#i think the *actual* worst thing i ever drank was:

[shoku-and-awe]

Next time I am taking you down with me!

what is THE worst thing you've ever drank. all liquids acceptable. please tell me what it was, bonus points for why

[hannieehaee]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.3k (teaser); 8.2k (full fic)

release date: april 27th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: decided to write a little surprise fic!! ive been getting into bts lately and so this was born<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

...

read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

NOTE: it wont let me reply to people anymore but ill be tagging everyone who comments asking to be tagged just letting u guys know<3

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Too Much (Little Sister Version)

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @redbird-tf

Synopsis: you have nightmares of dying like Mary, and you start to get really clingy with Dean.

It started out in a subtle way. Your first nightmare had been vague, and though it had jarred you, it wasn’t enough to curb your day-to-day activities…much.

“I’m going for a supply run.” Dean’s words had you looking up from the homework you’d been working on. “We’re out of beer…and food.”

“I’ll come.” You were on your feet before the words even left your mouth.

“It’s just a quick run,” Dean argued. “Don’t you have homework?”

“It can wait,” you insisted, already on your way to the Impala. “Let’s go!”

Of course it would be Dean—it had always been Dean. Sure, he had his anger issues and his bad moments. He drank too much and he isolated himself when he was upset. But he always came back; when Sam was at Stanford, when dad disappeared, it was always you and Dean.

So when you started having nightmares about burning on the ceiling, Dean was who you turned to.

Scary things shouldn’t phase you anymore, not after all you’d seen. But this was different. Your whole life you’d heard “what happened to mom.” Never any specifics—it was always, “the demon killed mom,” or “what the demon did to Mary.” Nobody ever gave you any details; they always said you didn’t need to know.

So when you snuck into Dean’s room in the bunker and stole dad’s journal, you were in for a surprise.

The pages you’d read had been stuck together—it didn’t look like anyone had read them—and it took you a moment to peel them apart.

I went to visit a shrink today—I thought he might be a vampire. I went in undercover, booked myself an appointment. I figured out pretty quickly that he wasn’t a monster, but I didn’t leave. It sounds stupid, but I actually talked to him. Told him about Mary. Well, as much as I could tell, which is more than I’ve told anyone. Point is, he told me to write down what happened to her. Every detail I could remember. I don’t like thinking about her…but maybe he was right. Little Sammy asked about Mary just the other day, and I yelled at him. I still feel bad…it’s not his fault, he’s just a kid. Maybe this is the only way I’ll be able to talk about her, but maybe that’ll be enough to keep me from going off on the kids. So here goes…

And John had laid out every gory detail of that night, and you’d read the whole thing. You’d always thought it would be better knowing; that it would somehow bring you some extra closure to know how your mother’s final moments went. You were wrong.

And so came the nightmares. The first one was fuzzy and indistinct; a fire, the sound of screaming. But it was enough to have you going with Dean whenever he left the bunker.

The second one was more vivid. It was also when you realized that it wasn’t your mother you were dreaming about—it was you.

It was so real—you felt the demon’s powers slashing open your stomach, you felt your body lifting off the floor…

But the worst part was the heat. It stung your eyes and sizzled against your blood and seared your skin. You tried to scream, but the smoke choked you and stopped your voice. You struggled to inhale, coughing on the smoke and crying at the pain that lit up every nerve ending.

The bright light of the fire left first, then slowly afterwards the pain. But you were still choking and gasping for breath when you sat up in your bed.

“Dean,” you whimpered, the lone word echoing through your empty room. You weren’t quite used to the bunker yet—you were so used to the motels, where your brothers were right next to you at all times. Most of the time it was annoying, but right now…

You threw your covers off you, finally getting a hold of your runaway breathing as you padded barefoot towards your door. You couldn’t stay in this room—it was this room that you’d dreamt of, this ceiling that you’d burned on.

You flung your door open and started down the hall, but you only got halfway to Dean’s room before you stopped. You couldn’t go to him like this, a tear-streaked mess in the middle of the night; he would know something was wrong, and then you’d have to talk about it.

You couldn’t talk about it.

A bang from the kitchen stole your attention and your breath, your mind wandering towards images of a yellow-eyed intruder. You tip-toed to the kitchen, peaking around the corner and breathing easily when you saw Dean rummaging in the fridge for a beer.

You slipped into the kitchen, heading straight for Dean.

“You’re up early,” he greeted, stiffening in surprise when you wrapped your arms around him. “Hey, something wrong?”

“No,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “Good morning,” you added lamely as you pulled away, as if the greeting would explain away the hug.

“Yeah, mornin.” Dean shrugged, choosing to ignore your strange behavior. “Couldn’t sleep? It’s only 5.”

It was later than you’d thought.

“Not really,” you said. “Can we make breakfast?” You weren’t hungry, but you’d take any excuse to keep Dean close.

“Only if you get the bacon,” Dean said with a grin.

“I think we’re out,” you answered.

“Unacceptable,” Dean decided. “You start on the pancakes, I’ll make a run.”

“Wait! Um…” you wracked your brain for an excuse. “Um, the pancakes can wait, I’ll go with you.”

Dean squinted ever so slightly as he stared you down—that was twice in a week that you wanted to go with him to the store without a good reason.

“You sure you’re ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, just…I want some fresh air.”

“Alright.” You both knew he didn’t believe you, but neither of you brought it up again.

You felt pathetic as you trailed behind Dean, but the idea of sitting around the empty bunker alone until he got back or Sam woke up…

You just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own home, without Dean around.

You sat just a little closer to Dean than you normally would once you got into the Impala, sitting towards the middle of the seat even though the right side was empty. You felt Dean watching you from the corner of his eye, but to your relief he didn’t say anything.

…

“Ok, so how many pounds do we want?” You held a brand of bacon in each hand, eyeing them both. When Dean didn’t respond to your question, you turned around to find the cart there, but no Dean. “Dean?” You glanced up and down the aisle, but he wasn’t in sight. You threw both bacon packages into the cart and ran down the aisle, going down the row and looking frantically down every aisle you passed. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

You rubbed a hand against your chest when your next breath wouldn’t go through your tightened wind pipe. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one was less satisfying than the last. Once you reached the last aisle with still no Dean, you turned around and started back the way you came, hoping that he was down an aisle on the other side of the store.

“Dean? Dean!” You were calling his name, but you could barely even hear your winded and squeaky voice in the vast emptiness of the store, so you knew there was no way Dean could.

You passed the aisle with your cart and kept going, looking down the first, then the second…

“Dean!” You rushed forward, flinging yourself into Dean’s surprised embrace.

“Hey, what happened?” Dean was stiff and alert, whipping his head around to see what had spooked you.

“I couldn’t find you,” you whimpered, tightening your arms around Dean’s midsection. “I-I didn’t know where you went. Don’t do that to me!”

“Ok, ok hey I’m sorry,” Dean soothed, pulling away and kneeling down, brushing your hair out of your face so he could see you. “C’mon, what’s going on with you? What’s got you so spooked?”

You didn’t answer—you just launched yourself forwards and wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck, burrowing your head against his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” you pleaded.

“Ok, ok.” Dean held you closely, rubbing your back. “Ok I’m right here kiddo. Let’s get out of here, ok? Let’s go home.”

…

You held Dean’s hand in vice grip on the way out to the car, but he didn’t comment on it. He waited until you were safely bundled into the Impala to speak again.

“Kid, you need to tell me what’s going on here.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean glanced at you, but he didn’t speak again.

…

You were feeling lucky for most of the day—Sam and Dean spent the morning going through books in the library, so you were able to do your homework right next to Dean without warranting worry or attention.

“Check this out.” Sam’s words to Dean had you looking up curiously while Sam turned his computer around. “Looks like a case in town.”

Your heart dropped to your toes—you were too young to hunt, so a hunt in town meant that you sat in the bunker while the boys were out.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking about the case before they got ready to head out. Dean was throwing guns in a bag in his room when you went to find him.

“We’ll be back tonight,” Dean promised. “But if we find the thing that’s killing these people, it might not be until late, so don’t wait up ok?”

“Can’t I come?” Your tug on Dean’s sleeve stopped his movements.

“You know you can’t,” he said. “What’s going on with you? And don’t say nothing, because I know something’s wrong.”

“I just don’t want you to go,” you said. “Please De? Please don’t leave me here alone.”

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked.

You shook your head.

“Then I have no choice.” Dean sighed. “People are dying, and you can’t come. I have to go.” Dean zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We’ll be back before tomorrow.”

“Dean—“ you reached out for your big brother, but in one stride he was out of your reach, then to the door, then he was gone.

…

You were trying to read the same page over and over, but the words were swimming around the page, blurred by the tears in your eyes and the shaking in your hands that had the pages fluttering. You looked up for the millionth time, a deep pit in your stomach convincing you each time that the yellow eyes demon would be standing in your doorway, waiting to kill you.

You dropped the book on your desk with a thud, finally giving up on homework—you wouldn’t get anything done until Dean was home, you just couldn’t focus.

You picked up your headphones and slipped them over your head, but you found that not being able to hear your surroundings made your anxiety even worse, and the soothing notes of your favorite song did nothing to help for once. You tried turning on the tv, but you found that you couldn’t look away from the door for more than a few seconds before you started to get scared again.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore—you closed your room door, your bathroom, and even your closet; open doors just had your imagination running away with images of yellow eyes coming to kill you.

You burrowed yourself under the covers and tried to force yourself to sleep. Hour after hour you convinced yourself that you’d just never be able to sleep, but you didn’t have anything else to do but keep trying, so you didn’t move.

You were still laying there when the door opened.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted. You smiled at him, and he smiled back for a second before the smile faded. “Me and Sammy have another case—we’re gonna be gone a while, ok?”

“No, wait!” You tried to get up to stop Dean, but you couldn’t move. “Dean, don’t go! Dean don’t leave!”

He was already out the door, and in his place stood Azazel, pale yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Dean!” You screamed, but it was too late; your pajamas were already soaked in blood coming from a painful gash across your stomach. You whimpered, finally able to move as you wrapped your arms around the wound as if you could protect yourself. You couldn’t.

You were sobbing as your body lifted off the ground, your stomach lurching as you went from wall to ceiling. There was no warning spark, or small flame—you were just suddenly and completely engulfed in flames, your hair burning and your skin scorched. You were still screaming when Dean came running back into the room.

“Dean,” you whimpered. “Dean no!”

Yellow eyes had a knife in his hand, and he turned it on your big brother in an instant. As the fire burned around you, you watched as Dean got stabbed again and again and again…

You woke up screaming. The fire was gone, and so was the pain, but you couldn’t even tell. Your eyes couldn’t take in a single detail of the room—they were blurry and unfocused from sleep. Your brain couldn’t decipher what parts of your dream were real and what weren’t. You sobbed out short and shaky breaths, and your cries were just starting to fade into whimpers when you heard it; the loud thunk of the bunker door closing.

Your fears and your crying returned full force, and you were gasping for breath as you felt around for any kind of weapon.

He’s coming he’s coming he’s coming he’s coming…

It was like all you could see was Azazel as you heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. You wanted to do what Dean always did—push his fear down, throw away his emotions, and just fight—but you couldn’t. You couldn’t catch your breath, you couldn’t stop sobbing, and you couldn’t find your gun.

When your door handle started to turn, you thought you were going to pass out. Your already-unsatisfying breath caught in your throat, and with the lack of breath came black spots at the edges of your vision.

You forced a single deep breath in and out—you couldn’t be unconscious when the demon came to kill you, you couldn’t be that helpless. You had to fight, even though you would lose.

The door swung open, and you were still gasping for breath and grappling for any kind of weapon when—

When Dean walked in.

“Dean!” You were off the bed and in your brother’s arms before he had a chance to speak.

“Hey, hey what’s going on?” Dean’s arms tightened around you when he heard you sobbing and felt you shaking. “Baby what happened?”

“Don’t leave me,” you begged between sobs. “Don’t leave me De, don’t leave me.”

“Ok, ok I’m not going anywhere,” Dean promised. “N/N I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?” Sam walked into the room, staring at his siblings with concern.

“I…I think we’re ok here,” Dean decided, carrying you to your bed. “You should go bandage that cut, I’ve got her.” When Sam hesitated, Dean assured him, “I’ve got her Sam.”

Sam finally left, and Dean climbed up on your bed, settling you into his lap when you wouldn’t let your vice grip around his neck go.

“I need you to talk to me,” Dean pleaded. “I need to know what’s going on, what this is.”

“There was fire,” you whimpered, your tears soaking Dean’s shirt. “There was fire, and it burned everywhere, and I was bleeding and I was on the ceiling, and-and yellow eyes stabbed you, and—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Dean started to rock you back and forth subconsciously. “Hey, how do you know about all that stuff.”

“I’m sorry.” You were sobbing again. “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I read his journal and he wrote down everything and I thought it would help but…but now I can’t stop dreaming about it. I’m so—I’m so scared, De. All the time.”

“Shh, shh you’re ok,” Dean soothed, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I’m right here. Listen,” Dean tried to pull away so he could look at you, but you just tightened your grip. “Ok. I used to have nightmares about mom, too. All the time. I still get them sometimes.”

“You do?” You sniffled. “What do you do about them?”

“Well now it’s easier, because we killed yellow eyes. He’s gone, N/N. Nobody’s ever gonna die like mom did again, especially not you. You know that, right?”

“The dreams feel so real,” you answered.

“I know, I know they do. But they’re not. And I’m gonna help you through this, but kiddo, I can’t be around all the time, you know that. I’ve got a job to do.”

“O—ok,” you sniffled. “I can do better.”

“But I’m still gonna be here when you need me. I promise.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you right now.”

Dean’s arms squeezed impossibly tighter around you.

“Then I’m here for you.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Your Teddy ~ Theodore Nott x f!reader (PART 2)

Requested: No

Pairing: Theodore Nott x f!reader

Summary: Theo helps y/n get the pieces of her former life together.

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: Lots of talking, mentions of drinking, English is not my first language

A/N: The next part should be the last one. Let me know if you want to be tagged! Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! GIF is not mine.

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @cyriellee42 @littlepippilongstocking @lovetaylorrussellgrr @sequoiavink @cloudyyydayzzz @lovefushi @esmerai-artemis @atadoddinnit

PART ONE

Sitting on his dorm’s hard floor, his back against the door, Theo grabbed the bottle again and brought it to his mouth. He felt the burning liquid going down his throat, and while it actually did hurt, it was nothing compared to the pain he had been feeling since he learned a few hours ago that y/n didn’t remember anything - didn’t remember him. 

“I, um...I’m sorry, but... who are you?”

She doesn’t remember. The thought was like a thousand knives in his heart. She didn’t remember all the dates they went on, how much they laughed and talked during them, all their time spent just the two of them, just enjoying being together, their first kiss and those that followed, the first time Theo told her he loved her, the first time she told him she loved him, all their cuddles and nights spent embracing each other or spent loving each other, all their hugs, all the time they comforted each other - how she comforted him after his mother passed away and, every year, on her death anniversary. How much they loved each other - how much she loved him. That was the worst part. He could tell y/n about the moments they spent together, where and how their first kiss was. He could also show her how much he loved her and why they dated in the first place, but what if she couldn’t fall in love with him again? What if she wanted nothing to do with him?��

His stomach twisted at the thought, and he drank again. One part of him refused to think that y/n, having a big heart full of patience and understanding, wouldn’t at least give him a chance, but the other part of him, the one who always told him how she deserved better than him, told him otherwise. Theo had felt alone when his mother died, but the feeling had faded away when he and y/n started dating. It came back with y/n’s disappearance, and was worse than ever. No one had ever loved him besides his mother and y/n, and now he had lost both. Of course he had friends, and he deeply cared about them, but it wasn’t the same. They only knew the happy, sarcastic, careless Theo, not the true version of Theo who felt things deeply, was really insecure and kept wondering why his father didn’t seem to care about him at all. He felt tears suddenly running down his cheeks, but didn’t care. 

All of a sudden, Theo heard a knock on the door. He closed his eyes - which he would have probably rolled if he had enough energy and less alcohol in his body - in annoyance and was about to pretend not to be here when he heard a familiar voice. 

“Theo, open the door.” 

Mattheo knocked again after speaking. Sighing, Theo grabbed the bottle and managed to get up, finding himself feeling incredibly dizzy when he opened the door. Mattheo came in, and Theo went to sit on his bed. Mattheo closed the door behind him, and raised an eyebrow.

“Merlin, it’s even worse than I thought.” 

Theo, who now had a terrible headache, looked at him. “What?”

“Your ass is drunk. Like you had been for the past three months.” 

“So what?” Theo snapped coldly. 

He could find in him to tolerate his best friend coming to check up on him and comforting him, but not a lecture. They both had shitty fathers - and a crazy ass woman as a mother for Mattheo -, and had bonded over it, but Mattheo hadn’t always been single, and therefore couldn’t truly understand how Theo felt, as much as he tried. 

“I suggest you quit drinking, get a shower, eat something and clean up this room, because a little bird named Pansy told me y/n is leaving the hospital wing tomorrow. Do you want her to see you like that?”

Theo ran a hand through his face, frowning. “What?” 

“Mrs Pomfrey was able to heal all y/n’s injuries,” Mattheo said, and then his gaze softened. “Except for her memory loss.” 

Theo looked at the ground, and Mattheo slowly came to sit beside him on the bed.

“I’m sorry, mate. I mean it.”

Theo couldn’t say anything as he left that if he did, he would cry, and there was a short moment of silence before Mattheo spoke again.

“You know, y/n only came back today. They still can find a remedy. Pansy said they’ll look in other books.” 

“Did she find out why?” Theo asked in a hoarse voice. 

“No. It might be from trauma, a potion or a spell. They’ll probably do other tests.” 

