. So I don’t know what you need to do to process that but you’ve gotta get this out of your system and figure out a game plan for what you’re gonna do next because you are making it harder and harder for us to feel sorry for you right now.” Frankie lets out a heavy sigh and a slight shake to his head when he brings the bottle that his grip had tightened on so much throughout the conversation that his knuckles had gone white, up to his lips.

You watch as Tom’s jaw ticks to the side and he smooths a hand over his face, a minuscule nod as his gaze drops to the table. The silence hangs thick in the air for what feels like an eon until Benny shoulders into the booth on the other side of you just about squishing you against Frankie who has since adopted a similar posture to Tom.

“Who died?” He asks, tossing you a goofy look that makes a smile tempt your lips as you shake your head and Will slides in across the table from you.

“No one.” You assure him as you graciously accept the fresh drink Will places in front of you. “Speaking of not dead... Anyone heard from Santiago recently? It’s been a while, he’s got me worried.” You say in an attempt to change the topic despite you and Frankie both knowing you had spoken to him hardly 24 hours ago. Your attention seems to slip away from the response though when Frankie’s hand squeezes your knee in a silent thank you and you let your face tug into a soft smile when you look up at him, content that you’ve successfully changed the topic and made it stick.

***

“I’m sorry,” You hear Frankie say from next to you as you make your way out the door armed with the excuse of having to work in the morning when in reality you could sense that you and Frankie both were getting a little tired of being social tonight.

“For what?” You ask, brows furrowed in confusion as the cool air hits you and you plunge your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

“I’m sorry he was being such a jerk to you in there.” Frankie clarifies and you find yourself stopping halfway across the slowly emptying paring lot to turn and face him.

“He’s going through a lot right now.” You reply carefully, your exasperation from earlier having worn off by now only to leave the pity you had felt when he let his gaze drop after Frankie had told him off.

“That’s not an excuse for his behaviour though.” Frankie insists and you nod.

“Maybe not.” You muse. “But I know how much he means to you and I don’t want to get between that.” You shrug. “He needs you.” You say. “He needed to hear that from you.” You clarify, reaching your hand out to lock your fingers in his. Knowing Frankie he’s likely beating himself up over snapping at him like that already when you’re sure his conscience should be clear. He did everything right. “Thank you for standing up for me.” You smile on a lighter note and watch as a similar expression brightens up his features.

“You know I’ve always got your back, right?” He asks and you nod in return, hardly realizing the way your feet have managed to shuffle you closer to him as he dips his head down to kiss you. You can just about feel his breath fanning your upper lip when-

Bonk

The bill of his cap collides with your eyebrow and you both break out laughing, your hand bracing you on his arm as you hunch over in hysterics and you wind up stumbling slightly with the few drinks in you before you bump into his chest which still shakes as he holds you to him in an attempt to keep you both from toppling over. You’ve hardly recovered before he musters a “Is this better?” and you glance up to see the salt-stained cap placed backwards on his head instead which only makes you burst out laughing again as you flip it around to place it backwards on your own head.

“I far prefer being able to do this anyway.” You hum through your persisting smile when you slide your hands up to tangle your fingers in his messy hair.

“This is a good look for you.” He teases, eyelids lazy with contentment as his hands grip your hips and tug you just a little closer to him.

“You’re a dork.” You beam with an amiable shake of your head “Let me kiss you.” You plea and he obliges.

You pick Frankie.

[Masterlist]

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 4 years

Text

give me all your poison, i’m immune to it.

summary: laurie finally fucking leaves.

warnings: cheating, age gap, smut. actual smut. all that usual daddy stuff.

word count: about 12,200

pairing: andy barber x reader

part 1 x part 2 x

It wasn’t like you could blame Laurie. She didn’t know that you were fucking toys on a webcam, making videos of your fingers buried in your cunt, and taking pictures dressed or undressed for her husband. She was innocent. She thought that you were just the babysitter and that her husband was still the loving, faithful man who would never do anything remotely distrustful.

Obviously, she was wrong, dead wrong, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Not given your current location. You just had to start thinking before you spoke. Admittedly, you normally didn’t talk to Laurie about your homework but sometimes, the guilt of being the worst person on the planet caused you to overcompensate. Your mouth moved, without your permission, at times.

You’d merely told her that you needed to interview someone in the criminal justice field for your English class. Stupidly—because you were stupid, that much was clear—you hadn’t anticipated that she would suggest Andy. Everyone was a lawyer in Salem, your grand plan had been to just ask your dad. Or to go out into the middle of the street and yell for one. It had never crossed your mind to ask Andy.

Before you could decline, she had already picked up her phone and dialed his number. Now, being involved with Andy was a tight rope walk. Had you claimed that you already had someone, she would have asked who, he would have then wondered the same thing. If you had to give a name, you would have only been able to give your boyfriend’s father. Andy would have found a way to see you in person, just to smack your ass bright red.

You were stuck. He was stuck, Laurie didn’t exactly give him the option of saying no. You weren’t trying to claim that either of you were passive victims in any of this. You were both equally-at-fault villains. You teased and he took the bait, he teased and you took the bait. It was never a question of whether one of you were going to be inappropriate, it was merely a matter of how and when.

In short, you were trying to say that yes, you were ashamed, but you were also an opportunist. That night, when he texted you, you dove straight into a whole act of innocence. You promised this was not your goal and that it was fine if he wanted to cancel on you. You played the boyfriend’s father card and he ignored that suggestion in favor of telling you when you be in his office and gave you some guidance on what he wanted to see you wearing.

He adored you in pink, that much remained and probably always would. So, on the day of the interview, you had breakfast plans with your boyfriend, and after confirming to him you would be there, everything kind of fell into place in your mind. Since Andy didn’t explicitly express his displeasure at the thought of you spending time with your father’s boyfriend, you could pretend to be clueless about it.

Which was what you did. You had breakfast with your boyfriend and let his father drive you to the office. They were coworkers, why would you suspect that they didn’t get along? Honestly, Andy could pin nothing on you, and you knew that would be the most frustrating aspect for him.

On top of that, you were in the car with the man he certainly couldn’t stand in a tiny, pink plaid skirt. You’d draped your bag and jacket over your legs, but Andy didn’t need to know that. All Andy needed to do was get possessive.

It had happened perfectly. You showed up at the same time as him, but he couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t throw a fit that you were in another man’s car, he had to wait. Until that hour that he had promised you a little before 10.

Your chauffeur of the day was a huge gossip, always had been. You certainly weren’t bored all morning waiting for Andy to be available to you. By the time he had texted you, you were completely caught up on all the office drama, a few things you were going to be bringing up to Andy, if only to play jealous and maybe get a little something out of it.

Go wait for me in my office. Now.

Great, you’d already had some office fantasies, this certainly wasn’t going to help.

You were sat in the chair in front of his desk, shifting uncomfortably. You hadn’t done a lot of sitting earlier, given your specific circumstances—the plug in your asshole and the vibrator in your pussy.

When he walked in, he didn’t look at you. He began removing his jacket and loosening his tie. All you could do was watch his arms and hands moving as he made his way to his chair.

You were so happy to see him, you didn’t notice how cold he was being—but you had been told about Andy’s coldness, by your gossiping mate, several times he’d said Andy was barely human. Maybe a robot. You hadn’t thought anything of it because he was just so perfect with you. “How was this morning? Did you win?”

He eyed you as he sat down across from you, rolling his sleeves up toward his elbows. “I only have an hour.”

He had told you that and it wasn’t like you had forgotten, but that was his clear way of telling you he didn’t want to talk about anything but the assignment. Then why were you filled with sex toys?

You looked down at your notebook. “Yeah, um—”

“What is this assignment for?”

You looked up but turned right back down when you saw how he was staring at you. Andy was an intense man, it was probably why you were so attracted to him, but that didn’t mean you weren’t a little scared of him. “We’re reading this book about a lawyer who’s, like, a villain, essentially, I guess, and so we’re talking to people who are what we would think of as, like, heroes…because we’re supposed to understand that not all villains start as villains and sometimes they don’t want different things than good people.”

He hummed.

You felt like you sounded like an idiot—did any of that make sense? You gently cleared your throat and turned down to the list of questions again. “Did you always want to be a lawyer?”

“No.”

Was he going to give more than just one word? After ten seconds, you figured not. You knew then that you were never going to tell Laurie anything ever again. “What else did you want to be?”

He sighed in thought. “There was a firefighter, a doctor, a photographer for a few minutes.”

“And history teacher,” you recalled from your car conversations. Oh, simpler times. “Do you like being a lawyer?”

“Mostly.”

About several questions and just as many short replies later, you were thinking maybe it was time to cut the interview. You could claim that you had everything you needed and just try to forget this whole tense exchange—but see, he must have sensed that you were about to pull away.

With a soft sigh, you set your pen back in your bag. “I think—”

“Take off your panties.”

You instantly looked at him, confused.

“Take them off,” he repeated.

Well, this wasn’t unexpected. You leaned over to set all your things on the floor next to your feet. As you sat back, you took one look back at the door.

“I locked it.”

You didn’t stand, worried the toys would move if you did—you were so wet because even though he was being a complete jerk, his voice still did awful things to you. You leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as you pulled your panties down.

His eyes trailed down your legs and he held his hand out.

You squirmed a little before you leaned forward and handed him your underwear. Your heart stopped when he brought them up to his nose, inhaling deeply. You had been going crazy thinking about him eating you out lately—it was such an intense craving, sometimes you debated calling him and talking him into another car meetup.

He brought them down below his desk, you assumed to hide them away in his pocket. “We don’t have that much longer to wait.”

Two and a half weeks. “Yeah…but still too long.”

“It is,” he agreed. “But I won’t fuck you here, not the first time, at least.”

“Then where?” you quizzed. Certainly not his bed that he shared with his wife.

Instead of answering, he looked at his cellphone off to his side. “Open your legs and pull up your skirt.”

You did so, patiently waiting as he tapped the screen on his phone. You remembered getting these in the mail. Your parents were starting to get suspicious of all the things you were receiving but the packages never had his name on them and to find out anything, they would need to parent. So, overall, weren’t worried.

“Have those toys been there all morning?”

“Yes.”

“Since our FaceTime this morning when you let me see you put them in?”

“That’s what I said.”

“So, you didn’t take them out to fuck your boyfriend?”

You scoffed. “You jealous, daddy?”

“Once you’re on my cock, you’re never going anywhere else, so no, I’m not jealous. I just want to know.”

“Nope. Didn’t fuck him. Just didn’t want to drive myself over here.” You shrugged. “Not a big deal, I still hang out with him. He’s still my boyfriend.”

“Change that,” he said, but you could tell he didn’t mean it.

You snorted. “Leave your fucking wife.”

He arched an eyebrow at you. “I don’t fuck my wife.”

You shrugged. “I don’t fuck my boyfriend…often.”

“You don’t think he’s gonna notice that your pussy is getting harder and harder to fill and satisfy?”

You shrugged.

“How does he fuck you?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I wanna know. Start from the beginning. Does he ask you? Does he tell you?”

You averted your gaze to the desk between you and stopped to think about it. “I guess…he just touches me.”

“And how does he touch you?”

“Usually my waist or my hips. He kisses me, and sometimes he’ll hug me, walk me to the bed.”

“And does he undress you?”

“I think I mostly undress myself. I don’t care to let him do it.”

“Then?”

Your hand came up to your necklace. It was this small chain with a star charm—Andy had given it to you a while back. It had become a nervous habit of yours to toy with it. “Um…I don’t know. If I’m not wet enough, he watches me finger myself until I am.”

“Why doesn’t he do it?”

You shrugged. “I just never ask him to.”

“Why not? You have no problems telling me what you want.”

“Because I know you’ll make it feel good. He tried once…he just wasn’t…that good. He fucking scratched me.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, baby girl, that’s what happens when you fuck boys.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that once or twice.” A million times by now, you were sure.

“Does he ever go down on you?”

“He’s tried…I just…don’t like it.”

“Yeah? You were nearly crying last night, telling me you can’t wait for me to eat your pussy. You’ve been obsessed with it for nearly the past two weeks.”

“I don’t like him to do it,” you clarified. “I don’t trust him a lot.”

“You trust me?”

He sounded so surprised, you finally looked at him. His eyes were on your face, so stormy and blue. You shrugged and muttered, “yeah.” Why else would you be doing this?

“Then?” he pressed.

You looked away again, too embarrassed to say any of this and look him in the eye. “Um, then he fucks me.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah. Mostly, yeah.”

“Doesn’t make you beg for it?”

“No,” you snorted, “because I wouldn’t beg him.”

“Good; reserve that pathetic behavior.”

“All for you, daddy,” you promised, smirking.

“What else is for me, angel?”

You thought for a moment. “He doesn’t touch my ass.”

“You’ve never been fucked there?”

“Nope.”

He shifted, leaning further back in his chair. “Anything else?”

“I don’t suck his cock, I don’t ride him.”

“Is that so?”

“But I want to ride your cock, daddy. I want to right now.”

“I know, baby, I’ll let you one day.”

“What about today? Will you fuck my mouth?”

He sat up, trying to regain his composure as he cleared his throat. “Do you want me to?”

You nodded.

He stood and your eyes darted down to where his cock was, hard and so desperate for you. He made his way in front of you, setting his phone down once more.

You chanced a look at the screen. The two toys inside you were listed there on the menu screen of the app, ready to be turned on whenever he pleased. You looked up at him again.

“Does he make you come?”

“I fucking swear, Andy,” you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“What? You can ask me questions, but I can’t ask you questions?”

“He can, he’s capable…he doesn’t do so often.”

He nodded.

“Does your wife make you come?”

“I told you, we haven’t had sex in quite a while.”

“Since before this?”

He didn’t answer.

You nodded. “So, you’re a hypocrite.”

“And you’re being a brat, and you better watch yourself.” He started with his belt, but you kept your eyes on his. The zipper of his pants sounded and he reached in to pull out his cock. “Lean toward me and open your mouth.”

You did so, sure to keep your eyes on him. You didn’t flinch when you felt his tip against your tongue, and continued to hold his stare as he slid in.

His attention had moved to where his cock was, eyebrows pulled together, mouth dropped. His small, deep sounds were filling the room, making you so impossibly wet.

It was quickly too much for you to take and you were sure it wasn’t even half of him, but when you gagged after he touched the back of your throat, you opened your mouth again, wider. He looked impressed with your willingness, eagerness, and continued pulling out and pushing back in until your throat reacted around him over and over.

You saw that he reached off to the side where his phone was, but you still startled as you felt the toys vibrating inside you. Your eyes rolled back and you closed your lips around him, moaning.

That was when his hand found the back of your head. He just wanted to hold you where you were and let you get used to all the sensations.

The plug in your ass was at a much higher setting, Andy seemed to enjoy how sensitive you were there. The vibrator in your pussy had an extension that curved perfectly to touch your clit, it had been brushing against you just right all morning and you had been ready to explode if he wasn’t going to let you feel it.

He set the toys on lower settings so you could focus on him for a moment. When your eyes met his again, that was when he gently, slowly started to fuck your mouth. There was just something different about Andy’s cock. All those veins you could feel on your tongue, and he was so big and so hard, yet his skin was velvety smooth, you were consumed with thoughts of it inside you.

He tasted just the same as the others, but that was where the comparisons ended. Andy was not just a regular man. He was an important person, fucking your throat, completely in charge of you, your mouth, your body—and you would have it no other way. It made you feel important, that he had chosen you.

Your jaw was already sore, but you didn’t care. Your mouth felt stretched, your throat a little raw, but oh well. This man did not seem close and you weren’t going to do a single thing except sit there and take him. You would do this for the rest of the day if he wanted you to.

He played with the vibration settings then, searching for ways to make you moan around his cock. There was no pattern or method in the way he handled the toys, he was so caught up in his own pleasure that he couldn’t tease you even if he wanted.

You were nearly squirming out of the chair, whining, swallowing around him. When he knew you were coming, when your hips were moving, when your nails were sounding on the chair that you were gripping so tight, he pulled you down on his cock as far as you could go. This was how he silence the sounds frantically pouring out.

He wanted to savor this, he wanted to fuck your mouth until he was satisfied—and since you’d been teasing him for months and months, he had a lot of built-up frustration. He might have to keep you there all day, something he felt inclined to let you know. “Baby, you feel so damn good, I might need to stay in your mouth until my day is over.”

You were amused that he thought that you wouldn’t be into that. But of course, he had no idea how fucking beautiful you found him, and all the stupid shit you were willing to do for him. Not that you would be rushing to tell him. The way you looked at him, you could tell it gave him an inkling of an idea, because he turned from cocky to wrecked in a second.

“Are you wearing a bra?” That was the first time he pulled out completely, drool and his cum dripping down your chin. He began to pump his cock with a tight, fast fist.

“Yes.”

“Pull up your shirt,” he directed and you quickly did. “Pull down your bra.”

That was when you realized what he wanted. You hurriedly obliged, getting your bra as far out of the way as possible. Your breasts were exposed to him, nipples pebbling because it was so cold. You arched your chest up for him, silently begging for his cum.

He finished with a quiet groan, one hand holding him and the other gripping the desk, knuckles white, nails digging into the wood. His cum spilled out on your chest, he used his hold on himself to coat your nipples, and you shuddered at the feeling of his cock touching you there.

Breathless, he released his hold on himself and your eyes followed his cock. Even soft, he was so big. He leaned over and you sat back in the chair. He took the bra from your hands and set it back over your breasts.

He turned back to his phone and raised the vibration level again. Your body arched, your legs spread wide as he got on his knees before you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you to the edge of the chair.

“Like being covered in my cum?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered. You did like it, how his cum was cooling against your skin, spread by the material of your bra, kept there but hidden, no one would ever know.

“Want me to come on you again?”

You nodded quickly.

“I need to see you finish. Then, I’m gonna eat your pussy until I’m hard again.”

“Daddy,” you whined. That would be no problem. The orgasms Andy gave you were always good but when he watched, they were a million times better. You got off on watching him watch you. You liked knowing that he liked seeing your body, hearing you cry out for him, that he was addicted to the ideas of touching you, smelling you, tasting you.

“Are you close, angel?”

You nodded. “Yes, daddy.”

He leaned over, kissing your mound, and you crumbled into a million pieces. You had to press your hand over your mouth, worried someone would hear you without his cock muffling you. He watched in awe, your face, your mouth, your shaking body. He turned down, suppressing a groan when he saw your pussy pulsing around the toy, full, satisfied, overstimulated.

He pulled out the toy in your pussy as soon as your body relaxed against the chair, but let you keep the plug. The next second, his mouth was pressed against you and you were whimpering and shuddering, hands grasping his hair as your hips rolled forward for more attention.

But he grabbed you and held you down, which took the toy vibrating in your ass almost too deep. He kissed up and down your soaking slit, licking his lips instead of you, a smug glint in his eyes. You ached with need, you just wanted to feel his tongue. Ever since you’d felt it in the car, you dreamed of it, fantasized, it was rarely off your mind.

“Daddy, please,” you whispered.

“Need my mouth?”

“Yes, daddy. Need your mouth and your tongue. Need you to eat my pussy so fucking bad.”

“When she’s gone, I’m gonna eat your pussy every night.”

You liked the sound of that, but you were confused. How was that going to happen?

He let the tip of his tongue slide down, teasing your entrance before he licked back up. He began kissing you again, smirking at the frustrated noise you tried to quiet by closing your mouth. He took his fingers and spread your pussy wide open. Eyes on yours, he flicked his tongue over your clit so fast that it took your breath away. He got you so close to that edge, your entire body trembling, your attempted breaths short and shaking, before he stopped.

“Daddy,” you gasped. Not this, not now. You couldn’t take Andy’s brand of teasing.

“We need to discuss something first, princess. I want you to stay at the house.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” It probably wouldn’t get you any points, in fact, it would probably irritate the hell out of him that you were speaking to him like that, but that was what came out. But that was all you could think.

“Probably.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. That’s why I’m trying to get you to agree, while you’re not as stubborn, while you’re so distracted that you can’t think of consequences.”

“You’re an ass.”

“True, but I want to fuck you. I want to fall asleep next to you every night, buried in your pussy. Then, when we wake up, I want to fuck you again.”

“What about Jacob?”

“Guest room,” he explained.

It all made sense now. That was where he was intending to fuck you for the first time. You hummed, feigning insult. “I feel so special.”

“You should, I made the room up just for you.”

“You did?” you asked before you could talk to yourself about how dangerous that question was.

“Yes.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies that gave you, how your stomach was twisting, your heart was pounding, and your body abruptly felt hot. “Well, how can I say no to all that effort?”

“I suspect you will try to backtrack later,” he admitted.

He was probably right. “But since we already know that’s going to happen and you’re going to talk me out of it, why not just say yes now and let you make me come?”

“Good idea.”

You smiled a little. “Then my answer is yes.”

He didn’t say another word before he dove right back in. This time was different, there was more intent. He knew when to flick his tongue at your clit and when to run it through your folds, but more importantly, he knew just how to suck to make you see stars when you finished.

You were dizzy, breathless, and barely conscious when he stood up. His cock was hard again and you were once more ready for whatever he wanted from you. You sat up but stayed leaned on the chair, untrusting of your ability to stay upright on your own.

He stepped closer, hands grasping your hips to lift them from the chair. His cock was lined up with your pussy—as if he were going to fuck you, but you knew better—and your legs instinctively spread more. “Make me come, sweetheart.”

You set your hand over the head of his cock and pressed down until he was touching you, his fingers dug painfully into your skin. You wanted your arousal to wet his skin before you wrapped your hand around him and began pumping the length of his cock.

“Fuck, baby. You’re such a good girl, my fucking baby doll.”

Your eyes flit up to his. “You wanna come on my pussy, daddy?”

He stared down at you, body alarmingly tense. “I’d prefer to come inside your pussy, but I’ll settle this time.”

