#i don’t remember which one the associates party fears two was on either but that’s another fun one

[ezraphobicsoup]

sometimes i wonder why i am the way i am and then i remember that the penultimate track on the summer 2014 car cd was ben folds five boxing. and yeah no that adds up

[possiamo-andare]

Love Is A Dangerous Game: Rafe Cameron (part 2)

Rafe Cameron x Y/N

MASTERLIST

word count: 10.9k

part one

warnings: smut, swearing, and lots of fluff

a/n: i am seriously so impressed with myself with this one! i really enjoyed writing it, especially since i was playing taylor swift's evermore while writing it lol. it took awhile and i apologize, i was sick and then i had exams and life just got in the way. anyways, happy reading!

~

When you’re nineteen, lying in your bedroom with damp eyes and heavy breaths, all you want is to be loved. You lie awake at night, wondering why love hasn’t found you yet. Y/N was not immune to this and she too would stay awake long after everyone else was asleep, wondering why love hadn’t swung her way. 

Y/N’s mother, along with her other pieces of advice, told her daughter that young love was false hope and anguish. And although she tried to remember that, she still craved to be wanted. Yearned for. Every nineteen-year-old does, especially nineteen-year-old girls. She yearned for her name on someone else’s lips and spoke softly into her ear.  

But she knew the reality. She knew how vast the void was between her want and the truth, and that terrified her down to her bones. Silence can become deafening, haunting thoughts, filled with her fears. The idea that she would never be wanted. That she won’t find someone who will unconditionally love her. That she may never feel reciprocated love.  

Y/N used to sit there, in shades of grey, and pray that one day her thoughts would be proven wrong. She had waited a long time, even after Daniel arrived, and dreamt of endless fantasies of how it could be.  

And then, Rafe Cameron kissed her. She had looked like a mess and she hadn’t brushed her teeth that day but he had kissed her. Devoured her. And then, just then, she realized what it meant to be yearned for. As he held her close, his lips devouring her own, she felt her heart burst.  

So, this is what it feels like to be yearned for. 

Although that was her first inkling of Rafe’s feelings, and their confessions at the college party were the second, tonight was the third. Tonight, was a night she’d remember forever. Just three weeks after their first kiss, Rafe had said something that made everything so much more real.  

“I love you.” 

Two hours earlier, Y/N was getting ready for a party. It was a start-of-summer party, which was something celebrated by all of the teenagers in Outer Banks in celebration of school finally ending. The teenagers in Outer Banks really knew how to throw a party. Specifically, the start-of-summer parties. These parties, usually thrown in the house of the richest Kook, were the most extravagant parties in the town and very exclusive. This meant you had to be invited, and that usually meant no Pogues allowed. Fortunately, Y/N had been invited. She was dating Outer Banks’s richest guy after all. Secretly, of course. She hadn’t found the guts to tell her brother, or anyone, that she had been dating Rafe Cameron for three weeks. 

“Ready to go?” Oliver asked, leaning against the threshold of Y/N’s bedroom door. He had his sneakers on and his keys jingled in his hands. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, spraying some setting mist to set her makeup before looking at her brother. The night had just started and he was already bothering her. “I still can’t believe you’re going.” 

Oliver gave her an incredulous look. “Are you embarrassed of me or something?” 

Y/N smirked. “Uh, yeah. I don’t wanna be associated with you tonight.”  

The real reason she didn’t want Oliver to go was because Rafe was going and she knew she’d be sneaking off early to be with him. They had spent every waking second together since she arrived back in OBX, and she hoped tonight would be no different. 

“Why? Are you trying to impress someone?” Oliver teased, following after Y/N as she exited her room.  

Y/N blushed, hiding her face from her brother. “What? No.” 

Oliver chuckled. “Please, I haven’t seen you get ready for a party since your first homecoming with Daniel. Either you’re excited to see someone tonight, or you’re having a manic episode. Those are the only two instances where you put on this much makeup.” 

Y/N hated how well he knew her. He was right, after all. This had been the first party she would be attending since her night at the frat house with Rafe and she wanted to impress him. Although Rafe had never dated anyone, she knew the girls he slept with were all so pretty. She wasn’t exactly jealous, but she did want him to feel proud to be with her. Rafe never seemed to care if she wore makeup or not, his eyes always seemed glued on her.  

“Not having a manic episode, but I might if you don’t stop bothering me.” Y/N replies, opening the passenger’s side door of Oliver’s car. It was a janky old thing, dust coating every inch of the car. She almost felt embarrassed showing up in this car, but she didn’t want to walk and it was the only one they had. 

Oliver laughed, his keys in the ignition. “Well, whoever he is, I’m sure he’ll love the look.” 

Y/N faked a gag, overselling her annoyance. “Shut up.” 

Oliver dropped it, changing the conversation once his favourite song came on, but Y/N’s mind stayed on Rafe. Her thoughts seemed to be consumed by him, especially since they started dating. She had always thought of him -- of how his lips would feel against her own or how it would feel to hug him -- but now that she knew those answers, it was all she could think about. Even worse, she got the answers to questions she never even thought to ask. She felt the vibration in his chest as he laughed, and she became familiar with how his eyes twinkled whenever she spoke. She found herself looking back on many of their interactions when they were kids and she realized he had always been looking at her like this. What she mistook for annoyance, he was really just showing his adoration. She felt stupid for not seeing all of the signs. For being so blind. But she saw him now, and she liked what she saw. 

When they finally arrived at Rafe’s home, the party was in full swing. There were people diving into his pool and people dancing on his roof. The music was loud; she had heard it as Oliver turned the corner on their street and as they exited his car. It vibrated against her body as they passed the threshold of his home, making their way deeper and deeper into the Cameron household. There were people everywhere. It seemed as though the entirety of OBX was here. Y/N and Oliver squeezed past a hoard of people, dodging sweaty bodies and drunk teens. This party was like a walking hazard; drunk teens and expensive decor everywhere. But no one seemed to care, and Y/N cared a lot less when her eyes landed on Rafe. 

He looked divine. She almost gasped. He had on these tight black jeans, the ones she remembered drooling over only a couple months ago when she thought he hated her. He had paired those dangerous jeans with an equally dangerous white button up. Except, he had unbuttoned a number of buttons at his collar so his chest was on full display. It was a hot night so she figured he had done it less for style and more because he was drunk and hot, but she wasn’t complaining. His chest, sweaty and muscular, was on display and now all she could do was ogle him. 

Finally, her eyes returned to his face and she realized he was approaching her. There was a devious smirk on his lips, telling her he had seen what she was doing and she better prepared for a lot of teasing. Y/N glanced at Oliver, who had seemed oblivious, which made her breathe a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn’t have to endure his teasing.  

When Rafe finally approached them, he hugged Oliver first. Y/N wasn’t offended. It had been her idea to wait to tell Oliver. She was unsure on how to broach the topic and Rafe, being the supportive boyfriend, had agreed. Y/N had to admit, for someone who never had a girlfriend, he was really good at being a boyfriend. 

“How’s it going, dude?” Oliver yelled, pulling away from his friend. 

Rafe smiled, shrugging. “Not too bad. Did you guys just get here?” His eyes didn’t move to Y/N, not even for a moment, which was more than Y/N could say. Her eyes had never left him. 

Oliver looked to Y/N, nodding slightly. “Literally like two seconds ago.” 

Rafe nodded, glancing at Y/N for a moment. His eyes seemed emotionless, almost as if he could care less if she was here or not. He seemed to be able to control himself more than she could. At least he wasn’t drooling at the sight of her. It only made her a bit self-conscious, considering how much time she had put into her outfit. She was wearing a mini floral white dress, stopping right above her knees with her white sneakers. She had bought this dress just for tonight, something she hadn’t even done for Daniel. She felt a little stupid now, considering how nonchalant Rafe seemed. 

“Hey.” Rafe finally spoke, his eyes on her. He seemed completely emotionless, his face calm. 

“Hi.” Y/N squeaked out, finally looking away and at Oliver. “I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be back.” 

Oliver shrugged. “Rafe and I gotta find our friends anyways. Text me if you need me.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll be fine.” 

In truth, she wasn’t. Her throat felt dry and even as she left, she couldn’t even look at Rafe. It was all too much; the secrets and hiding her feelings. She knew this would have to end. She would have to tell Oliver soon, but she was nervous. She felt like she knew Oliver like the back of her hand, but she had no idea how he’d react to this. She was weighing her own happiness with her brother’s but she already knew which would win. She couldn’t live without Rafe. It was almost unbearable at this point.  

She travelled up the stairs, passing drunk couples making out on the steps and friends giggling to each other. As she entered the bathroom, locking the door behind her, she looked at the messages on her phone. Some of her friends who were also at this party had been texting her and asking her where she was. She texted them back, saying she was in the bathroom and she’d find them soon. She didn’t want to put on a brave face and lie to them again tonight but she hoped it would be the last time. Maybe she will tell Oliver tomorrow. She’d sit him down and just tell him, and hopefully he’d be okay with it. It scared her beyond belief but she wasn’t about to risk her relationship with Rafe just to save her brother’s feelings. She wasn’t the same little girl she had been when she first met Rafe. She was different now and she could decide who she spent her time with. Oliver would just have to come to terms with that.  

Suddenly, as she washed her hands, there was a knock on the door. It wasn’t a loud knock, but a soft one. She almost thought she didn’t hear it since it wasn’t much louder than the water running out the facet. She rolled her eyes slightly, thinking it was just another drunk teen in need of the bathroom. 

“Just one second!” She yelled. Although the music was quieter upstairs, she knew the person on the other side wouldn’t be able to hear her.  

Suddenly, someone hammered their fist against the door, startling Y/N. The person, whoever they were, seemed impatient and in a rush, which only annoyed Y/N more. She responded and had been polite, could they not just wait? Suddenly, they banged on the door again and this time Y/N yanked the door open, ready to tell off whoever it was on the other side. 

With her face burning with anger, she screamed. “Who the fuck -” 

When her eyes met his, her voice halted at the back of her throat. Rafe Cameron stood on the other side of the door. The man she had greeted downstairs seemed to be a completely different person than the one that was standing in front of her now. His chest rose and fell rapidly as if he was out of breath. His eyes were narrowed as if he was on a mission and she was the target. Her eyes glanced down at his chest and when her eyes returned to his, there was a small smirk on his lips. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Rafe breathed, almost exasperated. 

Y/N frowned, confused for a moment. “What?” 

Rafe stepped over the threshold of the door, slamming the door closed. Before Y/N could process any of his movements, his hands grabbed the sides of her face and he pulled her to his lips. Although she loved any kiss Rafe gave her, a small part of her secretly desired these types of kisses the most. Whenever it got heated between the two, he would kiss her like this. He would devour her. He seemed possessed, his heavy breaths signalling to her that he would fall apart at any moment. Although she often took charge when kissing him, these kisses were reserved for him. When he kissed her like this, she let him win. She let him have the power when he kissed her like this.  

Y/N heard the click of the door locking but she could care less, her mind focused on Rafe. She had no idea where this came from but she indulged in it and hoped he’d never stop. She had to almost stifle a moan when he lightly bit onto her bottom lip and carefully tugged on it. She couldn’t help it and she almost instinctively ground her hips onto him. When he kissed her like this, her body reacted before her brain did. 

Rafe pulled away for a moment, his mouth still against her. “What are you doing to me?” 

Y/N smirked, her arms coming to wrap themselves around his neck. “I have no idea what you mean.” 

Rafe rolled his eyes. While one hand rested on her backside, the other came to play at the hem of her dress. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

Y/N shrugged. “Maybe.” 

Rafe chuckled. “Well, I’ll die a happy man.” 

Y/N giggled, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. Her lips remained in the same place, even as she spoke. “I could say the same for you.” 

Rafe pulled away to see her face and he had a smirk on his lips again. “Oh, I could tell. You’re not really good at hiding your emotions, stalker.” 

The nickname no longer hurt her but it continued to make her blush. “Not my fault my boyfriend looks so beautiful.” 

Rafe chuckled, throwing his head back slightly before looking back at Y/N. “You’re kidding me, right? I had to basically stare at Olly because I was scared, he’d see my mouth falling open.” 

Y/N, feeling very bold, stepped back from Rafe and sat her bum on the flat surface right beside the sink. Without thinking, she uncrossed her legs, revealing the white underwear she had worn in hopes that Rafe would see them. “Why don’t you put that mouth to good use, Cameron.” 

Rafe instantly dropped to his knees; his eyes trained on her core. Rafe Cameron had not eaten out many women, mostly because he was a shy lover. He frequently found himself blushing when he was with a girl, his cheeks turning red at the smallest action. Although the same could be said when he was with Y/N, it was also completely different. He felt confident when he was with her. She held his heart in her hands and that turned him on beyond belief. He’d do anything she asked, but she rarely had to request him to touch her pussy. Rafe did it because he wanted to. Because he loved every second of it.  

Rafe’s fingers looped around the band of her underwear, roughly tugging them off. The second he had seen her that night, he had wanted her. It took all the self-control he had not to kiss her when he first greeted her. He couldn’t wait until they could kiss in public. Although Rafe despised PDA when it concerned any other couple, it didn’t include him. He remembers finding himself disgusted with couples before he was with Y/N. He had thought what they were doing was absurd but now that he was with her, he understood the appeal all too well. To kiss Y/N whenever he pleased was something he had been waiting his entire life for.  

Rafe kissed the inner skin of Y/N’s thigh, his eyes looking up at her. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.” 

Y/N smirked, one hand coming to Rafe’s hair and tugging on it slightly. “Rafe, please…” 

Rafe smirked, kissing closer and closer to her core. “You have me wrapped around your fucking finger, darling.” He lifted her dress up higher and kissed her hip bone this time, teasing her. “You got me on my fucking knees, and still, you’re begging me for more.” 

Y/N giggled, a bemused grin across her lips. She gave him a teasing stare, her eyes just as playful as his. “Wrapped around your finger, huh? Wonder what I could make you do?” 

“I’d do anything.” 

Although there was a lightness in his tone, it never reached his eyes. Instead, his eyes bore into Y/N’s with such intensity and sincerity that Y/N’s breath fell short for a moment. All that could be heard for a few moments was the heaviness of each of their breaths. Rafe’s eyes finally trailed down her body to her legs once more, his intense gaze never relenting.  

If he was serious about his confession, Y/N already knew what she’d ask of him. 

Y/N moaned breathlessly, her hip lifting to meet Rafe’s lips. “Please… I need you.” 

Rafe smirked. “Need me to what?” 

Y/N pouted, rolling her eyes. “I need your mouth on me.” 

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his smirk remaining. His eyes never left hers, even as his tongue explored her core. Y/N was a mumbling mess, her fingers holding onto Rafe’s hair for dear life. She threw her head back against the mirror, a low moan starting in the back of her throat. She closed her eyes for a moment, the feeling of Rafe’s mouth against her core seemed to be the only thing she could focus on. Although she was usually in control, it all vanished from her when he did this. She got lost in how he made her feel, usually the only words being able to escape her mouth were soft whispers of his name. 

But just her legs began to shake and she felt the rise of her orgasm, Rafe pulled away completely and stood back up. He positioned himself in between her legs, a small smirk on his lips. Y/N frowned for a moment, her core unbelievably sensitive and not used to being left unfinished. Even as Rafe pulled her in for a kiss, she pouted against his lips. 

“Rafe…” She whined as he pulled away. 

While her fingers played with the loops of his jeans, Rafe’s hands rested against the sides of her face. Rafe chuckled at her whines, her desperation only fuelling his desire. Sometimes he got nervous but it helped to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.  

“Shut up, stalker. I can’t believe you’re so obsessed with me.” It was only a small joke but it made Y/N blush nonetheless. It only turned Rafe on more though. 

“Says the man that was just on his knees for me.” Y/N chided, pulling Rafe closer to her chest by the loops of his belt. 

Rafe gave Y/N a chaste kiss, his eyes focusing on the heat radiating off her cheeks. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?” 

“No, not nearly enough.” She giggled, her hair falling in front of her face as she spoke. 

“Hm.” He remarked, brushing the hair from her face. “I could say it all the time and it still wouldn’t be enough.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, the same blush remaining on her cheeks. “You’re whipped, Rafe Cameron.” 

Rafe smirked, knowing she was right but too embarrassed to admit it. “Just shut up and kiss me.” 

Y/N smirked, finally giving in and kissing Rafe forcefully. Surprisingly, Y/N was the more dominant one in the relationship. Before she began dating Rafe, she just assumed he had always been the dominant one in his relationships. He certainly presented himself as this cocky asshole, who she assumed loved bossing his girlfriends around. She had believed this for many reasons.  

Firstly, he had teased her relentlessly the entire time they had known each other and she had interpreted this as harshness rather than flirting. Secondly, he was a complete jock in high school. He had been on their school’s swim team and had been one of their school’s best rugby players. Girls flocked to him, anxious to even get a wink from him in their general direction. It had always made Y/N jealous, and it didn’t help that he seemed to relish in the attention many girls gave him. It was one of the reasons she was against showing him any affection. The one time she had when they were younger, he had laughed in her face. Y/N had grown up thinking Rafe was this macho womanizer, incapable of compassion. 

The reality was much different. Although it was true that Rafe could be proud, he was much more than that. She had now seen another side of him, especially when they slept together. If anything, he was the exact opposite when it came to sex. Although he was always eager have sex, he was definitely the less dominant one and thought of Y/N’s pleasure more than his own. If she wanted him to do something, he was more than willing to. Rafe might be dominant in OBX’s social circle, but he was completely submissive when it came to Y/N. 

Rafe whined, the feeling of Y/N’s hands clinging onto his belt loops making the ache in his stomach grow. “Baby, please…” 

Y/N chuckled, pulling away from Rafe slightly to smile. “What?” 

Rafe frowned, kissing her lips softly before he spoke again. “Let me fucking feel you.” 

Y/N smirked, this time moving her hands away from his belt and instead undoing the button on his jeans. “Want me that badly?” 

Rafe kisses her again, moaning softly as he feels her hands against his boxers. “You already know the answer to that.” 

Y/N continued to smirk, her heart fluttering at Rafe’s words. No one had ever been this passionate towards her before and she’d be lying if it didn’t make her love Rafe even more.  

Love. 

There was that word again. She had caught herself thinking it so many times before and she had to physically stop herself from saying it aloud. She could never say it with Daniel and they had been dating far much longer than she was dating Rafe. Yet, she felt it so strongly. She tried to remember her mother’s words about the anguish and false hope of young love but with each growing day, she felt her love for Rafe grow. Although she had only been dating him for a month, she had known him for far longer and the word love had echoed in her mind since she first laid eyes on him. Most of the time, she could control herself and refrain from speaking it aloud, but this time it stumbled from her mouth as if her lips had decided to say it before her brain did. 

“I love you.” It came out as a giggle, passing her lips so quickly she had almost believed she never spoke it at all. 

But when Rafe pulled away, shock and awe on his face, she knew he had heard her. She can see the colour drain from his face and she’s aware that she is mirroring him. She’s just as shocked as him. She had never said this to a friend before, let alone a boyfriend. There’s a moment where she can physically feel her blood pumping in her veins and she’s sure that means she’s about to have a heart attack. Especially since Rafe has yet to say anything either. His mouth is slightly agape, the usual blush on his cheek nowhere to be found. 

“What?” He whispers, and although the music is loud, she can hear him clear as day. 

Y/N gulps, her throat dry. She can feel the tears in the back of her eyes and she tries to blink them away. “Uh, I’m sorry.” She knows she can’t deny what she’s said, that would be a mistake. Instead, she begins apologizing. “I didn’t mean -” 

“Y/N…” Rafe begins, his hands coming up to the sides of Y/N’s face to soothe her. 

It’s no use though, because Y/N is spiraling and she can’t hear a word he’s saying. “It’s way too soon, and it was a mistake. I’m such an idiot --” 

But before Y/N can even finish her sentence, Rafe’s hands pull her face closer to his and he kisses her. At first, he’s just pressing their lips together to shut her up, but when she finally realizes what he’s trying to do, she deepens the kiss. She’s too flustered to kiss him properly so she gladly lets him take charge. He’s kissing her passionately, and soon, as their kiss comes to a close, she realizes his lips are trembling. Then, when they pull a part and she gets a proper look at his face, she realizes his eyes are welling with tears. Rafe Cameron is about to cry.  

“Rafe -” She begins, unsure of what to say. At first, she thought he would be disturbed at her premature confession of love, but now she’s not so sure. He seems to be holding back tears and she thinks that may be a good thing. “Are you okay?” 

“Okay?” He laughs, his hands dropping to her waist as he blinks away tears. “Are you kidding?” 

Y/N frowns, unsure of what to say. She did not think he would react this way. She thought, if anything, he’d joke with her and be his usual cocky self. Now, she’s not so sure. “You’re not weirded out?” 

Rafe smirks. “Weirded out? Why would I be weirded out?” 

Y/N shrugs, feeling a little silly now that she knows his reaction wasn’t what she thought. “I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.” 

Rafe rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “Ya know, for a smartass, you can be so dumb.” 

Y/N smirked, more than happy he was teasing her again. She knew that had to be a good sign. “What do you mean?” 

“Have the years of pining not shown you how much I love you?” Rafe chuckled.  

Y/N blushed, her eyes moving from his face to her hands. She was slightly embarrassed, to say the least. In all the times Rafe had spoken about his crush on her, he had never used the word pining. Pining seemed a bit dramatic. When her eyes returned to his face, there was a look of devotion in his eyes so strong it made her heart pound in her chest. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about you. How many times I’ve dreamt --” he pauses, taking a breath and reaching out to play with the ends of her short sleeve, “how many times I’ve dreamt about being this close to you.” 

The smile on Y/N’s face is brighter than ever. Her arms reach around his body and pull him into a hug. She can’t believe this is her life now. For so long, she thought she would never feel this way for anyone, let alone her brother’s best friend. Yet, here she was, in love with the prince of OBX. 

When Rafe and Y/N finally emerge from the bathroom, forty minutes have passed. Neither of them seem to care though as they kiss one last time before parting for the night. The top floor is deserted by this time so they feel more comfortable sharing a short kiss in this hallway. Y/N figures she won’t see him for the rest of the night so she kisses him for longer than she usually does. She knows she’ll miss him. Although she’ll be with her friends and she loves them dearly, she will still miss Rafe. Hopefully, she won’t have to conceal their relationship for much longer. She promises herself that she will tell Oliver tomorrow. This confession of love they shared has forever changed her. She loves Rafe and she won’t sacrifice that for anything.  

When they pull apart, there’s a gleam in Rafe’s eyes and she’s not exactly sure what it means. 

“Rafe.” she sighs, her eyes teasing him.  

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” 

“Because I’m obsessed with you.” Rafe smirks, kissing her forehead quickly. 

Y/N smirks, a giggle falling from her lips. “You don’t say?” 

Rafe shrugs, finally letting go of Y/N. His body instantly yearns for her touch again but he knows he has to find his friends before they come looking for him. “I’ll see you later, stalker.” 

Y/N blushes. “If you’re lucky.” 

~ 

When Y/N finally meets up with her friends, they have a million questions. They ask her where she’s been and who she was with, and although she doesn’t answer them, they all seem to know that a certain someone was keeping her away from her friends. Y/N doesn’t tell them about Rafe just yet. She knows she will have to eventually, but she wants Oliver to be the first person she tells. Not only because he’s her brother, but also because she doesn’t want someone to accidentally tell him before she even gets the chance.  

“Hey guys!” Y/N exclaims as she enters the circle her friends have created. She knows from the texts in their group chat that they’ve been standing in a circle for over an hour, talking and drinking, so it wasn’t too hard to find them. Most of Y/N’s friends were not the dancing type. 

“Nice of you to finally join us!” Joey, one of her close friends, exclaims.  "What have you been up to?"

Y/N shrugs, the heat from her cheeks growing stronger. “Nothing, just with Olly.” 

Some of Y/N’s friends share a look, and Y/N knows that they don’t believe her. Y/N is incredibly nervous from lying. She knows how bad she is at it, so she looks to Joey for support. Joey has always stuck up for her, especially when Y/N needed to get away with a lie. This time though, some of her friends were smirking at her.  

Joey takes a slow sip from her drink before speaking, a sly smirk still present on her lips. “Hm, that’s interesting because we saw Olly five minutes ago and he was asking where you were. Apparently, he hadn’t seen you all night.” 

Y/N’s face drops. “That’s, uh, weird.” Y/N hadn’t thought up a good enough lie so she opted to just stand there baffled for a moment. She knew her friends could tell she was lying, but none of them decided to speak first.  

Finally, Joey lifts her gaze back to Y/N. “Could Y/N, perhaps, have been with a boy?” 

All of Y/N’s friends laugh, exchanging knowing glances. They obviously have no idea she was with Rafe Cameron, and Y/N’s sure she’d never hear the end of it if they knew, but they do know she had to have been with someone. Girls don’t tend to sneak off for one hour without letting their friends know where they are. Unless, that is, they’re sneaking off to see a romantic interest. Y/N’s smiles, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. She wishes her friends weren’t so astute sometimes. It’d be easier to lie, that’s for sure.  

“But seriously,” One of Y/N’s friends says as the rest of the group’s laughter quiets down, “where were you?” 

Y/N cheeks are growing hotter and hotter by the minute. “Ah, nothing. I’ll tell you guys tomorrow.” 

Just as Y/N finishes speaking, she feels someone place their hand on her shoulder. The hand is warm and somehow familiar but she jumps slightly. Although she’s not at all drunk, the adrenaline in her body from her encounter with Rafe has made her slightly jittery. Her eyes move away from her friends and glance down at the hand that is firmly placed on her shoulder. As she looks up, meeting the eyes of the person that scared her, relief floods her body.  

It’s Olly and he’s wearing his signature goofy smirk. He seems a bit tipsy and maybe a little high but his eyes aren’t glassy so he’s sobered enough. Although Oliver seemed like the annoying jock who gets trashed every weekend, Y/N knows better than anyone that appearances can be deceiving. Oliver enjoyed having fun without substances most of the time, only drinking or smoking if he was particularly daring. Oliver didn’t need alcohol to have a good time. Most of the time, Oliver had the most fun just being his sober self.  

“Where the hell have you been?” Oliver hangs his left arm around Y/N’s neck, momentarily bringing her in for a hug before pulling away. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” 

The music is loud but Oliver is just close enough for Y/N to hear. “Oh, uh, I’ve been around.” Y/N awkwardly smiles, her eyes shifting from Oliver to her group of friends. They’re watching her interaction with Oliver intently. Some of them are even giggling at her response since it is obvious, she’s lying. 

Oliver rolls his eyes, flicking Y/N’s cheek in an attempt to annoy her. “Who is he?” 

Y/N gulps, her heart beating in her ears. This was not how she wanted to tell Oliver. “Uh, what?” 

“Or is it a she?” Oliver smirked, shrugging slightly. “They?” 

Y/N shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Oliver nodded; his eyes still gleaming. “Hey, I don’t judge. As long as you’re happy.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes this time, getting annoyed with how playful he was being. “Shut up. I’ll tell you later.” That wasn’t technically a lie. She was going to eventually tell him, maybe even tomorrow. 

This only encouraged Oliver. “Oh? So, there is something to tell?” 

Y/N’s eyes glanced to the front door, which had remained open all night. It suddenly became her beacon, her lighthouse -- almost as if it was calling for her. She wanted to escape this uncomfortable conversation and she knew the only way to do so was to distract Oliver with the option to leave. During a party, if Oliver ever wanted to go home, he’d usually go bother Y/N. Tonight was no different. He was bothering her not because he actually wanted to know where she was, but because he was secretly hoping she would propose to leave.  

Y/N eyes finally returned to Oliver, who had the same smug smirk on his lips. “Wanna go home?” 

Oliver rolled his eyes, trying to look annoyed but Y/N could tell he was relieved at her suggestion. “Great job at changing the subject.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes this time, her nerves calming as she sensed Oliver falling for the bait. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” She waved him away, turning to her friends and bidding them farewell. They had plans to meet up in a few days but they hugged each other as if this were the last time, they’d see one another.  

As Y/N and Oliver began making their way throughout the Cameron household, relief washed over Y/N. She hoped that this would be the last time she would have to dodge Oliver’s questions. No matter what happened, she promised herself to tell him everything tomorrow. It was all becoming too much -- the secrets and half lies. Oliver had been nothing but a supportive, kind sibling to her. Yes, he could be annoying but that was only because he cared for her. She had heard horror stories from her friends about their brothers and it made her grateful to have a sibling like Oliver.  

Just as they reached the threshold of the door, moments away from exiting the house and leaving this night behind him, a figure appeared in Y/N’s peripheral vision. At first, she ignored the figure, thinking it was just another teenager looking to party in this huge house. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Just as Y/N and Oliver reach the front door, Rafe Cameron steps out from the crowd and blocks the exit. There’s a beer in his hand, but Y/N knows it’s for show. Rafe actually hates beer and usually holds the bottle just for appearance. She knows he’s not drunk because she saw him thirty minutes ago when he confessed to her that he wouldn’t be drinking tonight. Besides, when she was kissing him, he had tasted like mint gum and citrus; a combination that drove her crazy. 

“You guys are leaving already?” 

His eyes only focus on Y/N for a moment and his face is calm as ever, not even seeming to register the fact that Y/N is in front of him. Y/N is baffled at how good he is at hiding his emotions. She wishes her emotions weren’t so evident, so noticeable. She could feel her eyes widen as she made eye contact with Rafe and she was unable to control herself. He just looked so good, if not better than when she saw him last. His hair, which was usually combed back, was now pushed to the front of his face and tousled at the top of his head. It looked as if someone had taken their hand and ran it through his hair, which she knew was the case. They hadn’t exactly looked in the mirror before they parted and now, she was beginning to regret it.  

“Uh…” Y/N gulped; her words stuck in the back of her throat. She couldn’t stop looking at Rafe and his gorgeous hair. 

“Yeah, we are.” Oliver said, glancing over at Y/N for a moment before continuing. “Y/N here is ready to go home. You know how she is.” 

Rafe’s eyes finally meet hers again, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I certainly do.” 

Y/N has to force herself to look away, a small blush beginning to show on her cheeks. “Very funny.”  

Although Y/N’s eyes remain on Oliver, her ears are perked at the sound of Rafe speaking once again. “Oh, well, I’ll walk you guys to your car.” 

Oliver frowns a bit, clearly confused at the gesture. Y/N glances at Rafe for a moment but his eyes remain trained on Oliver. “You sure?” 

Rafe shrugs, playing it cool. “Yeah, sure. I haven’t seen much of you tonight, Olly.” 

Oliver nods, his frown slowly turning into a smile. He seems a little skeptical but he turns back towards the door anyways. Rafe follows after him and Y/N watches nervously as they both exit Rafe’s house. Soon, Y/N follows after the two of them, almost shocked at their entire conversation. She heaves a sigh of relief and for a moment, believing they’re in the clear. Rafe and Olly walk slower than Y/N, both of them in a conversation and too busy with themselves to notice Y/N walking past them quickly. As they walk further down the street and towards Oliver’s car, Y/N can’t help but listen in on their conversation as she leads the way. 

“Where’s Sarah?” Oliver asks. Y/N can hear him digging around in his pockets for his keys, but Y/N doesn’t look behind her to see if he needs any help. She doesn’t want to give away the fact that she’s listening in on their conversation. 

“Somewhere with John B, probably. Haven’t seen her all night.” Rafe replies, and Y/N almost snickers at the annoyance in Rafe’s voice.  

She knows Rafe’s feelings towards Sarah’s boyfriend. John B and Rafe got along well, but now that he was dating Rafe’s sister, their relationship was tense. This only made Y/N frown, knowing full well Oliver could have the same reaction to Rafe and Y/N dating. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case but there was always that possibility. 