“Did they come?” Theo asked. “Her parents, I mean?”

“Yes. They were…upset, of course. Pansy was here when they saw y/n. They asked her to come home for at least a few days, but she refused.” 

The thought was y/n wasn’t alone while meeting people who were now basically strangers made him feel better, but it was at this moment that Theo realised how selfish he had been. He had lost his girlfriend, the girl he imagined spending the rest of his days with, but y/n had lost everything. Everything she had known and was used to - from family and friends to her childhood home and the school - were now foreign to her. And instead of being there for her, he was fucking drinking. 

“She’ll need you,” Mattheo continued. “You were a big part of her life.” 

“I want to help her,” Theo answered. “But…What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

Mattheo had a half-smile, “No chance, mate. She asked Pansy about you.” 

Theo’s heart almost skipped a beat, and he turned to his friend. “Really?”

Mattheo nodded, “Yeah. I don’t know the details, but she did ask questions, and apparently she felt guilty when she saw you leaving. So, as I suggested earlier, we’re gonna clean up this room, and while you take a shower, I’ll go get us something to eat. Alright?”  

Feeling a bit better - but still ashamed - Theo nodded, and Mattheo gently pushed his shoulder. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next morning, Theo woke up with one of the worst hangovers he ever had. He had a terrible headache, and any light hurt his eyes, but he wasn’t as tired as he thought he would be, probably because he had a dreamless night which allowed him to get some rest. He took a shower, and, realising it was already 10 am, he quickly put his clothes on, arranged his hair, and went down to the Great Hall. He sat down next to Lorenzo, planning to eat quickly and then go see y/n in the hospital wing. He had to apologise to her for leaving as he did the day before, and planned on at least a real conversation. 

As he ate, Theo felt his frustration grow. This isn’t what he had planned for her return. He had planned to get her flowers and many gifts, and to cuddle for days, trying to make up for the time lost. The cuddles were absolutely obviously out of the question now, and the gifts were maybe too much, but maybe flowers would still be a good idea? After all, maybe y/n would like to know that, unbeknown to her, she had a boyfriend who had missed her terribly while she was gone? He suddenly had the image of her in tears, alone in the dark, waiting for him to rescue her, losing all hope with each day passing. He shook his head, finished his plate quickly, and left the Great Hall, but he had barely taken a few steps when he saw two familiar silhouettes coming the opposite way. y/n and Pansy were laughing, and if you didn’t know y/n had lost her memory, you’d think she was still the same as she was before her kidnapping. y/n noticed Theo, and something in her behaviour shifted. 

“Ah,” Pansy said, “Hello, Nott. y/n, dear, I’m sure you remember Theo, who you saw yesterday?” 

y/n nodded. “Of course. Hi, Theo.”

“Hi, cara- y/n.”

E che cazzo, Theodore. Pull yourself together.

“I’m…glad to see you’re okay,” he managed to say. 

He meant it, but the words had a hard time coming out of his mouth, as if this new uncomfortable distance between y/n and him made everything awkward - this was also new, because even before they started dating, they had always felt incredibly comfortable and safe with each other. y/n suddenly cleared her throat, which brought Theo back to reality. 

“Hum, actually…I was wondering if we could talk?” 

It took Theo a second to realise she was speaking to him. “Talk?”

“Yeah, I…I mean, you were a part of my life, and I want to put all the pieces together.” 

Theo nodded. “Of course. Well, if you want, we can talk now?”

“Sure.”

She gave him a small, shy, adorable smile, one of those that had made him fall in love with her, but this time, instead of warming his heart, it almost broke him. Pansy excused herself and entered the Great Hall after gently squeezing y/n’s shoulder. Now that they were by themselves, the awkwardness was even worse, but all of a sudden, Theo realised he had looked at it the wrong way - sure they were now, in a way, strangers, but it didn’t have to be the end? Theo had been able to make her fall for him once, there was no way he couldn’t do it again, right? He’d just have to show her, show her exactly why she gave him a chance in the first place, and how much she meant to him. It would take time, of course, but y/n had been very patient throughout their relationship, and it was his turn now.

“Do you want to sit somewhere in particular?” he asked.

“I don’t know, was there…a particular spot we liked?” she said.

Theo immediately had an idea in mind. “Yes. Follow me.”

She followed him through the castle, and Theo noticed she looked around the castle like the first years did when they first arrived. Sometimes, her gaze would light up, and it was adorable to see. 

“Did Pansy show you around?” he asked.

“Not yet,” y/n said. “I think she plans on showing it as we go.”

Theo nodded slightly, “Well, if you prefer, I could give you a tour. The castle may seem big at first, but we usually get used to it quickly.”

y/n looked at him and gave him a half-smile, “I’d like that.”  

They both walked to a bench situated in a corner of the courtyard, a bit away from where the crowd of students usually went, so it allowed them some privacy. They sat side by side, and Theo felt both the need to put some distance between them and to eradicate any distance that existed. He had never been able to keep his hands off y/n, and always had a hand on her thigh or around her; always craving her touch. 

“So, do…Do you have any questions?” Theo asked, making sure to keep his hands to himself. 

“Well, a few, yes. But I guess I just want to get to know you.”

Theo turned to her and smirked, “Well, you already know my name. Though I have to say, my name is supposed to be Theodore but all my friends call me Theo. You, however, called me Teddy.” 

She stared at him for a second, “Teddy.” 

It felt so good to hear her call him that he almost forgot himself, almost hugging her right here and there, almost also forgetting that she probably would feel uncomfortable. 

“I’m in Slytherin just like you, and we’re in the same class, with Pansy and my friends. What else… I’m also Italian, so I’m bilingual.” 

“That’s cool,” she smiled. “Do I speak another language?”

“Well,” Theo hesitated, “you were learning Italian, and you were pretty good.” 

“And…when did we start dating?” 

Theo let out a slight sigh, “Our fifth year.” 

“Oh. And you met my parents?”

“Yeah. They were nice.”

Nice enough to allow someone like me to date their only child. 

“And have I ever met yours?”

Theo gulped and looked at his knees, “You never met my father. But I don’t see him very often, so…And my…mother died a few months before we started dating.”

y/n’s gaze from interest to surprise, sadness and compassion. “I’m so sorry, Teddy.”

“It’s okay. You helped a lot.” 

“I’m glad I did.” She then shook her head and sighed. “I really wish I remembered, you know. If there was any way, I would do it.” 

“I know.”

Because I’d do anything for you to remember, too.

“What’s the first thing you remember?” Theo said before realising it. 

“Hum, it’s not very clear, but I do remember that large guy…Hagrid, isn’t it?” Theo nodded and she continued, “I remember him holding me and telling me I was gonna be alright. He brought me back to the castle and to Mrs Pomfrey. I slept a little, she examined me, and then this professor, Professor Snape, and this other man - I think they said he’s the Headmaster here? - came to talk to me and told me they had been looking for me for months. I don’t know why but for some reason, I remember being a witch, so they didn’t have to tell me. Then Professor Snape left to tell my parents and then…you arrived.”

Theo blinked, “So you don’t remember what happened during…”

“My abduction?” y/n completed. “No, not a single thing. But it’s better this way, I think,” she added.

Theo nodded slightly, and there was a moment of silence, with only the conversation and laughs of other students for noise. Theo was glad she didn’t remember anything - even though he would always remember the images of her being tortured that had been looping inside his head - but he didn’t like the fact that those who abducted her and held her somewhere would never be punished for what they did. He had no clue of how long he had been lost in thoughts, but at some point, he realised y/n was staring at him. He turned his face towards her, feeling his cheeks becoming hot, and suddenly felt nervous.

“Do I have a third eye on my forehead or something?” he said with a nervous laugh.

y/n’s eyes widened and her own cheeks became pink in embarrassment before she looked at the ground. 

“I’m sorry, I…I guess I was trying to remember something. Anything.” 

Theo had a silent sigh and put his hand on hers, which sent shivers down his spine.

"I'll do anything I can to help you remember, y/n. And if I can't, I'll help create beautiful new memories."

Theo thought y/n's eyes were suddenly shining, and she gave him a small, thankful smile before joiging their hands together.

PART THREE

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[toast-on-dandelioms]

completely fine if you can’t do this but I’m curious if you could do something with platonic yan batfam finding out teen reader smokes. Not hard core drugs or anything, just cigarettes (still bad I know), and maybe even drinks alcohol.

in their own words it “makes it so they can stop thinking”

Again completely fine if you can’t!! Also love your work ♥️

The ask is based before the events of part 4

beta reader: @duck-you

WC: 4.4k

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics @cafekitsune

Age of reader: 16-17 (the age of reader in the main serie is your choice, I don't think I ever made the age clear but for this ask reader is almost 18)

Tw: mentions of alcohol and cigarettes, underage drinking and reckless behaviour from intoxication, Joker, fighting under the influence, wrongful imprisonment, Black Mask and his uglyness

You first started smoking when you were at the end of middle school and started high school, your friends kept pressuring you into it since all the cool kids were smoking and you didn't want to lose them.

You did stop a few times but they kept gas lighting you into starting smoking once again and after you started to roam Gotham as Spider it became an habit that helped you do something whenever the night was dead or you were just bored.

You also made sure to not smoke before going back to the Manor since you knew Alfred would know and you didn't want to let him know and disappoint the older man, seeing him as a father figure instead of Bruce since he was the one who actually took time out of his day to pay attention to you whenever you told him in advance.

The drinking didn't start until you turned 17 and your friends managed to drag you to a party after a lot of begging and accusing you of not caring about them.

You still remember the night where you got drunk for the first time, the beat of the music making you unable to talk to anyone without yelling and how everyone kept pushing drinks in your hand and cheer whenever you drank it all.

The taste of whatever drink you just drank always made you make a disgusted face before smiling happily as you started to relax and have fun with your friends, even singing karaoke after someone pushed a microphone in your hands and told you to follow the words that were being displayed on a TV.

Honestly that night was one of the best you ever had because you weren't Spider, you weren't the forgotten child of Bruce Wayne and you weren't the straight A's student that people looked down upon because of how silent and antisocial you were. You were [Y/N], the one who beat 5 guys at arm wrestling, the friend who was dancing like crazy and how you just lost your virginity (the alcohol one, not the actual virginity).

You didn't really enjoy drinking, especially whenever you drank too much after a party and ended up with the worst hangover ever thanks to your powers, but it was a nice thing to do to de-stress after a long night or to just become free for a night with your friends.

One night you were still on patrol but had a long night because you had to stop many gang fights and even got shot on the leg, which you bandaged up but it was hurting and annoying you so you ended up drinking the entire bottle of vodka you had in your schoolbag, where you forgot to take out the bottle a friend put inside after you told them that you never drank it since you never had the opportunity to do so.

And you were a bit of a lightweight since you didn't start for too long and somehow you found yourself wandering around Gotham, drunk out of your mind and unaware of your surroundings. Yes people were taking videos of a drunk vigilante walking on the walls and street but didn't do much, especially when they saw a familiar clown approaching.

When Joker finally walked up to you with his usual smile, happy that he saw you since he could just use you after he noticed how Batman was attached to you, plus you looked incredibly drunk and you were stumbling around the empty street, still wearing your mask that was just rolled up enough that he could see your mouth, slightly open so he thought it would be easy to kidnap you by just using a crowbar.

Immediately, when you felt his hand touch your shoulder and his annoying laugh, you grabbed his hand and just slammed him into the ground with a judo flip, that you saw Damian do when you were watching him train alongside the others.

Your drunken mind didn't clock in that the person who touched you was the feared clown of Gotham, you just kept hitting his body with the crowbar that he had in hand after you took it off his hands after he tried to hit you with it when he had the chance to attack.

But you didn't let him, somehow your mind and body when under the influence were a better fighter than you actually thought, you weren't using your superstrenght most of the time and only if he actually posed as a threat when he tried to attack you once again.

During the fight your mask was taken by that clown, who probably got even angrier when he saw that you were just a kid and that looked like you were gonna fall asleep in any moment, which was why he even managed to hit you on the face. Unfortunately for him, his hit made you remember when Jason hit you and somehow awakened an anger and you just started to hit that man like there was no tomorrow.

Somehow, during the drunken fight between you and Joker that people were recording, you didn't notice three masked figures on a rooftop who were watching you fight that clown and were discussing when to butt in.

Dick was watching with glee as you hit the clown while also waiting for Oracle to tell him who Spider was once Joker took off your mask, amazed as he watched your fight.

He did feel anger whenever Joker managed to get a hit on you with his fists and had to be held back by Jason and Damian, since they both wanted to see you win and see you fight in real life instead of watching from the cameras, which didn't show all of the fights most of the time.

As he watched he did that you moved a bit weird, like you were under the influence and that made him panic because what if Joker actually tried to drug you? What if someone tried to kidnap you and he wasn't there to save you?!

Jason was also watching in glee when he saw you hit the Walmart clown with a crowbar, cheering whenever you hit him in the face with that crowbar. He would also yell out scores when you did that, not caring that people were filming him.

He did notice how sluggish you were when you moved and was also ready to jump down to help you, not wanting you to get badly hurt by that clown even though he knew that you could defend yourself.

Damian was watching and making small comments about your posture as you fought before noticing how many moves were incredibly similar to downright the same moves he did as he fought with random criminals, making his heart soar with respect and felt incredibly honoured that you were copying him. He knew that he was gonna show the footage to the others to show how much Spider was like him and how he's obviously the favourite since they're copying him.

He did found your face very familiar, like he met you once but he couldn't find any memory of you in his mind, making him frustrated and angry since he's supposed to be the heir of Wayne Enterprises, his memory shouldn't get worse so soon.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder and another grabbing the hand that was hitting the now dead Joker, you turned around and just kicked that person away with all your strength to a nearby dumpster and just prepared yourself for another fight.

You honestly couldn't really see who was close to you thanks to Joker punching you right in the face and making your eyesight a bit blurry that you honestly couldn't see who was approaching and just thought it was another guy or more trying to kidnap you, so you kept fighting by using your spider senses to find them.

It took Dick, a laughing Jason and an annoyed but amazed Damian to manage to stop you, leaving all of them with bruises and many injuries since you didn't hold your strength back. The indented dumpster after you kicked Damian when he tried to grab you and the hole in a wall after you missed punching Jason and got stuck in the wall was proof of it.

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep after getting a small injection in your neck was Jason's laugh even though he sounded like someone kicked him in the chest and Damian's exasperated voice as he talked with Dick and how they shouldn't let you near anything alcoholic anymore.

You woke up the next day in your room, the headache from the hangover making you groan in pain, especially after feeling how sore your body was even though you couldn't remember anything from last night, before managing to get up without feeling like puking or falling, cursing yourself and making a mental note to never drink during patrol.

You slowly walked to the door, cursing your hangover since it felt like your door was farther away from you since you though you were in your usual room and not in another that looked exactly the same but you didn't really pay much attention to it since your head was killing you as you tried to think of anything.

You finally reached the door and opened it, immediately facing a surprised Bruce, making you confused and annoyed since you already felt like shit and seeing your father that never stepped up as a father to you made your headache worse.

You and the man stared at each other for a few seconds that felt like hours before you pushed him away and walked to where you thought the bathroom was, knowing that you needed to have a shower and probably puke your mind out.

When you finally walked out of the bathroom with a less painful headache after drinking some water from the sink and while you were showering, knowing it was safe since the Manor filtered the water, but the short-time happiness from the long shower was immediately ruined by Dick's loud voice as he talked about something you weren't paying attention to and him dragging you to the dining room where everyone was waiting for you, your headache coming back strong to even making you try and get away from his arms.

You groaned when he basically dropped you on the carpeted floor of the dining room, to which everyone's eyes were on you as you slowly got up and made your way to a random chair far away from everyone else, a bit weirded out since you actually never sat on a chair on the actual table. Hell, you probably never even stepped foot in the room in all the years you lived there.

You mumbled a thanks to Alfred when he set a bowl of soup in front of you and a few pills on a tissue next to your glass of water, to which you assumed it was for your headache and hangover.

You started to eat the soup without saying anything to anyone else at the table before looking up when you heard Bruce's voice saying your nome, ignoring how hesitant his voice was when he actually said your name, like it was the first time he ever actually pronounced your name out loud.

You stared at the older man who was supposed to be your father, hissing a little when the lights from the chandelier hits your eyes, too used to your poorly lit room and of the gloomy weather of Gotham that never lets any sun in so bright lights hurt your eyes.

"[Y/N], hun, I know you drank last night. And I am sure you know that drinking is bad for you, especially when you are underage. You could've hurt yourself and the people around you, which you did last night!" he said, his voice raising at the end before pointing at Dick, Jason and Damian, who you just noticed all had some bruises and looked uncomfortable while sitting on the chair.

Honestly, you didn't even feel bad. The only thing you felt bad about was not being able to remember anything about it. You hoped that someone took a video of it, god you hoped so hard.

As you thought of finding that video you suddenly noticed that Bruce was still talking, probably going on about the dangers of alcohol and what it could do to someone's liver after prolonged drinking, making you annoyed since he cares now? After years of ignoring your existence?

So you did what he did once when you were little, you just got up and left without a word to your room, not caring about anything he was saying. You didn't even know where you were going in the Mansion,thanks to how big it is and how you stuck to your room instead of exploring and ended up inside a small bedroom that looked like no one entered it for years thanks to the all the dust inside of it.

You opened the windows to let some air inside and found a few diaries as you snooped around before finding the holy grail of things you could find in anyone's room: an unopened bottle of rum in a hidden drawer that you might have broken while trying to open it because you were curious.

You were now loving whoever lived here and put the rum away in a pocket before walking out the room by the window so you could reach a bag you left on the rooftop that held a copy of your costume. Why did you had a bag there on the first place?