You moved faster, sensing both of you growing increasingly desperate. The noises coming from his open mouth were soft, low grunts and groans, but sometimes, these animalistic sounds that made you want to beg him to fuck you right there.

He must have seen that on your face because again, his hold on you tightened. “Don’t ask me to do that, I might not be able to stop myself.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“Well, you’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done fucking you. You want your boyfriend’s dad to carry you out?”

You were unbothered by his joke, but still voiced your displeasure for it. “You’re sick.”

His eyes fell shut and his hips started to thrust forward into your hand, the head of his cock pressing against you so slightly every now and then. “And you are going to be the fucking death of me.”

You felt no need for further discussion, sensing that he was just about there. He pulled your hips closer as he was coming, jaw set to quiet his moan, eyes still shut tight. One last jerk of his hips and his cum was streaking across your skin. You were buzzing, still sensitive from his lips and tongue and beard and when his cum touched certain parts of you, you thought you might come again.

He finally opened his eyes, admiring how he left you painted and soaking wet. He gently set you back down on the chair, hands rubbing over where he had been holding you so tight. “Keep your legs open.”

You did so because you too wanted to stare just a little longer. You liked the way his cum was slowly dripping down your skin, teasing just like him. You felt him at your calves and turned down, finding him sliding your underwear back on. You happily angled your hips up for him, welcoming his method of keeping you covered in his cum.

As the material was settled over your ass, staring right at you, he gave your pussy one last kiss.

You shivered and he stood up, redressing himself.

He leaned over to where his phone was set and stopped the vibrating plug. “Did you get everything you needed from me?”

You snorted.

His eyebrow arched. “I was referring to your assignment.”

“Sure.”

He sighed, sitting across from you again. “Come on, I tried.”

You shrugged. “I said sure.”

“But it’s in your tone.”

“You’re not super talkative, not a big deal.”

He looked exhausted. “What else could you possibly want to know?”

You shook your head. “Nothing that needs to be included in my assignment.”

He scoffed, turning down. “Close your legs and pull your skirt down. I have to get back to work.”

You did as he ordered, trying to regain feeling that you hadn’t known you lost in your legs. You packed your things away and turned up to him, shooting him a curious look when you saw him watching you.

“Soon,” he asserted.

You tried not to smile but failed so terribly that even he had to smile. “Yes. Soon.”

“Is he taking you home or back to your boyfriend’s house?”

“His place, I think, yeah. Then I’m gonna walk.”

He hummed, pleased by the thought of you having to stay covered in him for so long. “Kiss him before you go home.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Andy.”

“You better, baby, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“You’re sick.”

“Yeah, probably will be as long as you’re in my life.”

You knew that was true. “Back at you.”

He smirked. “Get outta here, call me when you’re in a bath.”

“You want me to wait until you’re home?”

He glanced at his phone and nodded. “I’ll be home early, around 4. Stay exactly the way you are until then. Understood?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“One last kiss, angel.”

You stood and excitedly leaned over his desk to kiss him. It was brief, mostly you pulled away in surprise at how wet his beard was. Scrunching your nose, you wiped your palms along your jaw.

He watched you, clearly amused.

You kissed the tip of his nose and without another word, practically pranced out of his office.

“You’ll call,” Laurie said. It didn’t sound like a question, but she was clearly asking, or more so begging.

“I promise.”

“I know a lot of tricks,” she insisted. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t think you’re great or that I don’t trust you, but I’m his mother. I just know more about him than anyone else.”

“I know,” you assured. “And I will call if I need help, I swear.”

“I’ve never been away from them,” she confided, frowning.

Andy was in the house, grabbing the last of Laurie’s things. You had wanted to get there before she left, knowing Laurie would feel much better talking to you directly, instead of through her husband.

“Well,” you began, awkwardly wringing your hands, “absence makes the heart grow fonder?”

She forced a smile. “We shall see, I suppose… I just feel like something terrible is about to happen.”

Your stomach twisted, there had to be something wrong with you, right? Someone shouldn’t be able to stare at someone, who had only ever been great to them, and lie about fucking their husband.

Your gaze averted to the packed car. It was running, had been for a while. Laurie was clearly anxious, dreading the idea of leaving her husband, her home, and mostly, her child. “Don’t think like that. Everything will be fine.”

“I know that, deep down.”

“I’ll take pictures,” you offered, turning back to her. That was her biggest source of sadness, knowing that she would miss out on some of Jacob’s life. The least you could do was give some of that back to her.

Her smile turned sincere. “I feel so guilty about leaving him. He’s so young.”

“Too young, I’m sure. No emotional trauma will result.”

She scoffed. “Well, if he ends up a murderer—”

“You can tell me I was wrong,” you finished for her.

She hugged you tight and you felt guilt flare up again. It had been coming and going all morning, it had nearly made you sick when you were getting dressed this morning. You chose a skirt because Andy loved you in them so much, knee-high socks, and a thin sweater, but absolutely no underwear. You were going to hell, that much you were sure of.

Andy walked out then, and things just slowed down. It was his eyes, what he wasn’t saying but what you knew he felt, that was enough to calm you down. This was wrong, yes, but your feelings were sincere. At least it wasn’t just some fling, he wasn’t going to do this with someone else, you weren’t going to go after another married man. This was you and him, it just was.

He met your panicked stare, a knowing look in his eyes. He knew you were what you were thinking, feeling, and as soon as Laurie was gone, he was going to do everything in his power to stop it. “Last bag.”

Laurie pulled back, watching her husband load the last suitcase into the backseat. Once he turned to her, she threw herself at him.

Andy was slow to react, too slow in your opinion, but you figured Laurie had become used to that by now. You figured you weren’t exactly the reason Andy had started pulling away, you were just a step in that path.

And cue jealousy. You realized you’d never watched them together, not like this. Andy wasn’t an overly affectionate man so save for the occasional quick kiss when he got home, nothing. You hadn’t experienced this ugly emotion in the pit of your stomach all the times before that, but then, the last time had to have been months before he started driving you home.

“I know I’m being ridiculous,” she stated.

Considering, via text the night before, how many times he promised to make you come, she was not being ridiculous. You stepped back a few feet to give them some space, turning away completely when she kissed him.

You rolled your eyes as yourself, turning your attention to the porch you were standing on. What had you been expecting? That was his wife, of course, he was going to kiss her. You didn’t look at them again until Laurie called out a goodbye to you. You smiled, waving as she ducked into her car.

“Thank you so much.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you responded, probably more to make yourself feel better than her. This was not ‘nothing’, however, what you were doing was terrible, unforgivable.

“Really, I’m sure you’ll get tired of them in a few days.”

“No, not Jacob.”

Andy glanced at you curiously, a look you completely ignored.

Laurie laughed, looking at him once more. “I’ll call when I get there.”

“Okay. Drive safe.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Bye, Y/N! Again, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Trust me, you don’t need to thank me.”

Andy rolled his eyes at you, but otherwise, you both kept appearances until she was down the street. The tension between you two was so strong that it became palpable outside. You knew that when you looked at him, it was done, there was no going back.

You turned to him first and then he turned to you. Arching an eyebrow, you began to step back toward the house, “Well, I should probably get started on this completely serious job.”

He nodded and made his way up the porch. “I agree. Go to your room—”

“My temporary room,” you interjected.

“And get on your bed—”

“My temporary bed.”

“And take off your—”

Your hand instantly pressed over his mouth. “Andy, seriously, none of this when Jacob is here. Okay?”

He leaned back, scoffing. “Jacob isn’t here.”

You rolled your eyes, gesturing into the living room. “I know he’s not here—”

“No, I sent him Derek’s house for the night. He wouldn’t let Laurie pack.”

“Oh.” So…then, oh. That meant that you two were alone and you had all night with him, and it was crystal clear how he wanted to spend that time. You also wanted the same thing; it was just that you hadn’t much time to prepare, mentally, physically. Maybe if you hadn’t fallen asleep last night instead of making videos with one of the toys, you would be a lot more confident.

“Do you want to see your room?”

“Yeah, okay.” You were insanely curious. He led the way up the stairs with you following closely.

Halfway there, he stopped as if he remembered something and turned back to you.

“What are you d—”

He cut you off with a kiss. His arms wrapped arms around you, pulling you into his chest. He’d never kissed you like this, so freely, so desperately. There had been the time in the car, fueled by lust and thrill. This wasn’t that. He held you and locked you in completely, one arm looped around the small of your back, the other around your shoulders, and he just kissed you. It was unhurried because he could finally get lost in you since no one was around, and forceful because there was no reason to stop. Nothing could stop this.

His beard was pricking your skin, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was starting to feel like home, much to your dismay. His tongue soothed your lips anytime the short, rough hairs scratched you there, which was increasingly often as the kiss turned from sweet and experimental to frenzied and disgustingly needy.

You hadn’t realized it was you that started asking for more and taking it without permission—it was you that brought your hands up to his face, you that took advantage of his opened mouth—not until he pulled away. Your hand came up to your lips, the only barrier you could think to put between you two before you tried to kiss him again. How were you ever going to stop now that Laurie was gone?

He smiled at you, rubbed his hand up and down your back. “You really are going to end up killing me, aren’t you?”

His hand closed around yours before you responded and he started guiding you upstairs with him. You continued to press your fingers to your lips, hoping they would stop tingling like you were some pathetic 13-year-old.

“Does she know? About the room?”

“Yeah. I told her it was a good idea…I get home late sometimes, and you need to be here early anyway. She agreed…she would agree with anything that got you away from your parents.”

“But not my daddy?” you teased.

He glanced back at you briefly, trying not to smile. “Can you not call me daddy when we’re talking about your actual dad?”

“As if that doesn’t turn you on more,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t,” he claimed.

You rolled your eyes. “So, she saw the room?”

“No,” he scoffed. “That would have been a dead giveaway. I just told her that I left it the way it was, and I’d let you do whatever you wanted to it.”

“Why didn’t you let me do whatever I wanted to it?”

Jacob’s room was the first room right at the start of the hall on the left. There was a small closet on the opposite side, the guest bathroom next to it. Andy and Laurie’s room was toward the end, the guest bedroom across from it. It seemed like a weird place for a guest room, it was probably an office before the Barber’s moved in, but Andy had taken the spacious room full of windows downstairs as his workspace.

Your heart was pounding with each step closer. You could tell he was nervous about something too; he was squeezing your hand so tight.

He pulled you in front of him a few feet in front of the door, one arm snaking around your waist, the other coming up to your jaw to tilt your head back. “Because you’re my gorgeous little girl and I wanted to spoil the hell out of you.”

You hummed. “You like spending money on me, that’s kinda sick.”

He arched an eyebrow. “On the list of all the things I want to do to you, it’s not even in the top 20.”

You smirked. “What’s number one?”

Trying to stop his smile, he rolled his eyes and kissed your forehead. “You’ll find out soon enough. Focus.” He reached for the door and you turned forward again.

Immediately, you were shocked by what was in front of you. Everything was so pink. There was so much—the huge bed covered in fluffy blankets and pillows, the dresser that had a boxed vibrator on top of it, the bedside tables, the lamps, the huge mirror over the dresser and then the one on the wall across the bed.

“Andy…”

He pulled your hair back on one side, leaning over to get a better look at your face. “What is it, princess?”

You stepped away from him, still in awe. No, this had to be a fever dream—he could not have done all of this for you! “This is too much…I can’t…”

“This isn’t even all of it.”

You turned back to find him looking rather amused. “What have you done?”

He shrugged. “Look around a bit. It’s your room, you know.”

You quickly leaned over the nearest bedside table and yanked open the drawer, it contained several boxes of small plugs, all soft pastel shades, or gold and bejeweled. Who needed this many? No one, but it was clear that nothing, in Andy’s mind, was too much for you.

You chose to ignore the locked chest at the end of the bed as you marched to the opposite bedside dresser. A pair of handcuffs, silk ties, and ropes—because evidently, he liked variety.

Next, the dresser caught your attention. Most drawers contained panties and bralettes in so many colors, save for the top drawer. Now, the top drawer, that was where things got interesting. Several questionable things were there but the most notable was the gag.

You picked it up, turning back to him with an arched eyebrow.

“Well, you’re not exactly quiet.”

You scoffed, turning back to toss the gag back in its place. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you, baby.”

You turned back, fully intending to tell him how lame you found that line. Instead, you noticed the closet. You stared at it for a mere second before you shot him a pleading look. No, not that.

“Maybe you should hold off on that.”

Oh, god. You rushed forward and yanked the door open, mouth instantly dropping. Color-coordinated, lace, leather, sheer, tiny, short—all beautiful lingerie that you fell in love with. “Andy.”

“It’s not a big—”

“When did you start doing all of this?”

“The morning after you said yes.”

Again, your stomach flipped. You were more than just flattered, you were elated, relieved. This wasn’t all in your head, this wasn’t a relationship that you completely built up on your own. No one had ever cared about you this much or put as much effort into you. “I don’t know what to say.”

He nodded you closer and held his out to you, waiting until you made your way to him and took it in both of yours. “I only need to hear you say one thing.”

“Which is?”

His free hand came up to your face. “Do you want this, right now?”

You wanted to have sex with him, you knew that. But right now? That was a much more complex question to answer. This decision had the potential to change everything, and you’d just gotten closer to him. You didn’t want to lose that so quickly.

“I can wait,” he promised. “I’ve been waiting…I’ll wait until you know you’re ready.”

“I know I want this, I’m just…scared.”

“Scared? Of me?”

“No, not you… We can’t undo this, Andy.”

“I know.”

“And have you thought about what that means? Have you thought about if someone finds out—”

“No one is gonna find out.”

“Let’s say they do.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“If it does,” you repeated firmly. “Then what? Then this is just done, I never see you or hear from you again?”

“No. I am obsessed with you—”

“I like you,” you admitted. “I don’t want to fuck you and then just…stop.”

“That will not happen.”

You rolled your eyes. “You say that, but—”

“I mean it. I don’t want to alarm you, baby doll, but did you think you had a choice? Did you think that I was ever going to stop trying to get you to say yes to this?”

You scoffed. “No, but what if I hadn’t?”

He let his hands slide down until they reached your hips, smirking at the way you shivered. He spun you around, arms circling your waist, mouth level with your ear. “I would have taken you.”

You shook your head. “No, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he promised. “Dead serious. I would have brought you back here,” he started moving you toward the side of the bed, “I would have tied you up, gagged you—”

“Stop it,” you halfheartedly scolded. “That’s not funny.”

“No, that’s desperation, and I am very desperate for you.” He pressed himself against you. “Can you feel how desperate, baby girl?”

You could feel his cock against you—this was happening. You wanted it, he wanted it, and neither of you were strong enough to think about the consequences anymore.

He twirled you back to him, taking your arms in his hands. “Say yes.”

“Yes,” you replied instantly.

He indelicately shoved you onto the bed and you gasped a little, then he was over you in a second. His forearms pressed to the bed at either side of your head, his hips pressing down on your thighs, the heat from his body threatening to burn you. “What’s my name, princess?”

“Daddy.”

He hummed. “Don’t make me remind you again.”

You nodded.

He took that time to stare at your body, your weak, completely pliant body. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You should fuck me.”

He glanced up at you, curious to see how much further you were going to go.

“You should fuck your little girl, daddy.”

His eyes darkened—a guilty pleasure he had. A reminder that you were so little compared to him, not in physical size, but in every way. That was why he was your daddy. It got him off knowing how happily you admitted your submission to him.

At first, you weren’t into it as much as him—only when you were unfathomably horny. You came around after he talked about what it was that made you his little girl. It was because he adored you so god damn much. It was because he would do anything for you, anything to touch you, taste you, fuck you—all you had to do was ask, he’d give you the world. It was because you belonged to him, and he would certainly make you happy if you let him. Despite its meaning, its actual definition, it made you feel powerful, in control.

Yes, maybe you were little. Maybe Andy was big—huge, his presence, his reputation, even his name, but he wanted you. He felt something for you. You made him weak, you made him feel desire he’d never felt, not for his wife, not for anyone. You made his life exciting again, you reminded him what lust, infatuation, mind-numbing need, and aching, burning passion felt like.

“Oh, my little girl?” he teased, not bothering to hide how happy he was. “You gonna be my good little girl today?”

You nodded.

He stood up then, pulling his shirt off. He tried to hide his smirk as you rose onto your elbows, eyes trailing down his torso to where his hands were working his pants down. Once he was naked before you, he could see how badly you wanted his cock. No one else had ever been so desperate for him, he could see on your face just how badly you wanted him to ruin you.

He got on his knees before you, tsking when you went to sit up. “You wore what I wanted you to wear.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“I think that deserves a reward.” He draped one of your legs over his back at a time, then he shoved your skirt upward. He took your hands, linking his fingers between yours, and your heart started pounding.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your pussy and your back instantly arched. He did so again and again, sometimes pulling away completely to pay attention to your inner thighs. You had no idea how long he was teasing you for, you just knew that your pussy was soaking, you could smell your arousal, your skin burned everywhere that he touched you, your hips were shaking, squirming, bucking with need.

When he finally let his tongue slide along your folds, the breath was stolen right out of your lungs. Your body arched uncomfortably, a sob caught in your throat. You didn’t move due to the illogical fear that somehow this feeling would disappear.

His tongue moved through you loudly, only possible because he had gotten you so wet. Your cheeks burned at some of the sounds that filled the room, so filthy, so telling. He would moan and sigh and suck on your skin as he hummed, all to let you know he was enjoying every second of your pussy.

You didn’t want to hurt him, you were mindful of your heels and you didn’t press them into his back. You spread your thighs wider every time you were concerned you would close them on him. You couldn’t tear at the sheets or his hair because he was holding your hands. All that you were managing were small whimpers. You needed something, you needed to hold something, scream, do anything, but you couldn’t.

You started to shake the closer you got, your entire body just trembling with pure yearning. Andy’s eyes flickered up as he took your clit with his lips and sucked relentlessly. Your breaths were short and shaky, getting caught in your chest, barely making sound at all.

Still, most of the noise was from his mouth on your soaking core. He was so obscene about it, it was the only way he knew how to humiliate you, to remind you he was in charge. He needed you to know that he knew how badly you wanted him, there was no hiding. Not anymore, not in this room, not while the two of you were completely alone.

A scream that did not sound like your own tore from your throat when you were coming. Your hips bucked and all he did was make sure to keep sucking on your clit. He let you ride out your high, using his face until you fell limp against the bed.

Only, in typical Andy style, he didn’t stop. He continued to lick and suck at your skin greedily, as if you were his favorite fucking desert. Your body was spasming from the aftershocks every time he pressed his tongue up forcefully and then circled your clit, whimpers becoming much whinier, breathier. He didn’t care, he simply kept going, eyes trained on your face because he wanted to see you fall apart again.

You propped back up on your elbows again. You wanted to see his face, his eyes, but mostly, you wanted to watch his mouth working against your cunt. You could always anticipate what was going to happen, you knew when his beard would brush against you, you knew when he was going to lick or suck, you knew where because you could see it but that never prepared you for a second of how it felt.

You bit down on your lip as you felt his tongue run down, just barely pressing into your entrance. Fuck. “Daddy,” you gasped, surprised by how good it felt.

He groaned softly and you mewled for him. “You taste so good, princess.”

“Daddy, please make me come.”

He hummed. “Again?”

You nodded fast.

“You already want another one?” he teased. “You have the greediest pussy, baby.”

“You gonna be able to keep up with me, daddy?”

He scoffed. “I suppose we’ll see.”

Your body was trembling all over again as you felt his tongue dipping into you, curling to gather all that was dripping out of you from your first orgasm. Your hips erratically jerked up for more, silently pleading for him to make you finish. Of course, Andy kept you there for as long as he could.

He was watching the way your body moved as he kept sliding his tongue inside you. He found your taste sweet and soft, no surprise there, because you were his sweet and soft little girl that he was going to tear apart tonight until you were this greedy, pathetic little thing.

His lips slid up roughly, locating your clit in no time at all. When he pulled on your skin, sucking noisily, you started unraveling again. You writhed around on the bed, unable to get away from him with the back of your knees catching on his shoulders.

“Daddy,” you sobbed. “Fuck, daddy!”

He remained there, uncaring that you were wrecked, overstimulated. Through your whimpers and pleas, he continued focusing only on your clit, unrelenting, cruel, smug. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You just felt pressure, building and building in your core as the seconds ticked by. It was nothing short of agonizing, all the swipes of his tongue, his beard, his lips latched onto your clit. Every touch hurt, it was simply too much for you, but it was a burn that you loved every moment of.

Your body moved without permission from your brain. Your hips jumped off the bed, your back arched, your elbows dug into the mattress, you yanked your thighs further apart. You couldn’t take much more—your brain knew that, but your body just wanted and wanted.

Every touch from Andy sparked something in your brain, a part that needed him so deeply and then was utterly, thoroughly satisfied. It was addiction being fed, a match being lit, a shock just coursing through your body until you were coming once again.

After running his tongue up and down a few times, just to get the taste of you, he turned his head and began to kiss your thigh. He waited until you were limp on the mattress before switching legs. “Baby?”

You knew he called out to you, but your mind was all hazy and scattered. It took you several long moments before you could respond. “Yeah?”

“I’m starting to lose feeling in my hands.”

At that moment, you realized how tightly you were holding him. You yanked your hands away immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled, laying on his side on the bed next to you.

You remained on your back but turned your head to him. His jaw and beard were wet and you’d never seen him look as happy as he did right then.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Can I taste you, daddy?”

He touched your cheek and you nuzzled your face into his palm. “Not right now, baby girl. I’m gonna finish inside you because I have been waiting for months to be able to.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He gave you a look. “I’m taking it easy on you, don’t start getting mouthy.”

Finally, you turned onto your side. You just wanted to feel him, you pressed your palms to his chest and dragged them down his stomach. He was built like a fucking wall and that was one of the many reasons you felt safe with Andy. He was so strong, strong enough to hold you down and fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name.