“Speaking of which, where were you all night, bud?” Oliver questions Rafe calmly. For Oliver, that question should have a simple answer but the truth was way less simple. 

“Oh, uh, you know. Around.” Rafe mumbles, and Y/N can almost hear the wheels turning in Rafe’s head as he tries to think of a good lie. 

“Around?” Oliver snickers. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” 

Again, Oliver is joking and his line of questioning is completely harmless but the more questions he asks, the more tense Rafe and Y/N become. Y/N wants to turn around and change the subject but she knows doing that will only raise suspicion. Instead, she walks in front of Oliver and Rafe, the only sound being heard from her is her sneakers hitting the pavement. She promises not to speak, even if she really wants to. But then, before she can even register her misstep, Y/N tumbles forward and lets out a shriek. She’s tripped over her own laces and her promise of not making a sound has been broken. Thankfully, she doesn’t fall on her face and quickly regains her footing before she could embarrass herself any further. 

“Y/N? You okay?” Oliver asks, dashing to her side. 

“Oh, uh yeah.” Y/N sighs, her feet stopping for a moment to regain her breath. She had been so shocked from her slip that her breath had been caught in her throat. 

“You sure?” Rafe asks, his hand reaching out for her. Y/N shudders at the contact of his hand against her elbow, the action alone calming her down. 

She looks up at Rafe and for a moment, everything and everyone else disappears. “Uh, yeah. It’s just my shoelace. It came undone.” 

Both Oliver and Rafe look down at the shoe on her right foot to see that it indeed was her shoelace that made her trip. While Oliver smirks at his sister’s clumsiness, Rafe bends down almost instinctively. Before Y/N can even object, he’s on his knees in front of her and he’s delicately tying her shoelace. For a moment, Y/N’s heart soars at the gesture and she wants to kiss him for being so cute. Even when they’re supposed to be pretending to not like each other, he still is willing to help her. She could’ve easily tied her shoelace herself, but Rafe doesn’t even let her consider doing it herself. His mind is consumed with Y/N, tying her shoelace is just another way he can show her how much he is willing to do for her. 

When Rafe is done, he stays on his knees for a moment longer, looking up at Y/N with a sweet smile on his face. Y/N smiles back down at him, her cheeks growing hotter by the second. Rafe’s hand reaches out to touch her ankle, squeezing it slightly before pulling away and standing back up.  

He towers over her, his eyes never leaving her face as he speaks. “There you go.” 

Y/N bites her lip, completely forgetting that Oliver is watching their interaction. “Thanks.”  

Y/N can see Rafe is about to say something else, but before he can even open his mouth again, Oliver interrupts them and their moment is shattered. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Suddenly, the reality of what just happened came crashing down on Rafe and Y/N. They both turned their heads, watching in horror as Oliver’s face twists in disgust. Y/N heart jumps in her chest and she pulls away from Rafe quickly, her face hot with embarrassment. She can’t believe how reckless she just was. She had been so caught up in the moment, she had completely forgotten Oliver had a front row seat to their flirting. She tries to look Oliver in the eyes, hoping she can discern whether or not he truly understands what he just saw. Unfortunately, Oliver is staring straight at Rafe, his eyes never even glancing at Y/N. 

“Olly, I -” Rafe begins. Y/N can tell he’s had the same realization as she just did, but it’s too late. Oliver has just witnessed them flirting and is starting to piece everything together. Before Rafe can even begin to speak, Oliver cuts him off. 

“Why the fuck did you just do that?” Oliver is slightly tipsy but his anger and confusion is sobering him up greatly. Suddenly, his eyes flick up to Rafe’s hair and then his eyes finally glance at Y/N. “What the fuck is going on?” 

“N-nothing!” Y/N shouts much too quickly.  

“Really? Nothing?” Oliver rolls his eyes and Y/N can tell he’s starting to get pissed off. “Then what the fuck was that?” 

“What do you mean?” Y/N asks, trying to be as innocent as possible. 

“What do I mean?” Oliver repeats, his voice getting a bit louder as he continues. “Why are you blushing like a schoolgirl,” Oliver looks at Rafe, “and why are you looking at her like that?” 

Y/N looks at Rafe for a moment and catches a glimpse of what Oliver means. Rafe is watching her like she’s the only person in the world. His eyes are glued to her and Y/N can basically see the hearts in his eyes. When Oliver points it out though, Rafe’s expression suddenly changes to a more embarrassed expression. 

“I’m not.” Rafe denies, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Olly -” Y/N begins, feeling her throat go tight at the mere thought of confessing everything to him. This was definitely not how she wanted to do it.  

“Y/N, what the fuck?” Oliver is spiraling, his eyes shifting between Rafe and Y/N. “You both have been gone the entire night,” Oliver begins, thinking out loud to the two of them. “But I never -” He cuts himself off, realizing that he was about to lie. He had somewhat seen this coming. 

Although he felt stupid for not realizing it sooner, he also knew Rafe had a small crush on Y/N years ago. He had a serious conversation with Rafe back then, laying down the law and making it clear nothing could ever happen between them. If they dated, they would eventually break up and Oliver would choose Y/N. He never wanted to make that choice between his best friend and sister, but he knew if he had to, he would choose Y/N. He never felt like he had to worry though. To Oliver, Y/N always seemed so disinterested in anything to do with Rafe. She always seemed annoyed at his very presence. Well, up until now. Now, Oliver was piecing the night together, starting with the fact that the two of them had not been seen by anyone the entire night. 

“Olly, please.” Y/N began, her eyes stinging with tears. She willed herself not to cry, even though she felt beyond overwhelmed. “Just let me explain.” 

“Are you two going out?” Oliver questions, his tone more surprised than irritated.  

Y/N looked to Rafe for a moment, who wore a bewildered expression. This was not how he imagined their conversation going, and he was willing to agree with whatever Y/N said, even if she decided to lie about their relationship. Y/N knew she couldn’t do that though. She had lied to Oliver much too often these past months and she was so sick of it. Before she had begun dating Rafe, she always felt like she could confide in Oliver. Now, there were so many secrets between them that it felt as if their relationship was crumbling. She wouldn’t allow for that to happen so she knew what she had to do. 

“Yeah, we are.” Y/N nodded, watching Oliver’s reaction carefully. 

Maybe it was because of the alcohol in his system or the environment in which he found out, but Y/N could see the disgust written across his face. She knew that if he found out a different way, in a better and calmer environment, he definitely wouldn’t have had this reaction. Her heart sank, Oliver’s disgusted reaction telling her that this wouldn’t be easy. 

“It’s basically incest!” Oliver cried, running his fingers in his hair. This was something he did when he was particularly distressed so Y/N knew this wasn’t a good sign. On the other hand, he was making a joke, however terrible it was, so that might have been a good sign too. 

“What? No, it’s not.” Rafe argued, pulling his brows together in confusion. 

“Uh, yeah. It kinda is.” Oliver argued. “We all grew up together, we’re basically related!” 

“Except we’re not related.” Rafe frowned, taking a step closer to Oliver. He seemed like he was reaching out for Oliver, trying to calm down his friend. “Olly -” 

Oliver pushed Rafe’s hand away, his eyes narrowing at his friend. “No, don’t you dare try to make me feel better. We had an entire fucking conversation about this and I was pretty clear my sister was off limits.” 

Rafe sighed, nodding slightly. “I know.” 

Oliver scoffed. “I don’t have many rules, dude, but I specifically remember saying that you couldn’t date my sister.” 

Rafe looks to his feet, nodding again. “I know.” 

“Like, dude,” Oliver continues to whine, “she’s basically a child.” 

Although Y/N had been quiet during their entire argument, this comment riled something up in her. She was not a child, and she would not be treated like one. She could make her own decisions, and she didn’t need her brother to approve every single relationship she was in. Finally, as Rafe and Oliver continue to argue, Y/N steps in between them and finally glares up at her brother. 

“Olly, this is not the nineteenth century. I don’t need your approval to date someone.” Her tone is harsh and it surprises Oliver a great deal. 

“Y/N -” Oliver begins, but Y/N’s too pissed to let him continue. 

“And I’m not a child. I’m old enough to decide who I like and I want to be with Rafe. It’s kinda fucked up that you made him promise not to go out with me anyways.” Y/N argues, her eyes never leaving the surprised expression of Oliver’s face. 

“That’s fucked up? What about the fact that you’re fucking my best friend?” Oliver raises his voice, his surprised expression turning to one of anger. 

“Whoa, Olly.” Rafe steps in between the siblings, a little annoyed at how crude Oliver is being right now. He’s trying to understand where Oliver is coming from so, he’s trying to be extra patient but he knows if anyone else was talking to Y/N like this, Rafe would be beating the shit out of them. “I know you’re upset, but don’t.” 

Oliver rolls his eyes, laughing bitterly. “Upset? Yeah, you could say that. I’m fucking pissed that the two most important people in my life kept such a huge thing from me for, what, months?” 

Oliver turns to walk away, feeling as though he needs some fresh air even though he’s already outside. He knows if he stays any longer, he’ll say something he’ll regret. Y/N wants to stop him and continue their conversation, no matter how brutal it is. Oliver has never been this mad at her before, and she knows it has to do with the fact that he’s scared to lose them. Y/N knows how loyal Oliver is and she knows he would always stay by her side, even if Y/N and Rafe were to break up. She knows he would sacrifice his relationship with Rafe for Y/N and it would devastate him. But Y/N also knows that her relationship with Rafe is stronger than ever and that it would never come to that. She just has to make him see it. 

“Olly, where are you going?” Y/N yells, watching as her brother storms off. 

“I need some space!” Oliver screams, looking back at Rafe and Y/N one last time before heading further and further down the street. 

Y/N turns back to Rafe, suddenly feeling a few tears fall down her face. Rafe embraces her, feeling just as overwhelmed by their entire conversation. He wants to take on this burden himself and shield Y/N from all this confusion and pain, but he knows he can’t do that. Oliver is right in how he feels, even though Rafe doesn’t agree with him. Rafe rubs Y/N backs, trying to soothe her as she cries. 

“What are we gonna do?” Y/N asks, looking up at Rafe. 

Rafe uses his thumb to carefully wipe away some of the tears on Y/N’s cheek. “Don’t worry, I have an idea. But I have to do it alone.” 

~ 

Oliver always brought Rafe to Figure 8’s beach whenever they had to have a hard conversation. They usually had them later in the evening, when the sun was setting, so Oliver could see the sunset and remain calm. When Oliver made Rafe promise not to date Y/N, they had that conversation at the same beach. Rafe still remembers it vividly, mostly because his heart never stopped beating through the entire conversation. He remembers gripping the coarse sand between his fingers, pressing his fingers further into the sand the more Oliver spoke. He could barely look at his friend throughout the entire conversation, only stealing glances when he was sure Oliver wasn’t looking. He still remembers the first thing Oliver said that night. 

He had been uncharacteristically quiet when they met up with their other friends that night. It had been the same night Y/N had her first homecoming with Daniel. Rafe still remembers how he felt when he saw her in that beautiful green dress. He felt light-headed; like he was high off the sight of her. She had barely looked at him; almost as if she was making a conscious effort not to. He felt invisible to her, but he was almost glad she wouldn’t look at him. He remembers noticing the lack of material on her back. He gulped, realizing the green dress was backless. His eyes ghosted down the expanse of her back, lower and lower, until he saw her back dip into - 

He remembers forcing himself to look away, counting to ten and thinking of a weak insult to throw her way. He tried to sound confident as he hurled it her way, but Oliver even noticed how pathetic his voice sounded. He almost seemed to be pleading with her. Pleading to end his suffering and just reject him so he could move on. 

In reality, his suffering had only begun.  

“Y/N looked nice tonight, don’t ya think?” Oliver had asked on the same beach years ago on the same night of Y/N’s homecoming. 

Rafe instantly looked up, gulping at what seemed to be an innocent question. Unfortunately, Rafe knew his friend and he knew Oliver never spoke about his sister. “Uh, I guess.” He guessed. Rafe wanted to scream. He more than guessed she looked nice. She looked more than nice. 

“Listen Rafe,” Oliver had begun, and it had instantly made Rafe’s heartbeat skyrocket. “I’m not blind. I see what’s going on with you. You’re my best friend, don’t think I don’t see what’s going on.” 

Rafe never looked at him, he was too scared. He remembers bracing for Oliver’s fist but Oliver never punched him. He just sighed, continuing on with his speech when he realized Rafe was going to make no effort to defend himself. 

“And I know that you can’t control who you like, but she’s my sister and you’re my friend. If you guys start anything, you’ll break up and I’ll choose her side over you. I’ll always choose her. So, please, don’t make me choose.” 

Rafe clutched onto the sand, her anxiety bubbling over and his body shaking slightly. This had been the first time he had ever been called out for his feelings, by his best friend no less. All Rafe could do was nod along, his heart shattering slightly. 

“I promise,” Rafe vows, “I’ll never make you choose.” 

He had acted so coldly to Y/N that night she had returned from homecoming and he had thought he had been doing the noble thing. He pushed her away, just like he should’ve done, but his pushing had only pulled her closer to him. Every time he watched her or looked into her beautiful eyes; he fell harder. And soon enough, not even his promise to Oliver was enough. 

As Rafe finally approached the same familiar beach, his eyes searching for his friend, a wave of nostalgia swelled within him. He had been here a dozen times with Oliver, but this time was different. Rafe and Oliver always made their way to this beach but tonight, Rafe was here alone to search for his angered friend. He had dropped Y/N off at her home and promised her to make everything right. She had been rightfully upset over how Oliver had found out about them and Rafe intended to make it right. He blamed himself, really. If he had just controlled himself for a moment, none of this would be happening.  

It wasn’t that hard to find Oliver. The sun was rising in the west and Rafe quickly spotted him sitting on the sand, watching the sky as it turned a dark orange. Rafe waited for a moment, hesitating as he saw the sky. He had seen it many times before but this time was different. This time, the sun was rising with Oliver and Rafe’s friendship on the brink of disaster. 

Rafe finally began moving again, finally approaching Oliver carefully. When he was five feet away, Oliver turned quickly with a deep scowl on his face. When he saw Rafe, it only deepened, which scared Rafe beyond belief. Oliver and Rafe had never fought, never disagreed, so Rafe was out of his element here. He didn’t know how to broach the subject, especially since Oliver was throwing daggers at him. 

“Hey.” Rafe waved slightly, standing uncomfortably in front of Oliver. He didn’t know whether he should sit or stand. Depending on how angry Oliver was, Rafe might need to take a step back in a hurry. 

“What?” Oliver frowns, looking back to the sea in front of him. The water was calm, barely moving even though there was a breeze. “Did Y/N tell you to come?” 

Rafe shook his head. “No, I wanted to.” 

Oliver cupped some sand in his hand and played with it slightly. Rafe watched his friend’s hands begin to shake and suddenly, Oliver spoke. “Why?”  

There was no anger in his voice, only pain and in turn, it pained Rafe too. “I love her, Olly.” 

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head. “God, I know that. Even Daniel knew that. I’m surprised my sister only recently figured it out.” 

Rafe gave Oliver a confused look, watching Oliver’s head stare up at his friend. Rafe took a chance, sitting down beside his friend and letting the sand cushion him. “I’m sorry. I know I promised I wouldn’t make you choose, but I can’t keep pretending.” 

Oliver shook his head. “You know what really sucks? If we hadn’t been friends, I would’ve loved for you to date her. I can tell you really care for her, and you deserve love, Rafe. You deserve it all, man. But not with her. Not with my sister.” 

Rafe shook his head, indignant to Oliver’s comment. “What you don’t understand, Olly, is that I’ll never have it if it’s not with her. I’ll never find love if it’s not with her.” 

Oliver finally looks at his friend, his eyes glassy. “You promised me you wouldn’t make me choose.” 

Rafe nodded. “Maybe you won’t have to.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “What? You gonna marry her?” 

Rafe blushed, his mind flashing with images of Y/N in a white dress and his heart leaped to his throat. Rafe was young and rarely thought of marriage but whenever he did, the same girl was always his bride. “I don’t know.” Rafe answered honestly. “But I’ll tell you this; I’ve known Y/N for five years and I have yet to get tired of her. We’ve been together for three weeks and they’ve been the best weeks of my life. I can’t see myself without her. I’ll be here until she gets tired of me.” 

Oliver’s features lift, his expression changing from anger to shock. Rafe continues to stare at his friend, at the guy who has changed his life. Not only by being his best friend, but by also introducing him to Y/N. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. I’m not some controlling maniac.” 

Rafe nods, smiling a little. “I know. You’re just looking out for your sister.” 

Oliver smiles back and this eases Rafe’s nerves. “I kinda always knew it, in a way.” 

Rafe frowns, confused slightly. “Knew what?” 

Oliver smirks. “That you guys would get together. Knew it the second you came over to my house for the first time.” 

Rafe smirked. “Why? Because of how I was watching her?” 

Rafe tries to remember that far back and he does. He remembers entering Oliver’s living room and seeing Y/N sitting on the couch, reading some book. He remembers watching her eyes glance over the words on the page and he remembers thinking that he had never seen someone make something so mundane look so beautiful.  

Oliver shakes his head. “Nah, because she couldn’t keep her eyes off you.” 

Rafe’s heart swelled. He wondered if this was truly real, if he was actually lucky enough to be loved by her. Rafe had not been lucky concerning many things in his life, but he felt like the luckiest man in that moment.

~ 

She's in his boxers, her clothes thrown mindlessly on the floor of his room. She'll leave behind an accessory and it will never leave his room again. It's a necklace, one she got from a farmers market. Its home will now be with him, because it's just another reminder that she was here. At some point, she was here and she wanted him. When he finally picks it up off the floor, he'll wear it around his neck, his fingers toying with the pendant whenever his thoughts drift to her. It wasn't an important necklace and she didn't even know it was missing. It was her necklace at one point and that was all he cared about.  

He'll think it's rather pathetic. To hold onto something, she thinks is so meaningless. But he can't help it. Just like he can't help buying her extra chapsticks from the same company she likes so much and stuffing it in her pockets and purses, just so she always has one handy. In these small moments, as he secretly places another chapstick in the back pocket of her jeans, he realizes his dreams have turned into a reality. He loves her. He knows it to be true. He knows it when he hears her footsteps behind him, and his chest swells with joy at the mere notion she's nearby. He knows it when he catches a whiff of her scent, his cheeks turning red at the thought of her smooth skin. He knows it's premature, as young love tends to be. It's young and quick, like a momentary spark of light coming from a match. His brain pictures it as an ice cream sundae; a creamy and rich vanilla flavour topped with hot fudge. He can't get enough. He devours it, not even letting himself enjoy the taste before he has another mouthful. He craves more and more. And just when he thinks he's full, he asks for more. 

So, when she looks at him and asks him what he's afraid of, he mumbles out the first thing he can think of. "Loving you too hard and regretting the quickness of it when I don’t have anything left of you.” He loves until he's nauseous because he loves her. 

She only smiles at him, shaking her head at his ridiculousness. Doesn’t he know? “You’ll never lose me, silly. I’ll always be here.” 

They shared loving smiles and Rafe felt as though his heart might explode out of his chest. He had never felt so in love before her, but to be honest, there had never been such a thing. There had never been a before with Y/N. He met her and that was it for him. 

It all felt too good to be true. But here she was, in his arms, where she belonged. 

~

tagging: @gillybear17 @pogueslandia @itsalexwin @goldenjo @totallynotkaibiased @whores-ocean @lokisthvr @fangirlfree @c0untryclub @tumblin-theworldaway @lovelyxtom

[philadelphia-hq]

EVENT ONE: CUPID’S BOW

“I LIKE LARGE PARTIES. THEY’RE SO INTIMATE. AT SMALL PARTIES THERE ISN’T ANY PRIVACY”

The City of Philadelphia is proud to announce the annual Lover’s Ball, this year hosted in connection with the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia and the Jefferson Institute. For one night, and one night only, the Institute will be opening its doors and taking a step back in time! Yes, to the glitz and glamor, where the drinks were plentiful and the dances were riotous. It can only be the Roaring ‘20s! So, grab a gown (1920′s flapper dresses are highly encouraged), grab a partner — and don’t forget the secret password! The Jefferson Institute will be transformed into a Gatsby wonderland, fit for any Jay or Daisy. And, whilst you’re sipping on mint juleps, don’t forget to bid on one of our baskets, you never know what you might win... And remember, all proceeds go to benefit the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia!

LOCATION: The Franklin Institute

DATE: Saturday, February 11th, 2023

TIME: 7pm-12am

DRESS CODE: Black Tie Formal

“YOUNG HEARTS RUN FREE”

But, perhaps the 1920’s aren’t quite your thing though, and you much prefer a more modern era. Fear not, for Puente have got you covered with their annual ‘Anti-Valentines’ party, this year with an 90s twist ( of lime ) taking inspiration from the iconic movie Romeo+Juliet. Choose your house — Capulet or Montague, and dress in your houses colors ( Red for you Capulets, Blue for the Montagues ). Your favorite spot for sinning will be open from 10pm till 3am, and with a whole raft of brand new, one off drinks on the menu, there’s plenty of time to track down a fish tank and find a partner on the other side. Just remember the rule, what happens at Puente, stays at Puente. Oh - and stay away from balconies.

LOCATION: Puente

DATE: Saturday, February 11th, 2023

TIME: 10pm-3am

DRESS CODE: 90′s Cool

* Puente is not associated with the City of Philadelphia. The City of Philadelphia is not responsible for any of the events that take place on Puente’s premises.

As you can see from the description above, there will be two parties on the same night — the ‘official’ city run event, which will be a 1920s themed ball, complete with charity basket bids and giving everyone the chance to schmooze and dance ( the City of Philadelphia has of course, invited a top DJ for the evening. None of that megamix nonsense for this event no siree ), and the unofficial - Anti-Valentines party at Puente. The Jefferson Institute event will be hosted in one main room, but you can feel free to explore the many exhibits, which will be open to party-goers!

For further details about basket bids please click HERE. Basket bids must be in the inbox by the 11th February in order to be included. Submitted basket bids will then be posted HERE.

The Puente event will be taking place simultaneously across town, and will function as a standard nightclub, albeit a nightclub that’s taken a trip back to the 1990s.

Your muses can attend both events - The Lover’s Ball will end at midnight, and Puente will remain open for another three hours, but please feel free to be creative with this. If your character isn’t the sort of person that would go to a city ball at all, then they can spend the whole night at Puente. Or perhaps there may be a party crasher or two? Either way we want you to have fun with this event. Philadelphia’s Cupid’s Bow event will be running from Friday 10th-Sunday 21st February.

Please tag anything to do with the event with #phillycupidsbow - this can be anything from threads, self paras, outfits ( between the 1920s aesthetic and the Baz Luhrmann vibe I’m sure you can come up with something ). If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with the main and I’ll attempt to answer anything I can!

Otherwise - look out for Cupid’s bow!

~ Admin Darby

[sinner-as-saint]

Wreck My Plans.

Mob!Bucky x Reader AU

Run-through: Taking time off work, you come back to your hometown for the holiday season, and you decide to go clubbing with a few friends. There, in the middle of the dark, loud room your eyes meet with a pair of familiar blue ones. Ones which you never thought you’d see again after so many years. There he was, your ex-boyfriend; Bucky Barnes. 

Themes: mob!bucky, smut, fluff, 

a/n: i missed my Sin Army. Happy evermore day. And to my Marvel fam, how we doin’ after those trailers?!

Time stopped. 

One minute the music was deafening and the next, you couldn’t even hear it. All you could focus on was your current, erratic heartbeat as you stared into a pair of stormy, blue eyes. They looked darker and much more mesmerizing than you remember. 

His name echoed in your head as a smile formed on your face. Bucky. 

The smile on his face mimicked yours as he walked over to you at the bar, crossing the ocean of drunk people swaying to the music. Amongst the crowd he crossed, were some of your friends who ditched you just minutes ago to go have fun with a pair of dudes they met just upon entering the club. 

You could join them, but rubbing your body against a stranger’s sweaty body was not what you intended to do tonight so you stayed back at the bar. 

Good thing you did so, else you wouldn’t have noticed Bucky on the other side of the room. 

You smiled a little brighter once he stood in front of you. Very, very well dressed in his dark suit. 

“Is it really you?” he spoke, teasing you right away. Just like he used to. 

You smiled and rolled your eyes at him, mainly to hide your nervousness as you realized how much deeper his voice had gotten. Or how much more attractive he was. He had always been a hottie, now even more so. Muscular and tall, even with the suit on you could tell he had a body to die for. 

You and Bucky broke up right after graduating high school. You moved for uni while he stayed behind and joined his family business. It wasn’t a messy break up, just two 18-year-olds deciding to end a relationship and focus on their futures. 

You finished college a few years later then moved again, for your dream job. And now, almost 7 years later, you were back in your hometown for the holidays for the first time in a long time. 

“It is. How have you been, Buck?” 

He smiled and took the seat right beside you. “Great.” he wasn’t lying. “You?” 

You let out a little laugh. “Are we seriously gonna do the whole work and the weather thing?” you asked, and he laughed. 

Oh how you had missed his laugh. It’s been years since you saw him, but everything about him was so familiar it hurt. The way his eyes closed when he smiled or laughed too hard. The blue in his eyes, the crinkles by them. The perfect shape of his nose which you always teased him for. 

Everything about him reminded you of a simpler, happier time of your life. 

He stared into your eyes for a few seconds, then smiled in nostalgia. “You’re just as pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes again, casually ignoring the sparks which flew in between you two. 

“Oh please. Enough about me, what about you? You’re quite the talk of the town I heard.” It was true, they were saying all sorts of things about him ever since you came home. No one knew where he lived, whether he was in town currently or no - he was, you just confirmed it a few minutes ago. 

“Yeah? What have you heard so far?” he spoke with a smirk on. Words didn’t affect him anymore. 

You raised an eyebrow. “So the rumors are true?” 

He chuckled, and signaled the bartender to bring him a drink. You watched each of his actions cautiously. Everything about him screamed power. His stance, his movements, his poise. You had heard around that his dad’s business was doing poorly years ago and he turned to some shady stuff. And he dragged his son along. Something about mob, gangs and illegal stuff. You had trouble believing it at first, because you knew him. You knew Bucky and you couldn’t imagine someone as gentle as him being associated with this side of life. 

But the smirk he gave you proved all those rumors and theories to be true. 

“Oh,” you wondered why you didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid. “Well, it suits you.” You scanned him quickly and wondered where you got the confidence to do that. 

You were right, it did suit him. The power, the mean yet magnetic demeanor, the way he could get absolutely everyone to stare at him in awe and fear - truly, it did suit him. 

He smiled and took a sip of his drink, then placed his glass down. “You should be running for the hills, not complimenting me. Is that what your strict, conservative father taught you?” The last part was an inside joke so he couldn’t hide his smile. 

You shook your head. Bucky and your dad never gelled well. Ever. “Leave dad out of this, he still hates you by the way.” your words made him chuckle at some memories. “So now what, you have gangs and guns and stuff?” you asked. 

“Yeah I’m kind of the bad guy around here.” 

You laughed. He stared at you in complete awe and he couldn’t help but smile. He felt it too, the pull or sparks or whatever it was that was preventing him from looking away. Like as though something had tied him to you and he couldn’t get away and he definitely didn’t want to. 

“You’re here with someone?” he asked, looking around and hoping you’d say no because he hated the thought of you being here with another man. Which was weird because he was meeting you for the first time in years, yet he was already feeling so protective. 

And that skin-tight coral dress you were wearing wasn’t helping either. 

“With some girl friends,” you replied and he quietly let out a sigh of relief, “But it seems they’re nowhere to be found.” You looked around and couldn’t see them. They were wild party animals anyways. 

Bucky smiled and got up from his seat, extending his arm out for you to take. “Come on then, let’s get out of here.” 

You took the last sip of your wine and took his hand. You let him guide you to the back of the club. “You know the owners?” you asked, seeing he was so comfortable in the space. He chuckled. 

“I am the owner, doll.” he answered in that cocky, velvety voice of his. And that nickname, that damn nickname brought back so many memories; they came flooding back in like it was no one’s business. 

The first time he kissed you. Prom. That road trip you took together. All the ones you planned but couldn’t take. All the times you snuck out of the house to hang out at his place. The one time you got caught and how your dad almost lost his shit completely. The time you had your biggest fight and didn’t talk for two whole days. How he apologized first for that one. 

You remembered everything. 

He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his slick, black car. He was quiet when he got into the driver’s seat. But the silence was comfortable, like the kind you have around your closest friends and family; where you’re just happy with sharing space and air, just knowing the other is here and not having the need to fill the silence with useless talks. The kind of silence which spoke louder than words ever could. Comforting, and warm. 

He pulled into the entrance of a private property and your eyes widened for a brief moment. “You live here? This is your home?” you asked, a little surprised at the grandeur of the mansion in front of you, which grew bigger and bigger as you approached it. 

“One of my houses, yes.” he replied, cocky as always. 

You playfully scoffed. “Showoff.” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear and laugh at. 

He got out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. You rolled your eyes at his antics, “You don’t have to do all that, you know?” you teased. 

He chuckled and casually reached down to hold your hand in his as he guided you over to the front door. It was chilly out, so he walked a little faster. “Oh come on, I know I’m the bad guy now but I'm chivalrous enough to treat my ex-girlfriend right.” he played along, knowing exactly which word would get a reaction out of you. 

“Ouch.” you pretended to be hurt. He laughed as he ushered you into his home. 

The first thing you noticed were the guards. Then the extravagant foyer which led to the equally extravagant living room. The color theme, the lovely smell of the house, there was something about it which was so familiar, yet you couldn’t place a finger on it. 

“You have a beautiful home, Buck.” you looked around and noticed that the guards had left. 

He smiled and let go of your hand, letting you walk around his personal space for a bit. He could get used to this, the thought popped into his head out of nowhere. He could get used to seeing you in his home. 

“Come on up, you’ll love the library.” he spoke and extended his arm out again. You took his hand and he led you up the large, fancy wooden stairs. 

He was right. You did immediately fall in love with his library/study room. It was everything one dreams of. Spacious, yet cosy. Modern, but with a vintage twist. The right amount of light, but not too much. It was beautiful. 

You walked a few steps further and started noticing the little things; like the mini bar, the unused typewriter on the desk, the scattered papers next to it, the chandelier which made the room look magical. 

“This is beautiful.” you commented as you lazily skimmed through the books on the shelves. You heard him move around glasses in the background. 

“Thank you.” he paused, pouring himself a drink. “You want a drink?” 

You turned to face him for a brief moment. He had taken off his coat, leaving him in his very expensive looking black shirt. “Sure.” you answered, then you turned back around to check out the books and you could feel him staring at your back. You smirked as not so holy thoughts filled your head. 

How would tonight end? You wondered. 

You walked over to his desk and plopped down on his large seat. He walked over as well, placing your glass down and leaning against the edge of the table, staring down at you with a smirk on and a look in his eyes which you couldn’t quite understand. 

“What?” you laughed as you took a sip of the liquor. It was smooth, and sweet and left an amazing aftertaste in your mouth as it slid down your throat, burning just a little. It tasted expensive. 

“Nothing.” He replied, softly as he eyed you carefully. “I just can’t believe you’re here, after all this time.” 

You smiled and looked up at him. “Things changed, haven’t they? I mean, the Bucky I knew hated whiskey and brandy. He liked cheap beers and vodka.” you pointed out. 

Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes, shoving a hand in his pocket out of habit. Suddenly he looked much younger and very boyish. “He changed, Y/N.” 

This was the first time he used your name tonight and you felt funny inside. The good kind of funny. 