That was simple. You once forgot it while you were drinking on the rooftop when you had a horrible day and just forgot it there when you stumbled in your room by walking on the walls. And yes, the conversation you had with Alfred to ask him about having some money to buy all the stuff you needed to re-make the suit and re-create the voice modulator was very uncomfortable, especially when you knew you couldn't afford all of the stuff you needed even though you had a job.

And yes, you didn't have an allowance because Bruce never thought of giving you money and you had to take a job to just survive and not always ask for Alfred for money when you needed something for school or for dance practice.

As you reached the bad tied to an unused chimney, a small frown formed on your face when you saw the old design of your vigilante suit but still changed before putting the web shooters on your wrists, your bag already on your shoulders and the rum safely stashed in it and wrapped around your clothes to make sure it won't accidentally break while you were swinging around Gotham.

Once you got on a random rooftop of an abandoned building, which you made sure wasn't a rogue or a gang hideout before settling on it so you could finally drink the bottle you stole. You were close to one of the mafia's territory in Crime Alley but you didn't care which one it was, you only wanted to drink.

As you finally started to drink, your tongue tasting a hint of nutmeg and weirdly cinnamon with each sip you took, you slowly started to relax as the alcohol did its job, each sip making your head feel less heavy, like it was getting pumped full of helium and slowly making your forget about the pain your body was in.

God, you never wanted to stop, just four sips in and you were already past the tipsy part and you felt so free that anything you saw in the starless, polluted night of Gotham made you laugh like crazy. You finally felt like you belonged when you drank and that all the hatred, anger and the deep resentment you felt towards the Bats was calm, like a warm heavy blanket was put on those emotions.

As the night progressed, the bottle now half empty and your mind completely fuzzy, you started to hear noises and grunts of pain from one of the alleys near your spot, making you curious to see who it was and especially what was happening that would ruin your drinking night.

You slowly got up, your limbs feeling like jelly as you moved to walk on the side of the building, slipping a little as you stumbled around. After a bit you finally managed to get to the right alley when you realised you were on the wrong side of the building, and as you walked over you luckily avoided a frantic Nightwing grappling to a building.

You watched in silence when you finally got to the right alley and saw Black Mask, one of the criminals you knew his own goons feared because he could kill them if they did anything wrong in his eyes. You couldn't count the times you saw bodies in alleys when you were patrolling, their bodies covered in bruises and most of the time they were beat up beyond recognition that always made you sick.

But, unfortunately for you, your drunken mind decided to say something since you found his mask boring and weird. Like, compared to Jason's mask, his just looked boring and not really original. And you knew he was dangerous but noo, let's anger the mafia boss who kills with no mercy.

"He-Hey! You look ri"- you took a few sips of the rum - "uhh, oh yea! Ridiculous! Why that? No red, thought of being compared to Red Skull?" you started before your drunken mind just decided to go on a whole rant about his choices of brand and what he does with his goons.

As you were ranting about his ugliness and name choice, your spider senses made you dodge an incoming bullet shot at you but unfortunately Black Mask managed to hit your sacred bottle that still had most of its contents in it and you just watched with tears in your eyes as the alcohol ran out of your bottle to the ground.

The anger that surged in you after your drunken mind realised that he wasted your precious rum made you so angry that you didn't care who Black Mask is and threw the broken glass bottle at him and used his small distraction to web his chest and launch yourself at him, using all your strenght to punch his ugly masked face.

Using the moment and how distracted the man was, thanks to your punch, you kept hitting the man with all your strenght. Sadly, this moment of you overpowering the insult for eyes as a man as the man manages to catch one of your punches that was aiming for his stomach and pulled you forward to knee you on the chest, making you gasp for air and cough and almost made you puke but you anaged to keep it down.

Sadly, the bastard with no imagination for names started to hit you on the back of the head, making your vision blurred for a few seconds before your vision went back to normal thanks to your fast healing. You managed to avoid another one of his hits and quickly jumped on the wall and webbed him on the chest, pulling him forward and jumping on him, kicking him on the jaw.

You stared at the sad excuse of a original rogue as it stayed on the ground and slowly raised your hands like you won before grabbing the broken bottle of rum and walked on a wall, waiting as you watched the thing who you refused to acknowledge as a man get up and wobble around while the two goons he was hitting before already ran away.

Once it got up, obviously confused when you watched him look around and you waited until he got closer and hit him on the head with the bottle as a revenge for the wasted precious alcohol and then you quickly kicked him on the back to keep him down since you knew he was good at hand and hand combat and you knew that you couldn't win if he was lucid so you were lucky that you gave him a concussion with a lucky move.

You kept hitting the man-thing with the bottle with no care in the world, the blood splattering on the walls and the dumpster near you two, your smile the only thing he could see as you just kept hitting him, the bottle getting thrown away when it was completely broken from hitting his mask so you went back to using your hands, smashing his mask onto his scarred face, the alcohol in your body making you ignore how the shards of the mask were also getting embedded in your hands as you kept punching his face.

You stopped when your spider senses alerted you of danger and got ready to fight whoever it was that before getting hit with something and falling asleep, the last thing you managed to say before falling asleep was "fuck yall".

You woke up once again with weird cuffs on your wrists, but fortunately you weren't chained to the bed. You slowly got up from the bed and noiced two things: your hands were bandaged, making you confused as to what happened last night after you drank and both windows in the room had bars on it.

You managed to get up from the bed and walked to the door, your vision being a bit blurred as you looked around the room. You first walked to the window to see the bars and noticed how the bars were so close together and had such a small space between that even your finger couldn't pass through.

You then walked to the door and went to grab the doorknob but almost fell to the ground as you noticed too late that the doorknob was missing from the door. You quickly recovered and looked angrily at the door, punching it with all your strenght before realising that the cuffs were blocking your super-strenght when you felt an immense pain in your hand after you punched it and the door didn't fall down like you planned to.

You slowly retracted your hand from the door and started to pound the door with the other hand, yelling for Bruce and whoever lived in the fucking Manor, too angry and scared to care about the pain as your hand kept touching the door.

As you pounded on the door, you hoped that Alfred would come to save you from this room and explain why the hell you were stuck in a room with no way out, feeling trapped as minutes went by and no one came to explain what was happening and why you were trapped in that room.

You let out a huge sigh of relief when you heard footsteps coming your way and finally stopped pounding on the door, only now noticing the prints of blood on the door from your hand that was now bleeding profusely, making you almost cry as even slightly moving a finger brought you immense pain.

You looked up when you heard the door open and stared at Bruce and Alfred, who was holding a first aid kit, and moved to the side to let them enter, not wanting to fight until you knew why you were here.

You sat on a chair, who you now noticed was plastic, and let Alfred change the bandages on your hands while you stared at Bruce, waiting for an explanation before getting frustrated when he didn't say anything and just stared at you.

"What happened to me? Why are my hands bandaged?" you asked, staring directly at Bruce to hear his explanation, not remembering anything after you drank.

The man who you were told to call father just stared at you with a grim expression on his face "two days ago, after you snuck ou-" to which you interrupted him "I didn't sneak out, using those words would mean that you cared that I actually lived here and what these last 17 years showed me was that you don't care. Don't act like you do now".

You watched as the man acted like it didn't affect him but you knew that it did. You knew Bruce Wayne and he loves kids, you saw how he acted with Damian when he got hurt during patrol and how Jason once came home bleeding. You saw the man who you thought was heartless and didn't care about anyone cradle Jason's body as he carried him to the batcave, his face showing so many emotions that you never saw before.

You stayed silent as you watched him, giving an ok to Alfred when he asked if the bandages were too tight, still waiting for him to explain before sighing loudly when he just stared back at you.

"I went out to drink so what? Did I fight a gang member and somehow got so hurt that my hands need help healing?" you joked, wiggling your fingers to show your bandaged hands like it was something to be proud of.

To which Bruce seemed to get extremely mad about it "no, you decided to fight Black Mask after insulting him and ended up killing him. Damian and Cass had to sedate you as they thought you were a danger to yourself and to the civilians.".

After that you just stared at him before looking down at your own hands and looked at your knuckles who were staining your bandages since they were still bleeding. "So what? I didn't hurt someone innocent so why am I in a room with bars and no way out?" you asked angrily, not caring that you killed someone since you never viewed Black Mask as a person after everything you've seen him and his men do.

The man stared back at you "and this is exactly why you won't be let out until I know that you aren't a danger to the public" he said coldly and walked out with Alfred while you just stood there in shock.

You quickly ran to the door and started banging on it "NO NO NO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE! I AM AN ADULT! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME" you yelled as you banged to it, ignoring how their footsteps started to sound so far away while you cried and yelled in the room.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Dallas' head snaps back, and he stumbles with the force of an unexpected hand on his shoulder. For the briefest moment, he goes entirely limp, lets his fist hang in the air and doesn't try to scramble back to the boy on the steady retreat in front of him.

Darry's got him. And if he'd thought it through for even a second longer that would have scared the shit out of him. But then the fingers are tearin' into his jacket and forcin' him backward and he finally whips his head around and realizes the reality: two very pissed cops have got him.

And he immediately starts fightin' again. He writhes in their grip and the kid he'd been whalin' on is suddenly skitterin' back with renewed fear. Dallas bares his teeth once and figures he's made his point.

The next ten minutes are a blur.

His heart is poundin' in his ears and he can feel his pulse as it rattles under the cuffs the cops slapped on him the second they could get his wrists within a foot of each other and his head is achin' and he realizes for the first time he tastes blood but he can't focus on anythin' because all he can think is Fuck, Darry is never gonna forgive me for this.

He says it all the time. When he rolls in an hour late and thinks Darry's gonna kick my ass. Or when he lets Pony have just a little too much of his beer and the kid's gigglin' fit to wake the dead when Dallas 'n him sneak back in. Or when he hauls off and picks stupid fuckin' fights for no reason.

But this time he means it.

He groans and drops his head to his hands in the little holdin' cell they have him waitin' in until they process him. Last night's argument flashes vaguely in stills through his mind. He wasn't comfortable with people... carin'. He just didn't know what to do with it.

You can't tell me what to do, Darrel. Dallas flew up from the kitchen table and paced wildly away from Darry. Pony watched him with wary eyes. Soda bit his lip and looked at Dallas like he was tryin' to tell him a hundred things Dally didn't know how to understand.

Yes, I can. I won't have you actin' a fool and gettin' yourself hurt. Darry frowned and he's got these lines in his forehead Two jokes he never had before Dallas moved in. Dallas can't stand to see them.

You're not my brother. And you're not my dad. I ain't never had no one tellin' me what to do in my whole life and I'm not about to let you start. He'd slammed the screen door and gone straight to Tim's, started a fight, wound up at Buck's 'n drank til he vomited, woke up this mornin', and started another.

Darry was goin' to throw him to the fuckin' curb and never talk to him again. And Dallas deserved it. He wasn't one of the Curtis boys. No matter how hard he wanted to be.

"Name?" A cop had reappeared in his cell and he kicked himself for missin' it.

"Curtis." Dallas opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. "Fuck. No, sorry." Since when the fuck did he apologize to cops! "It's Winston. Dallas Winston."

The man just stared at him, Curtis already written across the top of the paper in big, bold letters. "Are you sober, kid?"

"Yes, I'm fuckin' sober! My name's not Curtis. How the fuck do you not know me?" To his horror, he feels hot tears in the back of his throat. He's just some no-good juvenile delinquent every bastard officer in this town knows by name except this one apparently because all he is is trouble. And Darry hated him.

"Sure, kid." The man shuffles his papers together. "Officer Matthews has already called your- big brother is it? He's on his way."

"He's not my brother!" And now he's actually cryin' which is bullshit! Who cares! Who cares that Darry is gonna look at him just like his father did. Like he was a burden he'd do anythin' to get rid of. Like the worst thing Dallas ever did was simply show up in his life one day. Dallas is used to this. He's not someone who stays. He was meant to be left. He's a violent dog. He only knows how to bite.

"Dallas?" Darry's voice makes him jump. He doesn't pull his hands away from where they're pressed so hard into his eyes that he sees stars. He can't bear to look up and see what he already knows he will—not hatred, but cold, cold indifference.

"Out." Darry isn't talkin' to him, Dallas can tell he's turned around by the way his voice bounces back to him off the cement walls. He flinches anyway. "Please." He adds like an afterthought and Dallas hears the door open and close.

"I'm goin' to touch you, ok?" Dallas doesn't say anythin', just makes a low noise in the back of his throat. He feels Darry gently tip his head back, eyes still squeezed shut. He feels him softly check the area on his jaw he knows will bruise tomorrow and run experimental fingers along his ribs for breaks. Dally hisses once and Darry immediately pulls back.

"Oh, Dallas." And suddenly Dallas is fuckin' cryin' again. Darry sounds so tired and worn down and old. Did Dallas do that? Did Dallas make him like that? And the sob that catches in his throat makes him choke.

But then he's pressed against Darry's chest and his hands are strong on Dalla's back and in his hair and Dallas doesn't even fight it. Just lets himself be held and doesn't even mind he feels as small as Ponyboy.

"Come on, Dallas Curtis. Let's go home."

[petew21-blog]

Workout routine

My best friend from school, Emily, married last summer while still being at university with me. She is still young, but claimed that her boyfriend truly loves her. Bullshit if you ask me, he never respected here and treated here like a trophy wife since the beginning. Yeah I hated him. He was a homophobic asshole and acting like some fuckin' alpha male. Why Emily dated him I never understood

One day we were on their garden studying for an upcoming exam. I was nervous most of the time cause James was working outside fixing stuff and eyed me like a prey. Emily went to get us some snacks and drinks.

He came up to me and started some homophobic talk how I could choose this path of sin and so on. I couldn't look up at him. Cause he was very close to me, very shritless and VERY sexy. Way too much. If I looked up even for a second, I would immediately get hard.

"You gays are the worst thing about this generation. You can't even work, y'all do your artsy useless shit and nothing usefull"

"Can you just let me live and go on about your life? I don't want to listen to this."

"Well you're on my property so you'll listen to whatever I have to tell you"

A call from inside the house. Emilly called him

"You're lucky. If it weren't for her you'd be already on the ground biting dust"

What an idiot. I was raging. I think I'll just leave and go home. I can't calm myself down and I don't want to cause any drama with Emily. Even if I think her husband is horrible, I don't want ot loose her a s a friend"

Emily came out of the house, smiling. She brought the snacks and water. She looked at me "Sorry for... taking so long. I had to sort something that couldn't wait. Now drink up, you haven't drank for hours. I should have brought drinks sooner."

I took the glass and took a sip. But then I felt really nauseaous. My vision was blurry now and I felt like vomiting. All I could make out of Emily's face was that she was smiling.

Then my vision started getting clearer again. But it was strange, I wasn't outside anymore. I was in their kitchen, holding a glass. "How did I get here?" went through in my head. As I looked for the nearest surface to put down the glass I noticed that I was shirtless.

Wait, what?!? This isn't my body!!!

I let go off the glass destroying it. But nothing could have prepared me for being this ripped in the matter of seconds. This is something I always wished for, but never thought I would get. I was always the skinny twink trying to build more muscles, but couldn't. And now, I have massive muscles.

I found a mirror in the hall. No, this can't be happening. I am James. I can't be him. He is an asshole. A homophobic asshole.

But his body thought otherwise. His dick got hard. And it isn't small. Which might be cool to play with, but now I was still angry everytime I looked at the mirror.

"Enjoying yourself?" Emily asked as she entered the house

"What have you done, Ems?"

"I gave you a new body. The one you have been lusting for. And as a side effect I got myself an improvement for a boyfriend. I loved him before, but I was blind and deaf to all the things he said on your account and to all the things he commented about me. Never appreciated me. But you are the best man I ever knew. And I wanted to be with you even if I wasn't your type. But now, I think I might be" she said as she placed her hand on my new crotch.

I thought I wouldn't like this, cause I was gay for my entire life, but James's body is still straight. But in my mind I could even picture myself with a dude and not be disgusted

"Ems, I think you didn't turn me straight as you wished for. I think I'm bi, actually"

"Whatever is best for both of us. I got a cute gay friend who you might like and who would love to explore your body, with me. But I think there might be some emotions involved, you know. Cause of the previous ownership and so on." she said and laughed out loud.

I took her up and put her on the kitchen table. Embracing her and going for a kiss.

"Ems, you are the best friend I could have ever wanted. I love you and I will love you now as your husband"

We could hear a scream outside coming from the garden. We could only smile at each other as we knew what was coming

Two months later:

"Hey, my name is James and this is my colleague Robert. Robert is a small gay dude friend from my wife. We are going on a road trip to get to know each other better with the permission from my wife. So we would like a room"

"Oh, there's only double bed? That's absolutely fine with us, right Robert? Bro's will be bro's and NO HOMO. Hahaha"

A story request from Inbox: Could you do a swap with a Twink and his best friend’s bodybuilder husband?

[joekeeryswife]

plz could you write something about mase looking after you when you’ve had a rough day with the baby!!

stress - m.m

a/n: hello angel! thank you for your request. omg i love it so much, kinda changed it a little if that’s okay! (dad! imagines own my heart!!!!). idk how to feel about this one so lmk what you guys think! anyways, let’s get on with the imagine, enjoy reading 🫶

mason mount taglist: @noturbabe22 @luvvtrent @peterparkerbae

four weeks, it had only been four weeks since you’d had your baby and you were already feeling like you’d failed her.

you knew becoming a mum would be difficult but you didn’t realise just how hard it was going to be. it was like everything you did was wrong.

Mason had gone back to work only a week after Margot was born and that was one of the worst thing to ever happen. you felt like you didn’t have support even though he would get up with her during the night and as soon as he got back from work he would take over looking after her. what was funny was whenever Mason got back from football she was never crying, it was like she could sense he was coming home.