He took your shoulder in his hand and pressed you down as he got back onto his feet. He returned to his position on his knees and you just barely stopped yourself from pleading with him not to eat you out again—you couldn’t take another one of those, but he would if you let him know that.

He started with your shoes, carefully, touching you like you were a vase, he slipped them off and let them noisily clatter to the floor. He grabbed the top of one of your socks and began kissing his way down until he pulled it off your foot. One last kiss was set to your ankle before he repeated his actions to your other leg.

You sat up for him and he stood from between your legs. He took the bottom of your sweater and you lifted your arms when he needed you to. For a moment, he just stared at you, then his eyes met yours as he took one of your breasts in his mouth.

You gasped and reached back, both hands pressed to the bed and fisting the sheets. You stared at one another as he sucked roughly enough to leave a mark, and then did so again to your other breast. He scattered wet kisses everywhere, your chest, down over your rib cage, your stomach, until he was at the hem of your skirt.

“You still good?”

“I just need you inside me, we’ve waited so long.”

He found the zipper on the side of your skirt and pulled it down slowly, almost like he was waiting for you to back out.

You used your elbows for balance and lifted your hips when he pulled the garment down.

He leaned over you, hands on the bed. “Just one more time,” he muttered. “I just need to hear it again.”

“I want you right now,” you promised. You weren’t nervous, not in the ways you thought you’d be. You saw a million and one promises in his eyes, you knew he wouldn’t let you down. Not here, not ever.

“Okay.” He kissed you briefly before settling in the bed. You watched his cock move as he laid flat on his back. He was hard, dripping with precum and your pussy was aching at the thought of being filled by him. “Come here.”

You rolled over onto your hands and knees to climb over him. You pressed his cock down to his stomach with your hand and set your soaking cunt along his shaft. You sighed, reveling in the feel of him.

His hands shot out to grab your hips as he sighed. “Fuck, baby.”

“Daddy, your cock feels so good.” You rolled your hips back and forth, wet noises, your whimpers, his heavy breaths, until he held you tight and made you stop. You set your hands to his stomach, eyes lingering on all the muscle there.

“Don’t tease, angel.”

“Or what?”

He gave you a warning look.

Smirking, you slid one hand and took his cock. With your gaze locked in his, you lined yourself up with him.

“Take it slow, baby.”

You were nervous now, worried about the pain a little, but mostly that you wouldn’t be able to take him all night like he so clearly intended. The head of his cock was against you and you had to press down hard to get him so slightly inside you. The immediate sting made you gasp.

“Fuck!” he hissed. His thumbs rubbed over your hip bones encouragingly. “You’re doing great, take your time.”

You took slow, measured breaths until it stopped hurting so much, then you took more of him. You ached, your skin burned, but you wouldn’t be satisfied until he was completely inside you.

“Fuck,” he repeated, gorgeous blue eyes staring up at you. He let one hand fall to press his fingertips to your clit.

You whimpered, “Daddy.”

“Come on, princess, just a little more. I can feel you dripping down my cock, you can take it.” He brushed his fingers back and forth over you, not intending to make you come, but to get you wetter.

You forced yourself down until you were sure you couldn’t take more, a scream catching in your throat at the immediate pain. You stopped to get used to the feel and he added more pressure, shorter, faster, more deliberate movements over your clit. Your head fell back as you felt that familiar coiling sensation. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re doing good,” he promised. “So good, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You hummed, nodding.

“Mhm, and you’re gonna keep going?”

“Yes, daddy.” You clamped your mouth shut, closed your eyes, and held your breath and you moved further down.

“Fuck, you have the tightest pussy.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I am sure that you can say that to all the girls.”

His voice was rough, deeper than usual, an indication of how much strain was being put on him to stay controlled, to not just yank you down and fuck you senseless. “It’s okay, baby doll, you’re almost there. Come on, a little more.”

Instead, you pulled back and then slid right back down. Your eyes rolled back, filling with hot tears at the blissful but sharp sensation.

His fingers pressed down unbearably into your hip bone. “Remember back when I was trying to get you to come back?”

You didn’t say anything because you knew he would finish speaking regardless. You focused on his cock, relishing the feel, the veins, the heat of his body, but also concerned because was he going to fit? You were too scared to look at your progress, so you blindly kept slipping down.

“And remember how you tried to say your boyfriend was bigger?”

“I don’t think I recall,” you managed.

“Sure,” he scoffed, “Because then you would have to admit what an insolent little brat you are.”

You laughed shortly, a shaky, breathy sound deep from your chest. In pain or not, Andy was still hilarious to push around, not that he much let you. You turned your attention down, finding that he was staring at the place you two were connected. “Oh, I’m insolent?”

He nodded once. “I’ll have to teach you some manners before summer’s over.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

He lifted his hand from your cunt and grabbed your jaw. Instead of letting him communicate whatever half-hearted threat he thought up, you took his wrist and pulled it up. When you could, when they were in your reach, you swallowed two of his fingers.

He groaned. “God damn it, I’m about to throw you down and fuck you so hard, sweetheart, until you’re crying and begging me to stop.”

You moaned loudly around his fingers. Was that his idea of a punishment?

“Don’t stop now, babe, come on.”

Against your better judgment, you looked. You saw that you were halfway down, yet felt so impossibly, completely full, and noticed that you were, in fact, dripping down his length. You made another sound, sucking on his fingers to distract you from the next sting as you deliberately went down, down, down until you were seated on his thighs.

He pulled his hand from your mouth to grasp your other hip. “Shit.”

Whimpering, you slid your hands upward until you were lying flat on his chest, trying to stay as still as possible until you accommodated his size. Your soft body was resting over his sculpted figure. Your breasts against his firm chest, your stomach against those abs, inner thighs pressed to the outsides of his. “Oh, god, daddy. You’re so fucking big.”

One hand came up to the back of your head and he held you there. “You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

You nodded a little.

His other arm looped around your back, pinning you down. He rocked his hips forward just once, just barely, but it brushed the right spot and made you mewl for him. “You okay?”

You nodded, nearly frantic. “I’m okay. Do it again, fuck me, daddy.”

“I’m gonna sit up, okay?”

You were confused by that but moved when he did, wrapping your legs around him when he was in reach. It widened your hips and he managed to get in a little deeper. You stared at him, touching his face, feeling over his cheekbones, his lips. How could one person be so beautiful? Part of you wanted to hate him. You never had a chance at saying no, not when there was a man that looked like this that wanted you the way he did.

“Are you still okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured.

He took your hips in his hand and pulled you off until you were just about at the head of his cock. Then, he thrust in and pulled you down, gaining a surprised but satisfied moan from you.

“Daddy, please,” you begged, “keep doing that.” You were so wet and your mind was so hazy, you were almost certain you would go insane with need before he made you come. How you two had even held out this long was a miracle.

He did as you asked, several more times, all slow and careful movements that were certainly not meant to make you come. You could see that enjoyment in his eyes as you stared at him, still admiring his face. He was teasing you, but were you honestly going to do anything about it? Well, you could whine a bit.

“Daddy,” you muttered, “I need to come. Please, please just fuck me.”

He hummed as if he hasn’t already made up his mind. “I don’t know…”

“Please, I’ll be so good all summer, I swear.”

He snorted. “I highly doubt your ability to be good for extended periods of time.”

“I will,” you insisted, voice weak, much to his amusement. “Daddy, I’ve wanted this for months. I can’t wait anymore, please.”

He gave you this searing, agonizingly slow kiss, all tongue and lips and teeth, and didn’t pull away until you were breathless and your lips were swollen.

Once more, he used his hold on your hips to control the pace and pressure. Each time you were brought back down on his cock, he was hitting this mind-numbing spot that always made you gasp and moan as more tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

You were still aching, but that was secondary to how badly you needed this man to make you finish. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to his shoulders. You didn’t much care for this dynamic—you, in this blissful place where he nearly had you crying and coming, but him, controlled and quiet.

You squeezed your cunt around him as he faltered in dragging you down his cock. And there it was. Your advantage. He continued to push and pull with his hold on your hips and when you could, you used your pussy to grip him tighter.

Your first orgasm happened unexpectedly. You were still aching, still stretched a little too much, you thought it would be possible, but one more forceful thrust of his hips and it was triggered. “Daddy, fuck, I’m coming!” Your nails pinched down on his skin, trying to get him closer, but also trying to get relief in any way you could.

“Yeah?” he cooed, still fucking into you with evident determination. The sounds coming from him were short, you felt them start in his chest, they would come out quiet—he still hadn’t lost that remarkable restraint, but he would. “My little girl’s gonna come?”

You nodded quickly, “daddy, please. Please let me come.”

“You can come, baby. You can come on daddy’s cock.”

You cried out sharply, frustrated by how close you were. It still felt out of your reach, impossible to get, but then it happened. It was one last hit to the spot inside you that no one else had ever found, your vision went white for several seconds, your entire body briefly tightened everywhere, and then you just exploded. His hold on you loosened, allowing you to take some of the lead and you used the next several minutes to keep your body moving, hips stuttering and your cunt struggling to take him.

You were shaking again, your entire body, fucked out, exhausted, but still wanting.

“Look at the mess you made, princess.”

You turned down, mindlessly obedient after what he’d just made you feel. His stomach was wet, the part of his cock that you could see was covered in you. You weren’t surprised, you felt like a dam had broken inside you.

“Did daddy make you feel good, baby?”

You looked back up at him and nodded.

“Do you need a minute?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I need you to come inside me.”

He tossed you down on the mattress, situating his body over you. He found leverage on his knees and discovered that he could fuck you sufficiently from this position. Relentlessly, his large hands keeping your lower half pinned to the mattress, his hips began snapping up. They were desperate, almost panicked. He was close and he needed to use you hard and fast.

Those soaking wet noises from your pussy grew louder as his hips jerked up, only covered by your screams. You latched onto him, arms locked around his shoulders, keeping him as close as humanly possible.

“Can you give daddy another orgasm?” he asked. “Hmm? I want to feel you coming when I do. Can you do that for me, beautiful?”

You were nodding without giving the question much thought. You would do, or at least try to do, anything that he asked. You started to angle your hips as he thrust in, clit brushing against some part of his skin. You were close around the same time he was, you noticed his shorter hip movements, more powerful snaps, a tighter grasp where you knew bruises would form by the time you woke up the next day.

He set his face in the bend of your neck, open lips against your shoulders. You felt all his heavy breaths, the grunts, the cursing.

Again, you pointedly clenched around his cock and his hips slowed for a mere second. When he was moving again, he was coming. You felt him spill into your cunt and with only a few more brushes against you, you were coming. Neither of you stopped moving despite having reached what you wanted, because, in reality, you both wanted so much more.

You both wanted seclusion, the house to yourselves, the whole summer vacation to do a whole lot more of this. All of it was yours and you knew there was a world outside, but right there with Andy, it seemed like nothing else existed. It was just moans and groans and cries, grabbing one another as hard as possible.

Once he rode out his high, he rolled over to let you on top once again. You laid yourself out flat on top of his body and he hugged you to him, scattering kisses on the top of your head. Abruptly, he took your jaw and angled your face so you were staring at him. “Tell me right now that you have never been fucked that good.”

“I haven’t,” you assured, “Never.” You meant it, there was no one who ever made you scream as much as Andy had. Now that you were coming back down to earth, your throat was raw, lips swollen, breasts still wet from his mouth, body covered in the thinnest layer of sweat.

He smirked. “Good girl.”

Your body was spent, exhaustion you had never felt before, but you still craved him, you still wanted to take. Andy’s cock remained buried inside you because he wanted you to know when he was ready for more, he wanted you fully anticipating when he was going to be fucking you again.

You felt him soft, felt his cum dripping out of your cunt. Then you felt him grow harder as his hands roamed every inch of your body for what could have been hours. He started with your ass, admiring the curve, then your waist for the same reason.

His hand grabbed a handful of your hair and he yanked your head back so far that your chest started to lift just a little. There, he took one of your nipples between the fingers of his opposite hand and squeezed.

Your mouth dropped and you released a shuddering breath. “Daddy.”

He moved onto the next, pinching just as roughly until a soft plea spilled from your mouth. Once you begged him—for nothing in particular, just a chanting of ‘please, please, please—he let you go and pulled you back down for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that made your toes curl and your body heat up.

He only pulled away because he was hard again. The dark, demanding look he gave you should have terrified you. He was going to reduce you to nothing, pull you apart, absolutely deconstruct everything you were, everything you knew.

“You ready for another round, sweetheart?” he didn’t give you the time to answer, instead, he rolled over yet again to lay you out beneath him. His cock still inside you, he created just enough space between the two of you that he could press his fingers down on your pussy, searching for your clit. When your mouth dropped, two fingers from his other hand were shoved inside until you were choking on them.

“After I’m done with you, you’re never going to be able to fuck another man,” he asserted. “Not your boyfriend, not anyone else. No one is going to give it to you as good as I am. No one else is gonna be this rough, this sick, not enough for how desperate and greedy you are. You, baby doll, are officially, completely mine.”

requests to be tagged: @onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @donutloverxo @kleohoneyao3 @evansislife @ilovetheeagles

#andy barber x reader #my writing

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mrslilyrogers · 4 years

Text

Betrayal Part 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s notes: Hello guys! For those who want to get tagged, please just message me in my ask. Without further ado, here is Part 5. Hope you’re all ready :D

Warnings: Cheating, Angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“Come on, pick up pick up,” Y/N said into the phone as she called Bucky. She looked at Lizzie who whimpered in her sleep, her fevered skin flushed. Immediately after her argument with him, she stormed to their room and locked the door. She didn’t care where he slept anymore. Whether he stayed on the couch, or went back to his mistress, that was all up to him. She wasn’t going to tolerate this, she couldn’t even if she wanted to. The fact that he couldn’t even face her, couldn’t even look her in the eye and tell her the truth was the tipping point. She married a coward. She thought they could fix this, but how could it be fixed when no one wanted to face the truth? She’s had enough. Her love wasn’t enough to fix this marriage and she would choose herself and her daughter before he drowned them both. She had finally decided, come tomorrow morning, she’d take Lizzie with her and figure out how they would go from there. She promised herself tomorrow she would be strong but tonight, tonight’s my time to grieve.

She couldn’t help her nagging suspicion to check downstairs to see if he had actually stayed. It wouldn’t have mattered either way but she wanted to know. Her padded footsteps across the dark, empty living room floor solidified her suspicion.

She married a coward.

She picked up their wedding photo on the table by the couch, hardly recognizing the two people madly in love staring back at her. Since when had they become strangers? She didn’t even know how long she’d been standing there, staring at the picture frame in her hands. All her dreams of a happy family with him crushed and all for what? She hoped it was worth it for him. She took a step back, leaving the frame facing down, not having the courage to look at it any longer and headed to the kitchen. How else would she grieve anyway without the help of her favorite bottle of wine?

At some point way past midnight, after consuming more than half the bottle while she tortured herself scrolling through their old pictures on her phone, she knew she had to call it a night. Everything looked better in the morning, she reminded herself as she dragged her feet up the stairs to check on Lizzie. She hoped to God it was true, how else would she survive?

The sight of Lizzie stopped her in her tracks. What the hell happened? Her skin was flushed as she shivered in her sleep, curling her body into a ball with her tiny hands clutched at the blanket. Y/N ran the few steps to her and immediately dropped the back of her hand on her forehead, feeling herself sober up as quickly as Lizzie’s heated skin shocked her. This was bad. This was really bad. She had a full blown fever in a span of a few hours. Was that even possible? She seemed fine, she said she was only tired, How could they have missed this? Her panicked mind moved before she even registered what she was doing, “Come on, pick up, pick up,” she begged into the phone before his voice sent her straight to voicemail. Damn it! She paced the room, calling Bucky again.

“Mommy? I don’t feel so good,” Lizzie croaked from her bed. Y/N rushed back to her, immediately tucking her phone back in her pocket as Lizzie vomited right where she was.

“Sorry,” she rasped, laying her head back on her pillow.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. Mommy’s gonna get you cleaned up, okay?” Y/N tried not to let her alarm show, her hands shaking when she changed her out of her soiled clothes.

“Baby, mommy’s gonna be right back, she’ll just get you medicine okay?”

When Lizzie just nodded, she quickly ran to their medicine cabinet to grab the thermometer and Children’s Tylenol. She added some washcloths too and a basin full of water, hoping she was doing the right thing. When the normally fussy Lizzie didn’t even complain about the taste of the medicine, she knew just how bad she felt. Worry and panic gnawed at her as she tried to remember how her mother used to treat her when she was sick. Wiping the tepid washcloth over Lizzie’s skin, she tried to think of her options. She should call Nat despite the late hour. Bruce should know what to do even though he always says he wasn’t that kind of doctor. Those PhDs had to count for something right? After placing the cloth on Lizzie’s forehead, she measured her temperature. Please don’t let it be too high, please don’t let it be too high. 102 °F. Shit.

She paced the room again and wrung her free hand as she waited for her best friend to answer her call but to no avail, she got redirected to voicemail. Shit, shit, shit. This time she called Bruce, not caring anymore that she’d be waking them up. When no one answered, Lizzie whimpered again.

“Mommy, I’m dizzy,”

Y/N took that as a bad sign and put her soothing hand on her child’s forehead. “I know, sweetheart. Does anything else hurt?”

She just shook her head and raised her blanket higher.

“Alright, baby. Rest first okay? Mommy will take care of you, I promise,”

She picked her phone up again, giving a quick text to Bucky to call her as soon as he could before calling Steve, somehow knowing he’d know what to do. She needed his calming authoritative nature while her mind had gone haywire. He has always been the one in their group to call for emergencies, it just came with his hero complex.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s going on?” Steve asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Steve!” He heard her frantic reply on the line, making him sit up on his bed. “I can’t contact Bucky, he isn’t home and Lizzie, she’s sick. She has a fever, she’s thrown up already and I--”

“Hold on, hold on, Y/N, calm down. Have you given her anything?”

“I just gave her Tylenol but she’s still burning up and I think she’s nauseous, I don’t know what to do. Nat hasn’t picked up so I couldn’t ask Bruce what else I could give her, I should bring her to the hospital right? What am I saying? I’m bringing her now,” Steve could hear her panicked footsteps while she gathered everything she needed.

“Y/N wait, where the hell is Bucky? Should I try looking for him now?” He asked, already putting his shoes on. Y/N barely heard him, checking her driver’s license in her purse and grabbing her car keys before remembering...

“Shit!”

“What?” Steve asked, his heart in his throat. What now?

“Steve, I’ve been drinking! I need to call you back, I have to book an Uber,”

“No. Stay where you are. I’ll come get you,” his calm voice ordered, belying the anger he felt inside. If Bucky wasn’t already dead, he’d be sure to kill the jerk himself.

_______________________________________________________________________

Bucky woke up with a splitting headache as he stretched his sore muscles from the odd angle he fell asleep in. His bent legs burning from squeezing himself into the small couch of his office. He sat up, groaning, while he massaged the tense muscles of his neck. He had been so mad after receiving that text from Celeste. It had been almost a week since he ended it with her, the day that Lizzie with her big and generous heart, proudly smiled at him when she thought she had solved his problem by making her uncle Steve go for her career day instead of him, her actual father. He still remembered it like a blow to the stomach, knocking the air right out of him. His daughter, so giving and thoughtful and he’d inadvertently pushed her away, pushed them away. It still sent chills to his spine to think of just how close he is of losing them. So instead of facing his wife last night, instead of admitting his mistake, he let his demons get the best of him and ran. Ran to drink himself into oblivion but her face was all he could see. The disappointment she felt for him etched in her features. She had lost hope and he knew it. What was he going to do? Drinking definitely wasn’t it. The more sensible part of his brain told him. But his whole life, that’s all he’s ever known. Rumlow’s laughing voice echoing in his head, “You’ll always get your answers at the end of a bottle,” Bucky cursed himself. He thought he’d buried that part of himself when he met Y/N, when she gave him her smile and her heart without a care of his past and he was selfish enough to take it. He should’ve known he’d fall back in, it’s just who you are. Just when he thought his night couldn’t get any worse, his phone vibrated from his pocket, a text from Celeste. Right, just what he needed. Of course, it was going to get worse.

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

So there he was almost at midnight, knocking at her apartment door, hoping he’d get this over and done with fast enough. He really wasn’t in the mood for any of her theatrics, he just wanted it to be over. She opened her door slightly and flashed her seductive smile before revealing herself in her new form-fitting red lingerie. Bucky rolled his eyes and groaned. Why couldn’t she take the hint? It turned out she didn’t at all. She took his groan as a good sign and wrapped her arms around him.

“Missed you Bucky,” she pouted before she rose on her tiptoes to try and kiss his neck. Bucky immediately pushed her by the arms away from him.

“Stop, Celeste. That’s enough!” he barked at her.

“What the hell, Bucky!” she screamed back at him, indignant.

“We’re over. I already told you, so please just stop with your messages and your calls. You knew this wasn’t gonna last,” That was true. The moment she saw the ring on his finger and still pursued him, he made sure to let her understand that their relationship was never going to get any further from being physical, that was their arrangement.

“What we have is good, Bucky! How could you let this go?” She pleaded, launching herself at him again to change his mind, hoping that he’d remember just how much he loved her body and how she could make him forget.

“Stop!” Bucky said, grabbing her arms again to push her away. He didn’t know what the hell he saw in her now. He always thought they were on the same page, she thrived on the thrill and he needed an escape.

“So what’s your plan now? Go back to your boring wife and play house with your family?” She scoffed while Bucky stiffened, feeling his jaw tic.

“You’re a broken man, Bucky. You need me, I can help you.” She let her fingers trail his chest. Bucky’s eerily calm demeanor disguised the storm he felt brewing inside. He grabbed her hand in a bruising grip, his voice menacingly low as he told her,

“Don’t you dare talk about my family like that. If you want to continue destroying your life, then go ahead, chase another married man for all I care. I am out.” He walked away from her, striding out the door while he felt his blood pump in his veins.