“Mhmm.” you agreed. “He got meaner.” you teased and stood up from the seat, and looked past him. Right by the couches, was a small coffee table upon which something shiny caught your attention. And being the curious being you are, you walked right over without a second thought. 

“You think?” he sounded playful as he watched you walk over to the coffee table where his guns were kept. He doesn’t usually leave them out in the open like this but he was cleaning them earlier so he left them there. 

Bucky watched how you picked one up and examined it. 

“Yeah,” you spoke up without taking your eyes off the hand gun. “He got dangerous.” You weirdly liked how it felt in your hands. A little heavier than you thought it would be. 

He was surprised at how comfortable you were with this side of him. Another woman would turn the other way and would run. But not you. “Be careful with that, doll.” he warned you softly. “They’re all loaded.” 

You smirked as you placed the gun down and picked up another. And you sensed him tensing up where he stood. 

“Don’t touch that one.” he said calmly. You frowned. 

“Why not?” you asked. 

He placed his glass down and walked over to you. “I’ve done bad things with that one. I’ve hurt bad people.” 

You knew your way around a gun. Your father used to hunt as a hobby so you knew the gun was locked. But just for the hell of it, you aimed it at him and smirked. “Yeah? I think I like this new Bucky a lot better.” 

He smirked, loving the fact that the city didn’t diminish your spunk. He realized then that you were still the same girl he fell for in highschool. “Careful.” he warned again, giving you a soft smile. Seeing you like this made him want to do bad things to you. He felt hot as he watched you aim a gun at him. He didn’t know why. 

“Scared?” you teased, loving the reaction you got out of him. The buzz of the wine earlier and the whiskey just now amplified your confidence and you loved it. 

Oh fuck you looked hot. It made it hard for him to focus on anything else. “Put it down, Y/N.” he kept his devilishly handsome smirk on. You held your ground and it made him groan and roll his eyes. He approached you and you giggled. He carefully took the gun from you and placed it back down on the table, then without another word said, he circled his arm around you and pulled you closer. “Good girls don’t play with those. You used to be so obedient, what happened?” he teased. 

You smirked, finding his body heat really comforting. “I’ve changed.” you purposely repeated his own words, then added, “Maybe I’m not such a good girl anymore.” you purred. He clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly. 

“Don’t tease me baby girl. I’m not as nice as I used to be.” his words made you all hot and bothered. 

You smirked. “Prove it.” 

And just like that, with one look of his, you were under his spell. He smirked and leaned in, purposely avoiding your lips as he gently kissed his way along your jaw. You shivered when his lips touched your neck; leaving soft kisses along the side of your throat while his hand wrapped tighter around your waist. 

He made you whimper and whine, you could feel him smirk against your skin. He pulled away after a while, and held your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb, and he looked into your eyes with an intensity which made your body tingle. His thumb soon moved up to touch your soft lips gently. He traced the shape of your mouth and spoke, “I’ve missed you.” he looked down at you softly. 

Your lips parted as he trailed his fingers down your chin, down your neck before he gently wrapped his fingers around your throat, applying just a bit of pressure there. You smirked as you looked up at him. “Not so sassy now, are we?” he sounded cocky and in control, just how you liked him. 

And suddenly all those years which had gone by didn’t mean a thing. You picked up right where you left off. The spark was still there. 

“Buck… please,” you whined under your breath. Oh how he had missed this… 

He chuckled. “Come here, baby girl.” he walked a few steps backwards and plopped down on the couch, pulling you onto his lap where you fit perfectly. A soft, unexpected moan left your lips as he slipped his hand under your dress and inched higher and higher up your leg, and caressed your inner thigh as he went. 

He smirked when you moaned and kept going. He leaned in to kiss your jaw and down your neck; his stubble brushing against your skin gently. His lips warm and soft as they peppered your skin with kisses, making you instinctively tilt your neck to give him easier access. He chuckled when you visibly trembled as his knuckles brushed against the front of the flimsy thong you were wearing. He couldn’t wait to tear it off your body. 

His need to have you grew with each passing moment. Hot, fiery, burning desire. Bucky slipped his hand past your underwear and touched your wet folds, his two fingers circling around your clit, “You’re dripping, doll.” He chuckled as you moaned when he slowly pushed a finger past your entrance. Then another and started gently pumping them in and out of you.

Your body throbbed. You whined, throwing your head back and letting him do whatever he wanted with your body. 

Bucky looked up at you in pure adoration as he placed his thumb on your throbbing clit and brushed it occasionally while he finger-fucked you; your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand; his fingers touched you in all the right places; curling just right and massaging your walls perfectly. His other hand gently wrapped around your neck; not squeezing yet but just holding you firmly. 

You got a little louder as he sped up; his fingers slipping in and out of you with ease and eliciting sounds which turned you on even more. Seeing you were whining and whimpering already, Bucky moved his hand from your throat and pushed two fingers into your mouth; slowly pumped those two as well; an obscene attempt to keep you quiet. 

Your mouth immediately wrapped around his fingers. And he swore under his breath again at the sight of you so salacious and open; his fingers buried in your wet core, slipping in and out of you rapidly while his other two fingers were buried into your warm mouth. The sounds you made alone were enough to make his pants feel tighter; and make him want to devour you even more. You moaned when he sped up again; his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet, almost agonizing pressure forming in between your hips. You felt a rush and a warmth washing over you; intensified by his tight grip at your throat.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll?” he asked, leaning in to just bite your lip; not kissing you properly but just biting down and nibbling on your lower lip and making you go crazy. You whined in pleasure and nodded. He sped up again; and you rolled your hips against his hand in a haze – chasing your orgasm; moaning and whimpering. “Cum for me, come on, babygirl.” He encouraged you and tightened his grip around your throat just a little bit more.

You let the familiar waves of pleasure wash over you as you came all over his fingers; crying out loud in pleasure. Gushing out all over his hand as he kept pumping them in and out of you, getting everything he could out of you. Once satisfied, he removed his hand from your underwear and pulled his hand back from your throat and wrapped both his arms around you and pulled you closer to him, causing your sensitive core to brush against his crotch. And you could feel his erection. 

“You have no idea how bad I’ve missed you, baby girl.” He whispered against your parted lips. “I searched for you, but I couldn’t find a way to get to you.” 

“Buck…” your hands reached up to cup his face and you pulled away just a little to look down at him. “I’m here.” you whispered, breathless still. 

He wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. He finally pressed his lips to yours and kissed you like there’s no tomorrow; there was nothing gentle or innocent about the kiss, just hunger and passion and pure craving. His soft lips moved perfectly against yours through the messy kiss. He moaned through the kiss when you slid your hands into his hair and tugged on it gently. His hands rested on the curve of your ass; holding you close to him as he gently pulled away from the kiss and stared into your eyes. 

He gripped your waist and pressed your cloth core onto his, making you grind against him; causing you to feel his hard on through his pants. You almost moaned at how big and firm he felt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your body shuddered as a wave of pleasure washed over you while you shamelessly rocked your hips ever so gently against his clothed hard on. He smirked at your involuntary actions. 

“Fuck… I need to have you. Now.” he growled before pushing you down on the couch and hovering on top of you. He purposely pressed his crotch down in between your parted legs, making you moan at how fucking big he felt. “You feel that?” he breathed into your ear and made you shiver at how deep his voice sounded. You could almost feel the lust in his voice. “You did that, babygirl.” He pulled away from your face a little to look at you, smirking. 

He kissed his way down your body, sliding your dress down your body while at it. You felt his mouth in between your thighs. Your back arched off the surface of the couch as his tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit and licked down, parting your wet folds with ease. 

Your taste drove him wild, so did your soft whimpers. Your hand flew to his hair and you tugged on it gently as he flicked his tongue over your clit over and over again. His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin incessantly, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of.

His deep blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. You came violently all over Bucky’s tongue, body shuddering and shaking while you moaned his name out loud. It gave him a pleasant rush when he heard your strained voice moan out his name. 

He kissed your inner thighs, licking you clean before kissing his way up your body and finding your lips again. He kissed you with ardor; eager to just be inside you already and make you squirm and shake under him, but he also wanted to cherish each moment and worship your body. You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goosebumps wherever his fingers touched your skin.

He pulled away for a bit and grabbed both your wrists and pinned them down on the couch above your head. “Keep your hands there for me, baby girl.” He mumbled under his breath and lifted his hips to align his erected cock to your entrance. You instinctively spread your legs apart to give him more room. His hand reached down and he pumped his cock, rubbing it all over your dripping core in the process. You squirmed and moaned when he did so; the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your wet lips, parting them as he circled your clit gently. You shuddered under him; whining in need. Your body begging him to just take you already. 

“Look at me.” He almost moaned as he whispered a little breathlessly, looking intensely into your eyes. The dimmed lights made his eyes look darker than usual, and his face looked dangerously handsome. His voice was deep – which caused the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him. You heard his ragged breaths as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

You moaned out loud, unable to hold back the sound which escaped your lips. “Fuck…” was all you were able to mutter under your breath as he pulled out of you completely, then pushed back into you again; filling you up entirely.

He sped up just a little, rocking his hips against yours and his hand reached up to wrap around your neck gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth. You could only nod senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you. His lips left your mouth and kissed down your face. You let out a moan as he found your sweet spot, and felt him smirk against your skin. You moaned again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

You could no longer keep your hands off him so you reached out and held onto his shoulders; your nails digging into his skin as you felt a pressure forming around your lower region. Bucky quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room. 

The dim light made his eyes look even more piercing than usual. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. The new position was much more pleasurable for the two of you; the tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off the couch – your chest pressing against his partially unbuttoned shirt; his body heat radiating through the fabric.

You moaned out loud and he very gently tightened his grip around your throat. His voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. He somehow sounded needy but in control at the same time, and it drove you crazy. You felt your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

“Cum for me, babygirl. Come on.” he panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came – hard.

You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core. Bucky fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and shamelessly told you about it; whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him – wet and warm all for him. You moaned as you felt your second release approaching while the first was still fading. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his like a rag doll; yet, you wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him.

A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again. His large frame hovering above you as he tightened his grip around your throat just a little more. “Cum for me again, come on.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him.

A series of cuss words left your lips as you came for the second time in a row, walls tightening around his length. He bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you before slowing down again.

He kissed you again, while you tried to steady your breathing and calm your racing heart. He chuckled when he pulled away to look at how disheveled and messy you were all because of him. His hand left his throat and his thumb traced your lips again, he was mesmerized by how much of a whimpering, tear-stained mess you were. 

“It’s okay doll, I’m right here.” 

---

You woke up in his bed. 

And the flashbacks of the time spent there hit you immediately. 

You felt his arms around you as you peaked from under the blanket to try and reorient yourself. The room was brighter. You checked the time and it was around ten in the morning. 

Well, there goes that family breakfast you promised your parents. 

You felt Bucky stir in his sleep behind you. He peeled one eye open and smiled at the sight of you still in his bed. 

“Morning baby girl,” he said in a deep, groggy morning voice which made your heart flip. 

“I have plans with my family, you know? You’re just, shamelessly wrecking them.” You teased and watched how his smirk grew. His arm tightened around your body, under the covers. His touch was warm and gentle as he tugged you closer to his equally warm body. 

Your bare chest pressed against his and you looked up and stared into his blue eyes. They were so dreamy you still couldn’t believe they were real. 

“Oh please. Admit it, you like it better here with me rather than being confined in that old man’s house.” He rolled his eyes as he mentioned your dad. 

You giggled. Him and your dad always hated each other. 

“Imagine what he’d say once he finds out I’ve been hanging out with the bad guy. Again.” You played along. 

Bucky laughed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’ll deal with him. I’d do anything for you.” he whispered softly, the last part even more so. 

Your heart did that thing where it felt like it was bursting into a millions little pieces in the best ways. The butterflies in your stomach went wild at the sound of his morning voice. You looked up at him and then leaned in to kiss his neck softly. 

“I missed you, you know?” 

“Hmm, I know.” 

You giggled and hugged him tighter. “What now?” you asked, thinking about what would happen two weeks from now, when you’d have to get back to the city. 

His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “I was planning on expanding my… business to another city. How is it over there?” he asked, a smirk forming on his face as he waited for your reaction. 

Your eyes widened as you quickly pulled away and sat up on his bed with a shocked look on your face. “You’re moving?” 

He smiled at you. “I’ll go wherever you go at this point. I just got you back, I'm not giving up on us this time.” 

“Are you sure about this? Our lives… they’re so different.” you looked down at your lap as you spoke. “Will we make it?” 

He sat up and leaned against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap, caging you in his arms. “Oh we will.” Then he looked past you for a brief moment, out the floor-to-ceiling windows. He noticed the snow falling delicately. It was truly beautiful, but nothing matched how pretty you looked - messy hair, swollen lips, love bites all over your skin. 

He leaned in to kiss you, then whispered against your lips. “We will make it doll, don’t you worry. Just trust me.” 

a/n: ily.

[erwinsvow]

𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

summary: you and eren, your boyfriend armin’s best friend, have always had a strange relationship. things take a turn when armin goes home for the weekend, leaving the two of you alone on friday night.

warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), guilty reader feels bad, implied infidelity, masturbation, slight dumbification, dacryphilia, daddy kink

word count: 6.8k

author’s note: i once said i would never write for eren, so i guess that was a fat lie! enjoy!

You’re not sure about exactly when you became so comfortable with having Eren around. It was kind of like a two-for-one deal with your boyfriend, Armin, since he was so rarely seen without his best friend at his side. Their majors were so different that they hardly ever had classes together, and so the pair of them made up for lost time by spending all their other time together. 

It wasn’t totally out of the blue if Eren would crash on the couch next to you, while you were curled up beside Armin, hands interlaced and head resting softly on his chest. You’d jolt at the impact of Eren—a huge guy compared to anyone’s standards—jumping beside you and disrupting the peaceful intimacy you were sharing with your boyfriend. Armin didn’t seem to be annoyed or frustrated, and so you wouldn’t prove to be, either. You and him would welcome Eren with a laugh, directing him to the leftovers from your take-out and enjoying the company of a man who wasn’t your boyfriend far too much. 

It was easy to fall into the trap of it. Maybe Armin was always missing the way Eren’s eyes raked over your figure whenever you’d walk into the room. Maybe he was too enraptured by his marine biology textbook to notice how Eren stared at the supple skin of your exposed thighs when you took a seat next to them, dress hiking up a little or skirt much too short for a study-date with two boys. You were never much of a tease because it was so easy when you and Armin started seeing each other, so natural and comfortable that you didn’t have to try any unusual flirting methods on the golden-haired boy. As a result, he didn’t really know what bubbled under the surface of your skin and all the different thoughts that plagued your mind. 

So you think that’s why it was so easy to fall into the trap of it all, making eyes at Eren while your boyfriend sat right next to you. Choosing outfits that had previously been stuffed into the depths of your closet, because you didn’t think Armin would approve. You kept up the facade in front of your lovely boyfriend, though, because at the end of the day, you loved him and no one else. You didn’t want to break his heart by cheating on him with his closest friend, even though the electricity between you and Eren made all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and made goosebumps appear on every inch of the soft skin of your legs that Eren loved to leer at so much. No, because at the end of the day, it was plainly wrong to even think about another man when you had Armin in your life. 

That’s what you told yourself when you stopped exchanging glances with Eren, started wearing blue again instead of green, and asked Armin if you two could have more time alone. You thought Armin looked confused, and he was, but for entirely different reasons. While you had been concerned with Eren’s gaze and intentions, Armin had been silently paying attention to his best friend and girlfriend. You thought he was innocent, sure, but he wasn’t stupid. And there wasn’t a thought in Eren’s head that Armin couldn’t figure out well in advance. If you wanted to fuck Eren, all you had to do was ask, but he quickly realized you were trying to be a good little girlfriend again, rather than the devilish slut you had been recently. Well, if you weren’t going to do anything, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands. 

Eren had always wondered why you spent so much time with Armin, and by virtue of association, with him. Any other little girlfriend would at least take some time alone to study, but you practically spent every minute at Armin’s side or in their shared apartment. Armin’s explanation of how you didn’t get along with your roommates made so much sense, especially now that you were going to be sleeping in Armin’s room for the weekend while he went back home for a ‘family emergency’. 

You had asked Armin if Eren would be going back with him in a certain voice, one that he couldn’t exactly pinpoint as he eavesdropped from his own bedroom. A mixture of uncertainty, nervousness, and excitement? Was that excitement he noted? He wishes he could look into your eyes to tell, but all he can do is listen to Armin tell you that Eren would be staying in the apartment. 

Eren can almost hear your heartbeat speed up, eyes blinking quickly and heat rushing to your face. Of course Armin trusted his best friend to stay with his girlfriend for a weekend. The two people he loved the most would never betray him, and so he had nothing to fear. 

Back to being the devoted girlfriend you are, you help Armin pack his bags late Thursday night. You folded clothes on his bed and tucked them into the duffel bag neatly, while Armin looked around for his books. He would be leaving right after his classes Friday morning, and so you knew by the time you returned after your classes, he would be long gone, leaving just you and Eren to fend for yourselves Friday night. 

In the morning, you’re greeted by Armin pressing a kiss to your forehead as he heads to his eight-am lecture. Through the daze of sleep and heavy-lidded eyes, you grasp his hand softly in a failed attempt to keep him with you a little longer, but you hear him murmur something that distinctly sounds like “Don't worry, baby, Eren will take care of you” before he leaves.

You fall back asleep after, missing the way Armin and Eren talk briefly before he departs. You wake up in Armin’s bed alone, to the sound of your alarm. Usually, Fridays are your favorite day of the week because you have a light schedule and you get to spend most of the day with Armin. His classes end right when yours start, so you’d get to grab coffee with him and meet for lunch after, before either heading to the library to get work done or to his apartment because you knew Eren wouldn’t be around and therefore you could be as loud as you want.

But not today. You had to get breakfast alone, before going off to class and sitting in the library alone. You didn’t realize how quickly the day had passed by, in between studying and texting Armin to make sure he got home safely, and avoiding the pit in your stomach that kept reminding you that you’d be going home to Eren soon. You looked outside the library window from your seat, and saw the sun was setting, meaning the library was closing soon and that you had to face reality. You’re thinking about how to put going back to the apartment for even longer, maybe stopping somewhere to eat dinner, when your phone buzzes with a text notification. 

You pick it up quickly, hoping it’s from Armin, but your stomach drops again when you see the screen lit up with Eren’s name. A singular message from him reads: Did you eat yet? 

Bastard. How does he know your thoughts before you even think them? 

You’re faced with two choices. Lie to him, then go get dinner by yourself, and then finally go back to your own home and put up with your terrible roommates for another night… or go to the apartment, order dinner with Eren, and avoid his lecherous looks long enough to get yourself safely inside Armin’s room with the door locked. 

You feel your heart pounding inside your chest at the thought of having dinner with Eren alone. He never did anything too forward or telling with you, but you suspect it was only because Armin was always right beside you. There’s no telling what he would do if he got you alone. Your heart’s pounding, but another feeling altogether is creeping into your stomach and up to your chest, one that’s making you feel hot all over despite how chilly the air in the library is. 

You’re nearly lost in your thoughts until your phone buzzing again brings you back to reality. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in as you read his text, this time longer; We can order dinner when you get here. Promise I don’t bite.

You feel like hurling your phone across the empty library, because every sane thought in your mind is telling you not to go over there, but every bone in your body feels like it’s being pulled towards Eren. Suddenly you think back to all those times you had teased him intentionally, and how strange you feel right now, like two different versions of yourself are fighting with each other. A third buzz makes your decision for you. 

Am I really so much worse than those roommates of yours?

Eren was many things, but that was one thing he was not. You quickly remember just how often you had shown up at Armin’s doorstep in tears, or so angry you had steam blowing out of your ears, because of how much you hated them. You only had to deal with them for a few more months, so it was easy enough to avoid them and only stop by to get clothes and the occasional shower. To make matters worse, it was Friday night and they would definitely be having some kind of a party or get-together, which meant there was no way you’d be getting any sleep there. 

I’m on my way, can we get pizza? 

… 

It’s only seven-thirty when you and Eren are sitting on the couch, some movie playing on the television that you aren’t paying attention to. Your nerves only let you eat a slice of pizza, while Eren scarfed down nearly half the box. You knew you were fucked when Eren opened the door, clad only in grey sweatpants and the slick sheen of sweat apparent on his entire body, from his muscular arms to his abs.

Bastard, bastard, bastard. He opened the door like that on purpose, just to see you react with a splutter and blush red.

“I’m just gonna jump into the shower, can you order the pizza?” he shouted to you while walking back to his bedroom. He came out with a towel, and you had barely processed the words because the only thing you could think about were his arms. You knew Eren was fit, anyone could tell just by looking at him, but you had no idea he was built like that. If you were a lesser woman, you would have tried to sneak glances at Eren getting into or out of the shower during all those opportunities you had, but you never did, because it felt wrong to look away from Armin’s blue eyes to focus on Eren.

But now, with no one else there to stop or distract you, your eyes were glued to his muscular figure. It wasn’t too hard to think about how easily he could pin you somewhere—up against a wall, or a door maybe, or across the dinner table. It wouldn’t even take him both hands to keep your head shoved down or keep both your arms pinned back as he—

“Hey, you okay? Did you hear me?” Eren asks again, standing right in front of you. He’s trying his hardest to sound sincere, but there’s a smirk on his face as he observes your behavior. If it wasn’t obvious before, it’s clear as day now.

“I-I’m fine. What kind of pizza do you want?”

“Whatever kind you want, just get extra cheese. Menus on the table,” he says, before turning back around and walking to the bathroom. You’re almost jaw-dropped as you watch him walk away, and hear the water turn on. You take several deep breaths, reminding yourself to stay calm. After dinner, you could go into Armin’s room and be completely fine. 

You order the pizza and go into Armin’s room to sort your stuff out, looking through your bag and searching for clothes to sleep in. You knew you had packed them, but you suddenly couldn’t find them anywhere. Your shorts and t-shirt were missing, and you quickly realized you left them on your bed while you had gone to grab your toothbrush. Damn it. 

Armin has a collection of perfectly soft and comfortable shirts to sleep in, so you open one of his drawers and pull out a dark green one, with some design on it. There’s no shorts that would fit you among Armin’s clothes, so you’ll have to do without them tonight. It’s fine though, considering the door will be locked and you’ll be safe and sound once you and Eren go to bed. Or so you thought.

Now you’re sitting on the couch, still dressed in your day clothes and feeling hot again. You knew Armin liked to keep the apartment on the warmer side, but you had never felt quite this warm before.

Eren glances at you with a quizzical look, and you realize your shiftiness and breathy pants are more noticeable than you thought. 

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out and you barely ate a thing,” he comments, keeping his eyes on you which somehow makes you feel even worse. His gaze is piercing, and though you never really cared that Eren always looks like he’s undressing you with his eyes, it’s bothering you now more than ever.

“I-I’m okay,” you get out, before suddenly standing up and taking off the cardigan you had worn all day. “I think I just need to shower, good night Eren,” you say, before walking away much too quickly. Eren’s eyes don’t leave you until you’re inside Armin’s room once more, wondering why you’re so hot and bothered at a simple stare from him. Him, who is not your boyfriend, and barely qualifies as your friend and for some reason has you wet from looking into those green eyes for too long.

Enough. 

Armin was kind and sweet enough to let you sleep at his place when he’s not even there, and you wanted to repay that kindness by having dirty thoughts about his best friend? No, it wasn’t right, in fact, it was inherently wrong. You take a few more moments in Armin’s room, inhaling the familiar scent of his fabric softener and all the old books on his shelves, before taking your towel and going to the bathroom. Eren is still in the living room, eating and watching the movie, you presume, and you wish to God he would leave you alone and go out to party or fuck some other girl, but he’s not. He’s spending a quiet Friday night at home with you.

The hot water and clean soap distract you from your thoughts, but the tension and heat growing in your body is only exacerbated when you run your hands across your body. There’s something very wrong about touching yourself in the shower when Eren is a dozen feet away and could hear you easily—but that’s a risk you’re willing to take if it meant it would get illicit thoughts of him out of your brain for the rest of the night. 

One hand goes to play with your hardened nipple, as the other tenderly begins to rub circles on your clit. Your hands try to imitate Armin’s, and he’s always gentle with you, but as you let out a muffled moan, you realize it’s not Armin’s careful touch you want right now. It’s Eren’s rough fingers, fingers that would move in and out of your wetness harshly, not waiting for you to adjust to their size. Eren wouldn’t start with one, like Armin, he would go for three and keep his thumb on your clit, rubbing so fast and in just the right way, while his mouth would be on your tits—tongue doing the talking for him on your sensitive nipples. He wouldn’t care to stop if it was getting to be too much, and he wouldn’t let you come down from your high before starting again, he would just keep going. Eren would know when you’ve had enough, and just once didn’t meet his requirements for enough. 

If anyone could see you right now, you could die from embarrassment, furiously fucking your fingers and completely unaware of how loud you were being as you tried to imitate what Eren would do to you. But imitating wasn’t quite enough, You were so close, you could almost feel that tight knot in your stomach unwind, just a little more—-

Knock. 

“Hey, you’ve been in there a while. Everything okay?” Eren’s voice is muffled from outside the door, and the waterfall coming from the shower suddenly felt like it was pounding beside you. 

Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a frustrated, stifled sob. 

“Y-yeah! I’m almost done!” you call back out, fingers still inside you. You remove them with a gasp, shaking and face burning at the idea that Eren might have overheard you. You get out of the shower on wobbly legs, wrapping the towel securely around you and heading to Armin’s bedroom to change and put an end to this strange day. You don’t notice that Eren’s door is cracked open a little.

As strange as it sounds, you feel much better once you’re in Armin’s shirt and just a pair of panties, ready for bed. A nagging voice in the back of your head wants you to finish what you started in the shower, nipples hard again as the air seems cooler than earlier, but you push the thoughts aside. Another day.

You grab your water bottle to take your birth-control pill, eight forty-five on the dot, but realize its contents are empty as a result of your earlier hot flash. You tiptoe into the kitchen, extra careful because you don’t want Eren to hear and come out, but as you fill up a glass, your roommate for the night is suddenly leaning against the counter. 

It should be illegal the way he says your name. Sultry and deep and rolling off his tongue without even trying. Eren doesn’t have to change a thing about him to be the very definition of the word erotic, which is coincidentally the only word you can use to describe this encounter. 

He’s forgone the shirt he had on earlier, when you were eating together, and you knew he had put it on just to make sure you didn’t choke on your pizza. Just in those sweatpants again, you could see everything you had tried too hard to avert your gaze from, on display right in front of you. 

“E-Eren,” you stutter out, skin burning again even though it was cold now. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay. What are you taking, there?” You flushed again at the idea of having to tell Eren it was your birth control, because it felt as if he already knew somehow. He watches you with that damn smirk and a raised eyebrow, waiting for your answer.

“It’s ibuprofen.”

“Oh.. ibuprofen, huh? That’s weird, because every time I asked you if you were okay, you said you were fine. Were you lying to me?” His tone is dangerous, somewhere between amused and angry.

You didn’t even realize he had gotten so close to you, until you tried to take another step backwards to put some distance between you two, but you were met by resistance from a cupboard, signifying the end of the wall.

“I-I wasn’t lying, I just forgot-” You hear him click his tongue. He’s dangerously close to you now, you can feel the heat coming off of his body and one more step from him would make you feel the cold breath of his exhales.

“Forgot what, baby? It seems to me that I just caught you in a lie.” Another click of his tongue. “Now, Armin always says you’re a good girl, but I don’t think a good girl would lie to me like you’ve been doing all night, right?”

Armin. The very mention of his name makes something recoil inside your chest, makes you remember how you don’t want to hurt him like this, and how much pain he would be in if he found out about this little interaction between you and Eren.

You try to push back, but Eren extends his arms up, trapping you between them and the cabinet, leaving no way for you to escape. 

“Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?” 

The simple sentence is enough to send your brain, skin, heart on fire, as you let out a breath and find your head nodding up and down. Your body seems to have a mind of its own, wetness seeping from between your folds and no doubt creating a darkened patch on your panties.

“Good girl,” he mewls, dragging out each syllable as he speaks. “I thought I might have to punish you if you kept lying to me, but I don’t think that’ll be an issue anymore. Am I right?” He watches you dumbly nod again, eyes very much blank and just focused on one thing: him. He nods too, mocking your movements and smirking again. “Should we play a game? How about I ask a question, and you have to tell the truth? Sound good?”

Everything’s on fire, and you can’t hear anything besides the thumping of your heart in your chest. Long gone are your inhibitions and desperate hope of a quiet night in with your boyfriend’s roommate.

“First question…” Eren trails off quickly, looking down your body slowly. He takes one hand down from its position of blockading you and brings it to the hem of your—Armin’s—shirt. He plays with it there before continuing his sentence. “What were you thinking about in the shower earlier?”

You feel your breath catch in your throat and a quick flame erupts in your chest at the humiliation you feel—so he had heard you after all. And he interrupted you on purpose.

“You-you were listening? I-” Eren laughs, a low rumble from his chest meeting your ears as you begin to quiver from your position against him. 

“I wasn’t listening so much as you were being loud. It seems to me that you wanted me to hear you, isn’t that right? Or else what kind of a filthy slut would be so loud?” 

You tremble at the name he calls you, not used to sort of degradation Eren is putting you through. A small voice in the back of your head tells you that he’s not wrong, and your behavior is akin to some kind of whore. Maybe you’ve been like this all along, and you just needed the right person to bring it out of you. Your head feels utterly empty and devoid of any more thoughts, and you blank at what to say to Eren next. 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” you splutter out, feeling incredibly small near Eren, who towers over you. There’s something sadistic in Eren’s gaze, but you notice him soften up at your apology.

“What are you apologizing for?” he questions, quieter than before. He knows the two of you are alone, but he can’t bring himself to raise his voice at you.

You, the bane of his existence, and a blessing all at once. Since the day Armin introduced you to him, there’s been nothing he’s wanted more than for you to meet his gaze and look at him the way you looked at his best friend, with love and adoration. He got a few lucky weeks where you didn’t immediately shy away from his eyes, when he felt like you were challenging him to do something, anything. But it went as soon as it came, and suddenly he was seeing less and less of you. Until this opportunity from Armin’s departure, that is.

“I… I was being a slut,” you whisper back to him, tears lining up at the waterline of your pretty eyes as he moves a hand to your jaw and forces you to look right at him while you speak. You shudder at the touch of his skin on yours, but you don’t want him to stop all the same. 

“That’s okay, baby,” he says in an incredibly reassuring tone that has you wondering what he’ll do next. “I like my girls a little slutty, but just for me, right?” You nod again, quickly. “Besides, I have to make it up to you, you know. I stopped you right when you were getting real close, didn’t I? I could just tell from those pretty noises you were making.” 

The next few moments pass by in a blur, Eren’s arms move and suddenly you’re over his shoulder, ass up and out as the shirt you’re wearing rides up. He delivers a quick slap, making you cry out, as he brings you into the room and lays you on the bed. He’s standing between your legs, a hand on each thigh keeping you spread open for him as he observes closely the impact of his actions on you. 

“You’re just soaking through your panties, aren’t you? Are you really that eager for me?”

You let out a whine, not wanting to answer his question because your face is burning again at the idea of Eren staring so closely at your clothed pussy—and you let out an even higher-pitched squeal when he uses a finger to push your panties aside, and look at your wetness completely. 

“So wet, and so pretty, all for me, huh?”

“Y-yes. All for you,” you let out with a moan, eager for Eren to do something. Anything at all would set you over the edge, with how you’ve been feeling these last few hours. But you think he knows that, because his actions are all teasing you and leaving you wanting more, blindly clenching around nothing at all as his fingers barely graze your clit. He lets out a laugh at your desperate antics, and you’re about to come from the slightest touch, and suddenly you feel the bed moving as Eren wraps his lips around your clit and pushes his tongue against you.