Margot loved Mason. whenever he had her she hardly cried, she’d watch his face with such concentration and coo at him all the time. but when she was with you, she’d scream and cry no matter what you did.

you felt useless.

you felt like the worst mum in the entire world, not understanding what was wrong with her as she cried just hurt your heart. you just wanted to be in the ‘baby bubble’ everyone spoke about.

you wanted to feel like your friends did when they had their kids. they were always smiling, always happy when they were with their babies who hardly cried when they were with them, it was like you were broken.

today was like no other. it started out okay, Margot was actually happy this morning when you woke up, Mason had given her a bath and put her in the cutest outfit but then as soon as he said his goodbyes to the two of you and he drove out of the driveway, all hell broke loose.

she was just sobbing and it hurt you to hear those cries. “oh Margot, what’s the matter my angel. please don’t cry sweetheart. are you hungry? is that what it is?”

you quickly balanced her with one arm as you tried to lift up your pyjama top so you could breastfeed her but every time you tried to get her to latch she would turn her head away and sob louder.

you had realised that Margot would hardly ever latch when you tried to breastfeed her. it was very rare that she would allow you to breast feed her so you had decided to start pumping your milk and give it to her in a bottle instead and most of the time she would drink it from the bottle.

“how about we get you a bottle instead hmm? would that make you feel better?” you knew she wouldn’t reply to you but it was nice to speak to her. you got up from the sofa after fixing your top and warmed up the milk.

her sobs grew louder as you rocked her. waiting for the microwave to ‘ding’ felt like hours. “i know sweet girl, not long now” you poured the milk once it was warm enough into the bottle and went to sit back down on the sofa. you tried a few times before she finally started drinking the milk, her sobs died down but her eyes were still filled with tears and the tear stains on her cheeks broke your heart.

she was hiccuping slightly as she drank her milk but her eyes were fluttering masa img she was trying her best to not fall asleep. “you rest angel, mummy isn’t going anywhere. and i’m sorry i can’t understand you like your dad does, i promise i’m trying my best”

with that, her eyes closed and it was finally silent in the house. you just hoped today would be a lot better than the rest.

-♡-

Mason was back home a little later than expected tonight, he had been asked to stay back to speak to ten Hag which he forgot to tell you about but he knew you had it all okay at home. you always had Margot in a good-ish mood when he would come home and it was always nice to come home to a quiet house after training or a football match. he would hear shouting all day and coming home was just perfect.

you didn’t want Mason to know you were struggling, to you it felt like the worst thing i’m the world. you were meant to be a good mum as soon as you gave birth but you just felt like all you did was struggle. you had no idea what you were doing and you didn’t want Mason to be disappointed in you.

however, tonight Margot would not stop crying. after her bottle this morning she napped for maybe 30 minutes before her sobs started again and that continued for the entire day. you didn’t know what to do and you felt like you had failed as a mother. you had no idea what was wrong with her and you hated that you couldn’t understand what she was crying for. you felt like she hated you.

as Mason entered the house he could hear the wails coming from Margot, he had never ever heard her sound like this before and or worried him. he could hear you, speaking to her softly over her cries, you sounded just as upset as her. “i’m so sorry angel, i don’t understand why you’re crying. i’ve fed you, cuddled you, changed you, i don’t know what else i can do. i’m sorry i’m failing you”

his heart broke. he walked into the living room and saw you holding Margot in your chest with tears streaming down your face. you looked so defeated and he hated it. “hey, what’s going on? are you okay?” he questioned as he slowly walked towards you.

you hadn’t heard the front door close so hearing him made you jump. you didn’t want him ti see you like this so you quickly wiped your eyes and showed him your best convincing smile. “oh yeah i’m fine, she’s just, i don’t know what’s the matter. i think she just might be tired” you lied, of course you weren’t okay.

“do you want me to take her?” he held is arms out so he could take Margo from you so you quickly passed her to him and he gently started rocking her which no i’m surprise stopped her cries. you felt your heart break. was it really that easy?

your eyes filled with tears, jealousy and frustration taking over your body as you saw how easy it was for him to calm her down. “look, go upstairs and have a shower, i’ll take care of Margot and you just have a break okay?we can talk after if you want to” he watched your shoulders drop slightly and your chin quiver as you tried to hold in your tears, something was definitely wrong and he was going to figure out what.

once he heard the bathroom door close he sat down on the sofa with Margot. he watched her huge brown eyes dart across his face. “what’s happened angel? you giving mama a hard time?” she cooed at him, a small smile on her face which looked exactly like yours. “you can’t give mama a hard time honey, mama’s with you all day” she squealed, obviously not understanding him.

“i’m sure you tired, if you’ve been crying like that all day i’m surprised you’re up right now” he decided to grab a bottle and try get her to nap so he could speak to you. he had never seen you like that before.

he warmed up the bottle and went upstairs to her nursery and sat in the rocking chair. he started feeding Margot and immediately her eyes started to close, he honestly wished that he was able to stay off work with you when Margot was first born. he had only gotten a week off work before he had to go back and he felt awful but ten Hag wouldn’t give him anymore time off.

once Margot finished her bottle he turned on the white noise machine and put her down into her crib. he quickly exited her bedroom to leave her to nap and went to your shared bedroom. he wanted to talk to you, you barely speak to each other now and he wanted to spend time with you.

after waiting for a while you finally came out the bathroom in new pyjamas and your hair was wrapped in a towel. your eyes were red, it was obvious you had been crying. “hey” you said, noticing him on the bed. he opened his arms and waited for you to sit on the bed next to him so he could hug you.

you quickly got onto the bed and cuddled into him. “we haven’t cuddled in ages, we haven’t spoke in ages. i want to know what’s bothering you sweetheart. i’ve never seen you look so upset” he kissed your forehead.

“i just, i feel like i’m not a good mum. like everyday all she does as soon as you leave is scream and cry and i’m trying my best to understand what’s wrong with her and i’m struggling. i’m struggling a lot” you felt your eyes well up with new tears. Mason felt his heart break. he was annoyed with himself for not noticing sooner.

“it feels like she hates me. and i just feel stupid because as soon as she’s with you, you calm her down. she even smiles at you. i’m feeling so lonely and i feel like a terrible mum.” your tears started flowing down your cheeks. you were quietly sobbing as Mason pulled you in closer and ran his hand up and down your back.

“i’m so sorry sweetheart, i really am. i’m sorry i haven’t been here to support you, i’m sorry you’ve had to do it all on your own. it’s not fair at all. and i’m sorry you think that you’re a bad mum because you aren’t. you are the most incredible mum” he heard your sniffles, guilt eating him alive.

“if you weren’t a good mum you wouldn’t do half the shit you do now. she doesn’t hate you angel, she loves you. you don’t know what she tells me when i come home” he joked which made you giggle through tears.

“i know it is tough right now, but i promise it’ll get better.” you looked up at him with uncertainty. “it will, stop giving me that look” he gave you a sympathetic smile. he hated that you were feeling this way, he wanted you to enjoy being a mum.

“you stay here for a bit, i need to go do something. don’t come downstairs until i say alright? just watch some tv and i’ll be back” he gave you a few pecks before he left you in the bedroom, confusion filling your body. but nevertheless you grabbed the remote and turned on the tv, trying to finally relax.

-♡-

it had been over an hour since Mason asked you to stay upstairs and all you could hear downstairs was Mason’s footsteps. you had absolutely no idea what he was doing and you were nervous to even go back downstairs.

“y/n sweetheart you can come down now” you heard him shout up to you so you quickly turned off the tv and made your way downstairs. whilst you were upstairs Mason did come to get Margot who had awoken from her nap about thirty minutes into him leaving you upstairs.

you had gone to get her out of her nursery but Mason quickly shooed you away back to the bedroom so he could take care of her. you were grateful he went to help Margot, he knew how stressed you were and he was trying to make you feel better so he took Margot downstairs with him.

you walked down the stairs and into the living room and saw blankets and pillows covering the sofa with your favourite food on the coffee table and your favourite movie ready to play on the tv. Mason was holding a now very aware Margot who actually reached out for you.

“i know it’s not much but i thought maybe we could spend time together for once?” Mason handed Margot over to you and kissed you passionately. “i’d love to” you kissed him one more time before you both made your way to get under the covers on the sofa.

Mason pulled you into his hold and kissed your forehead. “i know this doesn’t make up for what’s been happening these past few weeks but i do want you to know me and Margot appreciate everything you do” you felt a smile form on your face as he spoke, he had a way with words which always made you feel special.

“i have also spoken to ten Hag and told him that i’m gonna take a few weeks time off to look after you both. i don’t want you to feel alone, ever, because i am here for you” you looked up at him, it was the first time he’d seen you smile in ages.

“i know you are, you didn’t need to take a few weeks off. will he not get angry at you?” you kissed his cheek and he shook his head. “i didn’t get to take the time of when she was first born so i i don’t care if he’s mad. i have a family to look after” he lent down to kiss you again.

you didn’t know why you were so anxious to tell Mason how you were feeling, you knew he would help you and you appreciated him. “thank you mase, i love you” he smiled at you “i love you more”.

[hauntedhokage]

𝓈𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇

Sylus x F!MC

word count: 1.6k

summary: After a UNICORNS holiday party, you meet up with Sylus in the most festive attire you have in your closet.

note: for @silverrings-n-prettythings, merry christmas bitch ily

Holiday parties with mandatory attendance rules were stupid.

You understood and somewhat respected the desire to reward the team for their efforts this year and give them an opportunity to relax, but requiring attendance at the event made the party less of a party and more of a team meeting. Your pre-existing plans be damned, “team bonding” was more important than the dinner reservations your partner had made. Despite how exclusive the restaurant was, how difficult it was to get those reservations - it was the party over anything and you did fear retaliatory missions should you choose to skip.

Tara had tried over the last week to get you to bring the boyfriend she’d yet to meet, seeing this as the golden opportunity to finally meet the mysterious Skye - “If that was his real name”. Every suggestion that you use your right to a plus one is shot down, but you don’t correct her on his name or the way the excitedly slipped off the morning of the party when you’d tiredly mumbled something sarcastic regarding his appearance that evening.

Her disappointment when you show up alone is almost enough to make you feel bad. Almost. But you wear your sweater, a bright red garment decorated with white snowflakes and black feathers and at the front read Santa Caws with a Grumpy Crow wearing a santa hat. Everyone could be well aware that you didn’t want to be there and would only be there long enough to be noticed before you left, but they couldn’t say that you were trying to be a buzzkill. You drank, chatted, danced, and had a merry time with your coworkers until your phone vibrated in your back pocket.

Sylus

6:04pm

Fifteen minutes, sweetie.

Sylus

6:04pm

Don’t keep me waiting.

Your exit is well timed, making sure to grab the box you were eyeing from the white elephant table on your way out in adherence to the rules. It wasn’t anything fancy or expensive, but it was necessary for you to make sure you had the last laugh against Sylus tonight.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Tara asks, speech slurred as an accusatory finger is pointed in your direction. “It’s only-“

“I still have reservations to make, Tara. I’ll see you on Monday, get home safe!”

She’s too tipsy to be able to catch you before the elevator door closes, and you lean against the wall with a sigh of relief at finally being free from that party. You were having fun, but even forty-five minutes was too long when you knew Sylus was waiting for you.

The elevator doesn’t move fast enough, the security locks take too long to register and record your credentials (and take even longer to actually unlock the doors) but it’s all worth it when you’re finally stepping out of the Hunter Association building and into the crisp winter air outside.

“That sweater is more of a crime than anything that’s ever occurred in the N109 zone.”

The pot was certainly calling the kettle black here, as Sylus was wearing a green cardigan that was obnoxious with every move he made; covered in little bells, garland, and lights that decorated the little tree shapes knitted into the fabric. Luke and Kieran certainly delivered when you’d asked for them to produce the worst thing they could find for him to wear for your date this evening. But still, even in something so heinous, Sylus’ figure was imposing as he leaned against the car that would be your chariot for the evening.

“Mine doesn’t alert everything in a five mile radius of my position when I breathe,” you retort, poking his chest and being in delight when the bells sounded in response. “But nice try.”

He only chuckles, opening the door of the vehicle for you to slide into the passenger’s seat. You set the box down at your feet as Sylus makes his way around to the driver’s seat.

You tell him about your day as he drives, answering the questions he had about the party you were at and your coworker’s - specifically Tara - suspicions regarding your dating life.

“You know, considering you run around with various pictures of me on hand and nobody has said anything, I’m sure you could’ve brought me to your work party.”

“While you’re right, I do like keeping you to myself.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m very possessive, Sylus.”

“I’m very aware, sweetie.” He winks, the action bringing a fresh heat to your cheeks as he continues. “Perhaps I want to see what happens when a kitten’s territory is threatened.”

“I’d have to be insecure to feel threatened,” you counter, smirking in your victory when he hums his approval. “Our uninterrupted time together is often limited, so if I don’t have to share your attention I’m not going to.”

“A sentiment we share, my bell.”

Your dinner is quiet, some patrons of the restaurant also dressed to match the season while others were dressed more formal to match the usual atmosphere of this restaurant. The restaurant overlooks the amusement park, treating you to a holiday light show as you eat your dinner at one of the coveted balcony tables. Despite the chill, you’re kept warm by the various fire pits going strong among the tables and you’re further warmed by Sylus’ attentive gaze as you discuss plans for the holiday and upcoming new year.

“I know you said not to worry about moving the reservation, but I do want to apologize for the inconvenience it must’ve been for you.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it actually worked out for the better because it meant I could secure this table.”

“That’s good to hear then. You should probably make next year’s reservations in advance.”

What were you saying? Making plans for a year in advance when tomorrow was barely guaranteed in your line of work? When you didn’t even know where your separate occupations would lead you? It was silly to make suggestions like that and you’re a bit embarrassed that you would try to.

“A good idea, sweetie.”

The praise has you grinning despite your embarrassment, clearly worried for no reason when he hasn’t even blinked at the suggestion. Maybe he was just as hopeful as you were for continued tomorrows that would carry you to the next holiday and every one after that?

“Let’s finish our ice cream, wouldn’t want the light maze line to get too terribly long.”

The line for the maze moves quickly, and soon you’re holding onto Sylus’ hand tightly as you move through the maze. Even with the balcony overlooking a section of the maze, the lights decorating the walls and other lost adventurers made it difficult to truly find your bearings in the structure. But you’re with Sylus and this time With him feels sacred, so you’re truly enjoying every minute with him that you have. You can’t help but think that you’d like to do this every year with him, exploring the light maze and watching the light shows while wearing ugly sweaters in the fanciest restaurant in Linkon City. The thought makes you slow down, something that Sylus definitely notices if the way he pulls you to the side is any indicator. It’s a good place to stop, not in the way of anyone else exploring the light maze and you’re grateful for the moment to be away from others as you stand at the dead end.

“You’re thinking hard, sweetie.” His observation with coupled with a hand on your cheek, and you smile up at him in an effort to assure him that you were alright. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking that I’d like to spend every holiday season watching the lights here with you,” you murmur, your arms winding around his neck tightly as he leans in to lift you into his arms so he could comfortably rest his forehead against yours. His hands are warm through your jeans as they support your weight, and you feel your cheeks get even warmer at your intimate positioning in such a public space.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I get to see the lights decorating your eyes, silver bell.”

You want to argue that it’s him the lights compliment more, pale skin illuminated by the soft hues surrounding you in the light maze. Ruby red irises sparkle with the reflection of twinkling lights, the sight mesmerizing and further complimented by his soft smile as he looks at you.

“The things I’d do to you if we weren’t in the middle of an amusement park.”

“Tell the twins to set up some lights in your bedroom, you can act on it all there.” You suggest, grin stretching across your face when he lets out a hum indicating that he was satisfied with your suggestion. “Just without the jingling sweater.”

For emphasis, you flick one of the bells sitting at the collar of his cardigan, warning a chuckle from your silver haired lover before he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss.

It’s saccharine, sweeter than the ice cream you’d shared on the balcony and carrying every sentiment let unsaid between you. The lights around you only make the moment more magical, and you wish there was a camera that could capture this moment but at the same time are grateful that this would live in your memories alone.

“It seems I’ve defeated the purpose of the mistletoe you’ve had on you since you left your party.” He teases, voice a murmur against your lips as you grin.

“That’s for later tonight,” you inform, pressing your lips to his in a chaste peck. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

After all, how was he supposed to expect that it was going to go around your waist?

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 18 | Hangman x OC

Summary: It's hard for Jake to come to terms with the fact that Jessica thinks he's good enough for her. He doesn't want to doubt himself, but changing your habits is hard. Jessica feels like she's inching closer to getting tenure before Brian returns, and she allows herself a break from work to celebrate her boyfriend's birthday.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral, angst, language, mention drinking and driving, 18+

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake opened his eyes and groaned softly, snapping them closed again to shut out the warm sunlight on his face. 

"Good morning." The softly whispered greeting and the gentle fingers in his hair told him he made it to Jessica's place before he passed out. And now he had a hangover. He lost control of himself last night at the bar, and he drove himself to his girlfriend's place and went to sleep like some sort of asshole. 

"I'm sorry," he croaked, trying to swallow against his dry mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Jake felt her lips on his forehead, and he melted at the sweetness of it. He'd been terrible last night. Not at all the kind of man she deserved. "Do you want me to try to make you breakfast?" she asked, her lips skimming his ear.

"No. I want you to stay right here with me."

"Okay," she replied with a little laugh, and she let Jake hold onto her, tucking her head under his chin. Losing this now would be the worst thing that ever happened to him. "Did you have fun last night?"

He swallowed again. "I knew you were busy, and I didn't even mean to bother you."