“I hate you, Bucky Barnes!” She screamed from the open doorway.

You and me both, he thought to himself. You and me both.

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He let out a sigh as he leaned back on the couch and massaged his temples, his dry throat working while the events of the night played on a loop in his head. What a fucking mess I made. His head pounded as shame filled him. He couldn’t go home and face Y/N right away, not while he was drunk and desperate for forgiveness. She didn’t deserve him drunkenly begging his apologies. He was fully planning on begging and groveling however way she wanted him to but not while his mind was muddled with alcohol. What was it she said again? Drinking and evading were what he was good at. It had hurt but she was right. Thankfully, he had just enough sense to crash in his office. He was a mess, but he was willing to do anything, anything to have his wife back and make her happy if she’d let him. He didn’t deserve her, he knew that too, but he was a selfish man. He needed her, she was the only woman he ever loved, the only one who made him feel right. Suddenly, his phone lit up from the coffee table in front of him, his brows furrowing when he saw Y/N and Steve’s missed calls. Dread formed at the pit of his stomach as his blood ran cold making him run as fast as he could out of his office.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Where is she?” Bucky’s voice boomed around the emergency waiting room while he ran straight to Steve. Steve’s jaw muscles clenched as he watched his friend run a hand through his disheveled hair, his skin pale, and his sweat and breath reeking of alcohol.

“Where the hell were you, Bucky?” Steve squared his shoulders, standing up. “Your daughter is sick! And your wife has been looking for you! What the hell has gotten into you lately?” he asked accusingly, his voice rising. Several heads in the room turned to them but Steve couldn’t care less. His friend was going to have a piece of his mind.

“I know, I know. I fell asleep at my office,” Bucky replied knowing how pathetic he sounded even to his own ears.

“Bullshit! Do you really expect anyone to believe that? God damn it, Bucky! Look at you!” Steve’s nostrils flared, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The normally restrained Steve with his easy smiles gone, in his place was a man on the brink of losing control. He thought of Bucky as a brother but the overwhelming urge to punch him was so strong he was considering it. If they were anywhere but at the hospital for Lizzie, he was sure to have done it already. Lizzie, the sweet little girl he loved as his niece, was sick while her dad looked like he just came from someone else’s bed. Steve had his doubts at first but looking at him now, he was sure.

“How could you do this to your family? You, of all people, should know better than this!” He jammed his index finger into Bucky’s chest making him stumble back but he remained silent and accepted everything his best friend said knowing he deserved it.

“What would’ve happened if I hadn’t answered my phone? Y/N almost drove Lizzie in her state of panic, even though she’d been drinking. Did you know that?” Steve’s gruff voice made Bucky’s eyes flash with alarm before he looked down, gritting his teeth. He could feel Steve crowd in on him, taunting him and he wished he’d just punch him, hurt him. He deserved it. He deserved worse.

“Steve,” Y/N’s quiet, assertive voice interrupted them. She laid her hand on Steve’s back to calm him down, making him step away from Bucky and let go of the huge breath he’d been holding.

“Lizzie’s asleep. She’s feeling better now. The results of the tests shouldn’t take long,” she informed both of them, her eyes avoiding Bucky’s.

“Steve, you should head home. I’m sorry I woke you up, I’m not even sure if this was even an emergency. I think I might’ve just panicked,” she tried to keep her voice light but her smile didn’t reach her eyes, her back remaining rigid.

“Hey, no. You did the right thing,” Steve reassured her, nodding. She gave him a small smile before hugging him.

“Thank you Steve, really. What would we have done without you?” Y/N spoke to his neck. He rubbed his hand along her back, willing her the strength and comfort she needed to face her husband.

“Don’t worry about it. Everything would be fine. Are you sure you want me to go?” He asked her gently.

“You’ve done enough. You should rest. I promise to text you how it goes,” she said encouragingly at him. He nodded at her before turning to look coldly at Bucky. He strode away from them not bothering to say goodbye to him but Bucky reached his hand out, grabbing his arm.

“Thank you Steve, for being here. I mean it.” His voice was raw with sincerity, trying to convey just how grateful he was to have a brother in him. Steve’s jaw tensed before he nodded once and pulled his arm out of Bucky’s grasp, leaving him and Y/N alone together.

“Y/N…” Bucky said as he faced her, guilt and shame written all over his face. She turned to face him finally, her expression blank, as she asked him in a calm and steady voice,

“Do you love her?”

Her resolve not at all betraying the riot inside her mind and heart, ignoring the pain that lodged itself deep in her chest. At last, she had the courage to ask what she wanted to know all long, what kept her awake at night when she thought of him and where he was, what he was doing with her. Did she know him the way she did? Did she run her fingers down his spine the way he liked? Did she kiss that soft spot behind his ear that made him shiver? Did she love him? Did he love her? It seemed all her questions ended and revolved around that. Funny how only three words were all it took to change their lives forever.

Bucky’s breath caught in his chest as he swallowed a lump in his throat. This was it, he thought, she was going to leave him.

“Y/N, please. I wasn’t—”

“Answer the question, Bucky. Stop treating me like I’m stupid. I deserve to know,” she cut him off in her eerily resolved voice, and raised her chin. She looked so brave and so regal and he was so so stupid to have taken her for granted, to have neglected her. He could never forgive himself.

“No, Y/N, no. God, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleaded frantically as he grabbed her hands in his, only to have her flinch and pull herself away harshly from him as if his touch burned her.

“Y/N please—” he tried again.

“No, no, don’t touch me,” she said, emotion finally seeping into her voice, her eyes brimming with tears that she would not let fall down. Not for him, never for him anymore.

“I don’t love her, Y/N. I love you. You’re the only one, please listen,” he tried again, his voice sounding pathetic to his own ears.

“Stop, Bucky. It doesn’t matter!” She said, her nostrils flaring, eyebrows drawn together. She huffed, regaining her control as she drew in long breaths, and shook her head, “It doesn’t matter,”

Bucky felt his world spin, fear pulsing in his veins as he stood frozen, while his wife told him there was nothing he could say or do that would matter anymore. He had made his choice, he had to lie in it. Still, while his mind understood and knew what she was saying, the heart was a treacherous thing, and his hoped and fought against all odds to have her listen, to get her back.

“Y/N, please. I love you. Let me explain, I’m begging—”

“Bucky, Stop. I can’t,” she shook her head, unable to finish, not knowing what to say as she took several steps back.

“I can’t even look at you right now. I just, I can’t,” she continued to shake her head, her thoughts and feelings stuck in her throat. She was disgusted with him, she couldn’t even stand him. And he just stood there, watching her longingly, his hands clenching at his sides when she started to walk away.

“Y/N wait… I don’t mean… Just, can I stay for Lizzie? Bring you guys home?”

Y/N had never heard him sound so small and unsure. She let out a breath she’d been holding, he was Lizzie’s father after all, no matter how he treated her, that wasn’t ever going to change. She nodded her head, knowing how much it would break her heart to have him still here but she couldn’t just think of herself, she had to think of her daughter, and she’d do anything for her.

“Thank you,” she heard his defeated voice say above the din as she put one step in front of the other, not once daring to look back at him while the sea of chatter and activity in the emergency room droned on, leaving a sorrowful man standing in the middle of the waiting room watching the one thing in his life he did right walk away. Her voice a constant echo in his mind, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter,”

Part 6

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A/N: Sorry to have misled you in the ending of Part 4! Hope you enjoyed this one and let me know what you think!

Tags: @wannabedaphne @pinkisokay @jgiiy @scarletnerd05 @93generation @i-ship-it-ironically @ilovesupersoldiers @joannie95 @xapham @hazel0clouds @foreveralone19588 @angstytoddd @nsfwsebbie @thisishowdynastiesareborn @learisa @bucky-fanfiction @guns-and-angels @mylife-love-and-other-things @iheartsebastianstan @tinystudentfirepurse @captainamerica-is-bae @cloudyskylines @chipilerendi @yesfanficsaremylife @mcueveryday @visiblethirdspace @afterlaughter27 @mr-robot-x @captainchrisstan @agusdoti @mrsfox79 @cha-lyn @xoxabs88xox @rinkashirikitateku @racing-against-the-sunset @thefridgeismybestie @inactivewhore @doyleme1103 @rynabarnesrogers @remilupin22 @winterboobear11 @marvelousbarnes @groovyhumantrashherring @sarcastic-and-cool@enchantedcruelsummer @princesskhy @unlikelygalaxygiver @atomicsoulcollecto@fandomsfallnomore @ritzintherabbithole @too-many-lanes @jxtr610

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #marvel fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #betrayal

1K notes · View notes

riversofmars · 4 years

Note

Ohhh how about.... 13 and river meeting bill (and 12 and nardole)

Omg, yes! I love writing Bill’s reaction to 13! I didn’t include 12 and Nardole I’m sorry to say, I hope that’s okay! Hope you like this <3

Ship: River/Thirteen

Word Count: 1100

Rating: T

To The Rescue

“I knew I was bound to bump into you again eventually!“ Bill exclaimed pushing open the doors to the TARDIS. Heather followed close behind, curiously looking around the flight deck.

“Not very safe to leave the box unlocked.“ She commented as they stepped further inside.

“Particularly when no-one is home.“ Bill tried her best to hide her disappointment as she looked around. Where was he? “Doctor?!“ She called, it was very unlike him not to be leaning over his console. “What’s this the new interior design about? Midlife crisis?“ She looked around, the TARDIS looked so unfamiliar. The yellow light was warm and inviting and yet eery in its own way.

“Does it usually look so… messy… in here?“ Heather asked looking around. Things had been knocked over, items scattered across the floor. Bill was starting to feel uneasy.

“Not really… looks like there as been a struggle or something… DOCTOR?“ She yelled into the silence.

“Guess this happens when you leave your front door unlocked, anything could wander in.“ Heather spoke softly and grabbed hold of her girlfriend’s arm. “Careful Bill…“

“Always getting himself into trouble, the old man…“ Bill shook her head to herself and grabbed a heavily looking book, not much in the way of weapons to be found.

“What are you going to do with that?“ Heather couldn’t help a little chuckle despite the tense situation.

“I’m a good throw, better than nothing…“ Bill reply as they ventured further into the TARDIS, following the trail of destruction. “Maybe that’s why we bumped into them. The TARDIS must have taken itself somewhere, where they could get help.“ She mused and Heather shushed her. There were voices up ahead. It was heard to make out what they were saying but they both sounded unfamiliar. They were certainly female. Where was the Doctor? “That’s the Doctor’s bedroom…“ Bill whispered to Heather as they snuck up to the door.

“You asked for this, Doctor…“ One of the voices said, sounding extremely amused and pleased with themselves. Bill and Heather exchanged anxious glances, they had to intervene. Clearly the Doctor was in trouble.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Bill knocked the door open, raising the book above her head.

“LET THE DOCTOR…!“ She started yelling but fell silent mid-sentence stunned by the scene in front of her. The Doctor certainly wasn’t here. Instead, a petite blonde yelped in surprise and shock at the sudden intrusion. She blushed scarlet and so did Bill. The blonde had her hands fastened to the headboard with handcuffs and was down to her underwear. A second woman was straddling her hips, her impressive curls flew through the air as she looked around. Her expression was less embarrassed and more annoyed at the interruption. Bill had the strangest feeling she knew her from somewhere.

“W-Who are you and what have you done with the Doctor.“ Bill stammered quickly looking away.

“BILL?“ The blonde exclaimed getting over the initial shock. “You’re alive?!“

“How do you…??“ Bill looked back to her. How did she know her name? She quickly looked away again, this was the most awkward situation she had ever been in.

“I thought you’d locked the door.“ The curly haired woman spoke up.

“No, I thought you had locked the door.“ The blonde shot back and the other groaned in annoyance:

“Doctor, anyone can just walk in!“ Bill followed the exchange confused, it was as if they were forgetting they were even there.

“Evidently!“ The blonde huffed. “River, can you just…“ She moved her hands against the handcuffs.

“Oh, right…“ The other woman - River - leaned forward and undid the handcuffs. River… suddenly Bill realised how she knew her.

“Hang on! I’ve seen a picture of you on the Doctor’s desk.“ She exclaimed. “You’re his wife!“ She couldn’t help but feel really affronted on the Doctor’s behalf. His wife was cheating on him in his own bed! But also, wasn’t she meant to be dead?

“Aww really?“ River looked around with a grin and then back to the blonde. “A picture on the desk? How very sentimental.“

“I thought you were never coming back.“ The blonde huffed. “Now, just get off, okay.“ She tried to wiggle out from under her. “Bill, I’m so sorry…“

“Are you friends of the Doctor’s?“ River asked getting off the bed at last. She looked to the two girls curiously.

“I’m Bill… and this is Heather.“ Bill answered slowly. River didn’t really seem to be bothered by her state of undress whereas the blonde scrambled into some clothes. Odd looking three-quarter length trousers and a rainbow t-shirt. “Sorry but�� where is the Doctor?“ Bill asked slowly.

“Ah, yeah, funny story…“ The blonde pipped up.

“You’ve known them before their last regeneration, haven’t you.“ River smirked clearly very amused as she perched on the side of the bed.

“Regeneration.“ Bill echoed confused.

“BILL!“ The blonde threw her arms around her in a bone crushing hug. “I can’t believe you’re alive!“ She looked her up and down and then to Heather. “You did this, didn’t you.“ She pulled her into the hug as well. “Remarkable!“ She stepped back, pulling what Bill immediately recognised as a sonic screwdriver from her pocket and scanned her. “This is amazing, LOVE this!“ She checked the readings with a wide grin.

“Hang on, you’re not…“ Bill stared back at her as the puzzle pieces were falling into place.

“You’ve changed more than I have, I’ll say.“ The Doctor grinned.

“I think I need to sit down…“ Bill mumbled, her head spinning. She looked back at the Doctor, she knew they were an alien but this was… River patted the bed next to her, feeling a little sorry for the girl who seemed rather overwhelmed with the information.

“Maybe not over there…“ The Doctor shot River a look.

“Okay, I just need a moment to compute all this…“ Bill ran her hand through her hair. “You’re really the Doctor? My sort of grandpa with the guitar and the ridiculous sunglasses and…“ She looked her up and down.

“They were sonic!“ The Doctor huffed, slightly offended and shot a glare at River who chuckled behind her.

“How about we all just leave the bedroom now.“ River suggested getting to her feet. “How about we go have some tea?“

“Maybe after you put some clothes on, dear?“ The Doctor pointed out and picked up a shirt from the floor to throw to her.

“The old man is no fun.“ River rolled her eyes playfully and gave Bill a wink.

“Are you okay, Bill?“ The Doctor asked carefully. She reached out for her hand. This clearly was a lot to process.

“Yeah, I mean… I just went from having one cool grandpa to having gay mums so, all in all, thoroughly exciting day.“ Bill burst into a grin. “It’s so good to see you, Doctor!“ She pulled her into a hug.

#This is so much fun #thank you!#river x thirteen #thirteen/river #river song #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #bill potts #heather #the pilot #doctor who #femslash #fluff #space wives #yowzah #humour #fanfiction

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 4 years

Text

Responses from the Opera Screencaps Captioning Quiz

Hello, everyone, and thank you for taking my quiz! I had SO MUCH fun reading your captions-- there were several times I literally started crying from laughing so hard at the amazingness of your work! With that in mind, the captions (which I will continue to add onto as more people take it):

(also, thank you to @dichterfuerstin for translating the German captions I got)

originally taken from: the Wiener Staatsoper’s 2020 production of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail, featuring Regula Mühlemann (center) as Blonde, Michael Laurenz (right) as Pedrillo, and an unnamed extra (left) as the Grim Reaper

Responses:

(Backstage warm-up) “ok so someone dropped the pulse”

me and my friends watching the fire burn after doing arson

Introducing the polycule to the parents

*boom* ... did...you guys hear that too?

Ma Signor !

Knight in whinging armour gone wrong, look at how he holds the egg. Polyamory with weird knight and death.

the father, son and the holy ghost are very gay

the gays meeting for brunch, 2021, colorized

chicken lady forces death and a very flamboyantly homosexual anthropomorphized pink bird to be parents of her egg (they dont want to be)

That’s just me and my friends on our night out (before covid rip)-- closest

A Good Friday night

good omens (2019)

["the pocket guide to boy/girl/mischief" meme] who's the boy and who's the mischief though????

Papageno and Papagena take their first-born egg trick-or-treating

Angry Birds - The Musical. A pig stole an egg and the bird unites with death to take revenge.

I love my bird wife

Someone got murdered during the funky chicken dance

throuple murders child and steals sibling of said child

When you and your friends have widely different tastes in literature

angel leading twink to his rightful place (hell)

draco malfoy from a very potter musical and a death eater are very much in the wrong show

What have I gotten myself into

Mlm/wlw solidarity but I’m not telling who is who

A woman stands with a pink dipshit with an egg and a reaper.

A bird-couple makes a pact with Death, sacrificing their first-born bird-child in order to bring good luck upon their unborn bird-baby

There are three types of people on Halloween:

Uh oh, I don’t think the mother hen is very happy about this...

oh god, they’ve invented seussical. It’s too early!

gay brunch

Three little maids from school are we

guys maybe if we dress gay enough we can distract everyone from the dead flapper bee in the back

those three killed a duck for her egg and are facing the conswquences.

Duck has egg with human, shocked and upset due to biological impossibility

When you bout to make a banging omelet so you invite your fellow queers

"No mortal man could pass that egg, but heaven shall repair your rectum."

originally taken from: the Salzburg Festival’s 2007 production of Hector Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini, featuring Maija Kovalevska (left) as Teresa Balducci, Laurent Naouri (center, in chimney) as Fieramosca, and Burkhard Fritz (right) as Benvenuto Cellini

Responses:

“In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.” - a midsummer night’s dream, act v scene 1

"ah yes a prime specimen. see here, right in this box is our one of a kind hob goblin that can be all yours for the low low price of your soul"

what, YOU don't have a special eavesdropping chimney window?

Hänsel und Gretel plotting against the witch

man takes a wrong turn and ends up in a chimney, catches his girlfriend cheating-- closest

when you end up third wheeling the straight couple

lady cheats on her leather jacket wearing scummy boyfriend and when he unexpectedly comes home she hides the lover in the chimney

A straight girl and her gay best friend gossip about stuff idk

Idk Shakespeare?

experimental couples therapy feat. the chimney mf from mary poppins

Area Couple Inadvertently Traps Santa-in-Training in Chimney as they Attempt Rooftop Flirting

Landlords laugh over student renter's misfortune

I never asked for this

Ay yo lil mama lemme whisper in your ear

voyeurist listens to sandy and Danny from grease

Psssst! Did you hear about Susan? You won’t believe it!

lady and the tramp meets beauty and the beast?

human trafficking

And for just $30 you too could have your own tiny brick cage!

Psst I’m wearing assless chaps under this dress

A couple tortures a man in a box.

It's all fun and games being stuck in a chimney until your greasy uncle steals your crush from right above you-- okay ngl this could actually be a great Don Pasquale concept

Taking eavesdropping to the next level

Will you two stop being lovey dovey and let me out? SUMMER LOVIN, HAPPENED SO FAST—

overhearing how people talk about you when they think they're alone puts you in the shithouse

Does he know we can see him?

dear god, i am so fucking hungry, yall please just do whatever heterosexuals do so i can go eat a popsicle

the human version of the trash man from sesame street is realizing that those two are going to fuck on his trash can

Tmw you capture an angry short dude and start trashtalking him where he can hear

Omg what if we kissed but we actually kissed the lil goblin man under us

"Remember, don't feed him after midnight"

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Leonardo Estevez (right, on fake horse) as Le Comte d’Oberthal

Responses:

“When I said we needed to drain the swamp I didn’t think there were people actually living there”

horse? what horse? no sir i dont know what horse youre referring to.

definitely don't have a napoleon complex going on

King stole La Scala‘s Lohengrin set

king breaks all his horses, has to use statue dragged by servants as transportation because he’s too kingly too walk

Emperor Söder and his subjects on a carnival procession

man on horse makes a big deal out of being on a horse

That’s not Zeffirelli because the horse is not alive

Who the fuck put a horse on the stage

isn't this that picture of napoleon on the horse

Area Count Thinks Citizens will be Intimidated by his Extremely Fake-looking Horse Statue-- closest

Everyone wants their turn on the giant plaster horse. Police are there to make sure everyone waits their turn.

Night out with the lads

Local royalty horrified at the state of his own damn kingdom

gay army fights different gay aesthetics-- hi author how does it feel to be the funniest fucking person on this quiz

Well at least I LOOK badass

ceasar if he hadn't gotten stabbed (colourised)

some soldiers jumped out of my kindergarten fairytale collection book to burn the don carlos flemish deputies at the stake

It’s just a model

Is that how you feel pulling up in your Honda Civic, Madge?

Someone rides a horse statue in public.

Just a normal party with the bros.

what is this, some kind of crossover episode?

Terribly sorry for all the fuss, it’s just, that is, my horse is afraid of neck ruffles. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he’s—whoaaa there—he said he was a french courtier in a past life and he’s allergic to English fashion

Horse seller, listen to me! I am riding into battle. I need your strongest horse. - We have horses at home. - The horses at home:

All hail Incitatus the king

we are not ripping off shakespeare’s henry viii. what the fuck. this is about lenny xi you uncultured swine, go drown in a pit of your own farts

oh god is that hamilton

Guy Removed From Art Museum For Sitting On Statue, more at eleven

Gay <3

Officer: This horse... is a virgin! Crowd: *cheers*

originally taken from: the Parma Verdi Festival’s 2017 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Stiffelio, featuring Maria Katzarava (left) as Lina and Luciano Ganci (right) as Stiffelio

Responses:

That One kid in class

its a mEntAL BreAkDowN *final countdown but kazoo*

*record scratch* yeah, that's me. you're probably wondering how I got here-- closest

Dad keeps monologuing, teenager is done

left: all of my concerned friends, right: my emo ass having a very public mental breakdown

the demons in the corner of my room when im just trying to sleep

lady gets mansplained to (do i need to say more, we've all been there)

It’s probably an area baritone telling off an area soprano-- sorry; it’s a tenor. soprano is right though.