You didn’t even know you could make the noise that you let out, a scream and a cry and carnal moan all wrapped in one. You know Eren thinks the same because he looks up at you from his position between your legs, laughing against your core. The vibration from his laugh makes your legs shake even harder, as you feel Eren’s tongue attacking your clit at an even faster pace. You’re seeing stars and completely unaware of everything else, like how Eren’s nimble hands slid your panties down and tossed them to the side somewhere, landing near the bookshelf, so close to the edge when you feel his fingers teasing at your opening and plunge in without any warning. 

You were completely right about your earlier predictions, feeling Eren quickly add a third finger inside you as you clasp a hand over your mouth to stop the obscene noises from leaving your mouth. You do have neighbors, after all, despite how much empty your head feels of every thought besides one; Eren. 

He pulls his mouth away from your sensitive nerves for just a second, just to chastise you before continuing his actions.

“Don’t do that,” he says the words against your lips, “I want to hear you.” 

You weren’t sure it was possible to feel even more pleasure than you were now, but Eren’s words made you feel feral as you let out another loud moan, this time not muffled. You think he calls you a good girl, but you’re not sure if it’s your imagination. You whine when you feel Eren pull his fingers out of you, suddenly so empty when you had been so full moments ago. You’re trying to collect the words to tell him to keep going, and how this is the second time he’s ruined your finishing, but you just can’t. The only thing that comes out is a mumble of ‘please’ and ‘Eren’ 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not stopping,” he says, pulling himself up and hovering over you. One of his strong arms is by your head, holding himself up as the other hand, the one that had been inside of you, finds its way to your mouth. “Open.”

You do as you’re told, dropping your jaw quickly for him as he shoves the fingers into your hot mouth.

“Suck.” Another command that has you reeling, doing exactly as he wants and swirling your tongue around Eren’s long fingers. They’re coated with your heady wetness, and the taste is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, but you don’t stop. It feels entirely too dirty and filthy, but you’re willing to do anything to get Eren’s approval now. His words are clear now.

“Good girl. Since you’ve been so good, I think you can cum now.”

His fingers leave your mouth quickly, and he’s fiddling with your hands now, that were previously gripping the sheets so tightly you were scared they might tear. He pulls up your shirt even more, exposing your tits to the cold air of the room, and puts your fingers on your hardened nipples. He doesn’t give a command, but you know it instinctively, that he wants you to play with your nipples while he makes you come. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to follow his orders, but you go ahead anyways. You’re teasing yourself in front of his hungry, wolf-like gaze, as you clench on nothing every time you run your fingers over your sensitive nipples.

Satisfied, he returns back to his position between your legs. You’re crying out before his fingers even reach your wetness, and choke on your moan when he inserts three at once again. You know there’s no way you’ll be able to hold out now, and if he stops again you feel like you might explode into a million pieces. His tongue is rough against your clit, moving in the perfect motion, and one more thrust of his perfect fingers against that spot inside you will have you cumming so hard— Eren speaks against your pussy, a singular word.

“Cum.”

You feel the knot snap in your stomach and your orgasm shakes through you like a bolt of lightning. You hear yourself release a scream before you can stop it, fingers leaving your breasts and grasping onto Eren’s dark strands for dear life, because he hasn’t let up on his actions yet. He keeps going, riding you through it, tongue and mouth continuing on and fingers pumping in and out so quickly that the bedroom is filled with a crude, squelching noise. You’re not sure exactly how loud you were, but your throat is dry and scratchy, and you’re swallowing just to feel some relief. You feel Eren slowly retract his fingers, breathing heavy against the soft skin of your thigh, as you find your way back to reality. You don’t look down at Eren, but you hear him licking his fingers, tasting your wetness in such a sinful manner, you know you can’t look at him do it.

Reality sets in, and you look around your surroundings. Every single one of your senses had been preoccupied with Eren minutes ago, but now that they were free again, you take in the comfortable scent of the sheets and the lingering scent of your slick leaves your thoughts as you take in the familiar scent of old books. Your heartbeat was just returning to normal, when you look around and realize you’re in Armin’s room, on Armin’s bed, as Armin’s best friend gave you the most powerful orgasm of your life. 

You sit up quickly, breathing rapidly as your shirt falls to cover yourself, and you meet Eren’s eyes again.

“Lay back, baby, we’re not done yet.” There’s a haze over your thoughts, and his words, because you want to fight him, and yell and scream at him for bringing you into Armin’s room when you already felt so horrible about what you’ve done, but you can’t summon anything. The only thing you can think about is Eren’s dick, and how it would feel inside you, and how your sensitive walls would take him. So you follow Eren’s orders, and lay back down. Eren hovers over you again, pulling at your shirt, up and over your head, and it lands with a soft thud on the carpet. 

He’s looking at you now, up and down slowly, but different than all the other times. He doesn’t have to rush to take it all in this time, because you’re on display just for him now. So he takes his time, and starts with a soft kiss to the skin right above your heart, wondering if he can hear the hard thuds or if that’s just his imagination. You look at him while he continues his ministrations, wondering why he’s being so slow and careful, because you hadn’t expected this.

His lips work their way up, to your collarbone and then your neck, taking his time to suck on the skin and pepper it with kisses once he hears you hiss in pain. He murmurs an apology against your jaw, before his teeth take your bottom lip between them. He lets go soon after, too eager to feel your lips against his. He’s scared you might pull away, but you don’t. You know you’ve done something terrible, but it’s too late to take it back now. 

He kisses you deeply, tongues finding each other and exchanging that heady taste of yourself. You moan into the kiss, your hands finding the side of Eren’s face and trying to push him onto yourself even harder. You’re not sure if you ever want to pull away from Eren’s lips, but he finally does, trying to catch his breath. You look into his green eyes for a moment, and find your own eyes watering. 

“Don’t cry, baby. I’ll give you what you want.” Eren’s words send you scrambling again, too eager for the fullness you know is inevitable when he finally fucks you.

You feel yourself grabbing for the waistband of his sweats, but Eren’s faster than you. His one hand pins both of yours against your chest, as he clicks his tongue in that obnoxious way again.

“Patience. Only patient girls get daddy’s cock.” You want to scream at him about how patient you’ve been, all this time and all of tonight, but you bite your tongue. You don’t need Eren’s punishment on top of the torture he’s put you through already. 

You let go of your resistance and watch with wide eyes as he removes the only thing that was in your way. His erect dick snaps up against his stomach once it’s freed, and you swallow without thinking, looking at the sheer size of him. He’s just as big as you had imagined, the tip a pretty, dark pink with white beads of pre-cum gathered at the top, and every vein causing you to descend further and further into a wanton state. It’s his thickness that you weren’t prepared for. If three of his fingers were such a tight stretch, you can only imagine what this would do to you. But at the same time, you think you might die if Eren doesn’t fuck you right now. 

He watches with that damn smirk as you stare at his dick with more eagerness than he’s ever seen before. He holds his length in his hand, directing himself to your entrance but not pushing in. He holds himself there, running his dick over your folds and almost succumbing to the inviting wetness of your cunt, but he stops himself. 

“Do you want my cock, baby?” Another surge of heat rushes through your body, feeling almost light-headed at how difficult he’s making this. But you weren’t about to start misbehaving now.

“Y-yes, yes, Eren, please-” You hiccup out, feeling yourself lose the battle against your watery eyes, as the tears roll down your face. “Please, I want it so badly, please, please, please—Oh!” 

Eren pushes in without any warning, watery eyes being his own breaking point. He could have finished on the spot seeing you cry begging for his dick, and he was determined to make you cum again before then. The noises you’re making are incredibly obscene, and he knows you’re being loud enough to notify the entire floor, but he’s not going to stop you. He’s only about half way in, but he wants to be nice and let you adjust to him.

“P-please, Eren, please-” You’re not entirely sure what you’re begging Eren for. A part of you doesn’t think it’s possible to feel more full, and another part of you wants Eren to fuck you so hard you forget everything and everyone. 

He’s about to chastise you again to be patient, and let you know that he’s doing this for you, not him, but he realizes his actions are louder than his words. With another thrust, he pushes his entire length in you. You moan again, this time with a breathy gasp, and he can’t help the smile on his face. You look so pretty crying, trying to take his entire dick and struggling immensely.

He thrusts slowly, wanting to make it last and make you feel every last vein of dick deep inside you, but the way your tight cunt grips him has him speeding up before he can help it. The noises filling Armin’s room are beyond lecherous, as the only sounds are of his tightening balls smacking against your skin with every deep thrust, and the lewd noise of your wetness taking him. 

He’s got you on your back, sitting up between your thighs and one leg hoisted on his shoulder, and thrusting so hard you can feel his hip-bone bruising your skin. There’s only one thought left in your head, and that’s how good Eren feels inside you. The aching burn of his initial assault is long gone, leaving just the feeling of Eren filling you up. Your hands remember his earlier order and find their way to your hardened nipples again, pinching and teasing, putting on a show for Eren as he moans loudly. Every noise he makes goes straight to your core, making you clench around him harder than before.

His lithe fingers find your clit again, and you throw your head back and moan even louder at the feeling. You were so, so sensitive already and this was the last straw. One more of Eren’s thrusts, hitting that special spot inside you, and one more touch of his fingers on your clit sent you screaming to your second orgasm. You were clenching tightly, as Eren worked you through it again and kept his thrusts going. You were seeing black, screaming his name and God knows what else, as you came and waves of pleasure washed over you and heat radiated from your head to your toes.

Eren’s continued thrusts kept going, even after your pussy tightened around him. You were out of breath and sweaty, and you felt Eren’s hips stutter as he leaned forwards and found your hot mouth again. You were kissing again, his lips on yours as you swallowed his moans and grabbed his arms to steady yourself. With another rapid succession of thrusts, Eren moved his lips to your neck and groaned loudly as he came inside you. You felt the hot ropes of his cum deep inside your pussy, as he kept going and going, eventually pulling out of you with a heady moan. You could feel his cum leaking out of you and onto Armin’s sheets, as you laid incredibly still beside Eren, both of you trying to catch your breath. You were ashamed to look Eren in the eyes, avoiding his gaze still as you felt your heart rate return somewhat back to normal. 

“Hey,” was all he said, breathlessly, and with a deep look in his eyes that you had never seen before. “Are you okay?” 

He straightened himself up, leaning against the bed frame and opening his arms in an inviting manner. You wanted nothing more than to avoid his touch, but you felt the exhaustion in your limbs and you convinced yourself there was nothing wrong with being held by him for a few minutes. You leaned against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling up the covers to shield you both from the cold air. You were content to fall asleep right here, every sense of yours taken up by Eren, but you couldn’t just yet. 

“What are we going to tell Armin?” you breathed out dejectedly. It was the one thought that was plaguing your mind, the one thought stopping you from being happy and peaceful beside Eren tonight. 

“Oh, baby. You’re acting like this entire thing this wasn’t his idea.”

...

thanks for reading! part two with armin, anyone?

[youngbugandtonystank]

what's the difference between what wanda did to those people in wandavision and what tony did with ultron?

I have so many asks about this. Hate asks, and people wondering what’s going on. This is the only one I’m answering.

Both of them are responsible for their actions. I’ve seen people try and take away either Tony’s responsibility for that or Wanda’s engagement and accountability. 

In Tony’s case, the Ultron program was supposed to be a global peacekeeping program to protect the people, acting as a suit around the world to prevent events like the Battle of New York. He was doing it in the name of peace and safety. Tony was rightfully scared because he was the only one who knew what was coming. Wanda intentionally enhanced that fear in him and this drove him to create Ultron with Bruce. He has responsibility for it. Same as Bruce. He owns up to this, he took full responsibility and agreed that they needed to be regulated. 

Tony Stark: A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA... and then Ultron. My fault.

--

Tony Stark: There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.

--

Tony Stark: That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing.

--

If people think he needs to be in jail for it, then I’m guessing the rest of the Avengers too since all of them have made mistakes and killed people too. As a matter of fact, after the events of Wandavision, I’m sure that Wanda should be in the Raft, but because she’s ‘a poor baby’ yall won’t think she deserves that. 

SPOILERS

It’s a big possibility that we don’t have all the info about what happened in Wandavision but we’re going to go with what we know so far. 

In Wanda’s case, she did it to appease her grief and pain, and I can understand why she would get to that point, she’s been through a lot and maybe she was about to lose her mind. Instead of recruiting Wanda after the Sokovia incident, they should’ve given this girl treatment for her mental health problems. She just lost her brother and passed through a very traumatic war zone, of course she needs assistance. Cap and Natasha were the ones responsible for her because they were training the ‘new’ avengers. Sam was with them and he used to be a counselor to veterans with PTSD. He could’ve helped Wanda with some of her traumas. As shown in the series, Wanda did the whole hex business before meeting Agatha, which means creating that little reality was all Wanda’s responsibility. Hayward and Agatha did exactly what Wanda did to Tony (and the avengers/other people) in AOU. They manipulated her and played with her emotional traumas. Hayward showed her Vision’s body parts and Agatha started to pull strings to know how Wanda did what she did and her real powers while orchestrating against her. 

Both of them have made mistakes. No one is better than the other. I don’t understand why some fans want to make someone responsible more than the other or blame one character for the other. While Wanda gave Tony that vision and pushed his self-destructive side to obsess over saving the world, he did create Ultron, what Tony didn’t predict was that the robot was going to corrupt itself. Same with Wanda, while Agatha and Hayward contributed to her trauma, she held hostage and isolated 3,892 people to create her perfect reality, ripping these people away from their identities and free will to fit her own fantasy. Don’t turn this into ‘omg poor her, it’s Tony fault that she’s this way'. I can’t believe I have to repeat this but you don’t see Peter Parker obsessively looking for the person who manufactured the gun instead of the criminal who actually killed Uncle Ben. Ridiculous that I have to repeat this example. 

Oh and about Vision’s body (damn yall have a gift to turn everything into Tony’s fault for some reason). I can’t believe some of you think Tony (while grieving for 5 years) would give Vision to Hayward. You’re either pulling stuff out of your asses or you didn’t pay attention to the show. Maria Rambeau founded and was the Director of S.W.O.R.D. In 2018 (when IW happened), this is where she came up with a new policy within S.W.O.R.D. to ground snapped agents in case they ever returned. Maria was diagnosed with cancer, then two years later (2020), she passed away. Then, Hayward was promoted to Director of S.W.O.R.D., in his first years (2020-2022) he refocused the organization’s work from extraterrestrial operations to robotics, nanotechnology and artificial intelligence, etc. There, that was the 5 years. Then in 2023 it’s when he started project Cataract, which revolved around rebuilding Vision as a sentient weapon. Tony was dead when this happened. How come yall don’t get this part? I don’t understand, do you really think his dead corpse signed some papers to give Vision to those people? LMAO

Instead of thinking Tony would give up Vision just like that, think (possibilities):

Maria was the head of S.W.O.R.D., she might have just been keeping his body safe without doing anything with him. Maybe she trusted Hayward and he, obviously, betrayed her because he’s turning her organization into something else after her death. 

One of the Sokovia Accords regulations states that the use of technology to bestow individuals (the term ‘enhanced individual’ in this book is defined as any person, human or otherwise, with superhuman capabilities) with innate capabilities is strictly regulated by the government, as is the use and distribution of highly advanced technology. Vision signed those accords ('I'm saying there may be a casualty. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight...oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand’) The Avengers were no longer be a private organization and they operate under the supervision of the United Nations. This means they (UN) were the ones that referred Vision’s body to S.W.O.R.D., to a trustworthy leader, Maria. 

Vision died in Wakanda, not in New York. Tony was missing for 22 days after the snap, the rest of the avengers should’ve taken responsibility for his body.  

Why is it always Tony’s fault but never consider that other parties are also involved in this? 

I want to address some other asks with this one. I know some of you are angry because people are starting to blame Tony all over again, so a few things to remember:

Tony did not create the Accords. The Accords were the result of all the collective actions the Avengers have done in their superhero careers. All of them have made mistakes and the collateral damage of that was taken into consideration by the government and 117 countries around the world. He signed the accords because he knew that he could amend them with the support of the rest of the avengers and he knew about Thanos (something big was coming). 

Obadiah Stane (it’s so bizarre for me seeing that some people don’t know who this guy is, I’m guessing that the people who are watching Wandavision are too young to remember or didn’t watch the Iron Man movies at all which is highly probable) was the one selling weapons to the wrong people, not Tony. Obadiah was the CEO of Stark industries and became second-in-command for two decades. He grew jealous of Tony and began cooperating with the Ten Rings in Afghanistan, selling them Stark Industries weapons illegally. Imagine blaming all of it on Tony when Obadiah basically murdered thousands only because he felt a little green. If someone who you trust (he had no reasons to doubt Obadiah since he was like a second father-figure for him) does something behind your back (take into consideration that people like Pepper; who was Tony’s assistant and had knowledge of all of Tony’s activities and responsibilities, Rhodey; who was the liaison between the military in the department of acquisitions and Stark Industries, and Happy Hogan; who was his personal bodyguard and Head of Security of Stark Industries, didn’t know what Stane was doing either), how are you going to know about it? Tony trusted him. And when he realized what was going on he immediately stopped all of it. He worked hard to be better and people overlook that because they want other characters to look better. 

Don’t act like Tony was the only one assisting the military. All of the avengers assisted in one way or another. Natasha (who used to be an assassin) was in the Red Room, trained in the Black Widow Program in association with Leviathan and the Soviet Armed Forces, served for KGB, etc. Bruce Banner used to work for the United States government and was commissioned to create a super serum for them. Same goes with the rest, Sam, Clint, etc. Steve Rogers was a soldier lmaoooooooooooooo like, what happened to Tony with Obadiah happened to Steve with SHIELD/HYDRA in TWS. He trusted the people working in there (SHIELD), served for them, did missions for them and as soon as he found out what they were doing behind his back he turned against them. 

Knowing all of this, how is Tony always the villain for yall? I’m guessing because Tony’s popularity in the MCU, but still, aren’t yall tired of not understanding the plot and having people repeat it to you constantly? Watch the movies if you want to understand the franchise, people. Stop following the crowd. 

Also, Wanda is not a kid, she’s a 35 year old woman in Wandavision, she was 26 in AOU and 27 in CW. Hardly a child. Tony had almost her same age (38) when he realized Obadiah was selling illegal weaponry behind his back. The only reason people don’t fully forgive Tony is because 1. he’s a man and 2. he’s a billionaire. Even if Wanda was poor she still killed and hurt many people over the course of her life. Stop trying to make Tony the villain only to downplay Wanda’s actions. 

Both have killed people, both have made mistakes. They’re both responsible for them. 

[aarcanechaoss]

Party Mask

Whoops my hand slipped here’s another one :)

Amaya doesn’t like parties but she supposes she’s glad she was at this one

Amaya + William fluff

Amaya has no clue how she allowed Mimosa to get her to tag along. Gatherings like this usually spelled trouble and over the years she’s been a Magic Knight not once has she attended knowing how rowdy they were- courtesy of her Captain’s hangover rambles.

With a sigh she lifted what she hoped was a stronger drink to her lips. She pulled the cup away from her lips that wasn’t the nicest beverage but at least it was alcohol. Who knows maybe she’ll forget she was ever here. Wouldn’t that be a miracle?

“Hi Amaya!” Asta exclaimed as he and Yuno noticed the woman sitting by herself in the corner. Her table really only had her glass, William’s glass and Mimosa’s food for safe watching.

“Asta! Shh I don’t want people to spot me.” She hushed playfully. The magicless boy laughed.

“Why at the party if not to party?” Yuno asked.

“Mimosa.” She answered. “I don’t like parties I think they are a waste of time. So I’m compensating.” She waved her half filled cup around. It wasn’t really a lie she did think parties were nonsense but they also scared her, reminded her of her life in Harlow Manor.

“Klaus said you didn’t often join gatherings of any kind especially family ones.” Yuno said.

Amaya’s nose scrunched.

“I have a brother that’s it no other family and he’s busy.”

“I’m sorry he didn’t mean that to sound blunt. Do you want company?” Asta asked. Amaya gave a soft smile.

“If you two were of drinking age maybe.” She laughed. “Go mingle and make friends it’s good for you.” She dismissed them with a smile.

Her silence didn’t last long as someone new sat across from her. She sighed heavily hoping that was enough to get that she doesn’t want to talk.

“What’s a beautiful lady like you doing here on your own?” No apparently not. She glared at him, blond hair, cocky grin. Mantis cloak.

“Watching her Captain’s drink.” She grunted.

“You should be up partying.” He suggested.

“No.” Her eyes locked with his nearby Captain.

“Come on-“

“Jack!” She motioned for him to come over.

“Hello Amaya. Is Sekke bothering you? Kekeke.” He laughed. Sekke as she now knows went white as paper- she almost laughed.

“Yeah can you make him fuck off.”

“Go.” Jack said with a crazed grin. Off the bug went.

“Thanks Jack.” She said tilting her now empty cup towards him in appreciation. He laughed (keke’d?) and ruffled her hair. She scowled. “We’re friends but that doesn’t mean you can mess with my hair.”

She was quick to let the scarlet tendrils fall before gathering them to the side to make a quick braid making the Green Mantis Captain laugh once more before walking off- something about pissing off Yami.

Please. She hoped no one else would come over- maybe William? Yeah and he can tell her to go home considering he hasn’t been drinking maybe he’ll wisen up and they can go. No her Captain hadn’t looked at her all night par dropping off his drink a few times. She pursed her lips in annoyance she just wanted to leave.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep your face like that.” Vanessa said. “What’s wrong Dawnie?”

“I wanna go back to my room.” She grumbled drowning herself in the new drink Vanessa brought.

“Alone?” She teased. Amaya snorted.

“Yeah and who’d accompany me Ness? You?”

“Darling if we swung that way I would.” The women fell into a fit of giggles. Amaya sighed again.

“Seriously though I don’t want to be here.”

“I said that the first time we met.” Vanessa quipped. “You turned to me and said that’s nice but right now it doesn’t matter because you’re here anyway.”

Amaya groaned at the memory. They’d met during a mission where Yami had convinced her to join Vanessa, himself and Finrall on a mission to collect missing people from giant spider caves. The red head shivered not and entirely pleasant memory.

“Don’t use my words against me.” She pouted.

“Come on why don’t you just leave if you don’t want to be here?”

“Captain Vangeance-“

“What happened to William?” Amaya shot a look. “Okay sorry continue.”

“-has to know I’m leaving if I do. Plus I’m still watching his slowly emptying glass… I’m on my seventh and he’s on his fourth.” She huffed.

“Remind me why you aren’t the vice captain?”

“Perfect pretty boy Langris gets whatever he wants.” She joked. “I’m happy to fill in I don’t know about permanent vicing.” She shrugged honestly. The new liquid was stronger, it burnt her throat.

“It’s good right? Nicked it from the Silva table.”

“Fuck it’s strong. It’s good remind me to hunt it down next time Klaus’ group does something destructive with yours.”

“As long as I can join-“

“Definitely.”

“Vanessa stop fraternising with the enemy!” A drunk Magna exclaimed making the women laugh. “Oh it’s just Ama hewwooo.”

“Hello.”

“I’ll leave you and your drink be to take care of this.” Vanessa snickered.

“Good idea.”

Alone again. Really she couldn’t decide if she liked the company or her thoughts better either way she still had a drink in her hand. Her silver-grey eyes scanned the room, everyone else seemed to be having fun unlike her. She just couldn’t get passed her mental block of everything that happened when she was younger- maybe one day she would- stop. She shook her head this isn’t the time or place to think about that.

Yuno seemed to be having a good time with Asta being the brothers they were it was nice to see them behaving civil sometimes. Mimosa was with them playfully smiling and talking to Asta- Amaya smiled at that she knew the girl had a crush on him and it was sweet really. Noelle was nearby doing whatever that creepy angry-jealous stare was towards Asta. Amaya frowned at that. Klaus was drowning himself in snacks surprisingly which made anyone who knew him well stifle their laughter. Langris was glaring at his brother from across the room and Amaya felt the urge to mess with him crawl it’s way up her spine.

Her eyes scanned the room again this time her brows furrowed where did Will-

“Enjoying the gathering?” Amaya jumped almost spilling her drink with that. Her free hand was pressed to her heart. Purple eyes stared down at her with a mischievous glint. He knew he’d startle her.

“Not particularly if I’m honest.” William tilted his head to the side clearly a brow would be risen if he didn’t wear his mask. “Don’t like parties. Never have.”

“Why is that?”

“Nothing party pleasant.” She shrugged nursing her drink awkwardly.

“Well I’m partial to leaving if you are?” Her head snapped towards William who offered his usual kind smile.

“Please.” She breathed before quickly chugging the remains of her drink,

“Come along then.”

“So.” William began making sure Amaya was settled in the broom with him. “Why did you tag along if you don’t like parties?”

“Mimosa convinced me and being a noble takes the magic out of parties.” William paused and turned his head back towards her. Out of the five years they’ve known each other not once had she mentioned that. He considered themselves friends.

“A noble?”

“Huh? Why so shocked I thought the name Amaya Harlow was pretty obvious.”

“I apologise but no.”

“Oh. That’s fine it’s not worth worrying over I’d rather not be associated with it. I’m just Amaya Captain.”

“William please you’ve known me long enough to call me that.”

“What? Does Captain and sir not float your boat?” She teased. William’s cheeks flared thankfully his mask hid that- he hoped. “Plenty other names, leader, boss, hmm.”

“Stop your teasing.” He ushered only making her laugh more as her arms tightened around him.

“William?” He hummed in response, “Why are we going back to the base by broom?”

“For one you’ve been drinking and don’t trust you won’t fall asleep outside and I want to show you something first… if you remember it that is.” He joked.

“One- that only happened once and I’m not even drunk thank you. Two- Depends on if I find it worth remembering.” She said, her chin resting on his shoulder as she watched the trees wave in the breeze. She hummed softly, a lullaby her nursemaids sung to her and her brother. William smiled as he flew them behind the base to a small clearing. Amaya’s eyes narrowed, she trusted her Captain without any doubt but she was confused as to where they were going.

“Here we are.” He said allowing her to get off the broom and step towards a rose bush.

“A rose bush?”

“Amaya we’ve been friends for a while yes?”

“Yes. Why?” She turned around moonlight catching the scarlet braid. William bit his lip her wide silver eyes watching him carefully. Slowly he reached for his mask.

“I trust you, just as I trust Yami, Fuegoleon, Julius and Marx. So please allow me to show you what’s behind the mask.”

“William- you don’t have too.” She said brows furrowed. He smiled that kind smile, the one that always comforted her, as he lifted the mask away and dropped it beside the broom.

He shut his eyes not daring to see any pity or shame or disgust. Amaya stepped towards him. Eyes taking in each mark and shape, the colour of his hair and where the scar stopped.

“This is worth remembering.” She whispered. Slowly William opened his eyes, fear still lingered in his as they connected to her calm ones.

No pity.

No shame.

No disgust.

She seemed happy if anything. With a delicate hand she traced the edge of the scar.

“You truly believe that? Do you not find it hideous?”

“William with or without the mask I trust who you are as a person. A scar doesn’t make a difference, whether an injury or curse they only thing that matters is you.” She smiled. “I have my own scars that I keep hidden, that I worry people would judge so I understand in some way.”

“Thank you.” He whispered. Amaya pulled him in for a hug, he hurried his face into her neck while she trailed her fingers soothingly through his hair.

“You’re not hideous either William Vangeance. In fact I find you rather handsome and I’m sure many would agree.”

“Don’t tease me Ama.” He grumbled into her neck. She only laughed at his retort.

“Make me.” She said. William’s arms moved from around her waist, hands settling on her hips before settling his forehead against hers.

“So I’m rather handsome am I?”

Her face bloomed a pretty shade of pink.

“I see how it is you tease.” She snickers stepping out of his hold.

“I’m the tease?” William laughs in surprise.

“Oh yes keeping such a handsome face from me it’s quite teasing.” She said eloquently. William’s face flushing more. “Now that I’ve seen it I’ll be in shambles without it in my life.”

“Now that’s being dramatic.”

“Is it? Oh Captain my poor heart cannot take such a handsome man hiding himself from me whatever shall I do?” She announced dramatically. “I simply cannot stand it. Captain I think I might just faint.”

“Amaya I’m warning you,” William joked. Taking a tentative step forward he saw the gleeful look on Amaya’s face.

“A warning gods my body cannot take it, take me into your arms my dear captain for I shall die a happy woman to see your handsome face as I perish.” She stepped back again the grin somehow widening as she did.

“I believe you had plenty to drink Ama-“

“Don’t look at me like that I can’t stand it too handsome I shall go! It was nice knowing you world for my eyes have been blessed.” The scarlet haired woman continued to tease before dashing to the side of the clearing towards the base. William was quick to pull his mask back on and rush after her. Amaya’s laugh echoed through the small thick of trees making William grin.

They reached the base with Ama giggling as she stopped in the garden for a moment, William was quick to trap her in his arms and spin her around. A simple caught you hung in the air as they giggled.

After a moment they paused and she looked back at William. She pouted.

“Aw you put it back on.”

“I’m not quite ready for anyone else to see.” That seemed to appease her as her fingers danced along the intricate design.

“Captain? Amaya.” Within a flash they were apart.

“Oh hello everyone what are you doing out here?” Amaya asked as innocently as possible.

“Coming home from the party.” Langris said with a scowl. “What we’re you doing with the Captain.”

“She fell. She did get quite drunk I was just keeping her steady.”

“Yeah what Wi-The Captain said.” Amaya cringed she hoped that was kind of plausible. It definitely wasn’t. “Captain, I should head to my quarters now thank you for keeping me from falling. Mimosa shall we?”

“Okay Commander.” Amaya’s nose scrunched- she told Mimosa and everyone to only call her that during missions…

“Goodnight everyone.” Amaya waved feigning a slightly drunken walk.

Mimosa giggled to Amaya about how cute they looked making the twenty-five year old blush, William however wasn’t so lucky with the light teasing. Yuno found it most entertaining.

“So should we tell everyone Amaya is off limits now?”

[cosmiccandydreamer]

Stability Chapter 11

Otis Driftwood x Reader

Masterlist is here.

"You listen to me, and you listen well! I am gonna kill every member of your family! I'm gonna hunt them down like the animals they are, and I'm gonna skin em' alive! They are going to feel the pain and suffering of every last victim!" A disgusting squishy sound-filled the empty void of the cell. Sheriff Wydell had stabbed Mama Firefly in the stomach and twisted it until the light left her eyes. 

He was done playing this cat and mouse game. Mama's last taunt and laughter that ran through the station after more questioning pushed him over the edge. He had grabbed a large knife from his office and stabbed her in the stomach. As she fell to the ground he stood and took in the scene of what he had done. There was no turning back now, people like these people are monsters he thought to himself and the only thing monsters fear are other monsters. He had discovered through the interrogation that his brother was indeed murdered by Mama herself when he had come to investigate the cheerleader's disappearance.

 Sheriff John Wydell's eyes widened at the sight of his dead brother getting up from the couch he was sitting on, he began stuttering "I'm, I'm walking the line on this brother. I'm... I'm walking".George Wydell scoffed and answered sarcastically "Well, mother pin a rose on me, that is so great! I want these motherfuckers dead! Kill 'em!" John Wydell jumped up in a cold sweat… oh it was just a dream he thought, or was it? It couldn't be this hard to be signed by his brother that he needed to avenge him. "I'm brother, I'm trying," he thought to himself. 