The way she touched him was almost too much to handle. Her fingers were teasing along the shell of his ear as she played with his hair. "I'm not too busy for you."

Jake opened his eyes again to see Jessica looking up at him. She was actually perfect, and it hurt him to say, "There were some girls at the bar last night when I was with Bradshaw."

The puckered wrinkle that appeared between her eyebrows sent him into an immediate panic. "Oh." She started to pull away from him, but he couldn't let her.

"Jessica." His voice was just a harsh whisper. "No. Not that." She froze up in his arms as he said, "I just... I've never turned women down before." He felt absolutely disgusting admitting that out loud to her, but he had to. He kind of even needed to hear himself say it. "Last night was the first time. Because of you. Because of us."

Her posture softened incrementally as she asked, "What happened?"

It was more the way he felt about everything. "Nothing really happened," he replied, kissing her cheek. "Just me feeling like I'm not good enough for you. And then I drank too much."

She was quiet for a moment, and he braced himself for her judgement. Surely if he could see he wasn't good enough for her, then it must be glaringly obvious to Jessica too. But her fingers made their way back up into his hair. "I take it they flirted with you and Bradley? Tried to get you to buy them drinks? Touched you?"

"Yeah," he grunted. "Wanted us to teach them how to play pool. I had to aggressively tell them no. Then I sat at the bar with Penny after Bradley left to pick up his wife. I drank a little too much and then called you."

Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled in closer again. "Are you sure you don't want breakfast?"

He was completely taken aback. Jessica's fingers skimmed the hair at the back of his neck as she kissed his nose and cheek. "You're not upset? That I literally floundered over how to say no to someone? That I didn't even know how?"

She shook her head slightly. "Why would I be upset? You're handsome and funny. You're going to get hit on. Girls are going to flirt with you and touch you. Are you going to cheat on me?"

"No!" That was the easiest question he'd ever answered. Last night caught him off guard and threw him for a loop, but that was never a question at all. "Of course not."

"Okay, then," she whispered. "I think I understand how you used to be with women, and I'm not upset about it. I don't think you'd be as good of a boyfriend as you are if you weren't serious about me."

"I'm serious," he told her, tangling his fingers in her long hair. "I am."

She grinned and closed her eyes, before her smile faded a bit. "You didn't judge me when I told you about Brian."

Jake ground his molars together. "Because absolutely none of that was your fault, Baby."

"Well, you didn't do anything wrong either." But then she froze, eyes fixed on his face. "Wait. Did you drive yourself here last night?"

He swallowed hard. "I did."

"Jake!" she gasped, panic in her voice. "What were you thinking?!"

Jessica rolled him onto his back and straddled his waist with her hands on his chest, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. He rubbed her arms as he said, "I sat at the bar and tried to sober up first, but I needed you."

She actually sobbed. "Don't do that ever again! You could get hurt. Or hurt someone else. You could have called me for a ride." Tears fell from her eyes and slid down her cheeks, and it hit Jake right in the jugular that she was more upset about this than anything else. 

"Come here," he whispered, collecting her against his body. "I'm so sorry, Jess. I'll call you next time. Or I'll get a ride. I was so caught off guard without you around, I couldn't even think straight."

Her lips found his neck as she said, "Well next weekend is your birthday, so I'll be at your fancy Navy bar with you then."

"That'll be perfect."

She laughed softly. "But I'm used to the literal dive bar that is Chippy's, so I might not fit in."

"You will. And Penny has Sam Adams."

With another kiss to his neck, she sat up on him and wiped her eyes. "Breakfast?"

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

Jessica wasn't oblivious to the signs. She knew Jake must have been a bit of a playboy before. It seemed like maybe she was the first girlfriend he was serious about. And she was okay with that. Very okay with that. If he was trying to get his footing under him, then that meant he wanted this to last. 

He stumbled into her kitchen, half dressed with his hair sticking up everywhere and Jessica in his arms. "I'll make breakfast. You might never have to cook again."

"Oh, I love the sound of that," she giggled as he looked in her refrigerator with one arm wrapped around her waist. 

"Okay, you really need to go grocery shopping, Jess."

"What's the point? You've been spoiling me nonstop."

He just grunted, but he had a smile on his face, and a few minutes later, she was eating an omelette. Between bites, she asked, "What do you want for your birthday?"

"Nothing," he replied, taking a bite of his own breakfast. 

She smirked. "Maybe a quiet night in together?"

"I want that every day, Baby," he said as he inhaled the rest of his food. "Not just for my birthday."

If he really didn't want anything, she hoped he wouldn't be annoyed that she got him something. She had it all wrapped and ready to go by the middle of the week. 

On Wednesday morning, she was standing at the front of her largest lecture, organizing her notes, when she saw Dr. Rosenthal bustle in. He looked tired, and once again Jessica felt bad that there would be no way to really repay him for everything he was doing for her.  

She hopes this would be the lecture that really wowed him. She'd been teaching these topics since she was a grad student, and she was damn good at it. He was still getting his notebook ready when she was about to call everyone to attention, and that's when she heard it. Skateboard wheels on the industrial tile floor. Luca skated in through the lecture hall doors, and then he popped his board up into the air. It looked like he was still in his pajamas, and Jessica wanted to die from the look of disgust on Dr. Rosenthal's face.

"Luca," Jessica said, shooting him a pleading look. 

"Hey, Dr. Reed," he greeted. "Surf's looking good today, but here I am!"

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Maybe trying to relate to her students and find common ground with them during her office house wasn't the way to go after all. When she opened her eyes, Dr. Rosenthal was shuffling some papers around; he had all of her notes, including those regarding which students were passing and which ones were failing. He would see Luca's low grade any second now, and she hoped this wouldn't hurt her.

But Luca's grade was slowly but surely coming up in this class, and Jessica was actually really proud of all the work and effort he was putting in. And she immediately resigned herself to the fact that it would be more important for one of her students to be comfortable and confident enough in her class to get a passing grade than it would be for her to get tenure. Luca brought up a few wrinkled pages and handed them to her with a smile before taking his seat next to his skateboard. It was all of the extra practice problems she gave him during her office hours last night. He'd finished all of them in less than a day, and they looked to be correct at first glance. 

She nodded at him, set them aside and collected herself. She made a few announcements and ensured that everyone's attention was focused on her, and then she started teaching. Even though she knew Rosenthal was there, she tried not to look at him. Surprisingly, when she asked if anyone could answer one of the problems she wrote out on the board, Luca raised his hand. 

When Jessica called on him, he said, "I think it's like.... 200 meters per second?"

"Yes!" she replied, kind of surprised but very pleased. "Nice work, Luca." And honestly, that's why she was here. Even though she had to teach Brian's class which was outside of her wheelhouse later this afternoon, she would get more practice problems ready for Luca as well.

At lunchtime, Jessica decided to stop by and see if her friend was around. They wouldn't be able to talk much about the tenure review, but at least maybe they could eat together. Besides, her office was bigger and nicer, and the math hallways were quiet at this time of day.

Jessica could hear her friend's soft laughter before she saw her, and when her office door came into view, she was standing there with her husband. "I don't want to go back to work," he told her with a smirk on his lips and his big hand on her butt. "I want to stay for round two. Maybe sit in one of your lectures and be your top student." When she tried to sneak away unnoticed, Bradley called out, "Hey, Jess." His wife spun around with a smile, but he kept his hands all over her. 

"Hi! Did you stop by for lunch?"

"Yeah," Jessica replied, and she was sure her cheeks were flushed. "But you look busy."

Bradley kissed the side of his wife's neck and whispered something in her ear that made her eyes go wide, and then he was walking away as he told her, "I love you." He winked at Jessica and said, "I was just leaving. Have a nice afternoon."

Jessica held her little lunch container from Jake and examined her friend's dreamy expression. This wasn't the first time she felt like she was interrupting them, and she wondered how often Bradley actually stopped by for a few minutes at lunchtime. And then she felt her cheeks grow warmer. "Sorry I'm interrupting... again."

Her friend laughed. "You're not. He interrupted my lunch."

"Yeah," Jessica whispered. "But he brought you dessert."

Both of them were laughing hysterically as Jessica followed her into her office.

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

Jake knew Jessica was busy, but he always felt better when he was with her. He'd been avoiding her office hours so she had time to keep tabs on the new students she'd absorbed from Brian's class, but that also meant he didn't get to have a mid week sleepover. On Friday night, he caved and called her when she was probably on her way home from campus. Tomorrow was his birthday, and he'd been hoping to have her sleepover, but he wasn't about to invade her schedule at the moment. He stripped off his undershirt and collapsed on his bed as the phone rang and rang.

"Jake!" she gushed when she answered. Even the sound of her voice made him a little dizzy. "How's the birthday boy?"

He chuckled. "That's not until tomorrow."

"I know," she said, "but it's really a celebration all weekend long, right?"

"If you say so, Baby."

"I do say so," she replied. "I'm just getting in my car now."

He hummed as he thought about her in one of her little skirts and sweater sets and high heels, and almost instantly his cock responded. "You're getting in your car?" he repeated, picturing her sliding across the soft leather interior. 

His hand slipped inside his black briefs without him even thinking about what he was doing. It had been more than five days since he'd fucked his girlfriend, and he was starting to ache. He had no idea how he'd ever be able to handle a deployment now as he wrapped his hand around his cock. 

"Yeah, but there's a road closed, so it's probably going to take me forever," she mused as he heard the engine start up.

Jake grunted. "Just as long as you get home safe, Baby. You want to tell me about your day?"

"It was so good!" She sounded really upbeat and excited, and Jake tried to listen to every detail with his hand just sitting there, but it was impossible. Her voice was too sweet. She was the only one he ever wanted. He started stroking himself when she said, "I was thinking about you all afternoon. I taught the same problem that you answered correctly in my back to school mini lecture. You know... the night we met."

He moaned. "Best night of my fucking life." He pulled himself free of the elastic and stroked himself slowly as he said, "Imagine, a hottie with a PhD offering to buy me a three dollar beer."

She giggled which left him groaning. Then the line went quiet. "Are you... what are you.... it sounds like you're touching yourself?"

"I am," he replied. "I just started. Your voice is too sweet, Jessica."

"Oh," she sighed. "Guess what I'm wearing."

"Fuck. You're making it worse," he complained playfully. "Are you in one of those little skirts?"

"You know, I think I might be."

"And high heels?"

"Always."

"And one of those soft little sweaters?" he moaned.

"Yes, my green one."

That one was his favorite. It was the same shade of green as that lingerie set he loved. He was a mess, looking down at his cock, unsure whether he wanted to rub this out quickly or make it last. "I wish you were coming over tonight, but I know you're busy as hell."

"Jake, of course I'm coming over. I'm already most of the way there. Don't you want me to?"

He let out a sigh of relief. "Jesus, Jessica. I need you. Yes, I want you to come over."

She laughed and asked, "Are you going to keep touching yourself until I get there?"

He took a few deep breaths. "If I do that, then I won't be any fun when you get here and I only last three minutes."

"Maybe that's true... but I'm sure you can muster up what's needed for round two. Right?"

"For you? Absolutely," he promised as he eased his hand up and down his length. 

"I'll be there in five," Jessica said before ending the call, and Jake stood and tried to walk around his condo. His dick was rock hard, and he occasionally stroked himself to relieve some of the need, but he wanted to wait for his girl. 

"Damn," he groaned through gritted teeth. He hung out of the top of his underwear and bounced with every step he took. Then he finally heard the knock on his door. He opened it without even checking to make sure it was her, and Jessica gasped when she saw him.

"Hi," she said as her wide eyes and parted lips gave way to a little smirk. She was wearing the little outfit he'd been able to picture just perfectly, and her hair hung around her face in soft waves. "Want me to take care of that for you, birthday boy?"

"If you wouldn't mind," he replied, closing the door behind her, and much to his delight, she tossed her bag aside and dropped right to her knees. His cock was inside her warm, wet mouth immediately, and he was being treated to the luxury of her tongue drawing lazy circles along his length. "Jessica."

She hummed as she took him deep and started to suck, and he knew it was absolutely a lost cause. He just smoothed his hand along her hair before taking a fistful at the back of her head and let himself enjoy this. He grunted softly at the perfect feel of her as she bobbed along, looking up at him with crooked glasses. 

"Fuck." He came as soon as her fingers grazed his balls, and he watched her sputter and swallow all of him down. Her movements started to slow, and he was almost twitching from overstimulation when she finally withdrew him with a little pat on his hip. 

She was smiling up at him as he released her hair. "Shit, Jessica. What was I thinking? You shouldn't have been walking around alone after dark, Baby."

She kissed his thigh, and then he started to pull her to her feet. "It's not that dark out yet, and besides, a very nice man with a knife walked me inside from the parking lot." When his eyes went wide, she cupped his cheek and said, "I'm only kidding."

He groaned and kissed her, tasting his cum in her mouth which just made him feel even more protective. In a lot of ways, he was still getting used to being in a relationship, but he really didn't want to fuck this up. "Next time, even if it isn't quite dark yet, I will come down and walk you inside."

"Even if you have an erection?" she asked, snuggling up in his arms. 

"Especially if I have an erection. It'll scare off the guys with knives," he whispered, making her laugh. The words were right there. They were always right there. He realized it after the fact that he almost told the girls at the bar last weekend that he was in love with his girlfriend. He kissed her forehead and said, "I wasn't sure if you were coming, so I only have leftovers."

Jessica moaned. "Jake Seresin leftovers are still peak gourmet, and I'm starving."

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the kitchen and set her down on the counter before he tucked himself back in his underwear. She was all smiles as he opened the refrigerator and started naming what he had in there. "Surprise me," she whispered, and he started heating up a huge bowl of chili to share with her. 

When he pulled out two forks, he kissed her cheek and said, "Why don't you tell me all about your week? And then I'll take you to bed."

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

Jessica thought about saving his present for later, but right at midnight, she kissed him and whispered, "Happy birthday." He smiled even though his eyes were closed where he lay on the pillow next to her, completely sated. He'd done a fine job of unwrapping her, kissing every inch of her legs before removing her skirt. Tasting her everywhere while she modeled her green lingerie for him. Fucking her nice and slow until she was practically begging for more. 

When she started to climb out of bed, he reached for her hand. "Where you going?" His voice was raspy and sounded a little tired. 

"To get your birthday present."

"I only wanted you," he replied, and she just looked at him and wondered how he could be so sweet. She loved the way he really seemed to care what she was doing and wanted to be involved. He'd been sweet through the fraternity fundraiser and even through everything with Brian. Honestly, the little wrapped box inside her overnight bag didn't contain much, but she hoped it would convey how she felt. 

"Well you got me and something else, too," she whispered, kissing his hand before slipping out of bed. She could feel his eyes on her naked body as she rooted around for the gift, and then she returned with it. She handed it to him and slipped back in bed next to him. "You can open it now since it's officially your birthday."

He just looked at the black and green striped wrapping paper for a few seconds, and then he set it down and turned toward her. Jake kissed her with so much feeling, it knocked her breath out of her lungs. "Thank you," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers as he stroked her cheek with his rough thumb. "I can't even remember the last time I got an actual birthday gift. Even my mom and dad just send me a gift card every year."

She kissed him this time before she said, "Well maybe you should lower your expectations a little bit." But he just shook his head as he picked up the box and started to unwrap it. 

"Jessica," he whispered when he held the framed print of a Super Hornet in one hand. "This is so cool."

She smiled as he examined it closely, taking in all of the hand drawn lines and detailed markups. "It's kind of like the top secret F/A-18 schematics that you let me look at."

He turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. "Baby, I stole those for you."

She could feel her cheeks heat up as she buried her face in his neck. "I know," she whispered. "And I thought this would always remind you of me."

He gently set the frame down on his nightstand and pulled her on top of him. "Everything reminds me of you. And I think about you all the time."

But she still felt embarrassed for no reason even though she was basking in his words. She kissed his neck softly and reached up to run her fingers through his hair as she whispered, "Same, birthday boy."

She was starting to doze off when he said, "In the morning, will you help me decide where to hang my gift?"

"Of course."

"And we can make waffles again? And if you're a good girl, I'll eat your pussy again."

She giggled. "If that's what you want for your birthday breakfast, then sure."

He let his hand trail down her back to squeeze her butt. "That's absolutely what I want for breakfast. A real culinary treat." She rolled her eyes, but he didn't seem to be kidding. "And then tomorrow night, I'll take you to the bar and show you off to all my friends."

"And you'll buy me a Sam Adams while I cheat on Chippy."

Jake barked out a laugh. "What Chippy doesn't know won't hurt him, Baby."

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

The birthday boy better buy her all the Sam Adams she wants. And I just know for a fact Chippy will be able to tell she went to another bar! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 19

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[nanananac]

The Stranger in the Living Room - Part 2

The Salesman x Female Reader

Summary:

She thought the Salesman was just a polite guest, her father’s new friend, charming and well-mannered. But when her father drank too much and fell asleep, she found herself alone with him.

He teased, tested, touched just enough to make her want more. She tried to fight it, tried to pretend she wasn’t affected. But when she moaned for him, breathless and shaking?

She knew she had already lost.

Warnings:

Tension, power play, obsession, slow surrender, edging, emotional conflict, teasing, slutshaming

The smell of food pulled her from sleep.

She stirred, groggy, blinking against the sunlight that streamed through her curtains. For a second, she wasn’t sure where she was. Then—she remembered.

The night before.

Him.

Her stomach flipped, and she clenched her jaw.

No.

She wasn’t thinking about him. She wasn’t thinking about the way his hands had teased her skin, the weight of his hand on her thigh, the way his voice had curled around her like a promise, the way his voice had dropped into something dark and teasing.

The way he had said those things.

the way she had—

No.