That was a fake horse in the last photo right?

child comes out as gay to father at a particularly bad time

dissociation solves everything

I can't believe it's not butter

Honey we talked about this

My sleep paralysis demon is Crowley from supernatural

child has nightmare of boring job

When you start dating a singer but he won’t stop practicing at night

just an average day in a hetero marriage

what do i do my wife's having period cramps again

Stop having an existential crisis. It’s time to sing!

“No son of mine will kin Gomez Addams under MY roof”

Crowley stares into space while a teen has post nut clarity.

When he wont stop reciting jordan peterson monologues!!

Do you realize how effed you are?

Ugh, not this lecture again! Dad’s Practicing For His Experimental Indie Band Again

asking your parents for help with your own personal situation and them just ranting off about what they went through instead of helping in any way

Will he shut up already!

no one tell him he’s yelling in the wrong direction, no one tell him plnsbdjddhdj

this kid is tired of his dad listening to rush limbaugh (a man who claimed to be pro life but died anyway)

Me internally vs externally

Daddy issues

originally taken from: the Grand Théâtre de Genève’s 2020 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots, featuring several chorus members

Responses:

It’s the deadly eye Of Poogley-pie. Look away, look away, As you walk by, ‘Cause whoever looks right at it Surely will die. It’s a good thing you didn’t … You did? … Good-bye. - shel Silverstein

why the fuckith? my good sir, i beg of you to put your pants back on

I hate this itchy hat

Titanic Extras hear that they have to do extra hours

people waiting to board the titanic watch someone fall off the plank

pov: you’re a time traveler

guy in the flatcap is embarrassed by patriotism and pathos

No idea. For some reason Le Marseillaise comes to mind

Is this from Harry Potter?

disneyland main street usa workers on strike

local tries to hide behind Newsies cap to avoid unpleasant but inevitable conversations. meanwhile, some very fashionable ladies look on.

"Thank fuck, 2020 was just a dream after all"

“We gather here today because this bitch got exactly what she deserved” “heaven!” “Stfu Stephanie she’s going to hell and we all know it”-- not quite but this basically happens later on in the opera (and act) so yeah (except the person in question very much Did Not Deserve It)

dc movie filter on bridgerton

america?

looks like my history teacher paused the prohibition documentary again

Who still wears page boy hats bro?

Coming out to a room of people who Already Knew That

Bitches are relieved at some party.

Several drunk people exiting getting off the subway attempting to seem sober and rational but realizing they have somehow lost all of their possessions

How tf do I act natural in this situation-- closest

“do you think any of them noticed that I don’t know the pledge of allegiance”

It's too fucking hot outside for this outfit

when hyyh yoonkook ending just hits different

pedestrians watch in horror as the triangle shirtwaist factory burns and the workers throw themselves out of the windows from a dozen stories up

Starting the pledge of allegiance be like

He's having a heart attack oh no oh god oh fuck

originally taken from: if I remember correctly, the Semperoper Dresden’s 2018 semi-staging of Johann Strauss II’s Die Fledermaus, with Jonas Kaufmann as Gabriel von Eisenstein

Responses:

“William Shakespeare wrote: "To thine own self be true And it must follow, as the night the day Thou canst not then be false to any man" I believe this wise statement best applies to a woman A blonde woman Over the past three years she taught me And showed us all That being true to yourself never goes out of style Ladies and gentlemen Our valedictorian: Elle Woods!” - legally blonde the musical

eat ass, suck a dick, and sell drugs

woooooorrrrd

Finally Jonas has graduated! It’s about time, considering he’s an international star.

what my professors think they look like

Prof. Dr. Dr. When someone tells him there are more than two genders

'and since you've now graduated high school, you'll be entering college etc. blablabla' .........meanwhile, there's a whole row of graduates daring each other to chug the cheap vodka one of them has brought in gallons (yes that happened at my graduation, lol)

Jonas darling baby <3-- can’t argue with that

I just realized I have no idea what the actual fuck happens in an opera

ok this one is just what jonas kaufmann always wears you can't fool me.

"as valedictorian i will share with you the importance of loving the floor"

"Yes, mother, my art degree will make me money!"

Graduation speakers are out, singers are in

Senior year takes a new meaninbg

mansplainer professor explains the concept of feminism to women

Your Prof when you finally turn in that missing assignment be like

younger boris johnson (derogatory)

jonas kaufmann retires from opera and takes up motivational speaking

What a fine graduation evening we’re having today

-70 points for slytherin you all have no swag

A man with a college hat sings.

An obviously greying actor trying to play a university student in a low-budget porn parody

How it feels to graduate high school after being held back for years

East High is a place where teachers encouraged us to break the status quo and define ourselves as we choose. Where a jock can cook up a mean crème brûlée, and a brainiac can break it down on the dance floor-

I may not have been "cool" in high school, but in ten years you will all be working for me!

I finally got my GED!

that one guy in ur intro to cultural anthropology class who mansplains to the professor somehow fucking graduated

he;s just graduating and taking his speech too serously idk

Graduation speeches with that one dude who got held back 3 times

Smrt

originally taken from: the Metropolitan Opera’s 2011 staging of Gioachino Rossini’s Le Comte Ory with Joyce DiDonato (left) as Isolier, Diana Damrau (center) as Countess Adèle, and Juan Diego Florez (right) as Le Comte Ory (disguised as a hermit)

Responses:

There is something very [disturbing grunts] About polyamorous couples - polyamorous, Chris Fleming

jinkies

femme fatale (including to herself)

I’ll have a threesome soon !

Hot guy walks by, everyone swoons.

thirdwheeling friend does not realize the other two are having sex

When your girlfriend had „just two beers“ again

jesus is exasperated about having to drag the two ladies towards doing what he needs them to do instead of purple dramatically declaring suicidal intent over the smallest trivial matters and red being equally dramatic about declaring that it's not the way! stay alive! i love you!!

The throuple is thriving

Get off the milf

orgy

my last three braincells because im a horny slut

countess receives too much love and is confused on how to react

Rasputin's lesser known romp with a much older czarina of russia

Woman's soul leaves body

Jesus and co. are worried after another woman gets pregnant without having sex

bisexual looks at photos of celebrity couples

When you go to the party to socialize with new people but your weirdo friend group starts getting clingy

Jesus cumming

one of those weird church christmas pageants but everybody's drunk

What have I done

Hozier??????????

Jesus assfucks some purple lady being hugged.

This time, the chick IS the magnet

An affair/threesome gone awry (2019 colorized)

What do you mean they canceled GLOW?

“I TOLD you it was cashmere!”

Are you wearing the - - The Gucci dress? Yes I am.

It's not what it looks like!

jesus is fucking that one cheerleader who grew up to be a suburban mom with one (1) super cool dress she stole from her kid who is desperately hugging her middle begging for it back because the spring fling is coming up and jason might actually make eye contact with her for more than three seconds.

jesus and mary magdaline and some other bitch

I’m at a bar and these drunk girls are flirting with me, do I lOOK GAY?!

Shrek 5, jesus's return

c. 2025 First attempt of an Officer and his Wife with a Handmaiden (colourized)

just about all of these are close lol

originally taken from: the Bolshoi Theater’s 1993 staging of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s The Maid of Orléans, featuring Nina Rautio (left) as Joan of Arc and Vyacheslav Pochapsky (right) as Thibaut d’Arc

Responses:

Don’t look, I’m still pooping

yall, the audacity of this man. he fuckin talked to me

*i can't even tell you how wrong you are* *it would be insulting to ME*-- closest

Cospeto!

„No I’m not talking to you, you keep cracking bad jokes!“ - „But I got another!“

when you’re mad at him but he says he’ll buy you food if you cheer up

When I’m wallowing in self-pity but my friends won’t comfort me

right: wanna fuck ;) left: yeah, fuck OFF lmao

Her face is screaming “don’t tell me what to do”

Yeah I got nothing

gay man tries to hit on a lesbian bc he thinks she's a twink. she's not amused but she's watching this happen anyway

me tired of MET's bullshit and them organising a Netrebko, known blackface apologist, a recital during Black History Month. (sorry im still fucking salty lol)

"stop smiling at me like that I'm trying to pout over here"

"I got fleas, you got fleas... wanna fuck?"

I have the best idea!

Haha nooooo don’t hit me with that bat you’re so sexxyy

lesbian is bothered by dilf

Me trying to flirt

if call me by your name was hetero and set in america

how many more dad jokes can i take before i explode

So. You’ve gotten yourself in a little pickle again.

What if we fought in the Russian revolution together ✨???????... unless??

Two people flirt in a poor place of town/

"If you ask me what I've got under this dirty, shapeless tunic one more time I swear to god I will kick your rotting teeth in"

You look like ur gonna kill me but ok

Really? You again?

Okay, I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes, do you think it’s safe to—oh god, he’s still there.

Have you seen Godot?

she is tired of everyone’s shit. she has done so many derivatives it physically pains her to see a variable. dont test her. ur icarus rn.

idk pick better pictures-- I HAVE DIED THE SHEER AUDACITY AND HUBRIS I LOVE THIS

200% done with your crap

Homeless man has fucking legs of steel n is gonna show off his Russian dance moves

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2019 staging of Paul Dukas’ Ariane et Barbe-bleue, featuring Sophie Koch (right) as Ariane and I don’t remember who the person on the left is rip me

Responses:

The knight who wore this into battle sure was swaggy

dear god its hiddeous

Capitalism

Knight in shining armour gone even more wrong.

ghost contemplates the safety of spiky motorcycle helmet

„Stop! He feels bullied!“

'this is my newest take for jesus's crucifixion crown ...... what do you mean they already put him up'

That’s probably a really expensive magic helmet idk. IDK-- closest

Omg I love the adventure zone!

minesweeper (windows xp)

"Okay whatever you do don't touch the shiny spiky ball" "It's so shiny I wanna touch it"

Taking down the trash way too late

IT'S NOT A PHASE MOM

Darth Vader got stuck in the freezer.... again. Leia isn’t happy

Star Wars 2030

“And here is the very latest in motorcycle helmet trends” “Look, I only came to the mall for a pair of socks “

futuristic kkk

long-suffering jewelry store attendant really wants to retire

Put it down put it down put it down

“Hmm no you should see a doctor about that”

A weird ass crown is presented

The creation of sars-cov-2: an experimental Eurotrance nightclub art piece gone horribly wrong

How it feels to want something that u cant have

AND WE WILL CALL IT—SPIKE MAN actually do you think that’s too obvious?? Because of the—yeah, because of the spikes?? See, that’s what I’m worried about. I want it to be SCARY

I know it's risky but... lube me up

use the force luke.

that is a weird fleshlight

When you get an ugly gift and need to find a way to get rid of it, so your family member/friend offers to smash it

Touch the orb

originally taken from: the Opera Vlaanderen’s 2019 staging of Fromental Halévy’s La Juive, with Nicole Chevalier (left, with bottle) as Princess Eudoxie, Enea Scala (center, under table) as Prince Léopold, and Roy Cornelius Smith (right) as Éléazar

Responses:

When no one comes to your birthday party :(

fantastic, day 487 of mischief and they have yet to find my masterful hiding spot

i really wonder who he thinks he's playing footsie with

Marriage crisis. Reason sits under the table-- closest but not in the way you think (after all, the man under the table IS a tenor).

the last supper afterparty after jesus left

When you order the last supper on wish

espionage at the Politischer Rosenmontag

Probably the wrong opera but is that Leporello under the table

Now THIS is a Good Friday night

this was every birthday party i went to between the ages of 5 and 11

that awkward moment when you drop your fork under the table but when you re-emerge everyone else has left except one drunk lady and the guy trying to deal with her

After the last supper

Tfw you arrive to the dinner party too early and have to hide until a more fashionable hour

When the cishets aren’t home

waiter hides from customers

Nobody: My dog every time I’m eating:

what's left of the homies Jesus had dinner with

university chem lab experiment gone terribly wrong

I’ve been under the table FOR 30 MINUTES

Set your friends up by tossing them off under the table, they’ll think it’s each other n fall in luv

Someone hids under a table

"You're about to see an surreptitious-under-the-table-dick-sucking master at work"

5 yr old me trying to eat the desert under the table without my parents finding out be like:

They never invite me to their parties!

Just another girl’s night in

Oops! Didn’t notice you the table.

dionysus - bts (2019, colorized)

just a normal episode of eric andre (eric is the one under the table)

Just a normal day with the boys

Thievery

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Kate Aldrich (left, surrounded by women in white) as Fidès and John Osborn (center, looking like a Jesus doppelganger) as Jean de Leyde

Responses:

Hold up, is that Eggman above Jesus?

holy disco

Looks like Tannhäuser. Our lord and saviour Richard Wagner. Now I need to be saved from that.

catholicism

me defending pineapple on pizza (THANK YOU)

jesus but hes about to be abducted by the alien ufo above him

Emmmmmmm Heaven? Idk

Lord of the rings?

ewww christianity gross

"behold, I am Important"

"Seriously?? It's not ACTUALLY pyjama day? Fuck you guys!"

Jesus at the Disco

Jesus Finds The Molerat People Who Live Under Bethlehem

disco is heaven

Want to join my new religion?

the kkk

church christmas pageant where everyone's sober but it's based on the director's fever dream

Am I the only one who sees the giant demon? Just me? Okay...

“Oh god I think I’m starting my period”

A party is held with a priest in the middle

"Let's get this secret Vatican sex party rolling!"

The new avengers endgame set is looking great!!

You know, guys, I try not to be a bother but...I can’t help but feel like I missed a dress code memo for this wedding??? It’s cocktail, right??”

Jesus visits Hogwarts

I must really stink if no one will even come close to me

the extra ass funeral i DESERVE

star wars life day

A cult at it’s best-- closest

Shrek 5, Jesus is still there I guess

originally taken from: the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden’s 2013 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Les vêpres siciliennes, featuring Bryan Hymel (left, standing) as Henri, Lianna Haroutounian (center, kneeling in the black gown) as Duchess Hélène, and Erwin Schrott (kneeling to her right) as Jean Procida

Responses:

When the director’s like “great rehearsal guys, just a few notes before I let you go” but it’s already 9:13 and your mom’s waiting in the parking lot

loyalist of subjects

bow before your queen

They forgot to take down the stage boxes after the Vienna opera ball but the show must go on.

somebody forgot to book chairs for this funeral

Me sharing God’s (Hayley koyoko) word on the discord server

mass execution bc the oboe solo sucked ass-- closest

That’s too many black suits I can’t see shit

I can’t even tell what’s going on here

8th grade school assembly about how it's uncool to shit on the walls at school

let's all get fancy so we can go to the opera and sit on the stage (idk this one's hard lol)

"Yes i am a time traveller, now don't freak out"

Tfw you forget to pay your lighting bills

White guys make decisions that will benefit them and screw someone that’s not a white guy over-- OUCH but that is too real (although not really in context here)

dead man gives speech at his own funeral

brotus and the boys ??? last meeting before the stabbing

high society social function ends in mass murder-- right opera, wrong scene

Someone walks into the talent show stage with a dog

Black-dressed bitches worship a man.

Worst school assembly of all time

POV:You're the window in the classroom and someone said "its snowing"

When the conductor shows up fashionably late to the orchestra concert

That's what you get for choosing the cheapest ticket option, get back in the mud where you belong

theyre just trying to jump into a grave at a funeral leabe them alone this is normal

oh my god he really whipped his dick out in front of everyone, this is just like in 1776 guys, except some women are actually in the room this time,

A funeral, stop wearing so much black

I want to slap their bald heads like rice

originally taken from: the Teatro Real Madrid’s 2018 staging of Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, featuring Roberto Tagliavini (right) as Raimondo

Responses:

Crowd “haha!! Looks like someone missed the all-black memo!! Now it’s laugh-in-your-face time! / Guy on the floor (whispering to guy against wall): go, save yourself! I’ll hold them off...”

if i leave now i wont be a witness and can tell the police i had no idea

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Guy in the back pretends to help but is to far away to even know what’s going on.

priest walks in on beginning of an orgy, contemplated joining but is too scared-

when someone brings up capitalism but you’re just trying to play minecraft

lol lets trample this guy while the judge isnt looking

Again. Too many black costumes

Loved this Dostoevsky novel

i would know if opera directors were more creative with clothing choices ngl

me on parties lol

"imma just sneak out of here while everyone else is distracted"

"Where did he get this flooring!? Amazing!"

Everyone act normal!

The tell tale heart but they got REALLY drunk

man tposes to ward off vampires after being caught undercover

boys ???? night

the priest really shouldn't have visited the insane asylum-- closest

He’s FINE everyone’s been hit by a car before

Something happens in a room.

Perks of being a wallflower

There's always that one person in the fight whos trying not to get involved when they really wanna

Oh good, they’re all posing for a Rembrandt painting, I can just sneeeeaaak out the back here...

The gamer livestreaming Resident Evil + everyone watching the stream ? waiting for him to open the door just knowing it will trigger a chase scene

Quick!

the guy t posing in the back is regretting his every decision.-- also accurate

the us senate jumps ted cruz, some other wack ass gop senator is trying to sneak away

...I spoke too soon, however this is a James Bond mission

Queers help fellow queer do math but it's a struggle

#opera #opera tag #results #screencaps #captions #caption #caption this #caption contest #this seems to have gone over well and I am Pleased

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Five

Words: 4k

Warning(s): explicit language, domestic abuse, violence, drug abuse

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @meetthesixxter @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @sixxseconds2love @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @allyouneedislove-mp3 @n0-self-c0ntro1

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

"Hey, Nikki, c'mon!" The sound of Fred shouting on the other side of the bathroom door pulls me to my feet, making me swing the door open and catch myself on the side of the doorway before I can face plant.

His expression is neutral, but I see it in his eyes...he knows they're losing me. "Three more nights to go," he reminds me, "make it count."

I wipe my mouth, following him down the hallway, catching a glimpse of Vivian talking to Izzy while Steven's got his arms around her hips, pulling her to sit in his lap and she does, patting at his arms while he rests his cheek against her back and closes his eyes to rest a second as her conversation with Izzy doesn't skip a beat.

Maybe she's sleeping with all of them.

Not like it matters at this point.

We're over anyway and I'll probably be dead before either of us can even file.

She looks like she's about to look at me but I make sure to cut away from looking at her to avoid being caught, grabbing my bass from the tech as Tommy starts in on the drums, the screams of our fans echoing backstage as Mick, Vince and I head under the stage, my fingers lightly brushing against her crucifix around my neck for a split second.

I'd stolen it when I found it in Duff's bathroom...when people asked me, "dude, how'd you take that news? You kicked his ass, right? You showed that cheating bitch, right?"

Well…

The Night Before

"Hey, Nikki, man, can you help us with this?" Slash asks me once I get my room's door open, and I raise my brows.

"With what?" I reply, confused.

He motions down the hall, and I peek my head out to see Steven and Duff trying to push a desk out of Steven's room.

"We're fucking with hotel. We need help getting the desk, chair, lamp, and night stand from Steven's room into the elevator before someone needs to use it." He explains.

"So they can have a more comfortable ride." Stevie pipes with a grin.

I've been locked in my room all day and I won't get to see these guys until the end of next month starting in a few days, so…

"Hell, yeah." I agree, stepping out of the hall.

"Where's your clothes man?" I ask Duff when I get to him and Steven, helping them push the desk along the carpet, to the elevator.

He's in his boxers and a pair of his cowboy boots, and he replies, "me and this girl got in an argument and she stole my clothes."

I can't help but laugh.

Poor Duff, he's probably never dealt with crazy, vindictive, mind-screwing women before.

We get the desk and chair into the elevator before the doors try to shut, signaling someone needing to use it, and I'm snatching Steven out of there before it goes down.

Whoever the fuck uses it will probably shit a brick once they realize it's gonna be impossible to get inside without crawling over the desk.

After that, we get the elevator back pretty quick and finish the job before pressing every button in the elevator to make a stop at every floor, just to make people in need of it wait longer.

"What're you guys doing?" I hear Viv's voice and turn to see her standing in the hallway with her room door open.

"None of your fucking business." I snap at her, just as the elevator dings and the doors open to reveal all the fucking furniture, Izzy, and a groupie.

They're sitting on the desk as if it's no big deal, and Izzy hops off of it and helps his lady friend down, the two of them looking at me and the guys.

"Good one." Izzy tells us, nodding to the elevator and I chuckle as he passes by, lightly patting at my shoulder, saying, "goodnight, man."

"Children." I hear Vivian mumble, shutting her door behind her.

"She's not feeling good today." Duff tells me, trying to get me to drop it before I even pick it up.

I don't listen, stomping to her door and banging on it.

She opens it, and I sneer down at her.

"We're having fun, what the fuck makes you think you can come out and shit on it when nobody even wants you on this fucking tour to begin with?!" I bark at her.

"Nikki, all I said--"

"--I know what you fucking said because you've been saying it the past six fucking years. We get it. I get it. So just fucking drop it and mind your own goddamn business!"

She shuts the door in my face, making me kick the door, before taking a breath, and turning to see Steven, Slash, and Duff, trying not to be too uncomfortable.

"You guys got any booze?" I ask, knowing they do.

"Yeah, man." Slash nods, motioning me to Duff's room.

He hands me a bottle of Jack and I start downing it with no hesitation, wrinkling my nose at it's peculiar taste--more peculiar than usual.

"It's half Jack, half Vodka." Slash explains and I wrinkle my nose, my throat on fire as I cough.