"Why are you over here all by yourself handsome? Married or not you don't gotta be all alone"... Candy had slinked over to where Otis was laying on the couch downing a bottle of Jack Daniels. The rest of the crew was partying with the ladies at the brothel. Otis wasn't in the mood to party though. He wanted to get out of here and get moving. 

He felt guilty which was surprising for someone like him, that he was here enjoying a safe environment for the night without knowing where you were. "What do you want woman" he scoffed and attempted to get up.. "now now lay down You look like a mess Is your back hurting or something I can give you a massage I am a masseuse Well at least I can give a good enough massage that feels like I'm a masseuse" Candy said in a sultry voice twirling her hair, "listen here woman I said I ain't fucking you so go on and get" Otis said shooing her away with his hand.

 "Hey now no one said anything about fucking! How about I help you out friend to friend? You just must be tense worrying about your old lady out there". She sat next to him on the couch, he slowly got up to face her, "just a massage right No funny business or I'll throw your ass through the window". "Duly noted" she laughed and helped him stand grabbing his arm. She led him to a soft mattress on the floor. 

Sheriff Wydell on the other hand was not having the best night either, he was racking his brain on what was the next step to take for finding the four of you. He found himself staring at himself in the mirror talking to himself "You know I got to tell you, that's some catch phrase you got there, Devil's Rejects. What? You got something to say to me clown, huh. I bet you scare lots of folks, don't ya? Yeah, regular fuckiin' killer. You want a piece of this motherfucker? You want a piece of this? Huh, what you got! What you got! Lord I am your arm of justice. Lord I am your arm of justice. Lord I am your arm of justice. Your righteous sword of vengeance. Let my blows be true. From the illusion leads me to truth. From darkness leads me to light. From death leads me to eternal life." 

"Ah sir? That guy you asked for is here" his deputy Ray Dobson knocked on the door to his office breaking him out of his trance.  It was his deputy, who made the connection that  the aliases the family members usually went by and their connection to the old Groucho Marx films. He also discovered that the Fireflies were associated with the local clowns celebrity Captain Spaulding. Hoping to gain some insight into this connection, Wydell brought in film critic Marty Walker for consultation. 

The over the top Marty illustrated how each of the killers named themselves after characters played by Groucho Marx throughout the course of his career. Things between Wydell and Walker quickly became unsavory when the critic made a remark about Elvis Presley. Marty head scateched his head while looking at the clues pinned to the board "that goddamn fucking Elvis Presley." Sheriff Wydell looked up at him with his eyes wide and full of rage. 

"What'd you say about the King?!" Marty was clearly taken aback by the sudden tone change and looked around at everyone else in the room before sputtering out "I said he died three days before Grouch…" Wydell walked very close to him, looked him deep in the eyes and slowly said "Marty... if you ever say another derogatory word about Elvis Aaron Presley I WILL KICK THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU!". 

"Boss don't you remember we had to run in with that guy Charlie not too long ago didn't he stay around with the guy named Spalding?" Ray quickly replied trying to defuse the situation. "Well goddamn you're right Ray… let's go pay Mr. Charlie boy a visit" he backed away from Marty and grabbed his hat. "Be seeing you Marty" 

Spalding had told Charlie that if he went and bought some fresh chicken He whipped them up some fried chicken on the house as a thank you for letting them hide out there. Unbeknownst to Charlie Sheriff Wydell had spotted him leaving the funtown and heading towards the chicken stand. He corners Charlie and demands that he give up the three of them and if he had any information on where you were he needs to give that information up to or it would not end well for him.

 He also asked him if he catches Otis in any compromising situations if he could snap a photo. It would be in his best interest. "I was also wondering," Wydell said, closing the car door a bit more on Charlie. He had closed his car door on Charlie's hands after instructing him to approach the vehicle once they cornered him in with their vehicle. "Is this girl with them by any chance? and I'm only going to give you one chance to answer me honestly" he held up a picture of you, Charlie shook his head viciously "no no naw she ain't with them gods truth man god's truth".. "god's truth hmm well you know where she is? I would like to have a little chat with her" Wydell replied. "Oh c'mon what's that lil girl gonna do" Charlie attempted to chuckle. "Hmm" Wydell said "looks can be deceiving, anyways tonight midnight I'll be seeing you". He released his hand and drove off in a cloud of dirt and smoke.

Back at the house unfortunately or fortunately depending on how you look at it for Otis, Candy was actually a very good masseuse and actually did just give him massage without reaching for his penis which is what he assumed was going to happen. His back was killing him from the hours of driving and that shit van they had stolen from the family back at the motel. 

He also was holding a lot of stress in his shoulders from the anxiety of the plan not going his way and not having any word from you now for multiple days. Unfortunately now she wouldn't stop following him around which was starting to piss him off because one she was annoying and two his back was still hurting and he could have used another massage. "You sure you don't want another one I mean you passed out during yesterday's massage just let me do your shoulders just a little more" she said skipping toward him.

 He wasn't sure if she was just trying to be nice or she was trying to wear him down to fuck her or something. He sat cleaning his knife while staring off into space thinking about you and when you gave this knife to him. You were in town with Baby and wandered into an antique store. You knew as soon as you saw it you had to have it.. he was overjoyed at the knife and vowed to never go anywhere without it. 

"What took you all so long? You said you were just heading into town for some supplies tonight" He asked , slamming the screen door behind him and walking out towards the car. You had insisted on driving your mustang into town with Baby on a girl's trip while he was in the middle of a project. He was hesitant but he allowed it because he knew that you two could probably use some girl time, he wasn't the easiest to always be around. 

"Oh shut up Don't know why you always got to be rushing people" Baby replied flipping her hair and strolling past Otis. "Fuck you" "no fuck you" "no fuck" "Hey!!" You yelled waving your hand in his face. "I took so long because I got you something, I saw it and I couldn't pass it up". You pulled out a dark paper bag and handed it to him. He looked inside and got silent, it was a large beautiful knife. Taking it out the bag he held it in his large hands and studied it closely. "Shit darlin this, this is beautiful..for me huh?" "Yeah of course!" "Why though?" He asked looking back at you with general confusion on his face. You walked over and stepped up on your tippy toes to softly kiss him. "Just wanted to do something nice because I love you". You said patting his chest and walking inside after Baby.

 He stood there for a few more moments looking at the knife and tucking it in his boot. Once inside he grabbed you by the waist and kissed you deep. "Thanks.. ah.. I just don't know how to accept gifts, not used to 'em." "Well I'm glad you like it" you smiled up at him "had me worried for a second I was starting wonder if you didn't like it" "naw I love it it's going everywhere with me always" he said wrapping his long arms around you "just like you". 

"Stop hovering woman!! If I need anything from you I'd ask now get" he huffed at her looking back to his knife. She stood for a moment and turned on her heels and headed away. Charlie headed back to the house trying to swallow the anxiety in his throat. He didn't want to betry the group but he also wanted to protect his business and livelyhood. He stopped at the liquor store and grabbed a bunch more bottles of Jack Daniels, might as well get them drunk and make this shit easier. 

[peaches-writes]

party night

prompt 2: “But it looks like it’s enjoying itself!”

member: minho / lee know wc: 1.9k genre: fluff, bakeneko au, neighbor au, the crackiest fic you’ll ever read in a while warning: explicit language note: finally it’s done it took a while and it’s not even good it’s so trippy sldjflskdf but i’ve been slumped with work rawr + idk i didnt do my research im so sorry this was quick bc i still hav hw lskdfjsldjk

“Swswswswsws...” You hiss continuously as you point your flashlight into the darkness of the forestry ahead, turning your head to your neighbor after. “Ji, what’s your pet’s name again? It might respond if we called it by its name, you know. It’s been five minutes since we’ve been looking for it.”  

“P-Pet? I don’t—”Jisung briefly stops walking and squints his eyes at you, accidentally pointing his own phone’s flashlight to your face when you turn around to face him at immediately noticing his pause. You hold your free hand up to your face in instinctive response to his accidental action, wincing in pain of the bright light to which Jisung guiltily heaves a sigh at. That was close! “A-Ah, I mean!—L-Lee Know! His...yeah, the cat’s name is Lee Know!”      

You furrow your eyebrows and bring your hand down once Jisung apologizes and points his flashlight elsewhere, a confused frown settling on your lips. “Lee Know? You named him?” 

“Y-Yeah?” He raises his own eyebrows curiously, jogging up the remaining distance to you when you beckon for him to continue walking deeper into the forest with you. It’s time like these when the eco-friendly agenda our village has going on is such a hassle, Jisung groans internally to himself, Minho could be anywhere in this forest...that idiot. “Why’d you ask?” 

You shrug, flinching when a distant rustling faintly goes through your ears. When you point your flashlight towards its direction, however, you only see, much to your disappointment, a raccoon scurrying away. “It’s just—and don’t get offended!—Lee Know sounds a bit of a choice for a cat’s name.” You explain sheepishly, looking away in case he does get offended. “I actually thought Minho named him...given his generally weird tendencies. Maybe he got tired of naming pets cutely like Soonie, Doongie, and Dori or something so I thought, you know...”

Jisung snickers under his breath as you explain, frantically shaking his head and waving his hands when you surprisingly hear and ask him about it. Tell that to him when you see him, he so badly wants to tell you but he opts to quietly continue looking for his roommate instead, mirroring you and pointing his flashlight towards every inch of the path. 

“It’s that ridiculous, huh?” He jokes, to which your eyes widen at. When he peers over your shoulder and notices this, he immediately lets out a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s cool. I think it’s ridiculous for a cat too.” 

Your shoulders unintentionally relax at this and you muster up a laugh as well. “It sounds like a stage name.” 

“It’s swag, apparently.” 

After five more minutes of walking (and not much progress in finding clues as to where the cat went but misleading footprints of foxes and more raccoons), you stop right under the warning sign your village’s Homeowners Association, placed right before the forest’s restricted area. “Nothing.” You turn around on your surroundings twice before concluding against the stillness of the night and the distant cricketing, facing Jisung again with a disappointed expression. “We can’t go beyond the subdivision limits, Ji. I’m so sorry.” 

Jisung glances between you and the angry ‘No Trespassing’ sign in thought, biting his lip down as he ponders on what to do next. It’s either he risks having you see more than one supernatural creature tonight and drag you with him past village limits or he pretends to go back to the village with you then run all the way back to the other side of the forest and continue looking for his escaped roommate. Then why did I ask Y/N to help me look for Minho in the first place? Jisung asks himself as he scratches his head in the hopes that his last functioning braincell could make a quick decision. 

“Ji?” You elbow him gently when he takes too long to think. Only then does he notice that you’ve already taken a step back from the village limits, body twisted and facing the path back. “Let’s go back, maybe it’s better looking for Lee Know in the morning.” 

“A-Ah, but—” Jisung raises his free hand, as if reaching out to you and tugging you back. Before he could finish his thought, however, he sees a brilliant white light reflect back in your eyes and when he turns around, his eyes widen at colorful lanterns approaching from the trees. “Oh, shit...” 

“What the fuck is that?” You ask in a whisper, instinctively going back to Jisung’s side in fear. When the lanterns draw nearer, you start making out figures of raccoons, foxes, rabbits, and cats dancing on their hind legs. “What the hell?” 

Jisung slaps a hand up to his forehead and purses his lips, gritting his teeth hardly in frustration. Too late, he thinks to himself as he turns to you, eyes wide and mouth agape in bewilderment. “Y/N, listen to me—” 

But again, he’s cut off by a certain orange and white cat catching your attention, waving at you with its paws. “Hi, Y/N!” Minho waves at you casually in his cat form, his smile peeking out of the rainbow towel on his head. “We’re doing a conga line around the forest if you want to join!” 

“I...” You freeze, leaning back in confusion. “T-That’s...Lee Know?” 

“Um...” Jisung turns to you, meeting your unreadable expression. You look simultaneously shocked, horrified, and curious but with a small smile threatening to slip into your features. “I can explain!” 

“He sounds like—” 

“My roommate, Minho. Yeah, um...” Jisung scratches the nape of his neck again, instinctively stepping in front of your view to block the sight of dancing forest animals. “Listen, it’s not what it looks like! Minho, he’s...” 

“Jisung—I mean, wilder things have happened in college—” 

“Yeah but—” Jisung stops halfway, staring back at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “You’re not—you’re not freaked out?” 

“So you are admitting that your roommate is half-cat?” 

“He’s a bakeneko...” 

“Bakeneko, sure, okay.” You repeat, rolling your eyes. “As I was saying, you dragged me out here at 2 AM to look for ‘your cat,’ knowing there’s a slight risk of me finding out who the cat actually is, then you react like this when it does happen? I’m surprised, of course, but you really should’ve thought about that.” 

A part of Jisung heaves a sigh of relief but another part of him panics even further which is only amplified with the music growing louder behind him as more animals pass by. “Yeah, well, I did thought about that but I really needed help looking for Minho because he left without a note and I didn’t expect that he’d be out here partying tonight!” 

This time, it’s you slapping a hand to your face. “Jesus Christ, and here I thought you guys were at least sharing one braincell.” You sigh, to which Jisung immediately protests at. You ignore, him, however, and gesture for the growing line of dancing animals. “So, should we stop him? But, then, it looks like it’s enjoying itself! “But it looks like it’s enjoying itself!—I mean, Minho! Minho looks like he’s enjoying himself.” 

Jisung opens his mouth to speak but, for the second time tonight, he’s accidentally cut off again by Minho, this time by said roommate suddenly materializing on his shoulders. “Are here to pick me up?” Minho asks him, the way his normal human voice comes out of his cat form momentarily surprising you from the corner of his eyes and catching his attention. “Oh, hi, Y/N! Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see me like this! Ya, Han Jisung, why did you bring Y/N along?” 

“Because you just left the house without telling me where you’re going, dumbass! How would I know if you weren’t suddenly kidnapped or something!” Jisung complains in response, flicking Minho’s forehead. “And get off my shoulder, fatass, you’re so heavy. Have you been eating spirits food again?” 

You clear your throat awkwardly, waving at the two boys before they could engage in a full-on argument. “Yeah, I’m still here, guys?” 

Minho and Jisung glance back at you then to each other, as if in contemplation. You raise an eyebrow nervously at this. 

“Hyung, is it okay that Y/N saw you?” Jisung asks Minho in a hushed whisper. 

“Do I really look fat tonight?” Minho frowns, to which Jisung groans at. 

“Dude, come on, I’m asking you a matter of your security and you ask me if you’re looking fat.” 

“Because Y/N saw me!” 

Jisung sighs. “Fine, then, yes you do...you look like a really really fat cat tonight.” He answers reluctantly, to which Minho pouts even deeper at. “It must be those brownies that other cat, Felix, is always baking at these parties.” 

Minho then immediately hops off of Jisung, walking over to you and encircling your ankles once. “Alright, then, I guess, Y/N, you should see me like this on another time, when I’m looking cuter! You’ll have to forget everything you saw tonight, okay? I can’t have my crush seeing me as a fat cat!” 

“W-What?” You try stepping away from Minho’s circling movements but before you could even get a foot out, you already start feeling lightheaded until your vision’s fully clouded in nothing but white. 

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!” Minho’s voice echoes in your ears before you. 

- 

Jisung is waiting for you by the fences separating your houses the next day, a seemingly rehearsed smile on his face. From what you can hazily remember of last night (which is oddly few, you’ve noticed), you last saw him banging his head against the pillars of his host family’s front porch at dinner time because the Internet connection at his place won’t let him pass his homework. 

“Good morning, Ji?” You greet him as you water the plants in your front garden, unintentionally coming off as questioning. “You look...happy. Did you get to pass that homework of yours?” 

The boy nods happily as he organizes the recyclables he’s supposed to take out. “Yep, passed it on time.” 

You nod, opening your mouth to speak only to be interrupted by an orange and white cat emerging from your garden’s potted sunflowers. “Oh, hi!” You greet the cat, instinctively crouching down to scratch its ears to which he purrs positively to. You don’t catch it but Jisung heaves a sigh of relief when you don’t seem to recognize Minho or have any recollection of last night. “And who are you supposed to be, hm? You’re so adorable!” 

From the corner of your eyes, Jisung frowns at Minho before shaking his head and answering you, “O-Oh, that’s—Lee Know, the new house cat! My host family brought him in just—just last night.” 

“Just last night?” You ask, briefly looking up at Jisung and catching his frown turning into a sheepish smile. You try catching his reaction to your question but the cat brings a paw up to your hand and regains your attention again. “Didn’t they come home at like 4 PM yesterday, though? I even greeted Mr. and Mrs. Lee and I don’t remember seeing them with this cat.”     

Shit, Jisung curses himself, glaring at Minho again who only sticks his tongue out discreetly at him, I was doing so well! “W-Well, Mr. Lee went out at around 9 PM, I think, when you were already inside, then he came back with the cat. It’s a stray, basically.” 

You nod at this, smiling at the cat again. “Aren’t you too cute to be a stray cat, though?” You coo, making Minho smile and nuzzle his whiskers more into your hands. “And you remind me a lot of Ji’s roommate, Minho, too. Have you met him? He’s a bit of a weirdo but he’s...cute too, I guess.” 

Minho so badly wants to open his mouth and protest halfway when you called him a weirdo but he puts up the facade anyway and goes around you once again. He’ll have to bring it up to you next time, when he’s human. 

“Look, Ji, he likes me!” You point out excitedly to which Jisung only musters up a small smile. You then pet the cat’s head once more before standing up to continue watering your plants. “Speaking of, Minho’s okay with this? And Soonie, Doongie, Dori?” 

“Yep.” Jisung reluctantly nods, kicking Minho gently with his foot when he comes back to his side of the fence. “Very much so.” 

on a night much like tonight (drabble game) 

@skzwriternet 

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

[SPOILERS FOR LEO’S ROUTE❗️] okay so i just got to the bit after leo reveals what he is, and mc and comte are talking on the balcony & comte offers to turn her into a vampire if she would like. obviously mc declines but i guess my question is, how do you think leonardo would react if mc DID agree to that offer? i am enjoying his route, but i kinda get the feeling he mostly/only loves mc because she is human :/ im interested abt what might happen if she didn’t say no? thank you v much💖💖ly lots

Aww, ily3 hun tyty 💕💕💕I’ll offer my thoughts below, I hope I can answer your questions to satisfaction! 

Ah yes, the point in Leo's route where I essentially get shot in the leg and limp through my walk of shame

Jk jk, but I think there has been a considerable degree of displeasure associated with Leonardo's line in the proverbial sand. No life with him can be spent as a vampire, MC must remain human. Despite his easygoing nature, he remains stalwart in his opposition no matter what the MC or Comte has to say. To summarize it quickly, Comte’s relieved exasperation at the end of Leo’s MS gets more across than I think any of my analysis can convey “Thank heavens one of you has good sense.” It offers the implication that he has tried to broach the topic with Leonardo out of concern, only to be met by a brick wall--or doesn’t try at all for fear that he’ll only ensconce Leonardo further into rejecting a greater future for him and MC.

As to how he would react I......really don’t think it would go well? Only because I think it would serve to reinforce the rifts that already exist in Leonardo’s self-perception. He would believe it was his own fault for pushing her in that direction, and while I don’t think he would hate Comte, he would definitely become estranged from one of his only close friends in life. (What GUTS ME about Comte offering to turn MC is that he is probably well aware Leo might beat the shit out of him, never talk to him again, or both--and he still fully accepts that he could lose his best friend to guarantee a future for both of them. Excuse me while I bawl in the corner) He probably wouldn’t hold it against Comte for too long, but he wouldn’t be any less aggrieved and hurt. And when Leonardo is vulnerable, he will hide and nurse his wounds until he can behave with some level of calm--or at the very least until he can pretend he’s okay after an initial explosion. He doesn’t feel comfortable troubling people with his own problems, so he tends to fall into silence when personal things come up. This doesn’t necessarily mean he resolves all of his emotional turmoil, or heals that fast; it only means that he wallows in those feelings alone unless they’re tugged out of him and worked through forcibly.

Basically, I see only one of two possibilities coming to fruition. The first is that he and MC would wobble only to completely fall apart if some kind of resolution could never be found. He’d continue to blame himself and start sabotaging his own happiness, and that would likely mean some level of selfishness directed at MC--resulting in anguish for the both of them. If MC takes on too much without complaint or Leonardo goes too far...I get the feeling that relationship would either end in shambles immediately, or result in a kind of twisted union in which both feel responsible for the other’s hurt but neither one can relieve it (until they’d be forced to split up before someone gets seriously hurt). They would be the source of each other’s suffering, so much so that the walls climbing between them might never again lower. 

This might sound odd, but if there’s one thing that Leonardo needs it’s control when it comes to his relationships with others. It is a subtle, but acute trait that might not seem obvious knowing his magnanimous disposition. He decides if MC gets to be a vampire, he bargains with Sebastian because he refuses to be a test subject, he refuses to validate Comte’s conclusions (despite knowing he’s right) because he doesn’t want to cede the power silence/smokescreens offer his emotional vulnerabilities. Even around villains like Shakespeare and the final serial killer, pay close attention. Shakespeare begins revealing deeply personal information and wishes that Leonardo holds close to his heart on purpose, snatching Leonardo’s agency and ability to control how his feelings are being conveyed. How does Leonardo respond? With explosive, forbidding anger--instantaneous and barely contained, nothing at all like his breezy attitude and calm.

If you think about it, it’s a fairly obvious extension of the humiliating powerlessness by which he was raised (he needs to be in control; he needs to be the one who decides who gets to walk away and who doesn’t. He doesn’t come on to MC because he wants to, he does it for the sole purpose of scaring her out of wanting to be a vampire. He doesn’t even attempt to explain where he’s coming from because he falls into whole-scale panic. When he loses control of the trajectory of others--of how they perceive certain things about him--all of his charisma fails him. If he can’t explain or justify where he is mentally, when he’s too afraid they won’t hear him or care, then he needs to redirect the opposing party). Additionally, he feels responsible; that he can better adjust the outcome with his experience--and while that may be true for some things, sometimes he gets ahead of himself. Only an individual can decide their own future and their own happiness, the most others can do is enhance or worsen aspects of life. He doesn’t have enough faith that his presence is positive or worthwhile enough to guarantee his spouse’s happiness ;-;

The other possibility I see is MC coaxing him as best she can into reassurance that she’s happy with her new life. While he may have doubts, there is absolutely room for her to help him approach those fears little by little. If Leonardo has even a hint of doubt in regards to his dismal feelings about her being turned, a potential for acceptance may be nurtured. I don’t think his uncertainty would ever fully vanish; there will always be a lurking fear that a fate tied to his can only mean suffering and disappointment. Prove his worth and compassion with time, and this man will be unable to remember how life was lived before her. It would take a great deal of patience and a sizable obstacle, but it wouldn’t be impossible. His heart is much too big for that, I think.

I don’t think happiness with a turned MC is impossible, only that it would take a lot of work to swing it after a heated moment of decision. I think the way to go with Leonardo is a more enduring effort. He shows much more receptivity after years of being together. I think time, ironically, helps him relax into the possibility of forever as a couple. I think he cannot conceptualize a world in which he is in love, and that this love is not conditional--not dependent on his ability to be the perfect companion, the brilliant inventor, the equanimous mentor. I think he needs to see for himself that love can be gentle and real and whole even when he’s at his worst (by his self-perception). 

Also I put some extra meta under the cut because I have brainworms and just can’t stop thinking about Leonardo rn so read if you like, but it’s more related to why he feels this way abt turning MC than necessarily about the outcome. 

That being said, I'm conflicted because I don't necessarily think Leonardo only loves MC because she's human? (Rather, I think it’s more a result of his history and the values he’s developed in response to that upbringing. But I’ll loop back to this in a bit, so stay tuned)

I say this for two reasons. Firstly, I don't want to say that no person in this period shared his values (I mean look at Comte)--this would be an overstatement, even if it was rare. But it does appear that Comte and Leonardo are acute exceptions within vampire society in elevating human beings to an equal status among vampires (if not a higher status at points or depending on the person). As such, a vampire partner he’d be comfortable living with is unlikely. Human beings are more optimal in some regards (more adaptable and more egalitarian than vampires, most likely), but he also knows that he’s more susceptible to falling in love with a human; so he makes sure to squash his feelings or remove himself when his feelings become too intense. 

Secondly, he's in close quarters with MC by necessity, and reacts to her isolation by virtue of the situation. That's probably half the reason they get together at all; he was fully intending to keep his distance despite his initial curiosity. One thing this signals to me is that even when Leonardo did feel attraction to any person he was in contact with, he would avoid them until they were removed from his presence--or he deflected their romantic approaches enough times for them to give up. With this in mind, it can come as no surprise that Leonardo has kept to himself for nearly five hundred years now. If it was another vampire hitting on him (especially a pureblood), he would be playing into his parents' expectations and would approach the vampire social hierarchy he was working so hard to escape. If they were human, he would deem himself a burden; he could never love them within the normal expectations of a human couple (growing old together, raising a family, etc etc). So ultimately I think it's less her being human, and more their compatibility and context.

As such, I think he just locks himself into a kind of Catch-22? Because in the end I think this is more about his own fears and insecurities--that he can never make someone happy, that he himself will never be enough (hello child of abusive home). Not to oversimplify his character, but one crucial element of his upbringing must be considered if he is to be analyzed properly.

There's something I often think about:

Comte, quoting Leonardo: "‘Not all parents love their children, or even think of them as such.’"  [Though he got away and was able to make a life for himself, he had to do it alone.]

There is. A LOT to unpack here. While we may not have evidence of what his familia is like firsthand, this description tells us...so many heartbreaking things. It tells us that Leonardo never once felt like anything more than a child intended to carry on a legacy. The likelihood that his insights, his feelings, or his entire self-hood were acknowledged is pretty much at a hardcore negative three. While it's been a good number of years since he was the problem child/family disappointment, I feel like so many of those experiences seep into his capacity to properly accept the love of another person. It's a good portion of the reason he struggles so intensely with being loved despite his unfathomable wealth of affection for other people. When a person is diagnosed with unlovable and cringe for having positive feelings for others, it's not really surprising that a person might have trouble accepting a commitment or attraction to another person. There is...a kind of Sisyphus dilemma that surfaces in the wake of that kind of life, a constant push + pull between craving acceptance and either expecting it’s loss and/or fearing it’s disappointment. Though he shows signs of healing from it, there are still portions that linger. (Jean-Paul shakes him from this self-berating in his MS, but after four hundred years he still struggles to overcome those instincts. I wish there were words for the extent to which that knowledge breaks my heart...Many say time heals all wounds, but sometimes I think only others can heal them.)

Keep in mind, I don't think his enduring fallacy that "human beings are the epitome of untainted purpose and vitality" is irrelevant or less problematic here. I just think it's a reflection of a deeper disturbance and loss. It's a reflection of his parents' unilateral rejection of the kinder parts of him; his devotion to patience and understanding. It's a kind of reiteration or what he's already known: he's doing exactly what his parents did in an odd way, he's rejecting vampirism whole-scale despite evidence of both pros and cons (just as it is for humanity). I will always offer that his fear of something going wrong during the change is completely valid--but it does feel more like a fear of admitting that vampires (and eternity for that matter) aren't inherently awful. He ran away from his parents for good reason of course, but for all his running he didn’t escape their black and white logic.

It’s funny too, because his absolutism is kind of reflected in his inability to commit to a single discipline in some ways; while part of it is that he probably exhausts study, I have to wonder how much of him oscillating is a fear of eventual failure. (Think his reaction to MC’s knowledge that he can’t dance, his mortification and utter...shock that she wouldn’t use it as a way to make him feel terrible about himself). He probably prefers to hone his skills helping people because the motivation of providing relief is a much more powerful motivator than knowledge for knowledge’s own sake. He needs the impetus, that drive to move him.

Granted, I won't fault anyone for feeling like Leonardo only loves MC for her humanity. At first glance it really did feel that way! But the more I think about it, the more I feel it has more to do with the weight of his life's experience, and the parts of himself he hasn’t been able to reconcile.

Sometimes, with Leonardo, I urge gentleness. So much of who he is disguises all the ways in which he has been hurt. While his decision is selfish and foolish, it comes from a broken place. My unhappiness will always lie predominantly with the fact that he believes to his core that happiness and self-respect is something he doesn’t deserve. 

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 62

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I kicked my feet up and I watched the striper dance before me. I took a long draw on my packed pipe and since Aurum was doing it, I tossed some bills on the striper. Why the fuck not?

She bent down low in front of me in pretty white bottoms. She had pretty blue eyes besides and a frilly matching white top. She danced in front of Aurum and I and he poured me a drink.

I took it from him with grace and sipped on the alcohol slowly, though faster than I might normally.

"No word on your mustached man," he told me. "I've been keeping an ear to the ground about it and I haven't heard a thing. If only you'd seen his weapon, man. Then we'd have something to go off of."

I grunted and nodded. I took a swig of drink.

"Can I get something sugary up here for Neo? Girliest, sugariest drink you have in the house. All the better if it has ice-cream in it."

Neo hit me in the side but smiled. She didn't disagree.

"One fuzzy navel coming right up," Aurum called out to a wait staff member who was passing by on the second floor of his club. The man nodded and took the order. Like all of Aurum's waitstaff the man was good looking. Stand out in a crowd good looking. Almost hunter angel-like good looking.

Aurum owed me. For killing Tyrian. Neither of us said it but mass murderers are bad for business, they brought the wrong kind of attention. He was paying me off with drink and women a little. Or trying to. I was hard to buy off with such trivial things. I wasn't saying I couldn't be bought with it. That seemed like a bit much. And the dancer was beautiful with those baby-blues. She reminded me of my first crush a little.

I was good for his business because I was so dangerous. Keeping me happy was good for his business because I was so dangerous. It was a razor that might cut one of us but for now he was happy and I was happy so why not drink with one another and party while I waited for my information to come in?

I'd already paid for it by murdering some of his enemies and he'd probably tell me about it as soon as he knew something because Cinder Fall was another murderer who wasn't interested in the drug game or playing the game like I was.

"Cloud, I still don't have any news on the others you asked me to watch out for. Cinder Fall or Hazel Rainart."

"Cinder Fall is probably not her real name anyways. Plus she could be working through some other associates. Emerald Sustrai or Mercury Black."

"I'll keep an eye out for them all the same. Did you learn what you needed from Avalanche?"

"I did. The General's project wasn't so secret after all. Hard to keep everyone in on something that large quiet."

"Fair enough." He said without asking me more about the project. He probably didn't care to know the details so long as it didn't affect his business ventures. "Come with me. Try some hyper," he said. He was trying to buy me off with drugs as well. He'd hooked me up with more greens. I'd paid a little but it was discounted.

"I don't know that I should. I already have some psychosis. That's what the weed is for."

"Oh it's not so bad. Just an intense rush."

"Isn't it a pro-psychotic?"

"Maybe a little. I'm not a doctor. Try some, you'll be fine."

I shrugged my shoulders. Fuck it. Why not? What was the worst thing that could happen if I did? I'd become a murderer? That ship had sailed, thanks. I'd become involved in the drug game? A bit late, thank you. An alien goddess would seize control over my mind, again? Maybe. But I couldn't live in fear of Mother all the time.

He cut out a line of the stuff and showed me how to inhale it.

I did. I pulled deeply into my nostrils and up into my sinuses.

I leaned back as the powder filled my nose and dripped down my esophagus a little. It hit my brain fast and hard. Aurum had been right. It was intense.

And it was a rush. I was zooming. My brain strummed like it was endlessly hitting a high wiry note on an electric guitar with an amplifier. Volts coursed through my veins in my skull. My arteries seemed to be full of odd amps. Like I'd been shot in the head by some kind of electric gun.

Bugs wiggled their way around behind my eyes more intensely than ever. I just didn't care as I leaned back into my seat once more.