She shoved the thoughts away and got out of bed.

The scent of eggs and butter filled the kitchen when she stepped inside. Her father was at the stove, working effortlessly, the way he always did.

"Morning," he greeted without looking up, flipping a pancake with one practiced motion.

She sat at the table, exhaling carefully. "Morning."

He plated the food, setting eggs, bacon, and pancakes in front of her before sitting across the table with his own plate.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while.

Then—

She twirled her fork, keeping her voice casual. "Oh, by the way… your guest from last night."

Her father glanced up. "Hm?"

She took a bite of eggs. "How do you know him?"

He waved his fork absently. “Met him through work.”

Her stomach tightened.

That didn’t tell her anything.

She cut into the egg, pretending not to care. “What does he do?”

Her father paused.

She glanced up.

He looked… uncertain.

Not suspicious. Not like he was hiding something.

Just like he had never really thought about it before.

“…Sales,” he said after a beat. “He’s a salesman.”

Her breath caught.

She had known that was the answer.

And yet—

It still sent a shiver down her spine.

She forced herself to take a bite.

Tried to act unbothered.

Tried to ignore the phantom press of his lips against her jaw, the teasing warmth of his fingers on her thigh, the card still waiting for her upstairs—

She clenched her fork tighter.

“Sales?” she repeated.

Her father nodded, taking another bite. “Yeah.”

She swallowed. “…Sales for what?”

A pause.

Her father blinked.

Then, after a moment—he laughed.

She stiffened.

“Good question,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think I ever actually asked.”

She stared at him.

He looked… completely unbothered.

Completely unaware that the man he had been drinking with last night had been in her bedroom, touching her, whispering in her ear, making her fall apart just to prove he could.

And the worst part?

The way he had smiled as he left.

Like he had known exactly how much space he had taken up in her head.

Her pulse pounded.

Her fingers tightened on her fork.

Yeah. He does.

She hummed, keeping her tone light. "How old is he?"

Her father frowned.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"I have no idea."

A chill slid down her spine.

She forced herself to take another bite.

Then, her father laughed.

It wasn’t a normal laugh. It was… confused.

Her father—who prided himself on knowing everyone—had let a man into their home, drank with him, trusted him…

And yet.

He didn’t even know his age.

Didn’t even know his job.

He must have seen something on her face because he chuckled. "Strange, isn’t it? We talk all the time, but now that I think about it… I don’t know much about him at all."

Her pulse pounded.

Because she did.

She knew his touch.

She knew his voice.

She knew the way he could break her apart with nothing but a look.

And now?

She wanted to know more.

The card was in her palm.

She sat on the edge of her bed, heart hammering.

This was stupid.

But she was already dialing.

The phone rang.

A click.

Then—

A low chuckle. "Couldn’t stay away, could you?"

Her breath hitched.

His voice was smooth, thick with amusement.

"I just want to talk," she said, hating how breathless she sounded.

"Do you?" he murmured. "Because last night, you sounded a lot more like a desperate little whore than a girl who just wants to talk."

Her stomach flipped violently.

She clenched her jaw. "Shut up."

He laughed. "Oh, but you liked it, didn’t you? Liked how I touched you. Liked how I left you there, shaking."

Her whole body burned.

She gritted her teeth. "Are you done?"

"Hm," he hummed. "I don’t know. Are you done? Or are you calling because you want me to finish what I started?"

She sucked in a sharp breath.

His voice dipped lower, teasing. "You should be careful, sweetheart. Call me too much, and I might think you need me."

Her fingers trembled on the phone.

"I want to meet," she snapped.

A pause. Then—

"You’re really making this easy for me."

Her teeth clenched. "Are you coming or not?"

A slow exhale.

"Of course, Texting you the location now."

"I just have some some questions for you..will you answer them when we meet?"

"Of course" He said in a sarcastic but still serious tone.

The line went dead.

Her pulse was wild.

She stared at the screen.

Then—

A message.

She clicked it.

A location.

A bar.

A wealthy one.

She took a shaky breath.

And then—she got ready.

The bar was sleek, dimly lit, expensive.

And he—

He was already there.

The Salesman sat at the bar, one arm resting lazily on the counter, dark eyes watching her with calm amusement.

"You came," he murmured.

She slid onto the seat beside him. "Obviously."

His lips curled. "Drink?"

She shook her head.

He smirked, ordering a whiskey for himself.

She exhaled. "I want to know more about you."

His gaze flickered. "Oh?"

She nodded.

His smirk widened.

She was here to get answers.

So she met his gaze, steady, sharp.

"What do you do?"

The Salesman tilted his head.

"Work," he said simply.

Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of work?"

A pause.

Then—he smiled.

"The kind people don’t ask about."

Her stomach twisted.

Not an answer.

Not really.

But wasn’t that the point?

Her fingers clenched against her lap. "How old are you?"

His lips twitched.

"Old enough."

She exhaled sharply. "That’s not—"

"Do you ask everyone you kiss these kinds of questions?" he mused.

Her face burned.

"That’s not—!"

But the bartender returned, setting a crystal glass in front of him, filled with rich amber liquid.

The Salesman nodded in thanks, picking it up carefully, deliberately, taking a slow sip before setting it back down.

Like she wasn’t even there.

Like she wasn’t losing her mind.

She forced her voice even.

"You said you’d answer my questions."

His brow lifted. "Did I?"

She glared. "You know you did."

He exhaled, tapping a finger against the glass, thinking.

Then—

"Let’s play a game."

Her stomach dropped.

She should have known.

Her fingers twitched. "What kind of game?"

His smile deepened.

"If you win," he murmured, voice low, smooth, dangerous, "I’ll answer whatever you want."

Her breath hitched.

He wasn’t joking.

His expression was calm, patient, composed.

But his eyes were daring her.

She licked her lips. "And if I lose?"

A slow hum.

"Then you answer a question for me."

Her pulse jumped.

She should have walked away.

Should have said no.

But the way he was looking at her now—calm, unbothered, like he already knew she would agree—

It made her want to fight.

She straightened, lifting her chin.

"Fine," she muttered. "What’s the game?"

His smirk widened.

"Simple." He leaned forward slightly, gaze never leaving hers.

"All you have to do," he murmured, "is not react."

Her breath caught.

Not react.

That was it?

She swallowed. "For how long?"

He tilted his head. "Until I’m bored."

Her stomach coiled.

That wasn’t fair.

Nothing about him was fair.

But she couldn’t back down.

She had come here for answers.

She wasn’t leaving without them.

So she nodded.

"Fine."

A pause.

Then—

He smiled.

And moved.

His hand lifted slowly, deliberately, fingertips brushing over the top of her knee.

Her pulse jumped.

She fought not to react.

Not to stiffen.

Not to pull away.

Not to let him see that it was already working.

That he was already winning.

His fingers moved again.

A slow, lazy drag up her thigh.

Not enough.

But just enough.

Her breath shook.

His eyes flickered, catching it.

His lips curved.

"Careful," he murmured. "You’re losing already."

Her stomach twisted.

Because he was right.

Because she wasn’t sure she could win.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

She refused to lose.

Her whole body was shaking, her pulse pounding so hard she could barely breathe, but she refused to give him the satisfaction.

Because his fingers were still moving.

Slowly going more up and up.

Slow. Deliberate.

A soft, lazy drag up her lower abdomen, pressing just enough—just barely enough—to make her stomach coil.

Not enough to cross the line.

But enough to make her want him to.

Her nails dug into the leather seat of the booth.

Not yet.

Not yet, not yet, not yet.

She just had to last.

She had to make it through without reacting.

Because if she lost, he would win.

And she couldn’t let that happen.

Not again.

The Salesman watched her carefully, waiting for her to slip.

His fingers trailed higher and then lower, pausing just at the edge of something dangerous.

Her breath shook.

His lips twitched.

"You’re close, aren’t you?" he murmured.

Her stomach flipped.

She didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because if she opened her mouth now, she might not be able to stop the sound.

His fingers pressed just slightly harder.

Her jaw clenched.

He hummed, amused.

"Still fighting," he mused. "You really don’t like losing, do you?"

Her nails bit into the seat.

She wouldn’t break.

She wouldn’t—

And then—

His hand stilled.

The heat of his palm lingered, heavy against her skin—but he didn’t move anymore.

Didn’t push further.

Didn’t test her one last time.

Just let the silence stretch.

Let the tension burn.

And then—

He smiled.

"Congratulations," he murmured. "You win."

Her breath caught.

Because she had.

She had won.

He had stopped.

He had lost.

But then—why?

Why didn’t it feel like winning at all?

She was breathless.

Shaking.

Her face was burning.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus, couldn’t even celebrate the fact that she had beaten him at his own game.

And when he leaned back, eyes calm, amused, unreadable, she realized—

He knew.

He knew she was unraveling.

Knew she was too shaken to even care about whatever answers she had fought for.

And still, he indulged her.

He reached for his drink, taking a slow sip before setting it back down, exhaling softly.

Then, he met her gaze.

"As promised," he murmured. "Ask me anything."

Her pulse pounded.

She had won.

This was the moment she had fought for.

But suddenly—

It didn’t matter.

Because she couldn’t think of a single question anymore.

Not a single one.

Because she was too hot.

Too shaken.

Too out of breath.

Her chest rose and fell too quickly.

Her lips were parted, trembling.

Her thighs were still tense, still burning from where his fingers had touched.

And the moment she opened her mouth, the truth fell out before she could stop it.

"Wait," she whispered. "No. That can wait."

His brow lifted slightly.

She exhaled hard.

Her fingers shook.

She swallowed.

Her voice was thinner, weaker, barely there as she admitted it.

"Right now… I need something else."

Silence.

He stilled.

The air went thick, suffocating.

And then—

Slowly.

Deliberately.

He smiled.

The silence between them felt thick.

Unbearable.

Her words still hung in the air, trembling, raw, too honest to take back.

"Right now… I need you."

She had said it.

She had admitted it.

And he had heard her.

He had heard every breathless syllable, every soft, desperate edge in her voice.

And now?

He was making her wait.

The Salesman leaned back against the booth, watching her like she was the most interesting thing in the world.

Like she was something to unravel.

His lips curled.

"Oh, you need me?" he murmured.

Her stomach tightened.

He was going to make her say it again.

He was going to make her beg.

Heat curled in her cheeks.

She clenched her hands in her lap. "You heard me."

His smirk deepened.

"I did."

Her breath hitched as he reached out, fingers grazing the inside of her wrist—light, teasing, a reminder of what he had done to her earlier.

A reminder of how much she had wanted it.

How much she still wanted it now.

His touch sent shivers up her spine.

Slow. Lazy. Too gentle.

Like he had all the time in the world.

Her legs pressed together.

Her whole body was burning.

But he wasn’t satisfied yet.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice smooth. "If you want it, then say how much little slut."

Her breath caught.

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

He wasn’t going to make this easy.

She swallowed. "I…"

She should have said it.

Should have just given him what he wanted.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Because she had spent so much time fighting this, fighting him—pretending she didn’t care, pretending he didn’t affect her.

And now?

Now he was making her destroy all of that herself.

Her nails dug into her palms.

She wanted to fight.

But she was so tired of fighting.

She exhaled shakily.

Then, finally—

She gave up.

"Please," she whispered.

His eyes darkened.

Her pulse skipped.

But still—he didn’t move.

"Not enough," he murmured.

Her stomach flipped.

He wanted more.

She bit the inside of her cheek, legs shifting restlessly beneath the table.

She was losing it.

Losing everything.

And still—she wanted more.

She met his gaze, cheeks burning, breath uneven.

"Please," she whispered again, softer this time, weaker, like she was breaking apart piece by piece.

The Salesman inhaled slowly.

And then—

He moved.

Not slow.

Not teasing.

She couldn’t move.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything at all except sit there, frozen, trapped in the space between anticipation and inevitability.

The Salesman’s fingers tilted her chin up, slowly, effortlessly, like he had all the time in the world.

Her lips parted.

Not on purpose.

Not because she wanted to—

But because she couldn’t help it.

His smirk deepened. "Still pretending you don’t want this?"

She should have answered.

Should have shoved him away, sneered something sharp, something to regain control—

But she didn’t.

Because she couldn’t.

And he knew it.

His gaze lowered, flickering down to her lips.

Her stomach tightened painfully.

She should have looked away.

She should have moved.

But she didn’t.

She just sat there, helpless, breath caught in her throat, waiting—waiting—

His lips brushed against hers.

Barely.

Just a whisper of contact, a slow, deliberate tease, like he wanted to torture her with the moment before it happened.

Her whole body shook.

And then—

He kissed her.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It wasn’t unsure.

It was precise—calculated, controlled, exactly like him. Like he had already decided how this would go, like he had already known exactly what she would do.

Nothing.

She did nothing.

She just sat there, breath stolen, mind blank, body burning, lips parting for him before she even realized it.

His fingers tightened in her hair—just barely, just enough to tilt her head, just enough to make the kiss deeper, slower, drawing her further and further in until there was nothing else.

Just him.

Just the slow drag of his mouth against hers, the soft pull of his lips, the teasing scrape of his teeth—

She shuddered.

A low sound escaped her throat, something between a gasp and a whimper, and she hated it—

Because the second she made it, his smirk curled against her lips.

"There it is," he murmured.

Her stomach coiled violently.

She should have pulled away.

She should have ended this, should have slapped him, screamed, done something to stop herself from unraveling completely

But she didn’t.

Because she couldn’t.

Because his hand was still in her hair, his mouth was still moving against hers, slow, indulgent, completely in control—

And she was falling apart.

Her fingers trembled in her lap, nails digging into her own thighs just to keep herself from reaching for him, from grabbing his shirt, from pulling him closer—

Because that’s what he wanted.

That’s what he was waiting for.

And she refused.

She refused.

But then—

His tongue slid against hers, slow, teasing, a wicked little test, and her whole body tightened so violently she almost gasped again—

Almost.

But not quite.

His fingers flexed against her scalp, his teeth catching her bottom lip, pulling, teasing, and she felt it coming, felt her body slipping, felt herself about to give in completely—

And then—

He pulled away.

Too slow.

Like he wanted her to feel the loss.

Like he wanted her to ache for it.

Her breath hitched sharply, her chest rising and falling too fast, the space between them suddenly unbearable.

Her lips burned.

Her whole body burned.

And he—

He just sat there.

Unbothered.

Untouched.

Completely in control.

His smirk was calm, amused, like he had won something.

And maybe—

Maybe he had.

He exhaled, slow and measured, gaze flickering down to her lips, watching her, studying her, taking in the way she was still breathless, still shaken, still desperately trying to pretend she was fine.

Then—

"Look at you," he murmured, voice low, warm, too knowing. "Falling apart already."

Her stomach dropped.

She tried to glare.

She tried to look unaffected.

But her body was betraying her.

Her breath was still uneven.

Her lips were still parted.

And worst of all—

She wanted more.

She could still taste him, still feel the way his fingers had curled against her skin, teasing, controlling, unshakable.

And now?

Now he was just sitting there, watching her struggle.

Like he had all the time in the world.

Her fingers clenched into fists.

She wouldn’t let him win.

So she forced herself to breathe.

To calm down.

To smirk right back.

"That all you’ve got?" she whispered.

His eyes darkened.

And she knew—

This was far, far from over.

Now, he had exactly what he wanted.

Now, she was his.

"Careful, brat" he murmured. "You keep asking for trouble."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You wash away the tang of the barbeque sauce with the wine. In your nervousness, you lost track of how much you’ve drank. Even as you eat, with nothing much to say, he watches you. Walter’s intensity is as roiling as the waves that rippled off the grill. 

He’s on his second can of beer but hardly seems affected. You think it’s not as strong as wine. You look at your glass and the last mouthful. 

“Don’t wanna waste it,” he leans forward and winks. 

“Oh, uh,” you gulp then put the crystal to your lips. You force yourself to swallow the last little bit. 

He stands, causing you to wince. He chuckles as he grabs the wine bottle and uncaps it. You watch him with wide eyes. 

“You’re so jumpy, relax,” he purrs as he fills your glass again. You watch the blush liquid with dread. “That lawyer idiot’s got you on edge.” 

“It isn’t...” you chew your lip and look away, “I think I’ve had enough.” 

“Bah, we’re just getting started,” he winks and plunks the bottle back down, “I’m gonna grab another beer.” 

“Right,” you agree without further protests. 

You sit back and pout into the glass. You want to go but he’s completely correct. Andy has you all twisted up and out of sorts. You can’t go back there. Not yet. You’re stuck here. Walter is every bit as intense as your brother-in-law just in a very different way.  

You stare up at the sky. It’s getting dark. You really don’t want to walk home drunk and you can feel your eyes getting foggy. You feel a bit jittery but that could just be the usual. Unthinkingly, you take a swig to soothe yourself. You see how it can be so dangerous to drink. 

The screen door snaps again and Walter reappears. Your eyes round and flick back up to the sky as you see him. Oh. 

He wears only a pair of short grey-blue swim trunks, thought they look more like boxers. They’re short enough that the muscles of his thighs are on displayed in thick cords and the hair along them stands stark against his skin. He is thick all over. The peek of the dark hair the trails from chest to pelvis stains your mind. Don’t think about that. 

You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. 

“Come on, let’s have some fun. You know, the hot tub is actually a great way to cool off,” he cracks the tab on the can in his hand, “or spice things up. Whatever you want.” 

You turn the stemmed glass and fidget, “I’m good.” 

“Don’t make me drag you,” he kids. “You ever have fun or do you just sit in the dark and listen to grunge?” 

Your eyes dart up to him as hurt creases around your lips. He sounds like Andy. He thinks you’re pathetic too. 