"What the fuck?" I ask, my head swimming, and he shrugs.

"We got bored and figured we'd try it."

"Don't let Viv know. She'll pour it out." I mumble, wiping my mouth, sitting on the foot of Duff's bed as he and Steven join us.

"I know you two have a lot going on but go a little easier on her, man." Slash says to me, next.

"Yeah, you guys are our friends so seeing you fight is weird." Steven adds.

"Like watching parents try to kill each other in front of their kids." Duff states and I sigh.

"I know you guys are friends with her but you don't see what she's really like." I insist. "She's fucking nuts."

"Trust us, we know." Steven scoffs.

"She's a sweet girl, she's just going through a lot." Duff interjects, grabbing the bottle of jack/vodka from me, taking a sip for himself.

"She was a sweet girl." I argue calmly. "Breakups just fucking make people unrecognizable. I don't see the chick I proposed to. I see a wicked bitch from hell that possessed her and just uses her body as a disguise." I add.

None of them say anything, because they can't argue it.

They see how we treat each other.

It's a given I'll be an asshole, but when someone like Vivian starts spewing venom, it's because she's lost their fucking mind.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." I grumble, feeling my stomach wrench before I'm stumbling to the bathroom, vomit spewing past my lips into the toilet, my hand grasping the edge of the counter to keep myself from falling forward, the sound of the clink of metal against the floor as I accidentally knock one of Duff's necklaces to the bathroom tile.

Once I'm done puking, I take deep breaths, closing my eyes for a moment before flushing the toilet.

I reach for the necklace to put it back on the counter, before I get a good look at it.

It's a small, sparkling cross a little too dainty for Duff...my stomach drops, my mind going back to the night I first met Vivian, when I first saw it around her neck and sneered everytime I looked at it.

How she took it off before she and I fooled around for the first time, and everytime after that, until we got married…

My blood runs cold, another wave of nausea hitting me, bile rushing up in my throat before I can stop it, splattering onto the floor.

Maybe I would've been prepared had Vince told me what was going on. He'd found out after Sparkie got blacked out on smack and told him what he had discovered about saint Viv.

It felt like a twenty-five pound weight had busted my balls. I didn't have time to think about it much in the moment.

"Gross." Steven wrinkles his nose a little as he peeks in to check on me. "I'll call the cleaning people." He adds, shutting the door, and I look at the necklace one last time before tucking it into my pocket. I'll confront her with it, later.

I get out of the bathroom, Duff, Slash and Steven all looking at me.

"Dude, you alright?" Duff asks, smoking a cigarette, and I nod.

"Yeah. I just feel like shit." I reply, trying to mask the fact I just found out he's been fucking my wife. "I'm gonna go lay down for a few minutes and see if I don't feel a little better." I tell them, stepping to the door.

"Alright, man." Slash replies.

"See ya." I mumble as Steven adds, "feel better, Sixx!"

I get to my room, slamming the door, pacing, throwing my empty bottle of Jack at the wall and watching the glass shatter, my fingers raking through my hair.

How the fuck could Vivian do this to me? How could Duff? My band gave his band a shot--a good one. I thought he and I were friends. You don't fuck your friend's chick.

Okay, I fucked Roxy but that was different, I was high.

Duff isn't into hard drugs and Viv's sober so neither of them have an excuse for it.

A pit grows in my chest as I think a little more.

What if they were messing around back when she posed for Playboy? Maybe that's why he went with her…or maybe they've been at it since before Vanity let it out that me and her were together…that would explain why Viv hid him from me for so long.

My nostrils flare at the thought.

Who the fuck does she think she is?! Cheating on me?! Does she realize how many girls would love to be married to me and here she is with my own fucking buddy. Heartless cunt. And he's an ungrateful bastard. I gave his fucking band a shot at getting what they've been hungry for and this is how he repays me? Nailing my wife on the very tour I invited him to play on?

I take heavy breaths before stepping to the phone, dialing Tansy's room number.

She's supposed to be back by now from her little break, and when I hear her answer, I sigh in relief.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Tans, whatcha up to?" I ask, grin on my face, knowing exactly what she's about to be up to, if she isn't already.

Tansy and I were like arsenic and cyanide. She was like Vanity--without the batshit craziness, or the sex. We'd hang out and just spend hours getting high together. I was one of her best friends, so it should've been my job to protect her, but if that were the case, I would've been encouraging her to throw her smack and coke out, instead of always wanting to hang out just so we could get high together like it was a bonding experience or something. Yeah, seeing each other at their fucking shittiest really bonds people to one another, right.

It was a punch in the stomach when I found out about all the hell she'd gone through for years, that made her want to get lost in drugs, and eventually made her want to get lost past the confines of this life.

A majority of her friends were protective "manly" men who would fist fight a pole if need be, well, Steven, at least.

We were supposed to protect her.

And I know, "Well, you didn't know."

We would've known, had we paid more attention, and I wasn't paying attention because I was like a woodpecker with its head in a branch, except my head was in a pile of smack.

I hang my head over the toilet, vomit pouring from my lips as my head reels with dizziness, my veins aching as Tansy rests against the bathtub, slobber rolling down her chin from being in the same position I'm in only a few seconds ago.

Our burnt spoons and sharp smelling foils are left to the floor as we're taken over by a monster bigger than ourselves, the sound of Slash, Steven, Duff, and Vivian's laughter from the hallway creeping past my door, slipping under the bathroom's door, pushing through the smoke and mirrors, nearly shattering my high before it even has its full start.

The next night results in the same outcome, only this time, I've decided to pick myself up with help from my favorite smoke, except the hit from the crackpipe comes with the expected.

Sweat beads down my back as I shake, curled up in the bathtub with the shower's curtain pulled, hearing the footsteps of my room's intruder.

"Nikki?" A familiar voice calls softly, but the demon in my ear overpowers my want to go to her.

I curl further into myself, squeezing my eyes closed, my shaking hand gripping at the cross around my neck that belongs to her.

"If you're real just make it go away." I'm saying before I can stop myself. "Help me cut this shit, and give me my wife back."

I knew I hit rock bottom when I prayed to a God I didn't even believe in…and I guess, in the end, my prayer was answered, but fuck if I didn't get in my own way.

I finally coax myself out of the tub after a few more minutes, seeing the light is off in my room under the door, before I open the bathroom door, my hair standing on end, my bare, ragged feet moving as quietly as I can move them as I pad onto the carpet, stepping to the bed where a figure is laid out, the shine of red hair across a pillow radiating from the bathroom light drifting into the room. Peaceful, sleeping features show no threat, but something wicked is beating in my head as I slowly approach her, my boney knuckle rubbing at her cheek, slowly, opting a tired, soft moan to leave her, her body shifting before stilling.

I know it's bullshit. It's a facade. I know she's waiting for me to fall out so she can leech off of me.

Fucking witch.

If I pass out, she'll strike, and I won't make it out alive.

Her nails are clawing blood from my arms as she gasps out, kicking her feet when my hands lock around her throat, my eyes glossing over as she tries to scream out.

Her hand bangs, hard, against the wall the bed is against, her hands trying to fight me off as tears roll down her cheeks, her face beginning to turn a deeper shade of red.

"Nikki, what the--Nikki, what the fuck?!" I hear Fred's voice, but I hear it as if I'm under water, my focus captivated completely as my eyes burn into Vivian's before I'm being snatched off of her and thrown into the floor.

She's a coughing, gagging, gasping, crying mess.

"What the fuck, Nikki?!" Fred yells at me and I look at Vivian.

It's as if I'm coming back to myself, the reality of what I just tried to do…

What the fuck, Nikki? You already fucking shot her, and now this? If you don't get your shit together you won't have a fucking wife to patch things up with!

What am I saying? I already don't. She's fucking Duff.

She's legally married to me, but emotionally she's already been single for months, now.

I didn't strangle her because I was pissed over Duff. I strangled her because in my fucked up paranoia I was convinced she was going to kill me, first.

The truth was she wasn't. Duff, on the other hand, definitely considered it once he found out. But I don't blame him for it, now.

The next night, I feel my lip curl as I spot greasy, unkept hair, and scabbed, yellow skin.

Sparkie's smoking a cigarette, his arm around Tansy.

Its fucking pathetic.

He's contributing to her demise--if not the reason it kickstarted in the first place--and she still looks at him like he's the only dude on the fucking planet and she can't get enough.

My mind drifts to what would happen if by freak chance Vivian did decide to try something with him.

It makes my skin crawl to think of Vivian in the same position as Tansy: doped up, exhausted to the point she can't fight back when she's pimped out by him, worn down…

The mere idea of it makes bile rise to the back of my throat.

The fact Tansy's gone through it only adds to my nausea.

I hold it in and step past them, glaring at Sparkie.

"Stay away from my fucking wife." I threaten him and he flinches a little.

Pussy.

I spot Axl shooting a death glare at him from the corner of my eye.

He looks pissed as a hornet, his sharp jaw clenching and unclenching as Vince and Tommy walk past him to get ready to go on stage.

I hear Skylar crying from the dressing room with Sharise--they came down a few nights ago.

I look back to Axl, tension getting tighter and tighter in his body.

All it takes is Sparkie clapping his hands one good, loud, time, just to see Tansy's jittering, withdrawal-beginning, body nearly jump out of it's own skin.

This does it.

Out of fucking nowhere Axl is tackling him like a linebacker, not giving the walking incarnate of an STD time to think before he's beating the shit--literal, shit--out of him, the putrid smell taking up space backstage, making me and the guys gag as Fred, Doc, and Izzy try to get the pissed redhead off the junkie.

I expect Tansy to be screaming or crying like usual when someone gives Sparkie what his punk-ass deserves, but she makes no protest to Axl.

I immediately look away when Viv comes into the picture, a look of worry on her face as Axl yells: "Bitchy little princess, I'll give you a fucking reason to go fucking shoot up!"

The smell of Sparkie's shit continues to permeate the area as Doc and Fred get him away from Axl.

Tansy just stands still, her big, blue eyes blinking at Axl.

I meet Vivian's gaze, noticing the cake of makeup covering her neck, and a pit is dug into my stomach.

Fuck.

"Dude, you good?" Tommy asks me, and I nod.

"Yeah, just grossed out." I mumble, seeing Izzy leaning against the wall, dry heaving from the smell as Viv and Duff coax Axl down the hall to their dressing room.

Me, the guys, Emi and Donna all get into position, and I try to shake off all the shit that's happened, because we need to have a kickass show.

As soon as mine and Mick's cue hits, and I'm face-to-face with thousands of people who all want a piece of me, I can't control uneasiness of my stomach, and when I take a moment to grab a drink of water, my throat ignites when I down a gulp of vodka, instead.

What the fuck?

I figure it's set aside for Mick, and try not to let it happen again.

Only I do.

Repeatedly throughout the show.

And that on top of smack, on top of the Jack Tommy and I chug during part of the show, leaves me sloppy as hell and stumbling off stage come curtain call.

I see two Duff's stomping over to me, looking the most mean I've seen him ever look, Vivian on his heels.

"Hey, man, wha--"

I don't have time to finish my question.

He knocks the shit out of me in the blink of an eye, and I stumble back, not able to react in time before he's shoving through Fred and Doc, giving another punch to my cheek, but I strike back this time, twice, before he just starts waylaying me relentlessly, Vivian screaming, stupid enough to try to get between us before Izzy's yanking her away.

I feel my skin split under the pressure of one of Duff's rings, my vision spotty before he's thrown back by Fred and Axl.

"You mother fucker!" He screams at me viciously as Doc comes to my side. "You stay the fuck away from her, you understand me?!"

"Duff, it was an accident!" Vivian cries out hoarsely.

"Look at your fucking neck! How is that a fucking accident?!" He's so pissed he's nearly in tears, too, and I feel my heart pound as I see where the makeup has been smeared off of Vivian's neck, revealing dark bruises in the shape of my fingers.

"He was high!" Vivian insists.

"He was high when he shot you, he was high when he proposed to another woman, he's high everytime he treats you like shit, he was high when he fucking tried to kill you last night…" Duff rambles off, his face bright red. "...Stop excusing his bullshit with 'he was high', he's not high--that's just who the fuck he is, now!" He shouts, her feelings hurt from the looks of her expression.

"Come on over here and see who the fuck I am, now!" I can't help but to spit out, even though I'm in no position to win a fight.

"No, no!" Fred scolds as he and Doc are in front of me while Steven and Axl stay with Duff, trying to calm him down.

First Axl and Sparkie, now me and Duff, all in one night.

I bet Fred and Doc regret bringing them on tour, too, because I sure as shit do.

If I felt like arguing anymore I'd ask Duff how my balls taste since that's where Vivian's mouth spent a good amount of time the past six years...if I wanted them to know that I know about them, I'd say it.

If I knew it would make a difference, I would.

But I know it won't, so I keep my mouth shut.

#gateway drug #nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc

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dlwritings · 4 years

Text

Call Him Hers | Dean Winchester | pt 8

series masterlist found here

general masterlist found here

pairing - Mark-of-Cain!Dean x plus-size!reader word count - 3,100 warnings - language, violence, knives

summary - Just when they think they’re good to head home, (Y/N), Charlie, and the Winchesters find a piece to the puzzle they didn’t realize they were missing.

(previous) (next)

(Y/N) and Dean woke up to a knock at their door. Neither of them got up even though they were both awake. Dean pulled her closer to his chest and nuzzled his face in her neck. She sighed contently and wiggled closer to him, too drowsy to notice the morning wood Dean was sporting. When the knocking persisted, she sighed and pushed herself out of bed. Dean quickly adjusted himself in his boxers as he sat up and watched her walk over to the door. Sam and Charlie both burst in, and (Y/N) jumped back. “Jesus,” she mumbled. “What’s going on?”

“There was another kill,” Sam said. “We missed something.”

“Fuck,” she said, waking up quickly. “Was it another vamp?”

“Either that or a human decided to try sucking their friend like a juice pouch” Charlie said. (Y/N) gave her a look that silently said, Really? and Charlie just shrugged.

“So what’s our play?” (Y/N) asked, walking over to her suitcase to pull out some clothes to wear for the day.

“I say one of you stakes out the pool house again, see if we missed something,” Sam said. “I’ll check out the morgue, Charlie’s gonna talk to the police, and then one of you can snoop around Chris’ place.”

“Okay,” she said with a nod. “I’ll go to Chris’.”

Everyone moved quickly, trying to make up for the time they lost sleeping. (Y/N) was mad. She thought killing Chris was her ticket out of town, but now she was right back in. All she wanted was to head back to the bunker and forget that this trip ever happened. Instead, she found herself hotwiring a car and heading off to Chris’ house.

Chris was single and had no kids. It made sense that he would become a vampire for some sense of family. Then again, he had said the same thing about her. She shook the thoughts out of her head as she pulled up to Chris’ house. She got out of the car and moved quickly to Chris’ front door. He lived in a shabby area of town, so there weren’t any neighbors with prying eyes. She used her lock pick to get inside and shut the door quickly behind her.

Her footsteps echoed through the house, and she got a weird feeling being there. She pulled her gun out of her pants and held it at the ready, walking silently and checking around corners. She found Chris’ Macbook and logged on, hoping he had it connected to his phone. He did, so she was able to see his text messages. She saw the person he had been texting when they were at the pool house, and she felt her stomach drop. Just as she fumbled for her phone to call Dean, she heard someone behind her. She stood up and came face to face with Bryan.

“You know, you weren’t exactly the one I hoped I’d find here,” he said, circling her with a taunting smile. “I was really banking on one of those Winchester boys.”

“Chris said the rest of his nest died,” she said, gripping her gun tightly. Bryan eyed her gun and raised his eyebrow.

“Why don’t you put that down, and we can talk,” Bryan said. She considered ignoring him, but she knew her gun wouldn’t do her any good anyway. She wasn’t carrying vampire poison bullets. What an idiot. She put her gun down and slid it towards Bryan.

“So the rest of the nest,” she said, holding her hands up. “Not dead?”

“Nope, the others are dead,” Bryan said. “But I’m still kicking. I told Chris to tell you all we were gone.”

“So what’s your MO?” she asked. “You live here. You can’t kill the whole town.”

“See, I always told Chris not to go after the locals,” Bryan said. “I always go after the tourists. I stock up on their blood until the next round comes again. When I’m out, I take a little trip with the wife and pick up some outsider blood. Going after the locals draws too much attention. Chris was a newbie. He didn’t get it.”

He circled her, and she made sure she never had her back to him. “I’m just trying to live my life, (Y/N),” he said. “I’ve always just been trying to live my life.”

“You’re killing people,” she said back.

“It’s what I do,” he said with a shrug. “We’ve all gotta live.”

“Monsters like you don’t get to live,” she said back.

“You know, you’re really intimidating when you have no way to defend yourself,” he said. She clenched her jaw. She had an angel blade in her coat, but she wasn’t sure she was fast enough to get it out and gank him with it. He was stronger than Chris had been, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to hold her own if he decided to attack. “I’m sorry this had to go down like this,” he said. “This wasn’t my intention. After Amanda, I was going to tell Chris to stop. But then, once he stepped in-”

“He?” She hated when people played the pronoun game.

Right on cue, footsteps were heard, and Shawn walked into the room. She opened her mouth to say something, but Shawn blinked and revealed a black set of eyes. She immediately reached for the angel blade, but Shawn whipped her against the wall. She tried to stand up, but Shawn flicked his wrist, and she felt a sharp pain in her ankle. “That’s a sprain,” Shawn said, walking closer to her and crouching in front of her. “I can make it a break if you don’t cooperate.” She spat in his face, and Shawn clenched his jaw in anger.

“Shawn wasn’t always like this,” the demon said, wiping his face and standing up. “I know you’re wondering. No, I got in here long after he cheated on your sorry ass. Demons love possessing people who are already douchebags.” He grinned a moment. “Even now, Shawn’s just laughing it up. He always loved seeing you in pain.”

“So why’re you here?” she asked, still trying to figure out how to get out of the situation.

“Well,” he said, “when I heard there were vampires in Dewey, I thought it was perfect. Because, you see, I knew you’re from Dewey, and I knew you’re all buddy buddy with the Winchesters, and I also knew you and the Winchesters have this, this savior complex. You just can’t turn down a hunt.” She clenched her jaw. “You’re their achilles heel, (Y/N). Dean may not have the hots for you, but he and his brother would die for you in a second. So now, we bide our time and wait for them to find you.”

“What do you do when they find you?” she asked.

Shawn smiled. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Bryan fished in her pocket for her phone, and she reached out her leg (the one without the sprained ankle) and kicked him hard in the shin. It was a dumb idea, she knew, but she was running out of options. He kicked her in the stomach, and she groaned and wrapped her arms around her torso. Bryan got her phone out and harshly slapped her ass just because he could. He handed the phone to Shawn who swiped and unlocked it. She cursed herself for never giving it a password. Another rookie mistake. He scrolled through her contacts and called Dean, smiling as he put the phone on speaker.

“You find anything?” Dean asked as soon as he picked up.

Shawn scoffed. “Not even a hello, Dean? Where are your manners?”

Dean was silent for a beat. “Who the hell is this?”

“I’ve got (Y/N) here,” Shawn said, avoiding Dean’s question. “(Y/N), why don’t you give your hubby a little hello?” She clenched her jaw and sighed.

“I’m alright, Dean,” she said, knowing he probably cared about that more than anything.

“Now,” Shawn said before either she or Dean could say anything else, “I’m here at Chris’ house, and I’ve just been dying to meet you and your brother. So I’ll send you the address, you boys can meet us here, and we’ll let (Y/N) live another day.”

“He’s a demo-”

Bryan stepped on her wounded ankle, and she shouted out in pain. “You keep your hands off her!” Dean shouted on the other end of the phone.

Shawn laughed. “Well then you boys better hurry.”

Dean hung up the phone and immediately called Sam. “What’d you find?” Sam asked when he picked up.

“A demon’s got (Y/N) at Chris’ house,” Dean said. “He’s asking for us.”

“Both of us?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I don’t know what the game is, but he’s threatening to kill her. We gotta go.”

“Okay, let’s just think this through-”

“No Sammy!” Dean shouted, jogging to his Impala. “There’s nothing to think through. Whatever they want, we give it to them, alright? Nothing is happening to her because of me. Where are you?” Sam rattled off the address.

“I’ll call Charlie,” Sam said. “We can have her bust in after us and catch ‘em off guard. They didn’t ask for her?”

“No,” Dean said.

“Okay,” Sam said. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Dean was glad (Y/N) was able to get out part of the word demon so he knew what he was walking into. When he pulled up to where Sam was, he also jogged around to the trunk to get out the demon knife. “I told Charlie the plan,” Sam said. “She’s already on her way over.” Dean didn’t respond, too focused on getting the knife and getting back in the car to get to her as quickly as possible. When both brothers were in the car, Sam said Dean’s name.

“I’m going to break your jaw if you keep talking,” Dean said.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Sam said. “She can hold her own. You know that.”

“They were doing something to her, Sam,” Dean said. “She was screaming. I don’t like this.”

The rest of the drive was silent.

(Y/N) jumped when she heard someone kick down the front door. Dean was holding the demon knife while Sam had an angel blade. Dean went to charge at Shawn, but both men were immediately thrown against the wall. Bryan laughed as he watched them struggle. (Y/N) wished she could do something, but she felt utterly useless. “You alright, (Y/N)?” Dean asked with a strained voice.

“‘M fine,” she said back.

“How cute,” Shawn said sarcastically. “Dean really does have a sweet spot for you.”

“So what do you want with us, huh?” Sam asked. “You working for Crowley?”

“Crowley’s a coward,” Shawn said. “90% of the time he’s so far up your Winchester asses, he can’t find his way out.”

“So what’s this about?” Sam pressed.

“Frankly?” Shawn said. “We want you, dead.” He pointed at Sam with a smile. “But Dean, well, we want him back.”