I swear I could almost hear mother's voice over the din of the music in The Den. But only just. It wasn't bad now that I thought about it. Just a dull whisper. Just some bitch talking to me like she owned me.

What else was new?

My leg was moving restlessly. I felt like I was about to jump out of my skin.

Neo sucked on a long blue bendy straw next to me and on impulse I nearly took it from her hands and threw it across the room. I reigned myself in, though. There was no reason to do that. I just needed to sit back and relax… relax… relax.

My brain seemed stuck in a loop and I repeated that over and over in my head like a mantra. Relax… relax… relax… why wasn't I relaxing?

I drank and smoked some more. I drank like I was thirsty and I smoked like my personal stash wasn't running a bit low before I'd bought some more.

It felt damn good to over indulge and crossfade myself as thoroughly as I could.

"Well you're handling it well," Aurum said. "That was your first time, no?"

"It is. Was. Whatever." My heart beat fast and my leg bounced. "I want to kill something. Is that normal?"

"Depends. For you, probably. You're a killer."

I nodded. That made sense. It was hot in all my clothes so I stripped my armor off and set it beside Neo and I on one of the long couches.

I sat back and watched the dancer before me work as my vision came in and out. Blackening and refocusing.

It beat a steady tide in rhythm with my heart.

"Though there is one man in town who I thought you should know about." Aurum told me. I wasn't sure how he was staying so fucking calm.

"Oh?" I asked.

"Name's Adam Taurus. Old White Fang member. He's another killer. Caused the SDC problems for years."

"Want me to kill him?" My voice was much more calm than I felt. My heart was racing. My head throbbed in time with the music in a pleasant way. My eyes felt like they were going to pop from their sockets.

"Maybe. He's the sort who is also bad for my business. Idealistic. Unwilling to compromise. And he paints the town red wherever he goes."

"I could go for a fight right about now. Not sure it's a good idea. Neo, your thoughts?" She shrugged at me, then she shook her head to the negative. Thank you for that contribution Neo. Enlightening. "We'll probably end up passing. I'll kill him for a favor if you change your mind."

"I just might take you up on that." Aurum took a long swig of his favorite amber drink.

I followed suit and found my glass empty. It was quickly refilled by a gorgeous young redhead with a staff shirt on and long legs.

I stared after her for a long time.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I came down with a headache. "Neo would you get me a glass of water." I bemoaned from my bed in our shared motel space.

She obliged. Fetching the water, then she poured it right on my face.

"Ack! Neo. Gods damn it." I was awake now if nothing else.

I sat up in the bed. I spat water from my mouth. I stood up and got my own drink of water. Neo could be so unreliable.

"You're such a bitch, Neo." I told her over my throbbing headache. I palmed my forehead and over one of my eyes.

"Why I oughta," I said it like a complete sentence with no real heat.

She blinked at me innocently and her eyes switched colors. She fooled nobody with that.

She had a cigarette in her mouth, the smoke from it was filling our shady apartment.

I wasn't sure which drug that I had partaken in the night before that was killing me. It could have just been alcohol. It could have been hyper. Either way I was thirsty enough that when I downed a glass, I followed it up with two more.

I could scarcely remember the night prior. Other than a soft warm feeling that followed my memories about it. Too much drink. Too much weed. Too much of everything. I probably wasn't going to try hyper again. I crossfaded myself hardcore. I rubbed my eyes firmly.

I looked over at Neo and really took her in for the first time. She wasn't wearing a shirt and was just in her brassiere and a pair of pink panties. I took her milky cleavage in for a moment before I looked down at myself. I was totally naked.

"Did we…?"

She rolled her eyes at me. A smirk on her face as she did. She reached over with her cigarette and put it out on my chest, nice and slow. She grinned at my pain. Her breathing rushed a little as I hissed. The tips of her breasts hardened and I noticed that the burn she left there was not alone. It had company.

"Neo, I'm damn well serious." I tasted my own lips with my tongue a little. It tasted funny. Was that someone else's lipstick or was my mouth just fucked from drinks and hyper? It tasted like lipstick. Neo was wearing pink lipstick.

"Did we or didn't we?" She just turned and began putting the rest of her clothes on. She spun and twisted a curtain into place between our two sections of room and beds as she clothed herself.

"Neo!"

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

She refused to answer me. In any capacity. She just left it as it was which was well within her personality but was more than a little obnoxious from my end. Fuck her.

Sex with a demoness or not, and I was trying hard not to think about that, I still had other business to attend to. Like heading over to Avalanche headquarters.

We rolled up on the bar with Neo's arms wrapped around my waist. She held herself nice and tight to me for the ride. The absolute… I mean honestly...

"Neo you little devil," I said to her, looking forward. Neither of us were wearing helmets. Little point when we were both hunters.

It was on me for getting black out drunk and giving her the opportunity to hold it over me. Forever.

Plus if I really did do it I had a lot to feel guilty about. Wherever little Ruby Rose was she wasn't enjoying another's company like that. She was probably shattered to pieces.

She was probably in a lot of pain over me. I had caused that. I didn't deserve to cause her pain. But I had anyway. It made my chest ache to think about. It made me feel worthless. More worthless, that is.

Guilt rose up in my mouth like bile and it whipped at me like a switch. I didn't much like to think about that. But by all accounts we were broken up. I had no idea when I would even see her again. We were shattered, me and her. So what did it matter if I did have sex with Neo? Evidently it mattered to me. I didn't want it to have happened. I regretted that I didn't know.

It meant that Yang was right about me. One way or another her older sister instincts had been on point. She'd been right to keep me away. For more than one reason, probably. That made me feel like shit.

It also meant disappointing Weiss. I had long wanted her approval for one reason or another. That hadn't exactly changed. Her affectionate dawn smile with her hair down reflected in my mind for a moment before I imagined her looking at me with a cold hard apathy like she had so many times before. And I grimaced at so many memories of asking her out.

Besides, I should feel guilty about what I had done to Ruby. She was probably off saving lives while I was taking them like some common criminal or something. We couldn't be more different. She was an angel and I was a demon.

And I wasn't about to talk to Neo about that. Or have a one way conversation with her, at any rate. As much as you could have a conversation with Neo. About all of this.

I walked up to the bar and opened the door with a jingle of bells. I tried to roll my shoulders and undo a kink in them I'd worked into the muscle the night before.

Jasper was up behind the bar, washing the counter down with a cloth.

"Oh, Cloud… you're back!"

"I promised to train you guys a little. Where's the others?"

"They're out for a minute. There's a big player in town. Adam Taurus. He's causing problems for the union and with the miner leaders like Dyne."

"Dyne?"

"Just Dyne. No last name. He's one of the old miner leaders. Been around since the old days of the White Fang. He was always outspoken about union action over taking up arms. Or at least he used to be. He hates the Schnee name, now. His daughter was injured in a mining accident recently. Bisque is worried about what he and Adam will get up to."

"This is the second time I'm hearing about Taurus."

"He's problems. At least for us. They're working up strikes, which is a good thing. But they also have the potential to get violent. People could get hurt. Bisque is trying to stop things from escalating."

"Yeah but you guys are fairly militant. Shouldn't you be on board with Taurus?"

"We always plan our operations around not killing people. People always die with Taurus on the job. Always. He's got a red streak a mile wide."

"Guess that's why Aurum might want me to kill him. Not willing to play ball. And Wenge?"

"Leading a strike. Avalanche needs to stay involved in all of this if we want to be a player at all. I'm just holding down the fort because somebody needs to be looking after the bar. People might come by and have questions for us about the strike. We have to stay on top of information."

"Need me to kill Taurus?" I asked.

"You think you can pull it off? I know you're good but Taurus is also a badass. He's got some real power," Jasper said.

I thought of Tyrian. He was one of Salem's guard and I'd killed him. He was probably about as dangerous as hunters came. Barring people like Cinder who were also maidens and had some extra kick.

"I might be able to manage it. Difficult to say before I lay into him but it's a possibility. Aurum talked to me about maybe taking him down. I remember that from last night at least."

"What happened last night?" Jasper asked. She leaned forward on one hand which rested with her elbow on the counter.

"Drank too much. That's all. Nothing else happened."

Neo nudged me. I looked way down at her short ass. A calm smirk was on her face looking back up at me. One end of her lips turned up.

Shut up, Neo.

"You up for some training?" I asked.

"I can't." Jasper sighed. "I've got to man the fort. Think you can come by again later? Wenge should be by then too."

I nodded.

"Probably. I'm just waiting for some information to come in. Not much else is going on in my life at the moment. Running favors for my 'friends.' That sort of thing."

The door jingled again. I turned to look. It was the crossbow girl from before.

"Oh. It's you," she said with some derision at me. I could live with that. At least I was being remembered.

"Me." I agreed. Like it was a curse. Which it was in a lot of respects. Boy was it.

"I'm not here to talk to you." She looked away towards Jasper. "I'm here to talk about the strikes. You kicked this off by bombing the mind and shutting work down."

"Maybe we did, as far as Avalanche is concerned the strikes are a good thing."

"Not this close to the elections. It's too much unrest."

"You're just upset because the strike leaders aren't paying homage to Robyn. They don't care about another election cycle where nothing gets done to improve their conditions. Especially when Schnee himself is running."

"This isn't about that. If martial law gets declared it will push elections back."

"I know you're concerned about Hill's chances of winning. Maybe you should be out leading them instead of hiding away or whatever the Happy Huntresses are doing," Jasper told her. Crossing her arms over her chest.

"The Happy Huntresses are always fighting for Mantle."

"Yeah, on your time table. Not on Mantle's. The people want change and they want it now."

"You stirred them up. Your bombing caused this. The people were content to wait!"

"We didn't cause the strikes. You're looking for Dyne and Adam Taurus."

"Adam Taurus?!" Fiona was incredulous.

"Oh you haven't heard? Maybe the Happy Huntresses are out of touch."

"Don't be petulant just because I wouldn't help you with your bombing. Look at what you've done! Now Adam Taurus is involved."

"If you're scared of him-" Jasper began she was cut off.

"Only a fool wouldn't be," Fiona said. "Call off the strikes."

"No can do," Jasper said. "Wouldn't want to even if we could. Take it up with Dyne."

"Dyne is unreachable. He wants revenge against the SDC at all costs. We're hoping Avalanche is more agreeable. You have a network. You can shut this down."

"I told you we want the strikes." Jasper leaned forward into her words. "Live with them. Or don't. Better yet."

"All this because I wouldn't bomb them with you! It was a bad idea. Look at all the unrest it's causing. Ironwood might declare martial law. Who will win then? Not the miners. The military always backs the SDC to break up the strikes. People get hurt every time. Please. This has to stop. Only through elections will real change get affected."

"I disagree. I think we can get real change done by collective action."

"It never works. It'll end with them opening fire on the mob. It always ends that way. Dust mining is too important to stay shut down. The military will back the SDC because they need the dust."

"There's an oversupply with the embargo. There's enough dust to last months. The strike won't last that long anyways. Old man Schnee will have to give in and improve the working conditions."

"He never does. And the negativity too, it's drawing the Grimm."

"So what? That's exactly why they can't open fire on a crowd of protestors." Jasper refuted.

"So what? So what?" Fiona repeated sounding shocked. "So people will die. And what about people who want more than improved conditions? What about the levelers who want wealth and property abolished? You're giving them a platform."

"What if the levelers are right? What if wealth and property should be abolished. Look at the pain it causes."

"It's the foundation of our society with the Grimm at the gates!"

"Cloud, what do you think, are the Grimm that big of a threat? We've got the largest military in the world for a reason."

I had been watching the two with rapt attention as they ran down Mantle politics. To be honest I was learning a lot. Particularly about these levelers. They sounded a lot like the Anti-capitalists of back home in Vale.

"I think the Grimm are always a threat. More than the layman knows," I murmured.

"See, even the murderer agrees. All this negativity can't go on. If you don't shut down the strikes, then the military will."

Fiona turned at the door.

"Please," she begged. "Shut it down."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[tuanhood]

35,000 ft

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: smut, angst, some fluff?, exes to lovers

warnings: 18+, language, dirty talk, cheating, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, public sex (mile high club ALERT)

word count: 9,800+

summary: two years have passed since you last saw your ex-boyfriend. when you’ve thought about running into him again, it certainly wasn’t at 35,000 ft and it certainly wasn’t like this. 

a/n: wow my longest one shot yet... UMMM it’s a little messy and all over the place but don’t hesitate to let me know what you think or if anyone wants to cry over the photos of Mark at home playing in the pool sMH. also i do not CONDONE cheating fyI 

part 2: 125 ft

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

“Yes, yes, yes I’ll call you when I land…” You mumbled through the phone, half paying attention and half trying to decide which sandwich would best suit your needs. 

“Okay but seriously… call me. I hate it when you’re over there enough so not getting a call freaks me out even more.” 

You wanted to roll your eyes and gag, but you stopped yourself knowing that it wasn’t what a typical girlfriend would do when on the phone with her boyfriend. You two were supposed to still be in the honeymoon phase, not the “he gives me the ick” phase already. 

Then again, you had never even been in the “he gives me the ick” phase before. Yay for new experiences you guessed. 

“Brian, it’s so fine. It’s one of the safest cities in the world, I’ve been so many times I don’t even need a map to tell me where I’m going.” 

“I hope you still do though… Use a map. I don’t want you to get lost and I know that’s easy to do in those modern, technologically advanced smart cities.”

Being with Brian sometimes felt like there wasn’t even a fourth wave of feminism. 

You weren’t sure why you were sticking around. Part of you felt pressured because you hadn’t had any actual relationships in… well awhile and your mom was constantly asking when you were finally going to get a ring on your finger and give her a grandchild. 

Judging by all the outside influences that were currently controlling your life, it felt like maybe there isn’t a fourth wave of feminism. You were setting everyone back just based on your own sad life. Maybe it was best to just dump Brian and go back to your hook up days, the year and a half before him that was just endless amounts of sex with random guys trying to fix a piece of you that would never be put back together. 

“Y/n? Are you still there?” 

“Yup, still here Brian.” 

Even after being together for almost 6 months you couldn’t bring it in you to call him something besides his name. It was always Brian this, Brian that. Calling him a pet name made you cringe. 

Yeah… Maybe it was definitely time to break up with him. 

“Listen… I should go. I want to get something to eat before they start boarding since it’s a long one and all.” 

But you’ll just do it later. 

“Okay… sounds good. Get a small sandwich or something so you’ll feel full enough before they actually feed you on the plane.” 

Suddenly you didn’t want a sandwich. 

“Got it… Bye.” 

“Love you, bye.” 

You hear a noise letting you know the call has been disconnected and drop your hand, gripping the device at your side. 

That was another thing. Brian had told you only 3 months of dating that he loved you – to which you had responded with “oh wow… that’s- that’s… so nice of you.” Being the nice guy, he was completely fine with you not saying it back, because he felt so sure that one day you would. He understood that you had issues with a past relationship that you weren’t quite ready to let go of yet, therefore your heart wasn’t completely available. He felt with time you would give in and love him too. 

As of now you weren’t too sure… Especially if you did end up breaking up with him. At a later date and time of course. Maybe when you came back? 

Your mind went blank as you looked at the shelves of the poorly made airport food in front of you. The sandwiches that had once looked good and enticing suddenly lost their luster and the last thing you wanted to do was waste money on one. Sighing, you glanced back down at the phone in your hand. The object felt more like a heavy weight and a burden rather than just a phone. It wasn’t due to work or family; it was just all because of Brian. 

You’re startled when your phone comes to life once again under your gaze, buzzing softly. 

Brian. Remember don’t forget to text me when you board! 

It was like he had a sixth sense for whenever you were thinking of him. And to be honest it wasn’t that often. 

A couple of weeks ago you were out to lunch with a few friends from college and when updating those who you hadn’t seen in a while on the goings-on of your life, you had at first redacted the fact that you had a boyfriend completely. 

“Anyone romantic in your life?” Your friend Alice had asked you. 

Without thinking you had begun telling her how he was in game design and was from LA just like you, but soon cut yourself off before you could talk about how cute his dog was. That’s when you realized you weren’t talking about Brian. Brian was in fucking accounting, not game design and was 100% allergic to any kind of animal. When your friend asked about your love life, you had him in mind and not Brian even though so much time had gone by.

You were starting to believe that you weren’t ready for a relationship at all.

Sighing, you figured that maybe chips would be a better and less smelly option for the plane ride. Knowing yourself you would probably dig into them within the first thirty minutes of the thirteen-hour trip. 

You whip around to find wherever your newly desired snack choice could be when you catch a glimpse of someone out of the corner of your eye. The goosebumps that make their way to the surface of your skin and the hair on the back of your neck standing up so eagerly causes your entire body to freeze with fear. There was only one person who made you feel this way, one person who made your blood run cold. The person you had just indirectly been thinking of.

No, no it couldn’t be. 

You’re afraid to turn around, because more than anything you don’t want to be right. If you felt stressed thinking about Brian, you were going to have a panic attack from seeing him. Pivoting yourself to the left, you bite your lip anxiously unsure of how you’re supposed to react if you are right. Taking in the sight behind you, you’re met with a father and daughter selecting candy from the shelves of the store. The individual causing your anxiety nowhere in sight. Your entire body relaxes. 

The last thing you wanted was a fiasco in the international terminal at LAX. It certainly wouldn’t do you, your family and your company any good to make headlines. It especially wouldn’t have made Brian happy; he probably would have called you a hundred times in worry. 

“I can’t fucking believe it.” 

And just like that you’re snapped out of your daze, your false security vanished, goosebumps emerging once again. This time there were no questions. That voice. It was him. 

Turning back around you find yourself under the gaze of your ex-boyfriend. Your ex-boyfriend who you haven’t seen in over two years. 

You wish you could say that time hadn’t been good to Mark, but that would be a bold-faced lie. He had somehow become even more attractive in the last two years and the only real thing that seemed different about him was his hair color. The last time you had seen him he had been blonde, but now he had opted for a dark brown color. As much as you hated thinking it, it definitely suited him.

The last two years felt like a long blur of trying to forget him and everything or everyone associated with him. Those were of course difficult things to do, many of the people in your shared three-year life with Mark becoming some of your closest allies and the fact that Mark wasn’t an easy person to erase. Since the two of you met – even when you were just friends – you had a magnetic like pull to one another that couldn’t just be forgotten and dismissed. You were even feeling it right now after everything. 

He’s wearing a tight smile, almost as if he too can’t believe you’re standing here in front of him. It was as though you were the one inconveniencing him, when he had been the one to even say something to you. If you had seen him first, you would have turned around and ran the other way pretending like it never happened. For some reason he was willing to acknowledge you. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” his tight smile soon fades away and his voice is smooth as ice, a nonchalance to it that makes you question whether he even cares about this run in.

“Me either. Good to see you… Now if you’ll excuse me…” You replied pushing past him to continue your previous task of looking for chips. Much to your dislike, he follows you as you embark on one of the aisles, your eyes scanning the items placed out oh so carefully. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I’ve been? What I’ve been up to?” 

The last you had heard of Mark was that he had moved to Beijing after being given a position at a video game development company. At first you had been surprised at Mark taking a job overseas, he had always expressed to you how even over his own dead body he would never leave LA, but ultimately him in China relieved you. No longer did you have to avoid your favorite spots in the city for boba or the park bench where you got most of you best thinking done. You didn’t even have to be worried about getting invited to a party or dinner with a friend, wondering if Mark was going to show up. With Mark gone you could freely have your life back and not walk around with the fear of running into him. But you guessed that it could only have lasted so long before fate – as cruel as she was – brought you two together again. 

“No that’s okay. I’m good,” you go down another aisle, he still follows suit.

Where were those damn chips? 

“If you’re looking for the chips, they’re over there,” he said pointing behind you to the back wall in a location that you should have noticed sooner, “and if you want your favorite brand of salt & vinegar chips, they’re on the bottom shelf.”

Your stomach churned, he thought after all this time he would be able to still just know you like the back of his hand? What snack you’re looking for? What chips you like? No way. 

Wordlessly you march to the back and stare at the shelves in front of you. You felt your hand dangerously moving forward to the bottom to grab the salt & vinegar chips Mark mentioned, but you control yourself and pull back not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Instead you opt for plainly salted kettle chips. 

“Thanks… you’ve been a big help. See you never,” you scoffed turning around to face him and pushing past him to pay for your item, leaving Mark in the dust behind you. 

“What you’re not going to even pretend that it’s nice to see me?” 

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” you practically spat at him, the father and daughter from earlier staring at the two you, the father particularly appalled for your colorful choice of language. 

Mark’s silent and you turn back to the self-checkout to scan your chips, hopeful to not think about your ex-boyfriend for the next thirteen hours. He watches you carefully as you take out your wallet to pay and tap your card against the reader. It isn’t difficult for him to sense the tension in your body, he can see it just from you performing the simple and mundane task of paying. The worst part is that he knows he’s the cause. 

Grabbing your snack, you exit the small store and Mark follows you, grabbing your wrist, he tries again, “you could say something nice? Like you care? It’s been two years y/n… Can’t we just be normal people with each other?” 

At this you feel something in you snap, “I don’t care how much time has fucking passed Mark… I’m never going to get over you just completely throwing our relationship out the window. I can’t believe I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you… I was so fucking dumb to think you cared about me for even one minute. So, to answer your question… no we can’t just be normal people with each other. We were never normal people with each other to begin with.” 

The two of you had started off as friends, just friends. It was something new for Mark, being just friends with a girl and not having sex attached. Many people in your life warned you not to get close to him, that he was just a fuckboy who didn’t care about the emotional – it was only the physical with him. Ultimately you ignored him, becoming his friend and finding that you two just worked together. First you worked together as friends and soon you fell under his Mark Tuan spell, working together as lovers. 

Throughout your entire relationship you did your best to trust Mark, which you accomplished for the most part, but in the back of your head you would constantly hear the voices of everyone around you. You would hear the stories of the girls he had before you and how terribly he treated them, but you ignored it all. After a while you started to think of it all a little less, people even congratulating you on lasting so long with Mark – something that tended to annoy you. You knew that they didn’t see the Mark that you knew, the Mark that wanted to be something else for you, the best for you. Then after three years together, almost a month after your anniversary, you found out he had been with someone else. 

The old Mark had perhaps never truly vanished, but was just immensely good at hiding. 

Now here you were in front of him and you couldn’t tell who this Mark was. 

Mark scoffed, “you haven’t changed at all…” Now he was mad at you? “It’s probably better we just say goodbye here.” 

You rolled your eyes, “That’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time.” 

He wanted to say more, but looking at how annoyed you were at merely being close to him, he let it go. It was hard for him to understand how he was feeling. He longed for you, but he also felt a lot of anger towards you that he wasn’t sure how to control. 

Both of you stare at one another, neither of you wanting to be the first one to walk off. Without a word, you both collect yourselves and assumedly prepare to embark on your respective gates. Mark gives you a final glance with his fists now clenched in frustration and turns to walk toward his flight. 

You realize he’s going the same direction as you and you follow awkwardly behind. After a moment – as if he can sense you’re still there – he turns around and scowls at you. 

“Why are you following me?” 

You snorted, the actual audacity of Mark Tuan. This is an airport for fuckssake, you can’t control where your flight is, “as if I would ever follow you! I’m going to my gate! I think the better question is why are you following me?”

“I’m going to my gate!” 

“Okay!” You yell a little too loud, “Okay!” he repeated, matching your volume. You can sense that people are starting to stare at the two of you for your truly unprompted yelling. 

Mark looks back at you once again, rolling his eyes. The two of you may have gates in the same area, but you can’t stand to look at him any longer – much less his back which you couldn’t help but notice has become much broader. Not that you would admit it to him… or anyone. 

You pick up your pace, passing Mark and causing him to trail behind. You expect him to say some snarky remark or rude comment when you go in front of him, but instead all you hear is an annoyed groan. It’s when you finally reach your gate and sit down in the waiting area that you feel Mark is no longer right behind you, but instead frozen in the main concourse, in front of the space you’re seated in. He feels his mouth go dry and he wants to scream. All he wants is to just be rid of you, to not be forced to think of you when you’re right in front of him. He wanted to wipe his brain clean. 

It suddenly dawns you on the reason why Mark is frozen as if he can’t comprehend what he’s seeing. You stand up abruptly, “this can’t be happening.” 

He snaps out of his trance with your words and comes closer to the gate, approaching where you’re seated. You’re just about to wave your hands, warning him not to come any closer when he huffs and sits down on a chair only few away from your own. 

“You’re going to Seoul?” He says it as if you being allowed in the Korean peninsula is a disgusting idea. 

“I’ve been traveling between LA and Seoul every 2 months for the last year and a half, so yes I am. Aren’t you supposed to be going to Beijing or something?”

He smirked, “I thought you didn’t care about what I was up to?” 

“I only care if it assures that you’re as far away from me as humanely possible.”

Your ex looks at his watch and at the screen of the gate alerting passengers that boarding would begin in a few minutes, “well since you’re so curious. I didn’t like Beijing, so I found a job in Seoul that I like much better. 

“Didn’t want to come back to LA?” 

He looks back to you and you almost wish he hadn’t, “there’s not really a lot left in LA for me anymore.” 

Both of you stare at one another for a moment, and you feel your stomach flip. Does he mean what I think he means? Your eyes drift down to your lap and you feel yourself pulling out your phone, not needing any more Mark. 

You manage to pass 10 minutes this way, aimlessly refreshing your emails and ignoring Brian’s latest text asking if you’ve boarded yet. Being so engrossed in your phone, you didn’t even notice Mark’s constant glances up at you, wondering what you were looking at or who you were talking to. 

There it is again, he thought to himself, Do I care? Do I not care? What the fuck, make up your mind dude. 

When the call for First-Class boarding comes to your dismay, both you and Mark stand up. You try to just tell yourself that it’s not important, you would probably both be seated aisles apart, not having to spend any more unwarranted time together. 

Even when you’re finally on the plane and find yourself behind him once again in the aisle, you tell yourself that this will be the last moment you have to see Mark Tuan. 

“Here’s your seat sir, can I get you any drinks or snacks before take-off?” the flight attendant asked Mark when she shows him his seat. He gives this shit eating grin that makes you want to slap it off his face, you couldn’t believe he was doing this in front of you. What? Did he think he was going to get to fuck the flight attendant as an extra First-Class amenity? 

“Ah no thank you, I’m fine for now, but I’ll let you know if anything changes,” you feel awkward standing in the aisle watching this unfold, especially since you can see the attendant is giving in, blush creeping up on her face from Mark’s smooth gaze. You clear your throat, reminding her that you too are there and she quickly turns to you, an apologetic look on her face. 

“And here's your seat Miss,” she graciously steps back to let you slide into your seat and you don’t move.

This had to be a joke. 

You looked from your seat, to Mark’s and then to the flight attendant. 

“I can’t sit here... I’m sorry but there has to be another seat available.” 

“I’m sorry ma’am, but there are no other openings in First Class. We only have seats available back in economy.” 

This couldn’t be happening. You had been saving all of your miles for a First-Class upgrade for forever, there was no way you were going to give it up, “Mark move to coach.” 

“Huh? Are you joking? My company paid for this; I’m not moving back there! You move!” 

How were you supposed to sit in front of Mark Tuan for the next thirteen hours? The man who had loved you so deeply, but also caused you the most pain. 

Just as people had stared at the two of you in the terminal, the other passengers in your surrounding area were also beginning to look. Maybe if the two of you got into one of your notorious screaming matches, someone would feel bad enough and offer to trade. You couldn’t do that to someone, you wouldn’t wish being stuck next to Mark Tuan on a long-haul flight on your worst enemy. Well… Mark was your worst enemy. 

Smiling, you turn back to the flight attendant, “It’s fine… I’ll just stay here. Thank you though.” She gives you a smile, but you can sense some annoyance behind her eyes. You can’t blame her. 

Mark looks at you wide eyed, previously caught up in organizing his space, but snapping out his activities when he hears your dismissal about moving seats, “uh… what are you doing? Are you seriously going to sit here?” 

“Yes Mark. Unlike you, I paid for my seat so I’m not moving anywhere.” 

He scoffed, “Fine.” 

“Fine!” 

-- 

hour one 

“Ma’am could you tell the gentleman in 3A to stop chewing so loudly?” You asked the flight attendant, putting on the sweetest voice possible. Mark was driving you up the wall and you were only an hour into the flight. 

It was almost as though you could hear every single cough, every shifting in his seat and it was all driving you up the wall. Just knowing he was there irked you.

The flight attendant looks clueless and as she opens her mouth slowly, unsure of how to respond. You hear Mark’s low voice grumble from behind you, also addressing the attendant, “uh ma’am can you tell the lady in 2A to mind her own business, pop a xanny and just go to sleep?” 

She clearly wasn’t expecting to deal with any difficult passengers this early on in a thirteen-hour flight. For her sake you wish you could deal with Mark and be more civil, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. 

hour three 

“Y/n…” 

Be strong, you tell yourself, don’t look back, you can get through this.  

“Y/n?” 

It’s probably not important… He just wants to annoy you. 

“Y/n!” 

Screw being strong. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Being in semi-pods in First-Class it was difficult to just whip around and face Mark, to show him your annoyance under the lights beginning to dim. 

“Do you have any extra AirPods?” 

“Why the fuck would I just carry around extra Airpods around with me? Are you an idiot?” You sneered. 

“Jesus Christ I was just asking. You don’t have to be so vicious. Maybe someone should fuck the tension out of you,” he said, mumbling the last part. He says it so quietly and so half assed that you almost think that you misheard him. 

“Choke on a dick Mark,” you replied quietly, not wanting the other passengers to hear or disturb the few who had already drifted asleep. 

He scoffed, “maybe you should be.” 

You were wrong, the Mark that you had reunited with was just the same old fuckboy Mark who didn’t give a fuck about anyone. 

Placing your AirPods in your ears, you close your eyes and ignore the rest of Mark’s efforts to speak to you, just wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and wake up in your hotel room in Seoul. 

hour seven 

You pop your headphones out of your ears in frustration, feeling as though you hadn’t managed to get any real sleep during the hours that had passed. You look behind you to Mark’s seat, and feel relieved to see his eyes closed and a slow, shallow breath coming from his mouth. 

It felt weird to gaze at Mark and know you were no longer apart of his life. Sure, it had been two years, but you hadn’t seen  him or had to deal with the reality that there was now a separate you and a separate Mark. Two entities that had nothing to do with one another anymore. Although sometimes it felt like you were still anchored to him. 

Suddenly he shifted over onto his side, mumbling incoherent words in his sleep. The only thing you could make out was your own name. It made you feel uncomfortable, not because he was clearly dreaming about you, but you felt as though you were invading his private space, infiltrating an intimate moment. 

“y/n… please…” he mumbled. 

You felt like you’d heard enough. The flight was making you restless and you weren’t sure what you would do if you kept listening to Mark’s breathless calls for you. Standing up, you decide it’s probably best now to stretch and go to the bathroom, before you embark on your further slumber. 

When you finish up in the bathroom, you almost have a heart attack pulling back the door to be met with Mark’s tall figure.

“Oh my god you scared me,” you said placing your hand on your chest. You shake your head, stepping out of the bathroom with the door closing firmly behind you. Attempting to go back to your seat, you position yourself to move past him, but he moves along with you to keep you from leaving.

“What are you doing?” 

Mark doesn’t know what’s taken over him, he had woken up in a frenzy, his dreams not doing anything to help his mental state. He hadn’t dreamt about you in months, but of course as soon as you’re back in his life he has to have fantasies of you wrapped around him once again. It was torturous, especially with you only a few feet away from him. He dreamed about having you every way and any way, feeling like he was going crazy. When he saw you missing from your seat, he immediately got up almost as if in a sleep induced haze unable to control his actions.