“Look,” he lets out a long breath, “I’m pulling your chain, tryna loosin’ you up. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just... you could use a hot soak. I can see the tension in your shoulders. They’re almost touching your ears.” 

You drop your shoulders decisively. He’s not lying. You’re so rigid, you’re quivering. It might be nice if you were alone. 

“Well, you get that wine down and come join me when you’re ready.” He nears and you shy away. He taps the side of his can against your glass, “cheers.” 

He takes another dip gulp and turns away. He strides off, tramping down the steps, as you watch the muscles in his back. If he wanted to put you in the tub himself, you’re certain he could. You’re a guest and you don’t want to be rude. Even to him. 

You blow out between your lips and tamp down the last of your worry. If you clench your jaw any tighter, your teeth might just break. You’re tired of the stress, of the tension, of the constant self-hatred. If the wine can make you forget all that, it can’t be that bad. 

You nearly gag as you choke down the rose. You hold back a belch and stand, finding yourself off-balance as you get to your feet. You shake your head and grab the bottle of wine. You leave the glass on the table. 

You come down the steps as Walter sighs and leans his head back, his arms stretched around the side of the hot tub. His eyes are closed as he basks in the cooling air. You walk as the wine sloshes noisily in the glass. You see his can sticking out of a cup holder built into the trim. You find another and plunk the wine into it. 

You back up and stare at the tub, contemplating. You look down then up again. His eyes are open as he reaches for his beer and watches you. You tap your fingers against your thighs. 

“Well?” He raises his brows. 

“Um,” you swallow. 

You turn away so you don’t have to look at him. You’re really going to do this. It’s no different than a swim suit, right? You pull of your tee shirt and reveal your cotton bra. You fold it up and leave it on the folding table near the tub. You take your time untying your converse and peeling off your socks. 

You stand again and undo your thigh, the noise of the jets droning in your ears. You push your pants down and hear a low noise. You step out of the denim and face Walter as he tilts his head, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. 

“Looking good,” he purrs. 

You cross your arms over your stomach and put your head down. You approach the edge of the tub and quickly climb over the side. You ease in opposite him and he clucks. He shifts to claim the seat next to you. You turn your attention to the sky. 

“Don’t gotta be shy,” he reaches past you, leaning close, and grabs the wine, “come on.” 

You eye the bottle and take it from him. You drink from the long neck and pop your lips off. You twist up your mouth and put it back. The heat is not helping. You vision is ringed and fuzzy and your body feels loose. 

“You good?” He rubs your shoulder, his hand hotter than the water. You blink and look over at his touch. 

“Think so,” you choke out. 

“Mm,” his thumb rubs circles into your skin, “you really are built nicely.” 

“Um,” you close your eyes and steady yourself, “thanks... I guess...” you remember the smell of wood chips and feel hands around your hips, the saw buzzes loudly. Your eyes snap open as he tickles along your neck, “I don’t feel too good.” 

“Gotta let the wine settle,” he purrs and leans down to kiss your shoulder as his hand creeps up the back of your neck. “You’re good.” 

“Uh huh,” your eyes roll in your head as your skin speckles with hot and cold. His beard tickles along your collar bone as his curls brush your face, “what--” 

He grips your neck and buries his face in your chest. You gasp and jolt in the water but find your limbs heavily and clumsy. You press your hands to the plastic grooves to keep from slipping as he brings his other hand up to cup one side of your chest. 

“Walter?” You croak. 

“Mmm, it’s alright, baby,” he speaks against your skin, “I’ll treat you right,” he hooks his fingers under the band of your bra, tugging until one side of your chest falls free, “you just relax.” 

[mvrtaiswriting]

So excited for the writing event!!! Can I please request drunk prompt #7 with Zoro or Kid? I think it would be super funny for either of them to be really awkward the next morning after drunkenly kissing someone. Or maybe the reader drunkenly kissed *them* and now they don't know if she actually likes them or not.

Eustass Kid x prompt 7 (drunk prompts) - “did i… did we kiss last night?"

HELLO HELLO! thanks for requesting this i love this psycho bitch so much. hope this meets your expectations eheh this was slightly longer than others cause you know i love my characters to overthink everything just like me <333 enjoy!!

gender neutral reader | 913 words.

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated ♡ if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee. -> from this event.

The softness of the blankets was gentle against your skin as you woke up from one of the best nights of sleep you ever had. That, if only the terrible headache that held you hostage in your bed would disappear. Even the tiniest glimpse of light filtering through the curtains was too much to bear - it only made your headache worst. Yet, there wasn't the tiniest residue of energy in your body for you to get up and block out the sun - so you laid in bed, throwing your blanket over your head and waiting for the pain to go away.

Enjoying the quietness of the ship, you closed your eyes trying to remember what had happened the night before - memories of the party came to you in a blur. They flashed before your eyes in a confusing sequences, making it hard to distinguish what really happened from what might have been just a dream. You didn't even remember how you made it to bed - the last thing you remembered was laying against your captain's shoulder, probably too drunk to sit still in your own place.

Yet there was something more to it, a memory that you couldn't quite grasp - a memory that felt more like a feeling, a phantom sensation still washing all over your body. It wasn't the nausea, nor the terrible headache; it was different, it was better.

Grazing your fingers against your lips, memories from the night before became clearer - did you dream it like all those times before? Was it all on your head? Or did you really kiss Eustass Kidd? These questions pounded your head as a subtle anxiety settles into your heart - the room around you starts to spin again, but this time not because of the alcohol. The idea of confessing your feelings to Kidd, to your captain, sent you spiralling - it was only a crush, after all.

Right?

Wrong. It wasn't only a crush - it was shivers down your spine every time his strong hands laid on your shoulders, it was your heart running faster every time he'd fight against an enemy, it was you melting into a stupid puddle every time he'd call you brat or some other stupid nicknames that you really should have minded but never did.

Forcing yourself out of bed, you dragged your body to the kitchen. The insufferable headache you woke up to was now gone, and you definitely needed a good meal and some water. You almost forgot about the whole kiss thing when you heard familiar footsteps made their way to the kitchen. Your fight or flight response was activated immediately, quickly slamming the door of the fridge and ready to leave the room before he could catch you.

"Took your sweet time to get up, uh?"

Kid roared from behind you, making you jump, a small laugh leaving his mouth making him less intimidating. Yet, you could feel his body almost pressed against yours, his taller figure towering you and making you feel ridiculously small even without having to look at him. Nodding in response, you were quick to move away from his trap, taking a few steps back.

"Yes, I.." you stumbled on your words, scratching the back of your head, panic quickly settling into your chest as you try to come up with something.

"Drank too much. I know."

Kidd cut you off, an unusual reassuring smile forming on his lips as he took a bottle of water from the fridge, throwing it at you.

"Don't even know how I made it to bed."

"Anything else you don't remember?"

Kidd asked. What you heard, however, was more similar to the sound of a ticking bomb about to explode.

"Don't think so." You chuckled, praying you were right - that there was nothing else to remember from the night before, that you didn't stupidly spread on top of him and slurred god knows what to him. Kidd only nodded in response, looking somewhat disappointed - there were no jokes, no sarcastic remarks, no angsty comment. Just an uncomfortable silence and an expression that you couldn't quite decipher.

"Kidd?" you called, causing him to turn towards you once again. He only raised an eyebrow in response, waiting for you to continue.

"Did I.. did we kiss last night?"

You finally blurted out, your words rolling off your tongue before you could think it all through. Kidd's features immediately softened, his usual cockiness coming back to surface.

"What if we did?", he barked back, staring up and down at you.

Crossing his arms across his chest, he laid against the doorframe of the kitchen as the most annoying smirk appeared on his face - this was fun, seeing you blushing like a teenager without being able to look at him.

"I don't know. Sorry, stupid question."

You tried to brush it off, faking a smile and waving him goodbye - you just wanted to run, wash off the horrible wave of embarrassment and just forget about the whole thing. Kidd, however, was not really thinking about letting you go. His hands were quick to grab your wrist, pulling you closer to him. In a fraction of seconds he had you trapped in his embrace, your body pressed against his muscular chest.

"Want to give it another try?" he whispered, one of his hands already cupping your cheek whilst the one lazily slid down to the small of your back.

"If it wasn't that memorable, I must make up for it."

[maraudersmary]

LILY EVANS’ BIRTHDAY MY TRUE LOVE

in honour of it being lily evans’ birthday today, i want to do a part two of my post from last year!!

my lily evans headcanons pt. 2!

after the prank, lily was the first one to talk to sirius again. in fact, she didn’t ever stop. always being so in tune with others, she knew that despite what sirius did, the worst thing for him was to be abandoned, so she made sure she was there for him.

despite this, she did not make it easy for him. he got the scolding of a lifetime and had to make a very expensive trip to honeydukes to buy remus’ favourites chocolates for when they’re talking again.

when remus inevitably started talking to sirius again, lily was not surprised. she was however surprised when james went so long without forgiving him.

once they entered their proper relationship however, lily found out truly how strong james’ loyalty and sense of morality was.

not shy about being open and honest, will tell you what you need to hear! her friends pretended they hated it but really coveted her advice.

she’s also not shy about getting pleasure. lily evans likes a shag! who cares! (i do it’s important to me that she gets this)

her top three one night stands/flings were: narcissa black, barty crouch jr, and caradoc dearborn…

she is actually a rebel, and just played the ‘straight-laced student’ card so well… she drank in fields at 13, introduced the others at hogwarts to WKD at 14, was almost permanently stoned, eyebrow, bridge, labret, septum all pierced (gold jewellery to match her skin and hair and freckles ofc).

she cared so deeply about her schooling and education, she never let anything get in the way of it, but she had learned the hard way that she needed to allow space and time for everything she loved. that meant her friends, james, weed, art.

her bipolar disorder means sometimes she suffers long depressions, but since telling her friends and gathering their support, they really know how to help her the best they can.

they don’t rush her to ‘be better’, but they all have their things. mary and marlene will just hang out in the room, talking and watching movies and creating a space for lily to join in, but not forcing anything. alice and pete would bake for her, all her favourites. remus would sit in her room with a book and chocolate, they’d often read at the same time, or when things were really bad, he would read to her. sirius, emmeline, and dorcas would bring her work if she couldn’t make her lessons and help her catch up with everything when she couldn’t.

james struggled at first. he wanted to be able to just make everything better for his girl, but it didn’t work like that. he learned to just be what she needed. to hold her, comfort her, lie with her in silence, make a joke.

recommends sirius and james muggle books she thinks they’d like. she loves james but knows he’ll never read them. sirius will though, and they have biweekly coffee dates to discuss the latest read. remus is really jealous.

she had tea and biscuits with professor mcgonagol once a month. they started in fifth year when lily broke down crying in her office once, sharing about her bipolar and how she feels like she can’t cope. now their catch ups are an opportunity for lily to share anything she needs to.

her and dorcas go for walks with their sketchbooks and a zoot each, find somewhere nice to set up, and sketch and smoke. it’s their sacred time.

sometimes remus comes with a book, but no one else is ever allowed to. (a big black dog ran past once though…)

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [21] - Dandelions

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Misunderstandings can be easily fixed.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, slow burn.

Word Count: 4300

Series Masterlist

Oh.

So this was what happened when you drank way too much.

You could barely open your eyes from the headache pounding in your temples and spreading over your eyes, making you let out a groan and bury your head deeper into the pillow. You snuggled into the covers, your eyes squeezed shut but your ears picked up a slight noise coming from the other side of the room and you opened an eye as difficult as it felt.

Benedict was half sprawled over the sofa that looked quite small for his sleeping figure, his arm thrown over his eyes to block the light. You repressed a small giggle at his attempt to actually fit in there and rubbed at your eyes, pulling yourself up to sit on the bed.

“Benedict?”

He groaned in his sleep and as soon as he tried to roll over, he almost fell off the sofa, slamming a foot on the floor at the last minute to regain his balance while your hands shot up to your mouth.

“Jesus…” he muttered, running his hand through his messy hair as he sat up and you lowered your hands.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing?”

“You were very drunk,” he said, hiding a yawn behind his palm. “I wanted to keep an eye on you.”

You could feel the warmth spreading inside your ribcage and you tried to control your face.

“No I mean, what are you doing there on the sofa?”

“I didn’t…” he motioned at you. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. How do you feel?”

“Dead, kind of,” you admitted, massaging your temples. “My head hurts.”

“As expected.”

“Don’t look so smug,” you made a face at him and he held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “You’re totally fine I assume?”

“I’m more used to it,” he said. “And I didn’t drink as much as you.”

“Lucy may have been a bad influence.”

Benedict’s head shot up. “Hm?”

“Lucy Granville?” you said. “She’s impossible to beat at drinking, I’ll tell you that.”

“Uh huh.”

“Both gorgeous and fun,” you commented. “Henry is a lucky man.”

Benedict cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck and you tilted your head.

“Don’t you think so?”

He blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“That’s she’s gorgeous and fun?”

He swallowed thickly, “I didn’t—I—” he stammered, motioning between you. “Haven’t noticed. Did she say something to you?”

“Like what?” you asked and Benedict stared at you, then shook his head.

“Uh, nothing. Don’t mind me, I’m still trying to sober up.”

“I think I will like spending time with her at the parties,” you mused and Benedict pressed his lips together, nodding his head.

“Wonderful,” he muttered and you leaned back to the headboard.

“How did you two meet again?”

“We um—we met through Henry,” he said. “At a party.”

“Was it a fun one?”

“…You could say that,” he said, averting his gaze. “Not the aftermath for sure though.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

You slipped a little into the covers, rubbing at your forehead and Benedict stood up from the sofa, then walked to the door to open it to say something to the maid that was passing by. You stared at his handsome figure, raking your eyes over his body hungrily, and looked elsewhere as soon as he turned his gaze to you.

“I know the cure for the aftermath of a long night of drinking, but you’re not going to like it.”

You pulled your brows together.

“Oh God,” you said. “How bad?”

Benedict grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

“Very,” he said. “Very bad.”

                                                      *

Benedict’s cure for the headache after a party was quite possibly the worst thing you had ever drunk, a mixture of raw eggs and garlic. Even the thought of it made you grimace, but for what it was worth, it had worked very well. Towards the afternoon, around the time Charlotte was supposed come so that you two could go to the park, you were feeling much better already.

And your thoughts from the last couple of days were back in full force.

You would have been lying if you said the thought of Lady Margery smiling at him didn’t make you fill with so much fury. Though you knew very well that Benedict was attractive, it didn’t make things any easier, especially when—

Especially when you kept having those dreams about him.

You were more than aware just how much you desired him and luckily for you, you had an idea about how to solve this problem.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your ears as you bit inside your cheek, trying to hold onto the smallest sign of confidence within you. You lingered at the top of the stairs, pressing a hand over your chest before you swallowed thickly and threw your shoulders back then made your way to Benedict’s studio.

His head shot up from the painting he was working on as soon as you knocked on the doorframe.

“Hello there,” he said, giving you that lopsided grin that always made your heart skip a beat. “Feeling better?”

“Mm hm, your disgusting drink worked,” you said, leaning sideways to the doorframe as you crossed your arms. “Even though I have zero idea how.”

“I don’t know how it works either,” he said. “I thought you and Charlie were going on a picnic.”

“She should be here soon enough,” you said. “Before I leave though…”

“Dinner with your family tonight,” he said, nodding his head. “No worries, I didn’t forget.”

“Great,” you said. “I’ll probably go straight there from the picnic, just so you know.”

“Alright,” he said. “We said eight but I should be there at..?”

“Seven forty-five,” you said. “My uncle is incredibly punctual.”

“And flowers for your aunt, she likes lavenders.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “And for my uncle—”

“Already got a box of cigars,” Benedict finished your sentence for you. “I was going to ask you, should I get something for Josie as well?”

You made a face. “Not at all.”

“Teddy?” he asked. “Because I already got him some art supplies, so I don’t know if I should bring those or keep it as a surprise here for when he visits.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Art supplies?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sculpting stuff, you said he likes that.”

You could swear your heart melted but you frowned, trying to focus.

“Uh, let’s keep it here for when he visits,” you said. “Thank you though.”

“Of course,” he said with a small smile. “So, any tips on how to charm Josie?”

“You could charm a goddamn tree obviously, you’ll be fine,” you said. “But Bess likes Shakespeare, you could go from there.”

“Good idea.”

“And uh…” you hissed in a breath. “Andrew likes Byron.”

Benedict grimaced before grabbing his tea cup on the small coffee table. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks for the warning.”

“Anytime,” you said and pursed your lips together. “And after dinner, do we—do you have plans?”

“I thought we were coming back home?” he said. “But I mean, if you want to go out—”

“No no,” you said. “I actually had something else in mind.”

“Like what?”

You took a deep breath, trying to appear nonchalant as he took another sip of his tea.

“I was thinking we could consummate.”

He choked on the tea he was drinking and started coughing while you pulled your brows together, tilting your head.

“Are you dying?” you asked, trying to ignore your own nervousness with sarcasm. “Because it would be pretty inconsiderate to do so right now—”

“I thought you changed your mind about being a widow,” he managed to croak out, and you frowned.

“I did!”

“Why are you trying to kill me then?”

“I’m not doing such a thing!”

“That’s not a funny joke.”

“I’m completely serious,” you said and he pulled back.

“…What?”

“Yeah I mean,” you said, your thoughts whirling in your head like a hurricane. “We could if you’re—if it’s fine with you. We’re—” you motioned between you two. “We’re married after all.”

Benedict stared at you and you shrugged your shoulders, trying to keep your expression calm.

“It’s no issue, we could just get it over with.”

A flash of sadness crossed over his handsome face and he kept his gaze on you for a moment.

“Get it over with,” he repeated and you nodded.

“Might as well, all the married couples are doing it,” you thought for a moment. “Or unmarried couples now that I think about it.”