“You sound like a whiney ex,” (Y/N) said. Bryan kicked her again -this time in the face- and she had to spit blood out of her mouth.

“Stop fucking touching her!” Dean shouted with as much strength as he could muster.

“The power that mark gives you is unparalleled, Dean,” Shawn said, walking closer to him. “So I’m going to take you back with me, and you’re going to go back to doing our dirty work.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Dean said, “my eyes haven’t been black for almost a year. Why the hell would I work with you?” Shawn’s smile widened as if he was hoping Dean would ask that.

“Because,” Shawn said slowly, “if you don’t go with us-” He walked back over to (Y/N) and lifted her head by her hair. She whimpered and closed her eyes. “-what do you think is gonna happen to your girl over here? Hell, she almost makes you weaker than Sammy.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed out, looking at Dean with tears in her eyes. “Don’t do-” Shawn lifted her up and pinned her to the wall with his hand, squeezing her throat tightly. She could feel her eyes rolling back, but she tried to stay awake. She needed Dean to stay strong. Her life was not worth him going to the dark side again.

“Stop!” Dean shouted. Shawn turned to him again, and just then, the door burst open and Charlie charged in. Shawn dropped (Y/N) as Charlie took a few steps towards Bryan and sliced his head off with her machete. While Shawn was looking away, (Y/N) used all her strength to kick him in the nuts, hoping that was a pain he’d still feel. It did enough for him to lose focus and drop Sam and Dean. While Dean immediately rushed to (Y/N)’s side, Sam grabbed his angel blade and stabbed Shawn in the chest.

(Y/N) was slumped to the ground. She was still slightly gasping for breath, but mostly her throat was sore from the tears she was trying to hold back. “Hey, hey, are you okay?” Dean asked, crouching in front of her and putting his hand on her chin.

“S’just my ankle,” she said. Dean looked down at her foot.

“Does it hurt when I do this?” he asked, gently pressing her ankle. She hissed.

“Well it doesn’t feel good,” she said through clenched teeth.

Neither (Y/N) nor Dean were paying Charlie and Sam any attention, so they were oblivious to the way they were silently watching the pair talk. Dean stroked (Y/N)’s hair and hung his head. “I’m so sorry this happened,” Dean said.

“It’s no big deal, Dean,” she said.

“You were in danger because of me,” he said. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“I know what happens when I talk to a Winchester,” she teased. “I know what I signed up for.” Dean frowned, and she reached out and put her hand on his cheek. She lightly scratched his beard like she had last night, and a small smile appeared on Dean’s lips. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m okay.” Dean sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Charlie and Sam shared a look that went unnoticed by Dean and (Y/N).

“Alright,” Dean said. “C’mere.” He lifted her up and carried her in his arms..

“Dude,” she said. “Put me down. It’s a sprained ankle not a broken leg.”

“Would you just shut up and let me take care of you?” Dean asked. (Y/N) huffed but zipped her lips, knowing that she’d lose the fight in the end. Dean smiled and kissed her forehead again. He brought her into the Impala and helped her into the front seat. Charlie and Sam got in the back. They drove back to the hotel to pack up their stuff and check out. A part of (Y/N) was a little bummed she wouldn’t get to say goodbye to Nicole, Stephanie, and even Jennifer.

What a weird existence.

Dean insisted that she stay in the car while he go pack up their hotel room. Frankly she was feeling tired and didn’t care enough to protest. She knew she’d fall asleep on the way home, and she could already feel her eyes fluttering closed.

When Dean checked out at the counter, he ended up running into Jennifer. “Hey!” she said. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

“Oh, she slept pretty bad last night,” Dean said. “She’s in the car, probably knocked out already. We’re actually heading out.”

“Oh, I’m bummed I didn’t get to say goodbye,” she said with a genuine frown. “Would you tell her it was good to see her?”

“For sure,” Dean said. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she said. Just as Dean turned away, Jennifer said his name again. “(Y/N) really loves you, you know that right?” Dean furrowed his eyebrows. What was she getting at? “There’ve been rumors going around,” she said slowly, “that your marriage isn’t-” Dean cut her off with a sigh, not in any mood to have this conversation. “I’m not saying I believe one thing or another,” she said quickly. “I’m just saying, whatever you have seems pretty real to me.”

He felt his shoulders drop a bit, growing a bit less defensive. He knew the tips of his ears were turning pink. “Have a good one, Jennifer,” he said. Jennifer gave him a small smile and a nod, then waved as he walked away.

When Dean got back in the car (Y/N) was already asleep. He hated the feeling in his chest when he saw her. Hated how much he ached for her to be his. Hated how he couldn’t count the number of times he had fucked up his chances with her. Hated that, no matter how many times he told her he loved her, she’d never really believed him. And sure, he allowed himself to imagine scenarios in which he told her how he felt -really told her- but the vulnerability scared him. Just like the vulnerability he felt when he held her as they slept. The idea of that kind of vulnerability scared him. He knew who he was with this mark, and he wasn’t a good man. Even if she believed that he truly felt that way about her -which, knowing her, she wouldn’t really- why would she want him?

Sometimes, he swore she loved him the way he loved her. When Chris was trying to hurt her at the pool house, all Dean could feel was the hope of her returning the feelings he had for her. And he wasn’t oblivious to her lingering glances, but -not to sound conceded- a lot of girls looked at him like that. There were never real feelings behind them. He guessed he was just alright to look at. But he didn’t want that to be why she was looking at him. He wanted her to have something more behind her stares.

Maybe it was just time he grew the fuck up. Life was short, and today was just another reminder of that. What would he have done if she had died and he never told her how he felt? He wasn’t sure he’d ever be the same. Dean wasn’t good at love. Didn’t know how to accept it. Didn’t always know how to show it. What he did know was he was dying to truly call her his.

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buckthegrump · 5 years

Text

I hate you, really hate you

Summary: You’re married and truths about your marriage are about to come to light.

Warnings: cheating, angst, slight fluff

Word Count: 3.6 k+

A/n: this is for @sgtbxckybxrnes my prompt was enemies to lovers

“Do you ever do anything other than scowl?” Y/n asked Bucky.

They were in the middle of another one of their arguments. No one was quite sure where the fight had started but it had been going on for at least fifteen minutes, at this point it was probably closer to the twenty-minute mark.

“Do you ever do anything other than talk? All you ever seem to do is run your mouth, it’s like you can’t control it. And don’t even get me started on how much you gossip,” Bucky said.

“Oh, how much I gossip?” She scoffed.

“One of these days,” Bradley stood up and placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders, “you two are going to get along long enough for us to get through a brunch.”

“Can we go?” Y/n turned to her husband and he nodded.

“We will see you all later,” Bradley smiled.

Y/n said her goodbyes and then glared at Bucky while she waited for Bradley to be done. They walked out of the restaurant getting a few glares from the older patrons.

Bucky hadn’t always been apart of the group. He was the most recent member having moved back home after living in London for a few years. Steve swore that he was nice and that everyone would love him, clearly, he’d been wrong.

From the first time they met a few years ago, Bucky and Y/n butted heads. It was never anything serious and their fights, while always loud, never had any real substance. They never said anything truly hurtful to the other.

Bradley opened the car door for Y/n and she got in and huffed and grumbled the whole way home.

“Sweetie, it’s just Bucky. You should really learn to get along with him.” Bradley placed his hand on her knee as he drove home.

“I’ll try baby,” she sighed, “But he just makes it so hard. He has to contradict everything I say.”

“Wasn’t he agreeing with you today?”

Y/n paused because she couldn’t remember but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Bucky annoyed the hell outta her and she would just like one meal where he didn’t speak any and every time that she did.

* * *

She pushed her cart around the grocery store, one of the front wheels was wobbly and it had been the last cart so it was either that or a basket.

Y/n had gotten off work early so she thought she might as well get something done before Bradley got home. She stared at the quarts of ice cream trying to decide which one to get when someone bumped into her.

“Oh I’m so sor-” the familiar voice cut off when she turned and made eye contact with Bucky. “Oh, what are you doing here?”

She glared at him. “People need food to live, Bucky. Are you going to finish that apology?”

“Well, I was but then you opened your mouth and suddenly I feel like the universe is punishing me for coming to the store today.” Bucky looked at her then to the ice cream. “There’s that scowl again.”

“I wasn’t scowling until I was greeted by your face,” she muttered.

Bucky chuckled lightly and opened the freezer and grabbed the last thing of chocolate cookie dough. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek to stop her self from complaining, but that was the exact flavor she was going to get before somebody ran into her.

He put the ice cream in his basket and walked away.

She spent the rest of the shopping trip groaning to herself, mumbling about how much of a dick Bucky was. She was loading up her trunk when she saw Bucky again.

He stretched out his hands which were holding the ice cream. She gave him a confused look but took the ice cream and he smiled.

“Happy birthday,” was all he said before shoving his hands in his pockets and walked away.

Now she was angry for a completely different reason. She was upset that he was nice to her, and yes it was her birthday and she thought the gesture was cute but couldn’t it have come from anyone else?

After she got home and finished putting away the groceries she started angrily cooking dinner.

Bradley probably would’ve offered to cook but he wasn’t home yet and she really didn’t mind.

* * *

It was almost eight o’clock. She had long finished the meal and plated it and set up the table. The bottle of wine that she’d chilled for dinner was half gone.

She chuckled to herself darkly and ate by herself before tossing his plate. She grabbed her iPad form the counter and sat down on the couch. It didn’t take her long to realize that she’d actually grabbed Bradley’s iPad, not that it mattered much she was only going to use it to watch something before going to bed.

But it was hard to focus on the movie when notifications for messages kept coming in. With the intention to turn the conversation on silent before she continued her show, she clicked on the messages.

* * *

A few weeks after her birthday it was time for their monthly brunch. Carol, Maria, Sam, Steve, and Bucky were all in the lobby of the restaurant when Y/n got there with Bradley.

They all greeted each other, except Bucky stood off to the side and stared at Y/n. Almost as if he was trying to figure something out about her. She really didn’t want to get into it with him so she left it alone.

There was a spot open in front of her because there las still one person missing. Bucky and Maria were on either side of the open seat, while Bradley was on Y/n’s left side talking to Carol, and Sam was on her other side talking to Steve. Bucky was still silent but no one was talking about that.

“Hey, you guys,” Bryanna greeted and took the open seat. “Sorry I missed last month, I was really busy with something.”

“Oh my god, don’t worry about it,” Y/n smiled at her, “We’re just really glad that you’re here.”

Their server came over and took everyone’s orders and once that was done they began catching up with Bryanna.

Y/n was smiling and nodding at what Bryanna was saying, but she had also gone through a few mimosas pretty quickly and was starting to feel brave.

“Also, I have news,” Bryanna took a deep breath with the biggest smile she could manage on her face, “I’m pregnant.”

There was a brief moment a silence before everyone started congratulating her. Y/n sat there in a state of shock. Her eyes drifted to Bucky who tilted his head at her silently asking if she was ok. Y/n only smiled at him not giving him any real answer.

“Do we know who the father is or is this an I don’t need a man to follow my dreams kind of deal?” Carol asked.

“It was kind of an accident but I’m happy about it,” Bryanna still had a big smile on her face.

Everyone continued to bombard her with questions. Like who was the father? What were her plans? Who were the godparents going to be?

Bryanna gave little to no answers before she said, “Ok, let’s not make this entire brunch about me. Please?”

“I have one question,” Y/n spoke for the first time since Bryanna’s news.

“If you’re going to ask if you can be the godmother my answer is -”

“How long have you been sleeping with my husband?” Y/n cut her off.

The table went dead silent. Bryanna stared at her with wide eyes, she briefly glanced at Bradley. But Y/n didn’t take her eyes off Bryanna once.

“Wh-wh-what. . .What are you talking about?” Bryanna half chuckled.

Y/n sat forward in her chair and braced her weight on the table. “How long have you been sleeping with my husband?”

Everyone’s eyes were bouncing between Bradley, Bryanna, and Y/n.

“Because if I’m doing my math right, I would say about,” Y/n sucked on her teeth while she pretended to think, “I’d say about a year maybe two. With my luck it’s probably been two, right? Which bravo to you two for keeping me in the dark for that long. Ya know what? I lied. I don’t have just one question. I have one more. What fuck? Both of you. It’d be one thing you didn’t know that I existed but you were a bridesmaid at my wedding Bry.”

Y/n reached into her purse and pulled out a manilla envelope and handed it to Bradley. “I hope you two are very happy together.”

* * *

She didn’t know what she expected. But it sure as shit wasn’t this. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d hoped that Bradley would come after her and beg to talk to her so he could apologize.

But here shew as hours after she’d stormed out of brunch, the sun was setting and there was still no sign of him.

It wasn��t like she was going to take him back. She meant it when she’d handed him the divorce papers. But she’d be lying if she said that she felt fine with the fact that he hadn’t even tried to chase after her.

“Y/n!” Bradley’s voice boomed from the other side of the door while he pounded his hand against the wood. “Open the door!”

She smiled to herself as she drank more of her wine, she hadn’t bother with a glass tonight. She had the locks changed yesterday. Y/n had almost decided to do all of this quietly but when Bryanna showed up at brunch she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back the part of her that needed to be dramatic. And it saved her the trouble of having to tell her friends.

“You can’t just serve me divorce papers and change the locks!” He yelled. It had been a while since she heard him yell at anyone.

Giving in she walked over to the door and reached for the lock.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it,” he said in a lower voice. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting her to be standing close enough to the door to be able to hear what he was saying.

“What the fuck did you just say?” A new voice asked. It was the very last person on earth that Y/n ever expected. “She has made it very clear that she does not want to talk to you. So why don’t you go ahead and run along now and leave her alone.”

“Are you sleeping with her?” Bradley demanded.

“You have no right to ask me that, you lost that right when you crawled into bed with someone else. Now get out of my face,” Bucky said.

The door of a car slammed shut and there was a soft knock at the door.

“Y/n?” Bucky’s voice calmly asked. “Listen, you don’t have to open the door or let me in or anything. Can you just let me know if you’re alive? I need to know if you’re ok.”

Y/n only thought about it for a split second before opening the door. She looked at Bucky who’s eyebrows were furrowed. They were both surprised by her actions and to further the shock, she stepped aside so he could enter.

He walked in and looked around.

“You know I’ve never actually bee in here before,” he said off-handedly. He turned around and took in her appearance. It was at that moment she realized what she looked like. Her face was probably puffy from the tears from earlier in the day, her old gray sweat pants had stains from lord knows what, and her shirt was thinning and had so many holes it no longer counted as a shirt. “How are you?”

She chuckled. “I’m fine,” she said but then a sob broke through and she began to cry, again. “Except I’m not. I really thought he was the one ya know? He was one of the first people who ever looked at me and found me interesting and on top of that, he found me attractive. And this is gonna sound so dumb but there’s no guarantee that I’ll find that again.”

“Y/n -” Bucky said softly but was cut off.

“That’s not even the worst part.” She took a shaky breath and continued. “The worst part is I know when and why this happened. And it’s my fault.”

“No -”

“But it is Bucky. We’d been trying for a child for a while and it wasn’t going well, and I think that’s part of the reason I was so mean to you when we first met. Which isn’t a valid reason and I do apologize for that. But just before you got here we went to the doctor to find out what was wrong. And it turns out it’s me. I was what was wrong with the whole thing. We continued to try because the doctor said it wasn’t impossible, and we wanted to wait and see if we could get a miracle before paying thousands and thousands of dollars for a procedure.

“So I guess he went and found himself someone who could give him what he wanted,” she laughed humorlessly.

Bucky walked so he was standing right in front of her and cupped her cheeks with his hands. They were warm and soft and she wanted nothing more than to melt into his touch. He wiped a tear away with his thumb.

“That’s bullshit, all of this, is his fault. And Bryanna’s. No one else’s, least of all yours. He broke his vows and your trust. Even if he has fallen out of love with you, he should have had the decency to talk to you about it before he went off and found someone else, but I don’t see how anyone could. And the whole being mean to me? Sam is always telling me I have a big head anyway and need to be knocked down a few pegs,” he said. She laughed softly at the last part which made Bucky smile.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way. But why are you here? I thought you hated me.”

Bucky scoffed. “The past year would’ve been a lot easier if I had, but I can’t. I’ve tried.”

He smiled and dropped his hands. His mouth hung open as he stepped away. Y/n watched him shocked as he walked out of her house.

“What?”

* * *

Maria and Carol sat on Y/n’s couch while Y/n was pacing in front of it. Monica was sitting on the floor in front of the couch watching Y/n.

“So you’re over your ex-husband already?” Carol asked. “Honestly, we should kill him.”

“Aunt Carol, murdering people isn’t very nice,” Monica said.

“Neither is cheating,” Carol grumbled.

“I don’t think Y/n wants to talk about Bradley,” Maria said.

“Who even goes by ‘Bradley’?” Y/n continued pacing. “That should’ve been the first red flag. And then he shows up here and has the audacity to call me a bitch when he’s the one acting like a bitch -”

“He said what now?” Carol asked.

“And then Bucky shows up and -” en lieu of finishing her sentence Y/n lets out a frustrated groan.

“What does Bucky have to do with any of this?” Maria asked.

Y/n then recounted the events the took place last week after brunch. When she was done she flopped into the armchair next to the couch.

“I mean it makes sense,” Monica said and all the adults turned to her.

“Care to explain?” Carol asked.

“Uncle Bucky is in love with Aunt Y/n,” Monica said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And who exactly told you that?” Carol asked.

“Bucky did, like last year.” Monica shrugged and walked off to the bathroom without another word.

“That rat bastard,” Y/n muttered and got out of the chair.

“Y/n where are you going?” Carol called after her as she walked out of her own house.

“Do we stay or go?” Maria asked and Carol shrugged.

* * *

Y/n paced the hall in front of apartment 9D. She stopped walking to pound her open palm against the door, relentlessly until it opened.

“Y/n,” Bucky said when he saw her, “What are you -?

“Are you out of your mind?” She asked as she pushed past him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said and shut the door.

“You - I - this - but -”

“That doesn’t help me understand what you’re very clearly angry about.”

“You act like you hate me for years. And then you buy me ice cream on my birthday, fun fact, also the day I finally put together that my husband was cheating on me -”

“What?”

“I am not done, Barnes,” Y/n snapped. “Then you show up right when I needed you last week, but it doesn’t stop there. Because then you go on to tell me all these sweet things that are somehow exactly what I needed to hear.”

Bucky opens his mouth again but snaps it closed again.

“And then I hear from Monica, little Monica, that you are in love with me?” She gestured vaguely around her with her jaw slack. “What the fuck kind of bullshit?”

“What would you have had me do? When I first saw you, I knew that you were exactly the kind of person I could fall in love with. And then I find out you’re already married. So I thought that if I brushed you off that you would ignore me and then once I got over my infatuation then I could become friends with you -”

“That sounds like a load of -”

“I’m not done,” he mirrored her words and she stopped talking, “But then you confronted me about it. And then we started fighting all the time. Instead of me realizing that I could never love someone like you my dumbass goes and does the opposite. It really didn’t take me long to realize I was madly in love with you. But you were married and happily so, or so it appeared.

“And then Monica asked me what was wrong one day and I told her and she said ‘well, you’re fucked aren’t you’. Which is exactly what I needed to hear from a child,” he took a deep breath, “So, yes. I’m in love with you. But I never expected anything to happen and I still don’t. But I don’t hate you, I never did.”

Y/n stood there staring at him and she realized something. She and Bradley haven’t worked for a while, and she hadn’t been in love with him for a while.

“I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear,” Bucky said.

“I just -” she made eye contact with him, “I should go.”

* * *

It didn’t take long for Bradley to agree to sign the divorce papers. After it was finalized Y/n was sad for a short while before Carol told her that she could be sad or she could go out and slut it up. And she did a version of that, she started going on dates.

It had been a few months until she realized that she hated dating. The whole thing was a dance that she no longer found fun, and even though she just got out of a long term relationship she missed it. The problem was she knew who she wanted to be with.

She hadn’t seen him recently, he hadn’t been showing up to the brunches nor the game nights that Maria had started hosting. So Y/n went to him.

She knocked at his door late at night, too late because when he opened the door, he looked like he’d been in the middle of sleeping.

“Shit,” she looked down at her phone and saw the time, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was the time I’ll come back later.

“No, it’s fine I’m already awake,” he mumbled and walked further into his apartment leaving the door open behind him.

Y/n followed him and closed the door behind him. She rocked back on her heels unsure of how to start.

“Is there a reason that you woke me up in the middle of the night? Or did you just want to stand in the middle of my entryway?” Bucky asked.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” not exactly what she’d planned on saying.

“Well, I confess my love for you, and then you walk away which is fine you’d just found out that your husband had been cheating on you. But then a month later you start dating pretty much everything with a heartbeat -”

“Are you judging me for getting of Bradley?” She scoffed.

“No, I’m pissed because you never said anything else to me about what I said to you that night. You just ignore me and run off doing whatever with whoever. And that hurt, Y/n. I wish you would’ve just told me that you don’t feel the same then I could’ve -”

“And what if I do?” She cut him off.

“What?” He breathed.

“I think I’ve known for a while now but I was married and then I had to make sure that I wasn’t just running into the arms of the first man who said that he loved me. I thought I would need more time but I don’t want anyone else.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Bucky’s face. “So what now?”

She took a few steps towards him. “What do you want to do?”

“I would like to take you out on a date,” he said.

“I like the sound of that,” she said with a smile.