"When are you going to stop pretending that you don’t want to be under me again?” he purred.

Your blood goes cold. Was he drunk? His words make you nervous, scared that someone could hear, but looking around the dark cabin it seemed as though everyone in First-Class was fast asleep. 

“Mark…” you begin, your tone clearly frustrated, but also weakening a bit, clearly evident that his words are affecting you. It had been so long since someone talked to you like this, and you felt that the hours you had spent on the plane already altering your sanity.

“You were always such a good girl for me, what changed? When did you become so stubborn? What happened to my girl who was always so willing and sweet?” 

“I was screwed over by an asshole, that’s what happened,” you mumbled trying to avert his gaze and prayed that maybe if you weren’t to look at him you could pretend that there wasn’t a part of you hanging on his every word. 

“That was in the past. I’ve changed now… But I’m still your boy. Even after two fucking years, I’m still yours.” 

You want to fight with him, say that if he was always your boy and still is then he would have never cheated on you. He would have never spent a night with someone else.  

“Let me fuck the anger out of you.” 

“What?” Okay he had to be drunk.

“You and I have too much sexual tension, and we’re both angry so let’s just fuck to relieve the tension.” 

“You’ve said some pretty fucking dumb things before, but this is… this is…” you drift unsure of what exactly you think it is. 

“A good idea?” 

“Mark I’m not having sex with you in an airplane bathroom.” 

“What? Like that’s bothered you before?” 

When you were with Mark, the two of you would have sex in the riskiest places, so you weren’t a stranger to the kind of sex where you could be caught at any moment, but you had never joined the mile-high club before. 

“We’re not together. I hate you and you hate me… for some reason.” You never understood why exactly Mark had been mad at you all of these years and acted as though you were the devil himself when he had been the one that ruined the two of you. Maybe it was because you hadn’t given him a second chance? Maybe it was from the influence of you hating him? Or maybe it was because you had never been enough for him, otherwise what would have caused him to spend the night with another woman? 

Mark clicked his tongue and it causes you to bring your attention to his mouth. It almost makes you lose focus completely. “So what if we’re not together anymore? Does that matter?” 

Does that matter? 

His words make you remember something. Something very important. 

Brian. 

“Yes, it matters. I-I have a boyfriend,” for some reason the word “boyfriend” seems to be hard to get out. It was always weird to associate Brian as your boyfriend or your “partner,” but saying it to Mark felt like the weight of a ton of bricks. 

In the dark lighting of the cabin you can just make out the frown that spreads across Mark’s face. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone and the cocky façade is back. 

“And that’s a problem?” your ex asked. 

As you’re about to protest and tell him that commitment in relationships is important to you, Mark reaches his hand out to rest on your bare shoulder, running it softly up and down your arms in a soothing pattern. It was a common gesture between the two of you, something Mark would constantly do whenever you were telling a story or the times you would fall asleep at night. It puts you at ease and you feel yourself close your eyes at his touch. 

Mark would be lying if he said the word “boyfriend” coming out of your mouth didn’t disappoint him. In fact, he felt a similar pain to the one he felt two years ago when you had broken up with him. Mark wasn’t daft, he knew what you thought of him – a player, a fuckboy and someone who never cared about you in the first place. It hurt him to know that you were just like everyone else around him who had a preconceived notion of who he was or what he did. At one point in time he thought you were different. 

But now looking at you and having you back in his life – even for only a thirteen-hour plane ride, he just wanted you back in his arms, back under his touch. He knew he should have felt guilty for not giving one fuck about this “boyfriend” you had acquired at some point during your two years apart, but he didn’t care. If he was going to have to be that cocky fuckboy who paid no mind to any consequences to get you, then so be it. 

“Come on… it’s been two years… let me feel that pussy that I’ve missed so so much,” he whispered seductively against the shell of your ear, “let me fuck into it so good, because I know no one’s filled it up so well since me. Especially not that boyfriend.” 

His words cause you to moan involuntarily and the noise awakens both you and him. You immediately shoot your hand up to cover your mouth, unsure of what’s getting into you. You were supposed to hate Mark, you had spent the last two years training yourself to hate him just in case a moment like this were ever to arise. But maybe that was an easier thing to imagine when you hadn’t seen him, because now with his hands gently caressing you and his request to be inside of you once again, you feel anything but hate. You feel want.

“Fuck Mark…” 

“Just say the word baby, and you have me,” he whispered, delicately placing an open mouth kiss on your wrist, slowly continuing up your arm. 

What were the pros and cons of this? If you were in any other difficult situation you would take a pause and list all of the good and bad things that could come from this. The big con was Brian… Even if you had been feeling strange about where your relationship with him was going and found him to be suffocating, you couldn’t do to him what Mark had done to you. Another negative factor emerged in your mind… you didn’t want to be put under Mark’s spell again, you couldn’t. Even being this close to him made you feel things that you had been trying to forget for two years, sleeping with him after all this time would only make it worse. That worried you. But judging on the primal way your body was reacting to Mark – your wet core being a clear sign – you knew this wasn’t going to be a logical decision where the cons outweigh the pros. 

“I-” you’re about to do it, you’re about to gain enough strength to tell him you don’t want him anymore, but when he pushes your hair away from where it lays on your shoulder and attaches his lips to the side of your neck, any willpower you had vanishing. His gentle sucking on the sweet spot of your neck that he knows oh too well causes you to let out a whimper and he smiles against your skin, knowing he has you. 

“Do it,” you mumbled, eyes still closed. 

Mark brings his lips back to your ear, “do what baby?” His cocky tone makes you want to roll you eyes. He had always done this – torture you until you were begging to feel his touch. 

You open your eyes and give yourself a moment to readjust to the dark lighting of the plane and focus on Mark’s face in the small space in front of the bathroom. You want to see his gaze when you make your non-logical decision.

“Fuck me.” 

The corner of his mouth turns upwards as he brings his arm forward and behind you to pull open the bathroom door, pushing you backwards into the cramped space. 

It’s when he’s pressed up against you and locks the door behind him that the reality of what you’re doing sets in. Just as you feel yourself get used to the harsh lighting, you freeze at Mark’s intense stare. 

“What are you looking at?” You asked. 

He smiled and glanced down at the floor shyly, then back up at you, “You.” 

For the first time since seeing him again at the airport store you feel those feelings in your stomach. No hate, no indifference and no bitterness towards Mark - not even just lust. Instead you felt a warmth for him that reminded you of the good days, not the bad ones. The swell in your heart worried you and you didn’t want to feel or dwell on it so you lean forward and kiss him.

Mark’s lips on yours doesn’t do anything to eliminate the softness you felt for him moments before, if anything it only intensifies it. It feels as though no time has passed for the two of you and the missing piece of the puzzle that you had been searching for has finally found its way back to you. 

A low growl comes from Mark’s throat and it sends your hands to find shelter in his hair. When you were together you had always had a weird thing for Mark’s hair. You loved running your fingers through it, gently massaging his scalp and tugging at the roots. Mark would always joke that you would probably break up with him if he ever shaved his head, which you didn’t exactly argue with. And now it just felt so good to have your hands where they belong. It’s almost as though Mark’s read your mind and he smiles against you lips when he feels your hands, “pull as hard as you want.” 

You feel his tongue at the seam of your lips, urging itself through to deepen the kiss and you tell yourself that it’s not too late, this can be the moment that you opt out for what a mistake this would be. With his hands drifting down from your hips to your ass, you feel yourself part your mouth voluntarily, realizing that you don’t want to stop this. You want to make this mistake; you want nothing more than to let him feel you and taste you even more. 

“I want to taste you so bad,” Mark whispered against your lips, “see if you taste as good as I remember.” 

You want that more than anything. Mark had always been so good with his tongue and just thinking about the hours he had spent between your thighs in the past made you even wetter than when you were having sex with Brian. Judging however, on the space you were both in, you didn’t know if it was physically possible. He can sense your hesitancy by the way your lips begin to still against his. 

He breaks apart from you and gently rubs his thumb along your jawline and lips, “don’t think too much.” In an instant Mark’s crouched down in the very small space in the bathroom and you immediately find yourself worried about his comfort level, “are you sure you’re okay?” 

He looked up at you, a dark look in his eyes and waved you off, “don’t worry about me babe, I’m about to have the best meal of my life.” At the end of his sentence he reaches up to the hem of your leggings and pulls them, along with your panties down in one sweep, pushing them aside. You’re almost surprised at his loftiness, but you remind yourself that it’s Mark. He moves a hand around to the back of your knee, hoisting one of your legs up onto the closed toilet seat, pushing the rest of your body up against the small sink counter. Although the space was already limited as it was, the position brought your core closer to his face and as you looked down to see the way his tongue stroked across his lips, you felt yourself already get lightheaded. 

He began with leaving open mouth kisses along the inside of your lifted thigh and another on the top of your pubic mound. It was enough to make you feel shaky, as though the one leg that was supporting your weight would give out at any moment. You found yourself unfazed, you knew Mark would be there to catch you if you fell. 

Mark leaned in further, his tongue delving between you folds to gather up as much of your wetness as he could, giving you a noisy taste that had him groaning, head pulling back and licking his lips after his first taste in two years.

“You taste even better than I remember, how the fuck could you get sweeter? I don’t even want to go back to my seat after tasting you, I could sit in this bathroom with my mouth on you till the end of the flight.” 

You found yourself wanting nothing more than to be stuck in this crammed bathroom with Mark for as long as you both could get away with. The person who was contemplating whether or not this was a bad idea didn’t even exist to you anymore. One lap of his tongue on you and you were reminded of all the ways he could make you fall apart. 

He tongued your clit slowly at first, every stroke almost teasing – as if he was making up for the years you two spent a part. His tongue would slip lower, working its way along your gushing entrance to remind you how much he relished your flavor before returning to your clit, the wet sounds of Mark’s sucking not even embarrassing to you. It was when Mark began to groan against you and swirl his tongue and suck that you felt your hands go back to his hair, roughly pulling him closer. 

“Mark, I-I can’t… I’m gonna – fuck,” you moaned out unable to form a functional and coherent thought. As you feel your orgasm on the horizon and just around the corner, you tug at Mark’s roots further, which encourages him to pick up the pace of his tongue, wanting you to cum on his face just like you had many times before. He wanted to drive you to the brink of pleasure, but he also wanted to prove to himself that he could still bring you to the edge with just his tongue.

Any delicacy he had been exhibiting before is completely gone, the way he laps at your clit and swirls his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves causes your chest to heave and sweat on your brow. You’re so caught up in Mark that you barely notice your foot beginning to slip from its security on the toilet. Mark swiftly acknowledges your pending loss of balance and tugs the leg up onto his shoulder, not removing himself from you for even a moment. 

You could feel yourself twitch and the arching of your hips towards his face, “come on baby I know how close you are, I need you to cum for me. Cum for me like all the times before, all over my face. I want it so bad.” 

Mark’s muffled words against you and the final groans he emits from how much he loves your taste is the last straw as you finally let go and the waves of release crash over you. He doesn’t give way as you buck yourself further into him one final time, his back practically hitting the wall of the bathroom. Your body comes down from your climax and you look to see Mark gratefully clean up the release he caused. When he takes his mouth away, you feel your core wavering against the emptiness and loss of warmth it had felt, almost as though it wanted Mark to be a permanent attachment to you. You’re breathless, head falling back to the mirror behind you as Mark stands up, wiping the back of his mouth and jawline which had become messy and shiny with your juices. 

“I knew you were still my little slut,” he pushes the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind you, “letting me have you in a fucking bathroom at 35,000 feet. How else will you let me have you?” He asked attaching his lips back to that spot on your neck. 

It dawns on you that there’s no winning. You once again are completely under the spell and at the mercy of Mark Tuan, willing to let him do whatever he wants to you. “M-Mark whatever you want.” At your response he simply smirked, quickly pulling his joggers and boxers down, his painfully hard cock slapping against his lower stomach. 

“Fuck I’ve been waiting so long to have you around me again. I never thought I would, and I’m going to make every second count.” 

He positions himself in between your legs, gripping your hips and pauses for a moment, clearly contemplating something. Mark hadn’t planned on having sex on the plane, nor did he plan on even seeing you again. 

“Mark if it’s about the condom, it’s fine… I don’t care, I’m still on the pill and I-I trust you.” 

At your trust in him, something he had so deeply been wanting all these years, he doesn’t hesitant another moment at placing himself at your entrance. His teasingly slow rubbing against your slit causes you to let out almost a growl at how much you needed him to be inside of you.

“How much do you want it y/n?” 

“So bad.” 

He pushes into you suddenly, “you’re still my cockslut, huh?” The feeling is too good and too great to answer him, but he’s not satisfied with your nonresponse.

“Answer me.” He sunk himself inside of you further and you do your best to let out the smallest and most inaudible “yes” you’ve ever heard, which thankfully seems to be enough for him. 

“God,” he groaned, “you’re still so tight.” He looks down at the space where your bodies meet, fixating his gaze at the visual of his cock slipping inside your sensitive and swollen folds. Mark waited for a moment for your pussy to get used to having him inside you again, to get reintroduced to his length and girth which it had been so accustomed to in the past. Despite the time that had passed, you felt no discomfort except for the mental discomfort in your head that just wanted him to fuck into you quickly and harshly. 

“Taking me so well, squeezing every inch of me. This pussy knows who it belongs to, who it deserves to be fucked by.” 

“M-Mark,” a final moan of his name is all it takes for him to begin his first real thrust into you, pulling himself out almost entirely. You feel so sensitive and overworked from your earlier orgasm that you aren’t sure how long you can last with the way your walls are clenching around Mark. 

His pace soon became brutal and you’re thankful the loud sound of the engine could cover up the whimpers coming from your mouth and the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Mark’s fingers press into your hips so firmly that you know there will be bruises that you’ll have to explain later, but for now the only thing you can focus on is how full Mark is making you feel. He removes his hand from your side and brings it down between the two of you, fixating on your clit, rubbing until it ached. It caused your body to clench on him further, the continual touch and his fucking into you making you roll your eyes into the back of your head. 

Mark groaned at how snug you felt and how deep you were taking him, his head falling into the crook of your neck and against the bathroom mirror, “whose are you?” 

You know what he wants you to say, but you don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, even in the heat of the moment. It could lead to misunderstandings and a more complex outcome than just that of having sex with him in a fucking airplane bathroom. 

“Whose are you?” He repeated, this time a little bit softer and removing his head from your shoulder to look at you with worrisome eyes. Mark knows that if you say you’re his it’d most likely be untrue, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to hear it one more time, even if it’s a complete and utter lie. He wants to know he has you, even if it’s for this one moment. 

“Yours, I’m all yours,” you breathe out. It comes out on its own, without any time for you to process or comprehend what you’re saying. It surprises you so much that you aren’t even sure if it’s a lie or not. 

That’s all he needed and he thrusts into you even harder, hitting the spot inside of you that makes you want to completely fall apart and combust. You’re too caught up in the pleasure of him ramming into you that you don’t even feel the pain that comes with your backside being continually pushed into small counter of the sink. 

“Cum for me baby, I’m close and I need us to do this together. It’s all I want,” Mark said. His tone perplexes you. It’s forceful and authoritative something that you were no stranger to when it came to sex with Mark, but there was a clear tenderness to it that had you second guessing everything. Maybe this wasn’t just sex. 

It’s one more strum of his cock against your g-spot and the pinching of your clit with his thumb and index finger that has you climaxing around him. The almost violent pulse from your pussy around him due to your orgasm has Mark following close behind, spilling himself deep inside of you. The ecstasy coursing through you causes your entire body to shake and twitch, wanting to collapse completely onto the bathroom floor. You fall against Mark’s body and in his own exhausted state he holds you close, protectively wrapping his arms around you making you feel secure. 

You should want to get out of the situation immediately as a one-time thing, but somehow you can’t bring it in you to remove yourself from his grasp. You felt at home with Mark’s arms around you and him still inside of you. It was a comfort a sense of normalcy you hadn’t felt with anyone since Mark. He softly strokes your hair, placing gentle kisses on the top of your head remembering how much you liked it after a tiring session of sex.

It feels as though no time has passed, but soon you find yourself out of Mark’s hold. He removes his now soft cock from you and you can feel yours and his cum leaking from your core, down to your thighs. It’s almost as though this movement has finally woken you up. You delicately collapse onto the toilet, making sure to take extra care with your now jelly-like legs. With your head in your hands in disbelief at the actions you had just willingly followed through on, Mark stares at you. 

“Fuck… I’m so mad at myself.”

With the small amount of space, he has, Mark shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “why? That was so fucking great.” 

You looked up at him in a scolding manner, he still had no perception of reality, but apparently now you were one and the same. “Because now I did the same thing to Brian that you did to me.”

There’s a pause and Mark avoids all eye contact with you. He had imagined this talk so many times – the talk the two of you never got to have and he really didn’t want it to be here, like this. But by some strike of luck, fate had brought you back to him, even for a short period of time and he may never get the opportunity to come clean again. 

Choosing to continue to avert your gaze, Mark sighs deeply and busies himself with pulling up his joggers. 

“I didn’t cheat on you.”  

You feel like ice and your whole body goes numb, “W-what?” 

He sighs again, looking down, “I never cheated on you.” 

You think there’s no way you could have heard him correctly. Your entire break up, the reason you ended your passionate love story with the one person you saw a future with came from his cheating. It couldn’t be a lie… Could it? 

One thing was for certain, you knew Mark so well and judging by the fidgeting and fiddling with his fingers you can tell you still do. And he was telling the truth. Your stomach flipped. 

“Then why did you let me believe that you did?”

“You were the only person in my life who didn’t believe all those stupid rumors about me, the only person who didn’t believe I was a fuckboy like everyone thought… but then the moment someone tells you they think they saw me with someone, you pack your bags. I figured you wouldn’t believe me, just like everyone else.”

It’s ridiculous. The words coming out of his mouth are ridiculous, but part of you understands what he’s saying. Maybe you had been too quick to judge, too quick to believe everyone else’s preconceived notions regarding your own boyfriend, but what were you supposed to do when he didn’t even defend himself? 

“You know… even after all this time, I still don’t know why I hated you. I really don’t know if it was because I thought you cheated or because you never went after me when I left.” 

Mark’s silent, and the weight of the situation continues to hit the two of you like a bus. Part of you feels betrayed by him. More betrayal then when you first heard the rumors. The two of you could have been together this whole time, saved each other from years of pain, sorrow and longing, but instead it’s almost as though he forced it upon you both.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Jesus fuck Mark we’re not Marianne and Connell from Normal People, we can talk to each other.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Who?” 

“I’ve been watching a lot of TV since we broke up.” 

There’s another silence between the two of you and in the small space it feels deafening and suffocating. You want nothing more than to go back to your seat and forget this even happened. Weirdly enough, the sex part you were fine with. It was this conversation that left you feeling like you couldn’t get a proper breath of air into your lungs, almost as if you were drowning. 

You take a piece of toilet paper from the roll beside you and use it to attempt to clean up the mess that had already begun drying on your legs. Mark watches you mindlessly, unsure of what to say himself. He knows he made a mistake from not telling you and effectively keeping the two of you apart, but every time he would reach for the phone to dial your number he would be reminded of the pain he felt and all the things you had called him that day. 

Everyone was right! Why didn’t I just fucking listen to them? Does a three year relationship mean nothing to you? I thought you changed… were different… but now I just feel like I wasted my time.

“I-I really don’t know what to say if I’m honest,” you finally stuttered out, grabbing your discarded leggings and pulling them on, “did you want me to leave you?”

Mark shakes his head vigorously, completely taken aback at you even thinking that, “no... Not at all... I just- it was complicated.”

“Right and you don’t do complicated. Got it.” You stand up and move to unlock the door, but Mark moves in front of you as he did earlier. 

“Y/n... Can we just talk about this? When we land can we just go to a cafe and talk about everything? I still- I mean... even after all this time I-” He begins, but you’re too scared to hear him finish the sentence.

“Mark we’ve had a lot of time to talk. Just please let me go back to my seat.” 

This time he makes no effort to stop you from leaving and you quickly slip out of the bathroom, fearful someone might see you. Luckily, everyone is still fast asleep and you walk back down the aisle to your seat wanting to forget about what Mark had said.  

You couldn’t deal with the what ifs, you couldn’t get lost in a fantasy of imagining that maybe you and Mark could be married already if he would have just said something. You couldn’t be that cruel to yourself.

After a few moments, you notice the bathroom occupied sign go away, signaling Mark’s arrival back to his seat. 

He knows he could just sit down and go back to sleep, falling back in to the way things were. But he had already not tried to go after you once before and he had been regretting it ever since. He had to say fuck that to all of the fears he had of being judged and put trust back into someone again. He wanted you.

Your eyes which had drifted closed soon shot open as you felt a movement at the side of your chair, turning to see Mark crouched down next you

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I already let go of you once, I’m not doing it again. If I have to spend the next,” he brings his watch up to look at the time, “six hours convincing you, then so be it. I’m not letting walk away from me this time.” At his final word he moves his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear and goes to sit down. His eyes piercing into the back of your seat.

You felt Mark’s words, you felt them deeply in every part of you and it made you think that the Mark you love was still in there. 

Love.

You still loved him.

The beating of your heart made it difficult to fall asleep, but when you finally did you had a decision made and a smile on your face. 

[rymndsmth]

prim & unproper

based on this request from anon, i hope it’s to your liking 😳

a/n: due to your skill set, ray recruits you to help with a special mission. 18+

“Why her then?” 

Your ears picked up on chatter going on between Coach and some guy you assumed was a business associate. The mat pushed back as you bounced lightly on your feet, watching the opponent who was regaining their composure from the last punch you’d landed square in their jaw. 

“Oi,” Coach whistled to get your attention. “Finish it already. I told you to stop playing with your food like some cat.” 

You smirked. He did just instruct you on that before the sparring began, but where was the fun in that? Plus, people didn’t want to pay a bunch of quid just to see someone get laid out in a few seconds. 

As he asked, you finally put an end to the fight with a signature combo. The opponent tried to get a jab in, which you quickly evaded before landing a kick in their stomach. It carried so much force that they ended up against the ropes. 

You shoved a knee into the same spot they took the last hit. While their head was bowed, you spun, lifted your leg mid circle and brought your heel down on top of their skull as you returned to your original standing place. They met the mat with a smack, the only indication of them being somewhat okay was a groan. 

“Happy?” You smiled. 

Coach sighed exaggeratedly. “Come down here, I need you to do something.”

Your body weaved between the ropes as you descended to the floor. That business associate looked like he belonged in the banking district of London, not in the ends that they were. He was a pretty one too, no matter how hard he tried to cover it up with that scowl and his beard. 

“Y/N, this is Ray.” He introduced you two. 

You offered a nod in greeting. “What’d you need from me?” 

Coach got to looping you in on the discussion they’d been having during your practice. Ray worked for Mickey, a man you knew to be equally as charming as he was brutal. 

He was a proper legend in the streets despite being a Yank. Your respect for him, and fear to be honest, were both reasons why you sat out that stupid raid set up by the rest of The Toddlers. You did, however, help yourself to some of that weed. 

Due to that mishap, as Coach explained, he now owed a debt. Ray here needed a companion to help him extract information from someone while their guard was down. Which was where you came in. 

“Because I’m a woman.” You stated matter of factly. “I’m sure a bloke like yourself has a bird, why don’t you just use her?”

“I need you because you’re a woman. But even more so because you can do,” Ray scanned you from head to toe. 

That made sense. You noticed that he didn’t acknowledge your little comment about him having a girlfriend. Another thing that was apparent was the warmth you felt beneath your skin under his gaze. 

“Right.” You gathered yourself. “I guess I’m your girl.” 

                                                           -

A little bamboozled was how you would describe the way you felt at the moment. When you accepted the proposition for Coach, you assumed you’d just have to walk up to some guy in a pub and lure him into an alley. 

That couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Here you were, standing on the curb in uncomfortably high heels waiting for Ray to arrive. The deep plunging emerald dress he’d had delivered to your place clung to your frame, only separating from your skin where a split came to your upper thigh. With the help of your flatmate, your hair was pinned in an updo and your makeup was simple but made bold with a dark red lip. 

Ray’s SUV came around the corner, stopping just in front of you. A little less than effortlessly, you hefted yourself into the high vehicle and clicked on your seatbelt. When you looked up he quickly fixed his head to face forward. Your brows creased, and you peered down at yourself. The dress had ridden up a little higher. 

“You look...nice.” He cleared his throat.

“Thanks, darling.” You laughed. “You look normal.” 

The two previous occasions you’d seen him on, when you met and when he returned to go over the plan, he’d been dressed to the nines. You started a theory in your head that he only owned three piece suits, probably slept in three piece pajamas too. The outfit he wore currently did nothing to dissuade that. A classic black tux with the vest underneath. 

He hummed, starting on his way to the estate where the party was. The drive was going to be a while according to the GPS. Somehow he didn’t strike you as the kind to play music in the car, and he wasn’t very talkative either, so you reclined your seat.  

“If you don’t mind me asking.” Ray surprisingly broke the silence. “Why are you the only woman in Coach’s gym?”  

It was a question you didn’t get a lot, but one that you knew people thought about all the time. They never asked it because of Coach; he forbade anyone from doing so. Ray didn’t answer to him though, so you guess it was fair game. Not that you minded sharing. 

The story was much simpler than you imagined the curious ones believed. Your mom was pregnant with you when she met Coach, and they got together. When you were born, he cared for you like you were his own. To you he was your dad, the only one you’d ever known. 

However, this was before he was the guy that tried to keep the youth out of trouble. Coach was still a bit of a mess himself, and when you were 8, he and your mom broke up. A few years later, she got ill and died not long after. 

That landed you in the foster system, bouncing around and getting yourself into run ins with the cops. At 15, you’d gotten into it with some kid at school they called Ernie, who’d become your best friend later on, and that’s how you reconnected with him. Coach took you in, and you’ve been training with him ever since. 

“He really is a good guy then.” Ray turned into a huge driveway. 

“The best of them.” You nodded. 

He got out of the car and came around to your side. His large hand engulfed yours as he helped you down. You looked around at the other pairs surrounding you, descending from their luxury cars dripping in jewels that could pay your rent fifty times over. 

“Remember the plan?” He whispered.

“Find Berger, lure him away. Easy peasy.” You spoke through your smile. 

Ray made a noise of approval as you entered the mansion. Rich people had to be the wildest you’d ever encountered. What was the need for the big, ugly chandeliers, and excessive drapery in the windows? 

The two of you mingled for a while, with you playing the role of bashful arm candy to nearly Academy Award winning level perfection. The target had been spotted a while ago, but you were waiting for the right moment to sweep in. 

That moment being now, while he was away from his wife. You excused yourself from Ray, giving him the rehearsed line so that he knew to meet you upstairs in two minutes. 

“Matthew Berger?” You approached him after swiping a glass of champagne. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

The billionaire’s eyes shamelessly took your body in before he raised your free hand to his lips. You giggled though there was nothing you wanted to do more than to shove your fist in his mouth. 

“Only good things, I hope.” He smiled. 

“Of course! Although I wonder,” You looked at him through your lashes. “Are you all good, Mr. Berger? That would be quite a shame…”

“Why’s that?” Matthew leaned closer.

It was actually pathetic how easy this was. No matter the amount of money most men had, all it took was some woman making doe eyes and putting on a sexy voice to get them into a subdued state. 

“Because I was thinking about doing something very bad with you tonight.” And with that, you knew it was over.

He was basically drooling as you drank the rest of your champagne, and placed the flute on an empty tray. Never once did his eyes leave yours as you ascended the stairs, fingers trailing along the railing. 

You entered the library to the left as instructed. The door was left open so that Matthew could see you when he walked by. Your hips had barely slipped onto the desk before he appeared. What an idiot. 

“Close the door.” You purred.  

He did so without looking back. That was lucky because as the wood moved to seal the room shut it revealed Ray just behind it. It took everything in you not to burst at laughing at how ridiculous this scenario was. 

“Hello, Matthew.” He spoke after flipping the lock. 

The man nearly jumped out of his skin as he glared at Ray who stood with his hands clasped. 

“What is this?” Mr. Berger failed to hide the panic in his voice. 

“I’ll tell you if you’d kindly take a seat.” Ray gestured to one of the chairs. 

“Or what? You’ll rough me up?” He laughed. 

You hopped down from the desk, stepping around the American so that you too stood in front of him. 

“No.” Ray’s mouth twitched in a half smile. 

He knew you would’ve been waiting all night for this moment. With the unspoken cue he just gave, you backhanded the living daylights out of Matthew. Whether he wanted to or not, he stumbled into a chair. 

“I will.” You shrugged. 

The interrogation went on like that, Mr. Berger managed to find it in himself to be insufferable between blows. You had no problem dishing them as long as he wanted to take them. There was something behind Ray’s eyes as he watched you strike. It wasn’t surprise or approval, but somewhere in the realm of admiration. 

Eventually he caved in, a bit quicker than you liked. There were still a lot more places you had in mind to grab and twist. The man wasn’t built for this kind of stuff though, so you commended him silently for even lasting as long as he did. 

Matthew spilled everything to Ray about how he was trying to undercut Mickey in their deal. It was a conversation you felt like you shouldn’t be hearing. You shifted from foot to foot awkwardly until the exchange was done. 

“If I go to the airport tomorrow and don’t see you getting on your jet.” He straightened up the beaten man’s shirt. “You know what’s going to happen, right?” 

Berger hissed a yes in response. 

“Good. Have a nice evening.”

 You were about to make you way out of the room, but your movement was halted by a hand at your elbow. Ray’s fingers lingered for a moment before he dropped it. 

“Thank you.” He nodded. 

“Don’t mention it.” You returned the gesture. 

His eyes, darker in this lighting, held onto yours. Suddenly it felt like you were struggling to breathe, like the room was filled with thick, humid air. He was calculating, just as you were, the risk of going through with what you were undoubtedly both thinking. 

“Fuck it.” You breathed, rushing to close the gap between you two. 

Ray was ready, grabbing handfuls of your ass while you wrapped your arms around his neck. His tongue wasted no time finding its way into your mouth, starting a battle to determine who would get the upper hand. 

You stepped forward, leading the dance. He didn’t miss a beat, travelling back until his legs hit the desk behind him. Your tongues twisted in a storm, lips maneuvering over and between each other as he blindly swept the contents on the surface to the ground.  

Ray conceded, deciding to move onto sucking your neck. You choked out a moan, getting lost in his warm mouth and the scratch of his beard. He used that to his advantage to spin you around, and bend you over the desk. 

Your hands gathered up the silky dress, bunching it around your waist. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you looked back at him freeing his cock from his trousers. He caught you, and gave you a quick smack on the ass. Your mouth parted in a gasp, and remained there as he pushed your underwear aside and entered you inch by inch.  

You arched your back more for him, keeping that curve as you moved your hips back to meet his forward thrusts. Ray’s hands dug in, one on your hip, the other on your shoulder to keep you both steady.  

He was so deep inside you that the difficulty to breathe intensified. Every time he bottomed out, he hit your sweet spot, and knocked the air from your lungs. You could feel yourself getting ready to cum at any second.  

“I’m,” The word came out slurred as you tried to sling together a coherent sentence.  

Ray grunted. “Not yet.” 

He pulled out, flipped you over, hitched your legs around his hips, and entered you again. You swore at the new position, the way he felt driving in and out of you. Tears pricked at your eyes when he decided to add in rubbing your clit in broad circles 

In no time, you were sighing his name, clamping tightly around his cock. Your chest was still heaving with the come down as he looped his arm around one of your knees, lifting your leg for a better angle to fuck you at.  