“Y/N.”

“So tonight when we come back is fine for me in terms of time, does it work for you?”

Benedict scoffed a bitter laugh, looking down at the brush before raising his glances again. “Very romantic.”

You made a face.

“That’s not a funny joke,” you quoted him and he raised his brows, nodding slowly.

“Is this how you want it to happen then?” he asked, his voice distant all of a sudden. “No feelings involved?”

“Why would there be any feelings involved?” you asked back, ignoring the way your stomach did an excited flip and his jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Why indeed?”

“You said it yourself it’s usually just fun, nothing more,” you insisted as he shook his head slightly. “And you’ve done it multiple times so I figured—”

“I can’t,” his voice cut through yours. “Not with you.”

Oh.

It wasn’t as if you were unfamiliar with the idea of rejection, your whole life had been a string of rejections one after the other, so you had no idea why this one held so much power in it that it actually, physically hurt your heart, as if it was in fact breaking.

Which was ridiculous.

You didn’t have a heart.

The shock must have been apparent on your expression for once because a look of realization dawned on Benedict’s face and he took a step towards you.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Hello, is anyone home?” Charlotte’s sweet voice echoed through the hallway and you turned your head to see her enter the hallway, a smile lighting up her face immediately. She skipped her steps as she approached you.

“Good afternoon!”

There was a lump in your throat but you managed to smile back at her. “Hello Lottie.”

“And hello to you too,” she grinned at Benedict and motioned at the canvas. “Are you working on something new? May I see it?”

“Uh, Charlie could you give us a moment please?” Benedict said and Charlotte tilted her head and opened her mouth but you beat her to it.

“That’s not necessary,” you told her. “We can go.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll uh…I’ll see you at dinner,” you said without so much as looking at Benedict and walked past Charlotte to get away from Benedict as fast as possible. Charlotte rushed to catch up with you, a small frown on her brows.

“Is everything alright?”

“Oh definitely,” you managed to say, blinking back the tears. “Let’s just go.”

                                                   *

Benedict did not want you.

In that way or another.

The thought wasn’t supposed to be as painful as it was let alone making your chest hurt. This wasn’t even a real marriage, and he was surrounded by ladies who were nicer or prettier or had more artistic talents, so you had to have been a complete idiot to entertain that idea.

Falling for your own trick, what a foolish thing to do.

It was alright though. You were just going to act as if nothing had happened, and never bring this up ever again.

“…So then they stopped watching the play altogether and were pushing at each other until Tony made them stop,” Charlotte said, making you snap out of your thoughts. “I’m telling you, Gregory and my youngest brother Jack cannot even decide whether they’re best friends or enemies at this point.”

You nodded slowly. “They’ll get along well in the future I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” she said and you stole a look at her.

“Lottie?”

“Yes?”

“Was it Anthony’s idea or your idea to take the kids to the play?”

“Oh, Tony’s idea!” she said. “He always has wonderful ideas.”

You tried not to make a face, pursing your lips. “Uh huh,” you said. “So it was just the two of you?”

“Well, surrounded by the rest of the ton and a bunch of siblings.”

“And do you two always…enjoy each other’s company?”

“I always enjoy his company,” she said with a bright smile and you tilted your head.

“Do you?”

“Well yes, of course.”

“Enough to want him to court you?”

Her eyes widened and she pulled back slightly. “Y/N!”

“What?” you asked. “It’s just a question.”

She paused for a moment and averted her gaze from you to fix the embroidery hoop in her lap.

“Tony would never consider me as a lady to court,” she muttered, and even you could tell the sadness laced in her tone, making you pull your brows together.

“Lottie.”

“No it’s true,” she said and lifted her head, trying to smile. “He only sees me as Benedict’s best friend.”

“I highly doubt that,” you said. “Benedict has many friends, I haven’t seem Anthony trying to take them to plays and such?”

“No I think—” she paused for a moment. “I think it’s also because he feels guilty.”

“About?”

“Well you see, everyone thought Benedict and I were in a courtship, which we were not,” she added quickly. “And we told everyone that, but they didn’t believe us.”

“Benedict mentioned that.”

“Yes and the ton still talks,” she said and a painful smile curled your lips.

“That I stole him from you,” you murmured. “Yeah. Hasn’t escaped my attention.”

“You have not,” Charlotte said. “Benedict is like a brother to me, we’ve never considered each other as a marriage prospect. And you two are in love!”

A bitter scoff escaped from you and you clicked your tongue.

“Yeah,” you managed to say. “Mm hm. Sure.”

“And you know, Tony is the head of the family and now with these rumors about Benny giving me hopes to abandon me out of nowhere, as silly as they are, surely reached him. So I think by spending more time with me than before, he makes sure to stop the ton from assuming anything.”

“I don’t think that’s the only reason Lottie.”

“It is,” she insisted. “Tony is…I will not even consider such a thought. His future Viscountess will be a perfect lady and I’m not perfect I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said. “Lottie, Anthony would be the luckiest man in the world to marry you. I honestly don’t believe he deserves you but if you want him—”

“Let’s not talk of it,” Lottie cut you off. “Please. I don’t want to get my hopes up by your kindness.”

“I’m not kind,” you said. “I don’t know why both you and Benedict insist on believing that, but I never say things I do not mean.”

Lottie let out a laugh and squeezed at your hand.

“Perhaps we’re one of the very few you’re kind to?”

“Nonsense,” you brushed her off. “But alright, I won’t insist any longer as you wish, on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You will tell me about your newest story.”

A smile lit up her beautiful face and she nodded fervently.

“Oh, gladly!”

                                                       *

It wasn’t as if you expected this dinner to be completely comfortable and easy, but your conversation back at your own home had made everything much more tense for you. By the time Benedict got to your aunt and uncle’s house, you had already made sure to look busy and stayed in the drawing room. Benedict was obviously looking forward to get you alone to talk to you and it was apparent all over his body language, his eyes stealing glances at you even while he was talking to your uncle in the drawing room but you ignored him, making conversation with Bess.

When it was time for the dinner, you and Benedict were of course seated together and even though the urge to look at him was very strong, you managed to control yourself.

“Benedict, thank you so much for the flowers!” your aunt said as the soup started being served and he smiled at her sweetly.

“I got some help, Lady Thorne.”

“I figured,” she said, winking at you and you smiled back, trailing your spoon in the soup. Teddy sat up straighter in his seat.

“Uncle, Benedict says I could become an artist!” he said and your uncle let out a small laugh.

“Does he now?”

“Absolutely,” Benedict said. “Teddy, Y/N and I have a surprise for you when you come to visit us next time.”

Teddy gasped. “A surprise!?”

“Mm hm.”

“Y/N, what is it?!”

“That’s the thing about surprises Teddy,” you smiled at his little excited face. “It’s for when you visit, but I promise you that you will like it.”

“Speaking of artists,” Bess said. “Benedict, you must tell us everything.”

“Y/N says you’re planning on applying for Academy in the future?” Andrew asked and Benedict nodded.

“Uh, next year yes.”

“He already has many admirers, or at least the ones who were fortunate enough to see his art,” your aunt said and Benedict chuckled.

“You’re too kind, Lady Thorne.”

Josie frowned slightly, looking between you two while you trailed your spoon in the soup, then shot her a quizzical look when you felt her glances on you. She raised her brows and turned to Benedict but Bess had already noticed the look on her face so she beat her to it.

“Where do you get your inspiration from, Benedict?” she asked with a smile. “I’ve read so many works of artists, they all say different things. What’s yours?”

Benedict covered your hand with his and held it up a little, making your aunt let out an “aww!”

“That’s so romantic!” Bess said, turning to Josie, “Jo, don’t you think so?”

“Artists are required to be romantic I think, Bess.”

“Debatable,” Andrew said. “I think they’re just required to be talented.”

“Talent and love go hand in hand, one would say,” Bess said while you subtly pulled your hand out of Benedict’s, making him turn to look at you while you reached out to grab your glass to take a sip.

It was insincere and fake, all of it.

But at least now you knew it was. Now you knew he was absolutely faking it, and that he had the ability to do so, just like you.

You two made the best pretend couple in the ton, and that was saying something.

“Artists have fleeting loves, everyone knows that,” Josie commented and tilted her head at Benedict. “With exceptions, I hope.”

“Jo!”

“Otherwise—”

“Josie,” you cut her off and she shrugged her shoulders.

“What?”

“Let’s not threaten people at dinner, Josie?” your uncle said. “I’m sure Benedict is one of those exceptions.”

“I am,” Benedict said. “I absolutely am, I assure you. Y/N is the love of my life, you have no reason to worry.”

Well you had to give it to him, for a person who did not desire you at all, he definitely sounded convincing.

You scoffed and took another sip of your drink, then placed your glass on the table.

“Have you two decided on where to go for your honeymoon after the season is over?”

“We decided yesterday actually,” Benedict said. “We will go to Rome.”

“Oh I love Rome!”

“So do I!” Bess said. “It’s gorgeous, you will love it Y/N.”

You nodded slowly, swirling the drink in your glass.

“Yeah,” you said, not even wanting to think about just how awkward that honeymoon was going to be. “I can’t wait.”

                                            *

After the dinner was over and it was time for you to go back home, you were so nervous that you could barely focus on anything other than how your heart was pounding in your ears. Thankfully your house was close to your uncle’s, so even though Benedict looked like he wanted to start a conversation in the carriage, he decided otherwise, probably because he was under the impression that you would throw yourself out of the carriage to avoid that conversation.

And it wasn’t exactly the wrong impression.

So when the carriage stopped, you immediately got out without waiting for the coachman to open the door or for Benedict to help you out, and made your way up the marble stairs leading up to the front door to the house.

“Y/N—”

“Good night,” you said as you stepped into the house and started climbing the stairs to get to the hallway, your heart still pacing in your chest quite fast. He heaved a sigh, following you.

“Can we just—”

“Benedict this is not necessary,” you said as you reached the hallway but he got in front of you before you could take another step, making you frown.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.”

“We really don’t,” you said and he ran a hand over his face.

“We do,” he said. “I know how it sounded but…”

“You have no obligation to explain yourself,” you said as you walked past him. “In fact, I’d rather if you didn’t and we could pretend that conversation did not take place.”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“I’m not interested in that conversation I’m afraid,” you said when you reached your room but to your surprise, Benedict followed you inside. You took a deep breath and crossed your arms, turning to look at him.

“I assure you I have no bitter feelings,” you said. “If that’s your worry. It’s fine, you don’t want me and now that it’s clear, we can move on.”

He pulled his brows together. “What?”

“Yeah you can go and sleep with whoever it is you want,” you said, ignoring the bitter taste in your mouth. “Lady Margery I suppose?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Go be with a mistress of your choosing,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “That was the plan anyway—”

“That was never the plan for me,” he cut you off and you rolled your eyes, walking to your vanity to take off your bracelet.

“Sure,” you muttered. “Mm hm.”

“Jesus, you really can’t see it can you?” he asked, incredulousness apparent in his voice and you placed the bracelet on the vanity, stealing a look at him in the mirror. “It’s beyond me how someone so smart can be so damn clueless.”

You narrowed your eyes and turned around to glare at him.

“What?” you asked. “Do enlighten me, what do I not see?”

“You—”

“I’m honestly not offended or anything that you do not want me, what I don’t understand is why you keep trying to talk about this when I told you specifically—”

“Y/N.”

“That I don’t wish to have this conversation!” you continued as if he hadn’t interrupted you. “It’s fine, you’re an artist and your interest in me was going to fade away eventually, the only problem here is that we ended up getting married before it faded away so I don’t—”

“I’m in love with you.”

The impact of his words was immediate on you. That was more than enough to make you fall silent, your heartbeat echoing in your ears so loud that for a moment that was the only thing you could hear as you stared at him, at a loss for words.

“But you were saying something about my interest fading?” he said almost in a taunting manner, his eyes locked in yours, the light in them so intense that it made your face burn as he motioned at you to continue. “Go ahead, what was it?”

It took you a couple of seconds before the complete disbelief took over the control of your mouth.

“You’re lying,” the accusation left your lips quite easily and Benedict raised his brows.

“Am I?” he asked, his voice completely calm unlike yours and you swallowed thickly, pursing your lips to glare at him.

“I don’t know why but that’s a lie,” you shot back. “A cruel one at that.”

Benedict shook his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe you and crossed his arms.

“You don’t think it’s killing me to be close to you only when we’re with other people?” he asked. “You don’t think it’s the worst kind of torture to know that we only pretend for the other people yet I want to believe it’s real?”

You could feel the burning at the back of your eyes while you dug your fingernails into your palms, your head spinning.

“The difference between you and me is that I married the person I’m in love with and you didn’t,” he said, a pang of pain seeping through his voice. “That’s why I can’t. Because even if it will mean nothing to you—”

“I didn’t say it would mean nothing to me,” you managed to rasp out and a bitter smile curled his lips.

“No,” he admitted. “But you can’t say it will mean something to you either, can you?”

You clenched your teeth, trying to keep calm.

“You can’t ask me that,” you said, half pleading and half commanding. He pressed his lips together, his gaze turning soft for a moment before he nodded.

“Then let me clear out any misunderstandings you might possibly have,” he said gently. “I want you more than you could possibly imagine, but I’m not going to touch you until you are in love with me.”

You blinked a couple of times in confusion, staring at him and he shrugged his shoulders, offering you a small smile.

“Sweet dreams Y/N,” he said and walked through the door connecting your room to his before closing it behind him, leaving you there completely dumbfounded.

You let out a breath, your gaze still fixed on the door before you leaned back to the vanity, burying your face into your palms.

Chapter 22

[joshsilverseyebrow]

josh silver interview for KERRANG! Magazine,

transcription:

This week we get up close and personal with TYPE O NEGATIVE’S brooding keysman

Josh Silver

What is your nickname and why? “Scumbag. that’s what they call me behind my back — to my face its Asshole.”

At school, were you a dunce or a teacher’s pet? “I didn’t go to school. I dropped out in like 10th grade like a typical American. I couldn’t take school: I couldn’t deal with authority, I couldn’t deal with the whole situation. I was probably scared to leave my mother.. I was close to 15 when I left, which is actually illegal in the States. But what are they going to do? They just let me leave.”

What was your first shag like? “I hope it was better for her! It was a typically pathetic attempt at teenage sex.”

Who’s your best friend? “My wife, it’s not a funny or witty answer, but it’s true. It would probably be my hand after her.”

What’s the best pet you ever had? “I used to have a ferret that drank beer. I’d have friends hanging out at my house and this ferret used to knock their beers over and get loaded! He must’ve been a British ferret — he loved his beer. His name was Morris.”

Have you ever been arrested? “No, but I should have been a couple times. I’m just very good at hiding!”

What would you be if you weren’t a rockstar? “Large fries with that Coke, sir?”

How would you describe yourself on a blind date form? “You know, I think dating blind people would probably be the best thing for me…”

What’s the most extravagant thing you’ve ever bought? “I don’t really buy a lot of extravagant things, so I’d have to say the ‘Roger Rabbit’ dildo that I bought. For a dildo, it was pretty damn expensive.”

Who’s gagging for a shagging? “Sex is like a dead issue for me, having a dead appendage in general. I don’t really think about sex all that much, so I think I’ll say the whole world should f**k themselves!”

Who’s gagging for a smacking? “Some people — the whole world. Actually, we just had a big gang brawl after one of our shows. These two homeless crack-heads ran onto our bus — and let me tell you, they were prison-fighting bastards, man. Our tour manager got busted up and three of us could barely hold down one of them. It got really crazy.”

What’s the worst job you’ve ever had? “Every job has its good and bad, but the worst I had was working in a mail room for five years. That wasn’t exactly great.”

When was the last time you called home? “Five minutes ago. I’ve got my niece and my wife to call — I’m becoming a family man. I’m getting old.”

What was your most embarrassing moment? “Every night we go on stage. All the gigs we’ve done are just a blur at this point, so it’s hard to pinpoint one, but normally first, you’ll drink, then you’ll act like a jackass and then you wake up the exact day thinking, “What did I play last night or what didn’t I play?”

Who would you at least like to see naked? “I hate seeing myself naked — I even stopped shaving because I refused to look at myself anymore. I’d have to say me.”

What’s the best rumor you’ve ever heard about yourself? “My favorite rumor was that Peter (Steele, Type O frontman) had caught Aids, from a very well-known soul singer. Unsurprisingly, this rumor started on the ‘Net, but I’m sure Peter hasn’t dated that guy in a couple of years!”

What’s in your wallet? “Not much. About 10 bucks.”

What’s your favorite joke? “Type O Negative.”

If you were marooned on a desert island without food, which member of Type O Negative would you eat first? “I’d have to eat Johnny (Kelly, drummer) because he’s in better health than the rest of us so he’d probably taste better. He’s got a nice ass too — the rump roast would be good.”

Which Type O Negative song would you choose to donate to a compilation album entitled “Crap Songs of Our Time”? “My Girlfriend’s Girlfriend, on ‘October Rust’. It was a spoof song that people took way too seriously. It has nothing to do with Type O. It just didn’t work.”

What’s your drug of choice? “It would have to be pot. I get really cranky when i can’t have any. It’s not physically addictive, but you definitely get used to the mellowness — and then suddenly you’re thrust into the world.”

What does God look like? “Peter’s dick is the closest thing to God we’ve seen. It’s also the closest thing to Satan as well!”

When you die, how would you like to go? “Quickly and quietly. When you actually face death then you have to wonder if you’re going to become a wimp, and just turn to what you’ve been taught. I really want to go as I’ve lived — an atheist bastard!”

TYPE O NEGATIVE play the Kerrang! X-fest with Coal Chamber at London Astoria on November 30 and December 1.