#taysfallfics #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes AU #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

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brittle-bone-gabe · 5 years

Text

And We’ll Float Away: Chapter Two- Derry Town House

Chapter One, Chapter Three,

Summary: The Losers manage to get Eddie out of the cave, even with a hole in his stomach from Pennywise. From there on, when Eddie saw his life flash before his eyes, he realizes that this wasn’t the life he wanted to live. No, he wanted a better one, with a better person. Pairings: Reddie (Eddie x Richie), Benverly (Ben x Beverly) Read on Ao3: Here

The Losers were silent after pulling themselves out of the Quarry, Eddie was more than happy to finally get out of that nasty water, ready to take a real shower. Ben and Beverly had been holding hands the entire trip back, as if they have been dating this entire time after all these years; like they haven’t ever drifted apart. Eddie was still wearing Richie’s shirt, it was clinging tightly to his body from the quick swim everyone had. Yeah, it was uncomfortable with how it was clinging, but there was no way Eddie was taking if off just yet, it was like a… security blanket wrapped around him, he didn’t want to let go of it until he was safe in his own room at the town house. Lowkey, but would never admit it, Eddie could see why Richie wore these stupid fucking Hawaiian shirts, it was comfortable and loose. Maybe he’d pick himself up some.

Eddie could feel someone staring at him as he pushed his damp hair off from his forehead, when he looked over he just saw Richie in the process of looking away from him. Fucking dick is making fun of me… he thought. That was the last thing Richie was doing, in fact, Richie was having trouble not staring at Eddie.

God… Eddie Kaspbrak is wearing one of my shirts, Richie couldn’t help but think when giving him a sideways glance, he was now picking at the bandage on his left cheek. Richie just wanted to reach over and grab his stupid hand, to tell him not to pick at it, but he knew that Eddie knew that better than anyone to not pick at wounds or bandages. His eyes drifted back to his shirt that was still clinging onto Eddie. And goddamn did he look hot wearing it, he thought to himself again, turning away just in case Eddie were to see his now reddening face.

Mike looked up from the sidewalk they were walking on, seeing the library coming up quickly.

“Alright, guys,” he started, stopping in his tracks, the rest of the Losers stopping to look at him, “I’m gonna grab my stuff. We’ll meet at the bar afterwards?”

“Your st-st-stuff?” Bill wondered aloud, “whe-where are you gonna g-g-go?”

Mike thought about it for a moment, not exactly sure how to answer that.

“Another library? Solve another non-existent towns mystery?” Richie suggested playfully with a one arm shrug as his hands were shoved in his jeans pockets. “Oh! We can be like Scooby and the Gang!” He looked at the other Losers who had smiles on their faces, even Eddie which boosted Richie’s ego quite a bit. “We can travel around solving mysteries. More clowns dead, better for us. Whatdaya say?”

There were a collection of Beep-Beep Richie coming from the Losers which caused the taller man to roll his eyes. They clearly didn’t see a good joke when it was in front of them. He looked at Eddie again, who just lightly shook his head, trying to hide the smile on his face now.

“Bev would be Fred, of course,” he started again, “always taking charge. Mike; you’re Velma, so smart.”

“Wait, what if I want to be Fred,” Ben asked Richie who shrugged again.

“I see you more as Daphne, y’know, damsel in distress kinda thing.” Ben reached over, punching Richie rather hard in the arm. “Oh, ow,” he said sarcastically, rubbing the stinging area. “Ed’s is Scrappy; sooooo annoying!”

“Fuck you, dick.”

“In time, Ed’s,” he said with a wink.

“I…” Mike was cut off from his own chuckling at Richie’s jokes, “I’m not sure where I’ll be going yet, but…” he pulled out his phone that he, thankfully, left on shore before jumping in the Quarry, “I’ll be sure to stay in touch.”

“Ooh! Good idea!” Bev said happily, taking out her own phone, unlocking it, “we gotta make a group chat. Richie, what’s your number?” “312-227-IfuckedEddie’smom.” Everyone groaned at his response.

Eddie smacked his arm. “Shut the fuck up!”

“You’re… such a… tiny, angry man…”

“I am normal height, Richie! It’s not my fault you’re Bigfoot!”

Once everyone exchanged numbers, Mike promised to meet them all at the local bar before heading back to the library to collect what little items he had stored away there. There was something heavily satisfying about being able to pack everything away from the library after staying there for years. Honestly, Mike never envisioned himself being able to leave this place, leave it as far away as possible. Years spent here finally paid off; Pennywise was dead, there was no more reason to stick around here anymore, everyone would be safe now thanks to the Losers.

Everyone’s phone went off, indicating that they all got a text message. They couldn’t help but all check; it was a text message from the group chat that Bev called Losers Club. Everyone groaned when they saw the text that came through from Richie. He had sent everyone a clown emoji alongside a knife emoji. Yeah, he thought that was so fuckin’ funny.

“Richie…” Bill said, throwing him a glare from over his shoulder.

“I’m funny! Right, Stan?”

“How do I block someone's number?” Stan asked aloud, tapping away at his phone.

“God, maybe I should start charging you guys for my jokes like I do everyone else. Ungrateful.” His phone went off in his pocket. When he checked it it was a middle finger emoji text from Eddie. When he looked over at the smaller man he saw that he couldn’t keep his smile contained anymore, letting out a laugh. “I hate you.”

“Okay, I want to block both of them, how do I do that?” Ben asked, holding his phone out to Bev, who lightly smacked his arm.

“Aww, why can’t we be like that, Eds?” Richie lightly bumped into Eddie’s shoulder.

“Hmm… maybe because you’re an unfunny slob.”

Richie stopped walking as the others kept going, he looked hurt from Eddie’s words. Well, not really, but he had to make sure Eddie thought that.

“Wow, wow, wow. Hurtful,” he said before catching back up to them, “maybe you should come with me to Chicago, Eddie Spaghetti. I’ll show you around, show you a good time. Whatdaya think?”

“Absolutely not. I have to go back to New York.”

“Right. Your wife,” Richie almost spat, rolling his eyes, “we can… bring her along,” he forced out.

“She hates your guts, Richie.”

“Ouch. Her approval is all I needed in life and now? Hm. I don’t know how to go on.”

“Wait, why does she hate Richie? I mean, we get it,” Stan asked.

Beverly had to hide her laughter, putting her hand up to her mouth as she looked over to Ben who had a smile on his face. She missed this. She missed goofing off with the Losers, god, all these years were wasted with them all forgetting about each other. Imagine them in college together? Imagine them getting wasted at odd hours in the night, talking about life and goofing around. If Bev could hit the rewind button so they wouldn’t have ever gotten each other and could spend more time together than she would’ve hit it in a second.

“She thinks you’re annoying, annnd you’re not funny,” Eddie continued.

“So she has the same views as the rest of us?” Bill wondered, “huh… maybe she should join the Losers Club.”

“When did this turn into a roasting session about me?”

“The moment you opened your mouth,” Ben finally said.

“...alright, I guess I’ll just go fuck myself.”

The rest of the walk back to the town house was like watching a bunch of teenagers walking home from school. They were all loud, making jokes, and laughing loudly. The Losers Club was robbed, that was for sure. All those memories they lost of their childhood, all those late nights they had spending the night, drinking stolen cheap alcohol, smoking cigarettes trying to seem badass and adult-like, all that time they spent in their clubhouse that Ben had made. What else have they forgotten?

Once they reached the empty town house, Richie was ready for a drink. He leaned over the counter, trying to see if there was any booze left over. Unlucky. Of course. Beverly lit up a cigarette to get rid of the stress that was today. She did a mental headcount, making sure to count Mike who was busy getting his stuff together so he could leave this town behind forever. Everyone was here, all seven of them made it out of the battle alive and that’s all she could’ve hoped for, especially since her visions… those horrible visions she was sure was about to come true. She’d seen how Stan should’ve died - taking his own life in the bathtub; she’d seen how Eddie was supposed to die - from that wound in the cave, but because of Richie staying with him he managed to cheat death.

Maybe the Losers were harder to kill than the Deadlights gave them credit for.

Bev snapped out of her thoughts when Ben put a hand on her back, bringing her back into reality. Bill was now standing up on the stairs, looking at the other Losers.

“After 27 fucking years we finally killed that fucking cl-cl-clown,” he said with a huge smile on his face, “I’m so pr-proud of us.”

Everyone cheered, holding up their hands as if they had drinks to toast with. They’d make a proper toast once they were all down at the bar. He turned around to head upstairs with Bev, Ben, and Stan following behind him.

Being alone with Eddie made Richie’s heart race, he could literally feel it slamming against his chest. Now was his chance. He could tell Eddie exactly how he felt, how he felt towards him since they were kids, remembering how he felt the moment he saw him again after all these years. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what should he say?! What shouldn’t he say?

When Richie snapped out of his thoughts he saw that Eddie was making his way up the stairs. Thinking fast, Richie reached out, grabbing Eddie’s arm to stop him. He couldn’t say anything, his mouth was opened as if he was about to speak but no words came out. Fuck.

“Eddie-” He started, trying to think on his toes to get something across at least.

“I’ll give the shirt back,” Eddie said, assuming he knew what Richie was going to say, tugging a little bit on the collar, “but… I should probably wash it first. It has bacteria water and some of my blood on it, sorry. But I’ll get it back to you before we leave.”

“Oh…” Richie let go of his arm, chewing on his bottom lip, thinking of what to say still since he still had his attention, “that’s not what I-”

“Your jacket?” Eddie assumed again, “I think we left it at the Quarry. It’s covered in my blood, Rich, I don’t think you want it back,” he leaned against the stair railing, still feeling a slight aching pain in his stomach from where the stab wound had healed on its own. It wasn’t the same pain he felt when he got and after he got stabbed, but it was more of a healing ache.

Richie couldn’t help but smile at him, letting out a small chuckle as he rubbed his eyes from underneath his glasses. “No, you idiot. I was going to ask if you were okay.”

The exact moment Richie finished his sentence Eddie’s head started swimming with everything he wanted to say all at once. He had quite a few opinions based on that question. Should he lie about how he was really feeling? He always thought of Richie as his best friend, so why would he lie about that? It was rare, if Eddie was remembering correctly, that Richie would make sure someone was okay. Normally he would crack really stupid jokes as his own way of asking someone if they were okay.

“Oh…” Eddie’s face felt hot as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “are you actually asking or…?”

“No, no, no, I mean it. Are you okay?”

The sincerity in his voice caught Eddie off guard; yeah, this was something he didn’t remember Richie doing at all. Hell, Richie made a joke at the restaurant sounding seriously interested in his career as a risk analyst but then pretended that he fell asleep since it was “so boring.” He was waiting for Richie to crack a joke, but the look on his face indicated that it wasn’t going to happen.

What the hell.

Eddie took a deep breath in, telling Richie that he was about to speak quickly, so he was mentally preparing himself to try to keep up.

“I’m fine besides the fact we swam around in that nasty ass Quarry,” he started quickly, putting a hand over the bandage on his left cheek, “y’know? I just know that there’s some kinda infection trying to set in as we speak. Fortunately, yet unfortunately, it takes about two or three days before an actual infection sets in, so I would have time to try to cut that down by putting antibacterial cream on it, but-”

Yeah, Richie is starting to regret asking him.

“You’ll be fine, spaghetti man,” Richie said, cutting him off as he stepped up on the same step Eddie was on. He wrapped his arm around his best friends shoulders, they slowly walked up to the top floor.

There was a strange comfort flooding over Eddie with Richie’s arm wrapped around him. As much as he wanted playfully shove him off like he used to when they were kids, but this time it felt different, like Richie actually want to comfort him. He had to stop himself from leaning into his side.

“When’s your flight back to New York?” Richie asked once they were at the top of the stairs.

“I… haven’t booked one yet…”

Well, mark Richie down as surprised. He would’ve expected that Eddie had booked it on the way back from the Quarry, knowing him. Everything had to be planned out in advance for him so he felt like he had order and control in his life.

“No? Why not?” He asked, his arm still around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie hesitated for a moment, he didn’t end up saying anything, instead he just shook his head as if he didn’t want to say anything. “What? What aren’t you telling me, Eds?”

“I just…” he tugged at the wet shirt that was clinging uncomfortably at his torso before shrugging, not even sure what to say or why he wasn’t even planning on buying a ticket yet. “I just want to stay here for a little while longer,” he admitted, “what about you? When are you heading back to Chicago?”

“I… haven’t booked anything either.”

“You’re so unprepared…”

Richie was speechless. There was so much he wanted to say to him, especially since he had his arm still around Eddie, wanting to tell him everything he was feeling and what he felt for years. Why was this so hard? Maybe because the other Losers were still here, if he said anything and they happened to overhear then they would make fun of him? Hell, he’s never come out to anyone before about his sexuality and he was terrified of the responses. Especially since he was famous, what would that do to his career? Would it be over for him just as his career was starting? That would fucking suck. Especially since this was a job he really enjoyed.

Not right now, he decided.

“I’m gonna clean up with real. Clean. Water!” Eddie announced loudly so the other Losers could hear him.

In return, he could hear a collection of fuck off’ s from those in their rooms, sick of his shit obviously. He moved from Richie’s arm, walking down to his room at the end of the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Richie stood there in stunned silence as he watched Eddie walk away from him. He had no fucking idea why he was so anxious and suddenly so speechless. God, yeah, he felt like a fucking idiot and he had no idea why. Was it trauma from the events of today? Well, no doubt there was some underlying trauma bouncing around his brain now, but he was expecting to repress it for a few years before looking back on it when he was in his 60’s. Hell, he did think his best friend in the whole world was going to die, fuck, he thought Eddie had died and he was crazy for feeling a weak pulse and everyone was right when they kept telling him he was dead. Deadlights? Could that also cause trauma? What the fuck were even the Deadlights? How would he bring that up to a therapist?

He let out a sigh, as he finally figured out what to say to Eddie, but when he opened his mouth to speak he realized it was already too late since he long since when into his room to clean up. Great job, Trashmouth, you blew your chance, Richie thought as he slumped back into his own room, which was right across the hall from Eddie’s. He tried closing his door, but it didn’t quite click with the latch on the doorframe, so it was still slightly opened.

Richie stood in front of the mirror that was propped up on the wall over the dresser. He couldn’t help but stare at himself, all he could see was Eddie’s nonexistent blood still all over his face. It caused his breathing to hitch from panic, he was scared to close his eyes to sleep now, he knew all he was going to see was Eddie getting stabbed by Pennywise, watching him thrown around like a ragdoll all over again. Why did this have to fucking happen? Why couldn’t Mike have just called them for a get together, a normal get together after all these years to catch up? Just throw Pennywise out of the entire equation and it would’ve been a great time with friends.

He took off his glasses finally, snapping out of his thoughts. He looked at them, seeing Eddie’s blood stuck through the cracks that refused to wash away with the rest of the blood and dirt. There was no way these were getting fixed anytime soon, not until he got back home to Chicago. Thankfully he had an extra pair in his dufflebag that he always carried around just in case, since he was as blind as a bat without them and he refused to use contacts, as he was too squeamish to put them in himself.

Kneeling down next to the black dufflebag on the floor, Richie started going through it, tossing out the extra clothes he brought trying to find the glasses case. Where were they? He knew he packed them. He grumbled to himself, as he could barely see even with the glasses on since they had a crack that made them useless.

Thank fuck, Richie thought as he found the black glasses case.

He stood up again, his knee popping as he did. He tossed his old pair onto his bed before opening up the case, putting on the backup pair. Finally. He could see clearly again.

Standing at the end of his bed with his back to the door, Richie didn’t know what to do now. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts for too long, he needed someone to talk to. Fuck, he didn’t have anyone to talk to about anything that just happened. Besides whatever the hell just happened in the sewer, he didn’t want to talk about that right now, he wanted to talk about his feelings. Feelings… about what exactly? Richie wasn’t sure about that one. Maybe his manager was right… maybe he needed to take up therapy to get this shit off his chest.

Richie let out a sigh, snapping out his own thoughts for therapy and everything about his career that was suddenly causing him stress. He should be celebrating right now, he and his only true friends killed the thing that tormented them for years, saving a bunch of other people in the process. Why didn’t he feel like anything special happened? For some reason he was craving some validation and wasn’t sure where to get it from. Finally, Richie started taking off the wet shirt that was clinging to him, struggling in the process since it felt like it didn’t want to come off, he felt a small sense of panic, like he was never going to be able to get it off. Once it was covering his head he heard a small knock on the door, along with the creaky door hinges opening.

“Rich, man, I totally forgot I got stabbed in my bathroom, I don’t think I can-” Eddie had started as he walked into his room, thinking it would be okay since the door was opened. The instant he saw Richie look at him, the shirt off over his head but his arms still in the sleeves he felt embarrassed. It didn’t help that Richie gave him a small, awkward smile in return. “Shit, man. I’m sorry. The door was opened…” Eddie stammered, turning away as he could feel his face becoming hot.

Eddie jumped slightly when Richie let out a laugh, dropping the shirt on the floor at his feet. “Don’t be so dramatic, Eds, we’ve gone swimming in the Quarry a shit ton of times in just our underwear, remember?”

Well… now he remembered that.

Eddie couldn’t help himself when he rolled his eyes. He didn’t look away from Richie because he was embarrassed, but because he knew that since his face was feeling hot that it was probably turning a bright shade of red and didn’t want Richie to make fun of him for that. Since Richie did bring up the fact that they used to go swimming in the Quarry a bunch of times as kids, that didn’t really matter, but it was the fact that they haven’t seen each other in years. It was almost as if they were strangers in some way, but… not really? Like… they should’ve felt like strangers, but they all had the type of friendship that never changed, no matter how long they’ve been away from each other.

“Oh, uh…” Eddie started, clearing his throat before turning to face Richie again who still had that stupid smile on his face, “can I use your shower?” He asked quickly.

Richie let out a long and dramatic sigh, resting his cheek on his hand as he stared at Eddie. “I suppooooseee soooo,” he said just as dramatically.

“ Coolthanks,” Eddie said quickly, turning around to leave the room but accidentally slammed his shoulder into the door on his way out. Richie could hear him curse under his breath as he left to go get some clean clothes and a towel, as there was no way he would use a towel that didn’t belong to him since he had no idea where it’s been and it had to be clean.

Richie moved into his bed, laying down on the sheets with his arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes to relax and waiting for Eddie to come back. Waiting for him to come back? He was just using his shower, that was it.

Should I tell him how I feel? Wait, what even do I feel? No, never mind. All these thoughts were flooding through Richie’s mind all at once and he wanted them to stop. God, he was happy to see his friends, but at what cost? A clown fucking with them, his best friend almost dying, and now he’s stuck with all these feelings that’s been tormenting him for most of his adolescence.

The moment the door opened again, Richie’s eyes shot open, seeing Eddie walk back into his room with a pile of clothes and towel folded neatly. Of course he probably took the extra time to fold them before coming back. Fucking loser. Eddie stopped at the bathroom door, turning to look at Richie who was still shirtless; if Richie didn’t know any better he thought he was checking him out.

“That’s disgusting,” was the only thing Eddie said, snapping Richie out of his thoughts.

Richie instinctively looked down at his chest then back up to Eddie. “Not enjoying the view?” He asked playfully, a goofy smile on his face.

“I meant you laying on your bed after swimming around in that nasty water, you fucking idiot.”

Richie’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh. Well. What is it that the kids say? YOLO? Because… YOLO.”

Eddie gave Richie a look that screamed I can’t believe you fucking said that, you idiot. He flipped him off, and Richie couldn’t help but laugh at him, he was so fucking cute.

“Aww, fuck you too, Eds,” Richie said as he flipped him off in return. Eddie shook his head, going into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

Great. Now Richie was alone with his thoughts. Again.

He was trying to recall what he saw in the Deadlights. How long was he in there again? Five minutes? Five hours? It certainly felt like a lifetime, almost like he didn’t want to leave. He remembered that much. Richie had felt… happy… in the Deadlights, he certainly did not want to leave, like he actually had a life, a life he didn’t want to leave. A life he wanted to have in real life. Why couldn’t he stay? God, it sounded like he was hooked on a drug and needed to take another hit in order to feel a purpose.

Richie closed his eyes, only seeing one thing… Seeing Eddie getting stabbed by Pennywise. His blood all over him. He’s going to die, you have to save him. Save him, Richie. Who else would save him if not him?

“Richie, hey, Richie?” He heard Eddie’s voice calling his name. He wasn’t sure if this was real or just reliving what happened hours ago. He felt someone shaking his shoulder, causing Richie to open his eyes again. When he looked over he certainly didn’t expect to see Eddie standing next to him, dripping wet from the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

Richie’s eyes went wide in surprise as he quickly sat up in his bed, scared that if he didn’t react now something else would happen to him.

“What? What’s wrong?!” Richie blurted out, thinking that he was hurt or something. He couldn’t help himself when his eyes traveled down to Eddie’s stomach to make sure there wasn’t a hole where he had gotten stabbed. Hell, there wasn’t even a scar. It was like nothing happened.

“Is your soap antibacterial?” Eddie asked him, grabbing the towel around his waist so it wouldn’t fall.

“Um…” Richie pinched the bridge of his nose, not expecting that’s what Eddie wanted. “I don’t… I don’t think so, buddy. Is there a difference?” He asked, looking up at Eddie again as he dropped his hands to the mattress.

Eddie took in a deep breath, indicating that he was about to start speaking really fast again. “Well, there’s really no difference between normal and antibacterial soap,” he started, catching Richie off guard, “but normal soap removes germs from us while antibacterial soap kills bacteria and stops their growth.”

“Oh wow, dude…” Richie breathed out, trying to process everything Eddie was trying to say. “I’m gonna say no.”

“Did you know the FDA is even trying to ban antibacterial soap from being sold at the store because there’s really no difference?”

“Okay…” RIchie said, standing up.

He grabbed Eddie’s shoulders, spinning him around so he was in front of him as he kept talking about the fucking soap. Richie walked Eddie back over to the bathroom until he was standing in front of the door. He pushed him inside so he was in front of the sink before closing the door so Eddie could take a shower and stop talking about soap. Soap, soap, soap. Did it really fucking matter?

Richie pressed his back against the cold surface of the door, letting out a sigh as he rubbed his face in frustration.

He was in love with a goddamn idiot.

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