For the first time, he showed signs of slowing. His eyebrows knitted with the extra effort he had to make in your tightened walls. Ray’s moans started to become more audible as well.   

He slid a hand up your body until it reached your lips. They closed around his index and middle fingers before he moved again to circle your neck. You held onto his wrist, your grip increasing in tension the nearer you got to your next orgasm.  

A few strokes later, your back bowed with your release. Ray pulled you from the desk and into his chest, dropping his head into the crook of your neck as he finished too. You kissed his hair, giving your soul a minute to settle back into your body. 

“Are you alright?” His breath tickled your collarbone. 

“I’m fucking fantastic.” You chuckled. 

Ray joined in as he pulled out. Like a true gentleman, he handed you his handkerchief to get cleaned up. You would hold onto it until you gave it a wash though. He made himself presentable again with your help. You wiped the lipstick you’d left on his mouth away until there was no trace left. 

As much as you enjoyed what had just happened, you couldn’t wait to get the hell away from that party. Ray offered to drive you home, but you shook your head. Coach would want to see you tonight, so you’d might as well swing by the gym. 

The drive was quiet again for the most part, it didn’t bother you. That post sex exhaustion was seeping its way into your bones, so you were glad to be relieved of the effort required to carry a conversation. The only exchange that occurred took less than a minute. 

“I don’t want that-us-to be a one off.” Ray’s gaze remained on the road ahead. 

“Neither do I.” You agreed. 

He hummed, resting a hand on your knee. You placed yours over it, threading your fingers between his. The car rolled to a stop not long after in front of the gym. Ray hopped out to help you down, and walk you inside. 

“What’s this then?” Ernie whistled catching your attention “Prim and Unproper?”

Ghost cackled. “Man wouldn’t strike you but I wouldn’t put it past her.” 

The rest of The Toddlers went wild, someone screaming that they needed to add that to their next song. You flipped them off, and turned back to Ray who looked as if he was partially enjoying their antics.

“I hate to admit it but that’s actually good.” He quipped. 

“Goodnight, Raymond.” You groaned, pushing him back outside. 

Once you were out of view from the rest, you pulled him in for a quick kiss. “Call me later.” 

[rintheyordle]

Writing/RP Prompts!

Here’s one to start! Linked to me by a friend, so I copy pasta’d from reddit! (THANK YOU JACKALOPPY!): 

Pick a number between 1 and 100, and I’ll write either a snippet or response to it as my OC! (BONUS: Ask it as your own OC and I’ll make a little dialog :D)

This is a pretty big list of 100 prompts, so PLEASE CHECK UNDER THE READ-MORE TO SEE IT ALL! Or you can just ask a random question and I’ll go find it. Oooooo RNG!!!

01: If your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead?

02: Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life?

03: What are your character’s core moral beliefs?

04: What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings?

05: Does your character have any biases for or against certain races?

06: What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority?

07: Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc.

08: What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most?

09: What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship?

10: If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be?

11: Describe your character’s current relationship with the player character sitting to your right.

12: What is your character’s current goal, summed up in one sentence?

13: Does your character ever want to “settle down” with a spouse, children, house, etc.?

14: Has your character ever been in love?

15: What battle in the campaign has been most memorable to your character?

16: If your character wasn’t whatever class they are, what would they be instead?

17: What is your character’s favorite season?

18: What would your character’s Zodiac sign be, following stereotypical astrology?

19: Where in the world does your character most want to visit?

20: What is the biggest mistake your character has ever made?

21: Does your character have any noticeable scars? If so, what are their stories?

22: What animal best represents your character?

23: If your character could go back in time and change one thing about their life, what would it be?

24: Which other player character does your character find themselves having the most in common with?

25: Does your character regret any particular choice the party has made?

26: What would your character say their best trait would be?

27: What is your character’s greatest fear? Deep, irrational?

28: What is currently motivating your character to stay with the party?

29: What are your character’s hobbies and interests outside of their class?

30: What would most people think when they first see your character?

31: What stereotypical group role does your character play in the party? (The Mom, the Mess, the Comic Relief, etc. Optionally: What role would your character play in the “Five Man Band” structure?)

32: What is your character the most insecure about?

33: What person does your character admire most?

34: What does your character admire and dislike the most about the player character sitting to your left?

35: Why is your character’s lowest stat their lowest (the in-character reason, not “because there’s no reason for a wizard to have 16 strength, duh”)?

36: What would be your character’s theme song/favorite band/favorite genre of music?

37: What stereotypical role would your character play in a high school AU/if they attended a normal high school? (Nerd, jock, bully, goth, etc.)

38: What treasure/item/artifact that your character has collected during the adventure is the most important to them?

39: Is there any particular weapon, item, etc. that your character longs to find?

40: Where does your character feel the most at home?

41: Does your character care about how they’re perceived by others? How do they change themselves to fit in with other people?

42: What does your character think is the true meaning of life?

43: What is your character’s scent? (Bonus points for a description that sounds like it could be from a bad [or awesome] fanfic.)

44: Does your character think more with their heart or their brain?

45: What is your character’s most recent or frequent nightmare?

46: What opinion does your character have on [CERTAIN ESTABLISHED GROUPS/AUTHORITIES IN THE GAME WORLD]? (Dragonmarked Houses, royal crown, etc.)

47: How did your character spend their childhood? Where did they grow up/who were their childhood friends?

48: What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?)

49: What colors are associated with your character?

50: Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances?

51: Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos?

52: If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for?

53: What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.?

54: How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party?

55: What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by?

56: When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?

57: The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond?

58: If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with?

59: Does your character value their own best interest more than the party’s?

60: What decision would the party have to make in order for your character to consider splitting off from the group?

61: How does your character imagine the way they will die?

62: What is your character’s greatest achievement?

63: Is your character willing to risk the well-being of others in order to achieve their goal?

64: What is your character’s opinion on killing others?

65: What is your character’s favorite food? Beverage?

66: How generous is your character? Especially to those they don’t know?

67: What is your character the most envious about, regarding anyone in the party?

68: The player character to your left and the player character to your right are both telling your character two different versions of the truth. Who does your character believe?

69: What is your character’s sexuality/relationship with sex?

70: What is your character’s biggest pet peeve?

71: Describe how your character feels about the party’s current situation/objective/etc.

72: Who in the party would your character trust the most to keep an important secret?

73: If your character knew that they were going to die in a month, how would they spend the rest of their life?

74: What makes your character feel safe?

75: If your character had the chance to rename the party/give the party a name, no questions asked, what would it be?

76: What memory does your character want to forget the most?

77: If your character had to multiclass into a class they currently aren’t the next time they level up, what would it be and what reason would they have for doing so?

78: What television/book/video game/etc. character would your character be best friends with? (Or: what media character is your character the most influenced by/similar to?

79: What unusual talents does your character possess?

80: How does your character feel about receiving/giving orders? Are they more of a leader, or a follower?

81: What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?)

82: Is your character more of an introvert, or an extrovert?

83: How far is your character willing to go to pursue the “greater good”? Do they believe in a greater good at all?

84: What does your character want to be remembered by?

85: What would be your character’s major in college?

86: Does your character consider themselves a hero, villain, or something else?

87: What major arcana tarot card best represents your character?

88: Where does your character see themselves in 20 years?

89: What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it?

90: Who is your character’s biggest rival?

91: What is your character’s guiltiest pleasure?

92: What does your character hope for the afterlife?

93: Who in the party does your character trust the least?

94: What is your character’s biggest flaw?

95: How did your character learn the languages that they speak?

96: What is your character’s favorite school of magic/type of weaponry?

97: What is most important to your character: health, wealth, or happiness?

98: What advice would your character give to a younger version of themselves?

99: Are there any social or political issues your character feels strongly about?

100: What, currently, is your character the most curious about?

[anncanta]

The imagery of BBC ‘Dracula’: mythology, alchemy, literature. Part 2

Part 1 is here.

Mirror

One of the cross-cutting images of the entire work, which underlies the very narrative structure on which it is built, the image of the mirror is one of the most ancient in European culture. Which is not surprising – a reflective surface capable of showing a person himself was probably initially perceived as magical – not by chance, as in the situation with photography, the earliest myths and fears associated with mirrors speak of soul abduction.

In Dracula, the image of the mirror is presented at the same time as a literal object that the protagonist fears, his main phobia, a metaphor for his ability/inability to look at himself, and the resulting all this motive of duality that unfolds the story as a drama of reflections.

Let's start with a literal mirror. I don't know if you noticed, but in the first episode, with the exception of the scene in Jonathan's room in Dracula's castle, there are no mirrors at all. And even that only thing of Harker Dracula instantly breaks. It is interesting how he does it – not as a negative character, grimacing angrily at the sight of a hated object, or an unforgettable queen in various versions of the story about Snow White, destroying a mirror showing her not what she wants. Dracula breaks the mirror instinctively, doing it in one movement as if delaying or trying to think about it could be almost more dangerous than the object itself is. It is possible that this is so. He then tells Jonathan that he cannot provide him with another mirror in return, as he does not keep such things in his house. From that moment on, not once during the two episodes did he look at his reflection, including the scene with Dorabella, where the Count shows a young woman what could have been in her life, reflected in the water, but does not look into it himself.

The third episode looks in huge contrast to the first two. Now Dracula, who woke up in the twenty-first century, looks at himself constantly. In fact, if you peer closely, he does just that throughout the episode. And not only literally, but also metaphorically. Which, in general, is logical: given the events that took place in the castle, and then on Demeter, we can assume that for the first time in many years Dracula plucked up the courage to see himself, to meet with himself and think about what he was.

Judging by what the Count sees in the mirror, the answer is not very inspiring.

It turns out that there is nothing majestic, bright, and attractive either in himself or in his life. His spectacular charming appearance is a mask, an illusion, and an old man with gray hair and sunken eyes looks to him from the window glass, his house is a pompous empty room, trying to replace the unattainable sun with an excess of artificial light, his woman is a silly girl who is not afraid of death because she is unable to appreciate life.

The ruthlessness and brightness of the reflections leave no chance for false interpretations. In this sense, the relationship between Dracula and his new lawyer is especially eloquent. You need to understand that the reflection of Jonathan Harker in modern reality is not Jack Seward, but Renfield. Obsequious, stupid, pitiful, ready to do anything for the sake of influence and power. It is the worst mirror the Count has ever seen, and, as he begins to conjecture, perhaps just the one he deserves.

The reflection in Renfield and in Lucy leads Dracula in the end to what he fled from for so many years.

To the needle and the sun.

Needle

When you talk about images in works of art, you always have to keep in mind that images are inseparable from motives and plots with which they travel through time and that every time you discover a particular object and symbol in a text, you, like a fisherman in an old fairy tale, can bring the whole world to the surface. And it doesn't matter at all whether the image is large or small, is it constantly mentioned in the text or is the central one in a single short episode.

In Dracula, the needle occurs only once, but its appearance can serve as an example of how a single image, arising, ‘gathers’ an archetypal story around itself.

Globally, in Dracula, there are two central archetypal plots: the plot of the beauty and the beast and the plot of the sleeping beauty. I suggest looking at how one of them works at the image level.

I'm talking about the plot of the sleeping beauty. 

Let`s recall the episode in the isolation ward. What does Dracula do before making an incision in his arm and filling a test tube with blood? That's right, he gives Zoe a needle. The same spindle, which in a fairy tale makes a sleeping beauty fall asleep (symbolically, like a caterpillar, plunge into a transformative state, from which it will emerge as a butterfly).

In the film, Dracula plays both the role of a witch taking revenge for the fact that she was not invited to the party, and a prince called to wake up the beauty. This is literally shown in the scene when, in a vision of Zoe, who drank the Count's blood, Agatha and Zoe look into each other's eyes, connected by Dracula and standing on opposite sides of him. Moreover, pay attention – Zoe stands behind the Count's back, symbolizing the past, while Agatha is right in front of him, metaphorically meaning the future.

Well, and if this is not enough for someone, a little later they will show us Zoe, lying in bed, and Agatha, entering the door.

And what comes after her?

Sun 

Author`s note

This part of the article contains thoughts that I unexpectedly discovered a few days ago in a beautiful text The Petruvian Man by @devoursjohnlock. I highly recommend this article to those who are interested in the topic of images and the structural construction of Dracula.

In the first episode, the sun rarely appears, in the second it is hidden almost all the time behind clouds or fog, and in the third it crosses the hero's path several times in a row – first in Bob's house, where Zoe threatens to collapse the roof if Dracula does not surrender, then – in the form of golden light, hugging the building of the Jonathan Harker foundation, where the Count is brought in a box, until it finally bursts into the window of Dracula's own house, categorically and victoriously, putting an end to all the vague games.

We will not talk here about the meaning of the sun as reason, consciousness, openness, new life, clarity, and realization of an integral personality. This is understandable, and we talked about this earlier. Let's look at it as an image that is used in this text a little unusual, but that's why it is no less interesting, creating depth and additional context where you don't expect it.

We are talking about the scene at the very beginning, in the first episode, which at first glance seems to be nothing more than a joke, an attempt by the writers to ‘dilute’ the drama, so to speak. But it's not that simple.

Remember how Dracula leads Jonathan Harker to his room and walks past the portraits of Petruvio and the architect’s wife? Remember what he says to Jonathan?

‘This castle was the Widower`s final work. A monument to his lost love and the sunlight, to which he could never return.’ And then Dracula adds: ‘...he died here in the arms of his wife,’ – in response to Jonathan's remark how this could be possible, as Petruvio was a widower, saying: ‘It must have been a cold embrace.’

Reflecting later on this gloomy joke, Johnny concludes that Petruvio considered his wife his sun: ‘What else is sunlight, but the face of one`s beloved?’, and guesses that behind her portrait is hidden a plan of the castle. And then words follow, which, in combination with what was said earlier, create an image that becomes a kind of symbolic prologue to the entire text and at the same time a brief description of the plot.

Finding the plan, Johnny deciphers it and discovers a way out behind Petruvio's portrait. Then he says: ‘Petruvio’s wife was the sunlight, and he stood guard at the door.’

Does it remind you of anything?

What happens in the last scene in the third episode?

The catharsis of the uniting of the two, which became possible only because both realized and accepted their – as we could see from the very beginning – natural roles in this play. Agatha took the role of the sunlight and the liberating power of love and mind, and Dracula – the role of the door.

And on a figurative level, this was laid down from the first minutes of the film. Spoken in words for those who do not read visual messages. Down to the smallest details, like the architect who died in the arms of his wife, who by that time was already dead. As well as Agatha, who was physically dead for one hundred and twenty-three years by the end of the third episode.

Rather, as in the case of the needle, and in many others, here words only confirm and express directly what is said at the symbolic level, and it is impossible to separate one level from other. Reading them at the same time, moving between them, and looking at them together, you can see the whole story, and even guess what is it about.

But more on that later.

Part 3.

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

RANDOM REVIEW #2: ANY GIVEN SUNDAY (1999)

“This game has got to be about more than winning. You’re part of something.”  Any Given Sunday (1999), directed by Oliver Stone and featuring Jamie Foxx, Dennis Quaid, Cameron Diaz, Al Pacino, LL Cool J, James Woods, and Matthew Modine, is my favourite sports movie of all time. Of all time.

I’m not betraying my favourite sport by saying this. The Mighty Ducks is a kid’s movie. It’s okay, but it’s not a timeless classic. I don’t like the Slap Shot series, Sudden Death is fun but silly, and the Goon movies were a missed opportunity. The only truly good scene in Goon is the diner scene where Liev Schreiber tells Seann William Scott: “Don’t go trying to be a hockey player. You’ll get your heart ripped out.”

  Such is the sad circumstance of the hockey enforcer. They all want to play, not just fight. Here’s a link to a video in which the most feared fighter in the history of the NHL, Bob Probert, explains that he wanted to be “an offensive threat...like Bobby Orr,” not a fighter: https://youtu.be/4sbxejbMH4g?t=118 Heartbreaking. But not unusual.

Donald Brashear, Marty McSorley, Tie Domi, Stu “The Grim Reaper” Grimson, Frazer McLaren: they all had hockey skills. But they were told they had to fight to remain on the roster, so they fought. As Schreiber says in the film: “You know they just want you to bleed, right?”  If the players don’t bleed, they don’t get to stay on the team. So they fight, and they pay dearly for it later. Many former fighters have CTE or other head injuries that make day-to-day life difficult. The makers of Goon should have taken that scene and run with it. I was so disappointed they didn’t, especially given what happened right around the time the film came out, with the tragic suicides of Wade Belak, Derek Boogaard, and Rick Rypien, all enforcers, all dead in a single summer. So Hollywood hasn’t even made a good hockey movie, let alone a great one. Baseball has a shitload of good films, probably because the slower pace of play makes it easier to film. Moneyball has a terrific home run scene, Rookie of the Year does too. Angels in the Outfield was a big favourite of mine when I was a kid, plus all the Major League films, and Bull Durham. 

Football has two good movies: The Program (1993) and Rudy (1993).    

And football has one masterpiece. The one I am writing about today.

A young Oliver Stone trying not to die in Vietnam. ^ Now, I know Stone is laughed at these days, given his nutty conspiracy theories and shitty behaviour and the marked decline in the quality of his films (although 2012’s Savages was underrated). I know Stone is about as subtle as a sledgehammer, but do you want a football movie to be subtle? Baseball, sure. It’s a game of fine distinctions, but football? Football is war. And war is about steamrolling the enemy, distinctions be damned, which is why Any Given Sunday is such an amazing sports film. I love the way it shows the dark side of football. In fact, the film is so dark that the NFL withdrew their support and cooperation, forcing Stone to create a fictitious league and team to portray what he wanted to portray.

This is not to say the movie is fresh or original. Quite the opposite. Any Given Sunday has every single sports film cliché you can think of. But precisely because it tries to stuff every single cliché into its runtime, the finished product is not a cliched mess so much as a rich tapestry, a dense cinema verite depiction of the dizzying highs and depressing lows of a professional sports team as it wins, loses, parties, and staggers its way through a difficult season.  Cliché #1: The aging quarterback playing his final year, trying to win one last championship. (Dennis Quaid) 

Sample dialog: Dennis Quaid (lying in a hospital bed severely injured): Don’t give up on me coach. Al Pacino: You’re like a son to me. I’ll never give up on you. ^ I know this sounds awful. But it’s actually fuckin’ great. Cliché #2: The arrogant upstart new player who likes hip hop and won’t respect the old regime. (Jamie Foxx) 

Cliché #3: The walking wounded veteran who could die if he gets hit one more time. Coincidentally, he needs just one more tackle to make his million-dollar bonus for the season. (Lawrence Taylor) 

Cliché #4: The female executive in a man’s world who must assert herself aggressively in order to win the grudging respect of her knuckle-dragging male colleagues (Cameron Diaz). Diaz is fantastic in the role, though she should have had more screen time, given that the main conflict in the film is very much about the new generation, as represented by her and Jamie Foxx, trying to replace the old generation, represented by Al Pacino, Dennis Quaid, Jim Brown, and Lawrence Taylor. Some people think Diaz’s character is too calculating, but here’s the thing: she’s right. Too many sports GMs shell out millions for the player an individual used to be, not the player he presently is. “I am not resigning a 39-year old QB, no matter how good he was,” she tells Pacino’s coach character, and you know what? She’s right. The Leafs’ David Clarkson signing is proof positive of the perils of signing a player based on past performance, not current capability. Diaz’s character is the living embodiment of the question: do you want to win, or do you want to be loyal? Cuz sometimes you can’t do both.

Cliché #5: The team doctor who won’t sacrifice his ethics for the good of the team (Matthew Modine).

Cliché #6: The team doctor who will sacrifice his ethics for the good of the team (James Woods) 

Cliché #7: The grizzled, thrice-divorced coach who has sacrificed everything for his football team, to the detriment of his social and familial life, who must give a stirring speech at some point in the film (Al Pacino…who goes out there and gives the all-time greatest sports movie “we must win this game” speech) 

Cliché #8: The assistant or associate coach who takes a parental interest in his players, playing the good cop to the head coach’s bad cop (former NFL star Jim Brown). 

Best quote: “Who wants to be thinking about blitzes and crossblocks when you’re holding your grandkids in your arms? That’s why I wanna coach high school. Kids don’t know nothing. They just wanna play.” 

Cliché #9: The player who can’t stop doing drugs (L.L. Cool J).

Okay, so the first thing that needs to be talked about is Al Pacino’s legendary locker room speech.  Now, it’s the coach’s job to rile up and inspire the players. But eloquence alone won’t do it. If you use certain big words, you lose them (remember Brian Burke being endlessly mocked by the Toronto media for using the word “truculent?”). The coach must deliver the message in a language the players understand, while still making victory sound lofty and aspirational. This is not an easy thing to accomplish. One of my favourite inspirational lines was spoken by “Iron” Mike Keenan to the New York Rangers before Game 7 against the Vancouver Canucks in 1994. “Win tonight, and we’ll walk together forever.” Oooh that’s gorgeous. But Pacino’s speech is right up there with it. 

“You know, when you get old in life…things get taken from you. That’s parta life. But you only learn that when you start losin’ stuff. You find out…life’s this game of inches. So’s football. In either game – life or football – the margin for error is so small. I mean…one half a step too late or too early and you don’t quite make it…one half second too slow, too fast, you don’t quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They’re in every break of the game, every minute, every second. On this team, we fight for that inch. We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Because we know when we add up all those inches that’s gonna make the fuckin difference between winnin’ and losin’! Between livin’ and dyin’!” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_iKg7nutNY  Somehow, against all odds, Any Given Sunday succeeds. It is the Cinderella run of sports movies. You root for the film as you watch it. The dressing room scenes are incredible…the Black players listen to the newest hip hop while a trio of lunkhead white dudes headbang and scream “Hetfield is God.” There is a shower scene where a linebacker, tired of being teased about the size of his penis, tosses his pet alligator into the showers where it terrorizes his tormentors. There is a scene where a halfback has horrible diarrhea, but he’s hooked up to an IV so the doctor (Matthew Modine) has to follow him into the toilet cubicle, crinkling his nose as the player evacuates his bowels. There is a scene where someone loses an eye (the only scene in the film where Stone’s over-the-top approach misses the mark). There are scenes that discuss concussions (which is why the NFL refused to cooperate for the film), where Lawrence Taylor has to sign a waiver absolving the team of responsibility if he is hurt or paralyzed or killed. I wonder how purists and old school football fans reacted to the news that Oliver Stone was making a football film. If they even knew who he was (not totally unlikely…Stone made a string of jingoistic war movies in the 1980s) they probably thought the heavy hands of Oliver would ruin the film, take the poetry out of every play. But the actual football is filmed perfectly. The camera gets nice and low for the tackles. It flies the arcs of perfect spiral passes. It shows the chaos of a defensive line barreling down the field. When Al Pacino asked quarterback Dan Marino (fresh off his own Hollywood experience acting in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective) what it was like to be an NFL QB, Marino said: “Imagine standing on a highway with traffic roaring at you while trying to read Hamlet.” A great explanation. Shoulda made the movie. So the football itself is fabulously done. Much better than what Cameron Crowe did in the few football scenes in Jerry Maguire. The Program had some great football, as did Rudy, but neither come close to the heights of Any Given Sunday. In one of the film’s best scenes, Jamie Foxx insists that his white coaches have routinely placed him in situations where he was doomed to fail or prone to injury, and we believe him because white coaches have been doing that to Black players for decades. Quarterback Doug Williams, who led his Washington Redskins team to a Superbowl victory in 1987, was frequently referred to by even liberal media outlets as a “Black quarterback,” instead of just “quarterback,” as if his skin colour necessitated a qualification. Even now, in 2021, the majority of quarterbacks are white, although the gap is gradually closing. The 2020 season saw the highest number of starting Black quarterbacks, with 10 out of a possible 32.  Quarterback is the most cerebral position on the field, and for a long time there was a racist belief that Black men couldn’t do the job. Foxx’s character is a composite of many of the different Black quarterbacks who came of age in the 1990s, fighting for playing time against white QBs beloved by their fan base, fawned over in hagiographic Sports Illustrated profiles, and protected by the good ol’ boys club of team executives and coaching staff. Foxx’s character isn’t demoted because he can’t play the game. He wins several crucial games for his team en route to the playoffs. He’s demoted because he listens to hip hop in the dressing room, because he recorded a rap song and shot a video for it, and because he’s cocky. Yes, the scene where he asks out Cameron Diaz is sexist, as if her power only comes from her sexuality, not her intelligence and business acumen, but it’s meant to show how overly confident Foxx is, not that he’s a sexist prick. Any Given Sunday isn’t a single issue film. It’s basically an omni-protest piece. It gleefully shows football’s dark side, and there is no director better than Oliver Stone for muck-raking. He’s in full-on investigative journalist mode in Any Given Sunday, showing how and why players play through serious brain injuries. How because they are given opiates, often leading to debilitating addictions (this happens in all contact sports...Colorado Avalanche player Marek Svatos overdosed on heroin a few years after retiring from injuries). As to why, Stone gives two reasons. One, team doctors are paid by the team, not the players, therefore their decisions will benefit the team, not the players. And two, the players themselves are encouraged to underreport injuries and play through them because stats are incentivized. James Woods unethical doctor argues with Modine’s idealistic one because an MRI the latter called for a player to have costs the team $20k. But the player in question, Lawrence Taylor, plays anyway because his contract is stat incentivized and if he makes on more tackle he gets a million dollars. Incentivizing stats leads to players playing hurt. And although I loathe this term, a lazy go-to for film critics, Stone really does give an unflinching account of how this shit happens and why. When Williams is inevitably hurt and lying prone on the field, he woozily warns the paramedics who are placing him on a stretcher to “be careful…I’m worth a million dollars.” It’s tragic, yet you’re happy for him. The film really makes you care about these guys.  Thanks to the smartly written script, the viewer knows that Williams has four kids, and you’re pleased he made his bonus because, in all likelihood, after he retires, his injuries will prevent him from any kind of gainful employment (naturally, they give the TV analyst jobs to retired white players, unless Williams can somehow land the coveted token Black guy gig). Stone is not above fan service, a populist at heart, and he stuffs the film with former and then-current NFL players, a miraculous stunt given the fact that the NFL revoked their cooperation. Personally, I think this was a good thing because it meant Stone didn’t have to compromise (the league wanted editorial say on all issues pertaining to the league…meaning they would have cut the best storyline, which is the playing hurt one). It also meant that they had to rename the team and the league. While I’m sure this took away from the realism for some fans, I’m cool with it. It also allowed the moviemakers to name the team the Sharks, a perfect name for this roving band of predatory capitalist sports executives. In another example of fan service, the call-girl Pacino’s quintessential lonely workaholic character rents a girlfriend experience from is none other than Elizabeth Berkley of Showgirls, who had been unfairly blacklisted after the titular Verhoven/Esterhaz venture, a movie my wife showed me one day while I was dopesick, which I became so transfixed and mesmerized by that I forgot I was. As mentioned above, the only misstep in the film is one of the offshoots of the Playing Hurt arc, where a player loses an eye on the field. Not because he gets poked, but because he gets hit so hard his eye simply falls out. A medic runs onto the field and puts the white globe on ice. Stone cast a player with a glass eye in order to achieve this effect. No CGI! Still, the scene is unconvincing, a tad too over-the-top. But this is Oliver Stone. At least Any Given Sunday’s sole over-the-top moment is a throwaway scene lasting all of thirty seconds. It easily could have been a secondary plot-line in which government officials try to sneak a Cuban football prodigy out of Castro’s communist stronghold but the player is brutally murdered the morning the officials arrive at his apartment to escort him to the private plane. Or else the team GM is revealed to be a massive international cocaine dealer. Or the tight end is one half of a serial killer couple. The film follows its own advice, focusing more on the players growth, particularly Beamon’s (Foxx). The anonymity of the title, Any Given Sunday, elevates the game, not the players. Thank God, the movie doesn’t force Beamon to assimilate into Pacino’s mold. He buys into the team-first philosophy without renouncing his idiosyncratic POV or his fierce individuality. This is a triumph. One of my biggest problems with sports is the flattening effect it can have on creative individuals. Players take media training in order to sound as alike as possible during media interviews, a long row of stoic giants spouting cliches. It’s boring. Which is why media latch onto a loudmouth, even while they scold him for it. All sports are dying for an intelligent mouthpiece who can explain his motivations in a succinct, sound-bite-friendly, manner. Sports are entertainment. As much as I love Sidney Crosby, in my heart I have to go with Alexander Ovechkin because Ovechkin is far more thrilling, both on and off the ice. Unlike almost every other NHL star before him, all of whom were forced to kneel and kiss Don Cherry’s Rock Em Sock Em ring, Ovechkin defiantly told the media he simply did not care about Cherry or Cherry’s disgusting parental reaction to one of Ovie’s more creative goal celebrations (called a “celly” in the biz). On the play in question, Ovechkin scored the goal, then dropped his stick and mimed warming his hands over it, as if his stick were on fire. As cheesy as the celebration appeared to the naked eye, it’s both a funny and accurate notion. Ovechkin was the hottest scorer in the league for many years and his stick was on fire, metaphorically speaking. The only celly I can think of that matches up in terms of creativity and entertainment value came from Teemu Selanne in 1993, who scored a beauty of a goal, threw one of his gloves straight up into the air, then pumped his stick like a shotgun while “shooting” his glove. Of course, Cherry took exception to it. Cherry’s favourite goal celebration features Bobby Orr putting his head down and refraining from raising his hands over his head. Cherry’s idea of an appropriate goal celly is no celly at all. This from a man who claims “we’ve got to sell our game.” But when an arrogant player shows up and he’s not white, he’s in for a shitload of bad press. Foxx’s Beamon illustrates this beautifully when he yells at Pacino after Pacino cuts him for an older QB who has lost four games this season. “Don’t play that racism card with me,” Pacino warns. “Okay…okay…” Foxx nods, “Maybe it’s not racism. Maybe it’s ‘placism’…as in…a brother got to know his place.”

Here is the original theatrical trailer, featuring Garbage’s classic “Push It.”

Above Lawrence Taylor begs Matthew Modine for Cortazone.  There’s also a great scene where Pacino is trying to figure out where he has gone wrong and Diaz just looks at him. “You got old,” she says simply. No enterprise is more cruel to an aging human being than sports. And this movie makes football a big giant corporate machine that chews players up and spits them out, injured and drug addicted, after four or five years. Those who play for a decade are lucky. This is still how the NFL works. And the NHL is increasingly becoming a young man’s game. Experience matters less and less.

When I started watching hockey in the 90s, players regularly competed into their late 30s. Not so anymore. Players peak at 23-24 now, and are often out of the league by age 35. Thornton and Chelois are exceptions, not the rule. After more than two hours, Any Given Sunday finally lurches across the finish line, bravely refusing to give its viewers a traditional happy ending, in the great tradition of underdog sports films like Rocky and Rudy. The bombshell dropped by Pacino’s character at the end feels less surprising than inevitable, but by now the movie has explored so much of professional sports' seedy underbelly that you're glad it's over. The film is great but exhausting. Stone seems to be advancing the notion that the sport itself is pure, but the people in it are corrupt. If money weren’t involved, the game would be played for its own sake.

I agree with this. People playing pond hockey are engaging in wholesome fun, not necessarily practicing to make a professional league. Commerce corrupts the purity of the game, and the extent to which it corrupts is directly proportional to how badly the individual in question needs the commerce. Of course, the sport is highly racialized, with people in positions of authority white, and those being told what to do with their bodies Black.

Any Given Sunday is an important film, but it never sacrifices entertainment for the sake of moralizing. That it pulls off such a strong moralistic stance is a testament to the actors, who are all incredible, and the material, which is among the strongest of Stone’s career.

He never really made a great movie after this one. So check it out sometime.